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[Oh dear primals in heaven...

Ilsa only stiffens further when he wraps his arms around her, and she still holds onto the pillow, not quite sure what to do with her hands now. Does she pat him? Does she put them to her sides? Does she rest them on his shoulder? No, she'll just... keep them up here for a little bit until she figures out what's going on.

But she also doesn't want to force him to move... He's been through a lot today, and she thinks it would be in his best interests to lie down, so...

...

....

Cue a very long, very awkward silence before Ilsa clears her throat.]

You're going to stay like this...?

Just... A little while...

[He'll feel his breath and his lips moving against her shirt as he continues to nuzzle into her.]

Smells nice... Soothing...

Ah... Thank...you...

[What does someone say to being told that they smell nice? And all while he is nuzzling his nose into her, coming so, so very close to finding his way beneath her shirt. His face is so near her that she can feel the heat of his breath and the brush of his lips through the fabric, and Ilsa tries not to squirm too much at the sensation...

...

Or the memories that it stirs.

After several moments of consideration, she sets the pillow down and beckons for Valo to hop up onto the couch. He does, on the other side of Eustace, and curls up next to his legs and rests his head there. Ilsa, meanwhile, lowers her hands to rest in his hair, next to his ears.

...

Before she very gently touches one.]

[There's a light, drowsy hum when he feels her fingertips at his ear, which flick a little before they still and relax.]

Feels nice...

[Another quiet murmur as he seems to beckon for her to continue.]

[Why does she feel so compelled to oblige? Perhaps because she knows exactly how nice it does feel to have someone gently touching her ears? Not that she's ever really felt it before... only the one time he had when they were together at the masquerade...

...

Which she tries not to think about.

Still, when it twitches, she tentatively reaches down and takes an ear in each hand, running her fingertips lightly along the tips, her nails tickling them.]

You're going to fall asleep at this rate.

[Again a slow reply and a soft hum of contentedness at her touch, his head tilting slightly more towards her hands. It'll be a bit, not until he's able to at least savor that touch and soothing, nice feeling of her touching his ears.]

Hmm...maybe... But I like this...

[The way he leans into it... Ilsa obliges further by moving her fingertips down, massaging the edges of his ears in the way that she sometimes does her own after a long, long day. It will be firm, her fingers strong, but not too firm that it will hurt. Just enough that he'll feel the muscles in them starting to loosen...

And then, for some reason, she finds herself suddenly asking—]

Do you let a lot of people touch them?

No...

[A quiet murmur with a sigh as he finds her touch just...so good. So... Different. One that could he let do this all day if he could.]

Just family before... Then Gran... Now you....

[...And then a small pause.]

Oh... There was someone else... At the party...

[Family, Gran... Her...

All of them are well and good. If Gran asked her, she would have likely said yes... once. She doesn't like her own being touched by anyone, especially strangers, but she would make a one-time exception if he was extremely polite about it, and—]

Someone at the party?

[Whatever thought process Ilsa had going on in the moment comes grinding to a halt at that, and her fingers stop massaging his ears, and she pulls back.]

... Who?

[Someone... else...

A woman?

...

Why does that thought make her stomach twist into a knot?]

[There's a small whine when she stops and he tilts his head to look up at her... ...Well as much of her as he can see since there's, uh, an obstruction in his way—]

Hm? ...Dorothea.

[Yep. A woman. And to make it worse—]

She wanted me to touch hers, too...

[Of all the stupid things to make her stomach turn and her chest and face burn hot, it's this... A woman... touching his ears...

She knows that the two of them aren't exclusive, and it's not as if it's a romantic thing, but... as she stares down at the ears that are on her lap, she can't help but feel... a slight sense of betrayal? That she wasn't the one who had the opportunity to do it when she was in her right mind. That she isn't the only one who—

But then he says that...]

Her ears? Does she have ones like ours, too?

[She doesn't mean for her voice to sound so stiff or sharp, but what in the actual fuck—]

[Another odd tilt of his head.]

No... Human. They feel really weird...

[And then he pulls a little further back so he can look up at hers... And sees her earring. He's reminded of the question he had accidentally asked, of wanting to give her a new pair... And it makes him remember the other things they talked about, as well as with other people.

About Ilsa.

About what he thinks about Ilsa.

And as if drawn he slowly sits up, his hand slowly going up so that his fingertips can gently touch the ear closest to him.]

...I like yours more.

[He doesn't realize it, but he's also leaning closer to her, and his voice had dropped a bit as he continues to stare down, the thoughts he had been repressing resurfacing.]

[Why does this infuriate her so much?

All she can imagine now, as she has Eustace laying in her lap, is another woman in her place, some human woman named Dorothea—whatever the hell she looks like—massaging his ears, running her fingers through the soft fur and through his thick hair, touching his face, laughing and smiling with him...

