It was quickly evident by how he was feeling that whatever was happening to him was intended to kill him. It almost felt like his insides were melting inside of his body and his throat was getting backed up with blood. He had to turn over in order for the blood to leak from his mouth instead of choking him. At the very least though, he tucked his feet up to grab his pants to try to pull them up. If his body was going to be found, he'd at least like to not have his pants around his ankles. At best though, he got them up to his mid thighs. Between the exhaustion of having to pull them in his current state and his seemingly unending erection, there was no way he was going to be able to get it completely on. Good enough, he supposed. Honestly, he didn't even want them on since his genitals felt like they were so painfully swollen that they were overheating and hypersensitive.<br/><br/>As he lied there, his mind  began to be filled with dreams. Or visions, maybe? People he'd never seen before. It looked like it spanned the ages; medieval, pre-enlightenment, even relatively modern. There was little in common, but one recurring theme was women being burnt alive. What it meant, he couldn't begin to understand and right now, he didn't care. Dragging himself across the floor through the cocktail of sexual expulsions and his own blood, he reached up to grab the handle of a drawer to help pull himself up. Managing to get himself halfway up, Sebastian reached for the top of the counter, but then the drawer came out of the slot under the weight of his body and he went crashing back down to the ground. Such a fall normally wouldn't have hurt him, but everything hurt like he had a fever. As he fell, spoon, knives, forks, and other kitchen utensils fell all over the floor and him. Luckily, he only got nicked a few times, but it was enough that he had finally resigned himself to his fate.