Even when the spell drops from him, he's too far into the grip of this pleasure to turn back. His climax is as powerful as always, especially with fangs buried deep in his neck. For just this breath of a moment, he can forget where he is and revel in familiar bliss.

The difference is that the fangs don't pull away once he's gone limp. The pleasure recedes too quickly, leaving him with a sour stomach and throbbing head. The pain of those clawed marks feels too sharp, suddenly.

"W-wait," he gasps. His struggles are token at best, he's already much too spent. "W--"

The world dims around him. He's going to die. He knows it with such calm surety. Some sick part of him is taking stock of this feeling in a far too clinical fashion. He's always wondered what it would feel like to die being drained by a vampire. That curiosity is being horribly, slowly, sated.

---

He will awaken at 6 am the following day still bearing that terrible knowledge. He's not sure if he's glad or not, but he's no longer curious. And he no longer thinks it would be a pleasant way to die.

Once he's been fussed over as much as he can stand by the others, he grabs his phone and texts Cassandra. He needs to know she's okay.

Lady Cassandra,
This is Max. Can we meet?

-Max Maximum