She hardly notices that her face has started to turn red, or that her brow has furrowed with a deep, angry frown, or that her heart is pounding with terribly ugly, jealous feelings... only to snap out of it when Eustace slowly sits up. She feels his intense stare bearing down on her before she even looks at him, and she immediately regrets it when she notices how close he is to her...

And when he reaches up to touch one of her ears...

It flicks in his direction, tickled under his touch, and Ilsa's breath gets caught in a bubble in her throat.]

Wh...what are you doing?

[Her pulse quickens, and her breath will feel hot on his skin as she slowly turns to him, that ear tilting just so in the direction of his hand, even as she tries to will it away.]

...Touching you.

[As if the act itself wasn't shameless enough, voicing it aloud somehow makes it even more so. And although he's still a bit drink... He's also starting to wake a little more, her expression not unnoticed. She had seemed annoyed... Why? A thought occurs to him, but...

...

Feeling her ear twitch beneath his fingertips only makes him want to catch it more, and so his thumb hooks just inside the edge at the base as if to keep it in place as his index finger runs along the back of her ear. It's a little longer than his, the shape a little more contoured, thinner. Not so surprising since there's quite a lot of variety within their race. But it makes hers all the more unique and unusual for him which are more wolf-like. Hers... Equine, maybe?

He continues to run his fingertips over her ear, tracing it. Feeling the soft hairs that are also a little different from his own. And the longer he takes, the more he feels her tensing and her hot breath against, the more a strange urge begins to overtake him. Makes him lean up a little so that his lips are brushing against the edges—]

I really like them.

[—before his teeth lightly graze and nip the sensitive, velvety skin.]

[She really should push him away. They've talked about this... they discussed at length about what they should and shouldn't do, about the lines they should draw between them so as not to let themselves get more confused about what they felt that night. She had specifically requested no physical contact, and yet... here she was touching his ears, and now he's...

Ilsa's focus falls to pieces when she feels his finger hook around the edge of her ear, his touch reaching the most sensitive parts of it as he lets it run along its back, and the shortest hairs that he brushes over stand up on end in response to the tingle that it leaves behind. It's almost an instinctive reaction when she tips her head in his direction, the ear he touches leaning into his hand as if to seek more of it, and her eyes begin to close.]

... You do? Better than a humans...?

[Why would she care so much?

And when his teeth nip at the sensitive skin, it elicits a small noise out of her, that feeling spreading all the way from the tip of her ear down to her chest, and then even further until her entire body shudders gently.

Meanwhile, poor Valo is just going to hop down from the couch with a whine and make his way to Ilsa's bedroom where he's just going to lie down on her bed instead—]

Mm...

[Just a low hum as he continues his slow assault, her scent once more filling his senses as he takes another, slightly hard bite, his tongue now running over the place where the hairs are thinnest and he can reach her skin.]

...Ilsa.

[A dark, low, murmur so quiet yet loud enough to drown out her pounding heart as he continues a deep, sultry voice.]

...Are you jealous?

[She can't help it. The low rumble of his voice in her ear stirs those feelings that had been laying dormant and sleeping inside her all these weeks since the masquerade, and her hand moves to his hair as his tongue roves over the sensitive flesh of her ear. She wants more, and even more than that, she wants him to remember who he had really sought out that night...

And now.]

If I said I was...?

[What would he do?

What would he do if he knew the thoughts that are running through her head? The thoughts of some faceless woman being the one whose ears he kisses and touches and savours the way he is doing with hers now?]

[A strange thrill of exhilaration surges through him, and in the next moment he's grabbed her shoulders and roughly pushed her down onto the couch, his face looming over hers.

He's not as drunk as he was before, but he's still not quite fully there yet, either. Still not clearly thinking. Perhaps not even thinking at all. At least even back during the masquerade when he looked down at her there was full recognition who she was, recognition of what he was doing and why. Influenced, certainly, but not like how he's looking at her now.

He's smiling, but it's still a strange one. And whispering, but his voice is still not quite right. There's a light, playful lilt to it, as if he just intends to tease her. Mercilessly.]

...Cute.

[His lips brush over hers as he continues to stare down at her.]

Should I fix it, then? Ilsa?

[He keeps saying her name. He likes saying her name, how easily it rolls off his tongue. And while he teases her lips, instead he movers to kiss and bite the underside of her jaw, his hands now dropping down to her chest, firmly grabbing her breast.]

[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...]

[He doesn't answer. Instead that little bit incites him and his lips rush up to hers, roughly kissing her with his tongue already pushing through her lips to find hers. His movements are just as rough, rushed, a little clumsy and frantic as he wrestles with her shirt to push it up so his hands can slip under while he roughly grinds against her hip, letting her feel how hard he's already become. How much he wants to touch her and have her touch him again.]

