[Unlike last time, and unlike him now, Ilsa is in her right mind... so why, as he forces her to lay back on the couch and looms over to cage her in place, does she not feel the urge to shove him off? Is he in his right mind? Is he aware that he's doing this? He's been acting strange all day, seemingly oblivious to everything he's said and done and now unnatural it is for him, so does he even know what he's doing now? Is this something that he will remember when the alcohol and the effects of whatever enchantment those fae had placed on him wear off?
All questions that she should be asking, but as his teeth graze against her jaw and the low sound of his voice fills her head along with the scent of the alcohol mixing with his own, she can't think of anything else except that, and her back arches up so that she presses further into his hand, the smallest, quietest moan finding its way past her lips as she revels in that feeling.
This is all wrong. So wrong... but if it pushes out the images of another woman being in her place, then so be it. She shouldn't be jealous—she has no reason to be, whoever she is, she hardly knows Eustace... unlike Ilsa. Hardly knows what he likes and doesn't like... that he would never, in his right mind, allow a stranger to touch his ears the way that Ilsa is touching them right now... How she lightly bites the tip of his.]
We shouldn't...
[The words leave her, but it's more a reminder than anything... a way to protect them both if things start to spiral out of control again, but he make no move to push or force him away...]
no subject
All questions that she should be asking, but as his teeth graze against her jaw and the low sound of his voice fills her head along with the scent of the alcohol mixing with his own, she can't think of anything else except that, and her back arches up so that she presses further into his hand, the smallest, quietest moan finding its way past her lips as she revels in that feeling.
This is all wrong. So wrong... but if it pushes out the images of another woman being in her place, then so be it. She shouldn't be jealous—she has no reason to be, whoever she is, she hardly knows Eustace... unlike Ilsa. Hardly knows what he likes and doesn't like... that he would never, in his right mind, allow a stranger to touch his ears the way that Ilsa is touching them right now... How she lightly bites the tip of his.]
We shouldn't...
[The words leave her, but it's more a reminder than anything... a way to protect them both if things start to spiral out of control again, but he make no move to push or force him away...]