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[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.]

[He only groans when he hits the floor, but he doesn't awaken. If anything his breathing only becomes heavier, and at this point Valo whines and trots over, licking Eustace's face before looking up at Ilsa anxiously. Beads of sweat now form at his brow, his face more flushed than before.]

[She's about ready to just leave him there and carry on with her day, and Ilsa hastily straightens her bra and her shirt when Valo comes over to examine Eustace, her face still flushed and embarrassed that the dog had been there the whole time.]

Unbelievable...

[It's muttered under her breath, but when Valo gives a whine and stares up at her, she pauses, noticing that Eustace's breathing is still uneven—even quicker and more ragged than before, and now sweat starts to form at his temple.

Kneeling, she immediately presses a hand to his head.]

He's burning up... [Valo whines again, and Ilsa frowns. How long has he been feeling like this?] Hm.

[Was all of this because he wasn't feeling well? Or is this just a side-effect of the spell, or even the alcohol? It doesn't really matter what it is, but she's definitely questioning it as she slings one of his arms over his shoulder to get him on his feet so that she can move him to her room.

Once more, she'll try to wake him up as she lowers him onto her bed.]

Eustace, can you hear me?

[He's still completely out of it even when she picks him up and puts him to bed. His breathing has begun to even out a little, but otherwise he remains the same.

All Valo can do is whine, ears drooping as he looks between Ilsa and Eustace, wondering what's going on. He even rises up to put his paws on the bed, nose nudging Eustace's hand. His fingers stir from the movement, but it does nothing more than just move slightly and nothing more.]

Edited 2023-05-15 04:07 (UTC)

[At Valo's whining, Ilsa tries to reassure him with a crooked smile, her hand settling to rest against Eustace's forehead again to check when he doesn't answer her.]

He'll be alright. [A dry laugh.] He's made it this far through today, a little fever isn't going to break him.

... I hope.

[She lifts the blankets so that they wrap around him, and pats the bed for Valo to jump up beside him.]

Will you stay here with him while I fetch some things?

[Valo gives a quiet ruff as if to not want to disturb Eustace before he hops onto the bed with ease and quickly circles and nestles in on Eustace's side, giving Eustace a few licks on his chin before his nose lightly nudges the arm. Although Eustace frowns a little, the arm does raise slightly, as if naturally assuming the position of holding Valo. There's a small tail wag as the dog cuddles in, as if relieved to see that part is still normal.

And he'll remain that way even after Ilsa leaves and returns.]

[She leaves Eustace in Valo's care, though not for long. She returns with a large glass of water and a cool, damp cloth. She brushes back Eustace's hair, her fingers lingering on the thick white strands as she looks him over. She has no idea if he's asleep or aware of what's going on, just too tired to do much, but it doesn't stop her from examining him more closely, allowing her fingers to comb over his ears before she sets the cloth on his forehead.

To Valo, she gives a smile.]

You take good care of him. Thank you for coming to me today. [A dry laugh.] I'm not sure what he would have done without me, huh?

[Valo's tail wags a little as he watches Ilsa before settling in again. Eustace remains unconscious, but his body does react a little to her touch, his ears twitching a little and his brow furrowing at the cloth with a slight murmur before relaxing. Although still feverish, he's otherwise calmed.]

Hmm... You’re conscious, at least.

[Ilsa’s eyes linger on his ear when it twitches, and she’s almost tempted to do it again—to see what would happen if she touched it just a little more firmly. She doesn’t, not wanting to wake him, and Valo watching her suddenly makes her very, very aware of those thoughts, so she instead sits down at the edge of the bed beside him.

There’s silence, the room... her whole house going quiet, oddly so after all of the chaos from earlier that morning. It’s not a bad kind, and she’s feeling rather thankful for it, but it does make her pause to think when all of those thoughts and memories come rushing forward again.

Things that she’s trying so hard to suppress instead.

To distract herself, she continues to watch Eustace, adjusting the cloth on his head when it starts to slip or brushing away the hair on his face when it falls in a slightly awkward way. She can’t help think about how innocent he looks like this—how the strong, stoic man that she knows could become so harmless when he’s asleep. It’s... cute...

And as that thought occurs to her and turns her cheeks a bright shade of pink, she catches sight of the light scarring around his covered eye. He always keeps it concealed behind his hair, and she knows very little of the nature behind its injury... But...

Leaning forward over him, ignoring the odd stare that Valo is giving her, Ilsa pushes back that side of his hair to look. The scars are light and faded but still visible under a careful, observant gaze, and she leans in just a little closer to get a look. Close enough that her hair tickles his face as it tumbles over her shoulder...

[At first there isn't much reaction from him. But it's the tickling of her hair against his face and near his nose that finally pulls him out of the dregs of sleep. His head still feels heavy and his mind isn't really thinking coherently.

Where was he?

What happened?

He can barely remember anything, stuck between sleep and awake, so when he slowly opens his eyes and he sees Ilsa so close to his face...

...

Is he dreaming? Why is she so close...

So for those first initial moments, he'll just be staring up at her in a daze, unable to properly process or think about what's happening.]

[The moment he opens his eyes, Ilsa’s hand in his hair seizes up. For a moment, as her mind registers what she’s doing and the fact that he’s awake while she’s doing it, all she can do is stare right back into those blue eyes of his, so much closer than she remembers them being now that their open and gazing up at her, and looking just as confused as she feels.

What is she doing!? What the hell was she thinking, getting this up close and personal with Eustace!?

Her whole face turns the deepest shade of red that could put the colour of her eyes to shame, and she suddenly snaps back with an awkward cross between a frantic gasp and a yelp escaping her.]

Ah—! I wasn’t looking at anything!

[???]

[?????

There's a wince at the sudden loud shout and even Valo flinches a little in surprise as they both watch her retreat back.]

What...?

[He tries to sit up, one hand going to where she had touched him still confused, but that ends up being a bad idea and he ends up leaning his head forward into his hand with a small groan instead, the pounding in his head worsening.]

[Ah... did he not hear her? A blessing if so, the words had come spilling out of her in a panic that she doesn't even know why she said it.

...

Or why she felt compelled to do what she did.

But when Eustace tries to sit up, she leans to him again, pressing a hand to his chest to try forcing him back down, her voice sharp and scolding in spite of how red her face still is.]

Make sure you rest. You have a small fever.

Fever...

[Just a low mumble as he allows himself to fall back.

...

Only to realize—]

...Where's my shirt? And... Why am I...?

[Did he really forget? No, he actually does remember a few things, but it's coming in bits and pieces. Really it's probably not a good idea for him to try to figure things out with his head pounding as hard as it is, the pain visible from how he continues to grimace and press his palm against his temple.]

[Ilsa's brow scrunches.]

Wait, do you not remember?

[There's no way that he doesn't recall everything that's happened. Was he really so enchanted and drunk that blacking out has erased... all of it? Somehow, that's a blessing, but also, why does she feel such a knot in her stomach? Is it disappointment? Relief? Anger? Guilt? She doesn't know, but she's not going to answer him just yet.]

No... I'm not sure...

[Another hiss.]

Sorry, my head...

[Does she really have to be the one to tell him...]

You removed your shirt of your own accord.

[It's technically the truth. He was the one who slipped it up over his head, but Ilsa never stopped him. Only encouraged him... and the thought has her clearing her throat, as well as Valo making a low, dubious noise at the both of them.]

I left it in the living room, but don't worry about it right now.

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