—You.

[The word slips past their lips as his breaths become more ragged, hot with lust.]

Want...just you...

[Everything. That's all he's really wanting, feeling, and thinking right now.

Whether he should be or normally would be is a different matter altogether. Is this because of the enchantment? The one that cause his personality to flip? Or is this something more genuine that's just remain repressed since the masquerade?]

[Somehow, those are the words that she needed to hear. That little bit of encouragement that pushes her limits a little further, her body reacting to everything faster and more aggressively than her mind is able to keep up with. The two war with one another—on one hand, she shouldn't take advantage of the situation. She should stop him as his hands find their way beneath her shirt, and as she cries out when she feels him pressing into her thigh, as his lips crash against hers and she drinks up every tattered breath of his as if he were breathing the air that she needed...

She should stop him before they both do something they will regret later...

But instead, her body yields, melting beneath everything he does while her hands take charge of their own. They grip at his hair, tugging gently as she tips his head so she can deepen the kiss, devour him in the same way he is her...

Her own hips roll against his, seeking relief to the aching heat that's growing inside her—that same one that she felt burning through her as they stumbled into that room together at the masquerade and tore off their masks... the same one that she's tried to stamp out ever since.

Except it only comes back hotter. Stronger, as she gently sighs his name into their messy, forceful kisses.]

No other woman...

[The words are growled against his lips, almost like a threat, before she's taking them again, leaving him no room to protest.]

[He wouldn't. If anything her words only make him growl in return, a harder, rougher grind as his hand finds her breast, shoving the bra up as his fingers find her tit and squeezes it—hard. As if sending his own message.

But really... If he wants to prove there's no other... Only one way, right?

So after another rough, biting kiss, he pulls back so he can pull over his shirt, his face flushed from the heat and adrenaline that continues to churn, spinning that ache deep in his abdomen to that point that makes his head spin.

At least he thinks that's what it is.

But regardless, she's the only one who's made him feel this way. The only one who makes him dive back down to pull up her shirt, his lips finding her skin as he hungrily tastes her, wanting more. Only one who makes his head continue to spin with the thoughts of what he wants to do, what he wants to see and hear. No one in that room made him even consider it. No one he's met even while completely wasted has excited and aroused him. But just being with her, just seeing her as he pulls her shirt over, seeing her so close as his hands fall on either side of her as he pants ragged breaths...

As his vision swims....

And then in the next moment, he's collapsing on top of her, his vision and mind completely blacking out.]

[It shouldn't matter... is what her mind keeps telling her. She and Eustace agreed that they would be nothing more than what they already were... That they would only test the waters, see where it took them, allow nature to take its course if it wanted to, but this... She tries to remind herself that Eustace is under an enchantment and that it's not so different from the last time they found themselves in this position...

But there's something different about the way he touches her this time. It's more sure, like there's nothing for him to hold back anymore as he lifts her shirt, as his lips taste her... He's been either brutally honest with her about his feelings or he's been tricked into thinking them, but she wonders, briefly, if this is what he really wants?

It's hard to remember all of this when everything he does washes it away, the bliss she feels as he grabs her and as she feels his breath hot on her skin beginning to eclipse all the reason she's desperately clinging to. Her own breaths have grown tattered, more like growls as her hands reach for whatever part of him she can, slipping under his shirt so that her nails claw gently at his skin, pushing him more firmly against her as she arches up to meet him... Her fingers hook around his belt, prepared to tear it right off him with another groan of his name...

...

....

And that's when she feels his weight suddenly fall over her. All of it.

While she's slower than usual to come to her senses, she lays there on the couch beneath him, completely dumbfounded and confused.

......?]

Eustace?

[Nope, he's out.

However, his breathing is still more rough and uneven, his temperature warmer than usual. It could just be from the sudden burst of energy, but he's also sweating more than he should be even from that much. Which wasn't really much at all since they just barely started.]

[She isn't going to think much of his breathing or his temperature yet, mostly because Ilsa's own is heightened—her heart is still racing, her breathing uncontrolled, and her temperature spiked from the heat of the moment they found themselves in... and now all of that increased tenfold when his weight continues to fall over her.

Only then does she realize...

Did he fucking pass out on her!? In the middle of all of that!?!? Just when things were getting good, again, something stops them. It's one thing for the fae to barge in and interrupt them, but it's another for the man you are kissing to fall asleep while you're kissing him.]

I'm sorry, did I bore you?

[It's said with no shortage of frustration as she tries to shove him off of her, her face turning red when she feels his hot skin slipping over hers... but she'll push and push until she's able to SHOVE him onto the floor where he lands with an unceremonious THUMP that has Valo peeking out from the bedroom.]

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