Poor Ilona wasn't immune to good choreography - even when it was drawn out of inspiration - and he felt it in her body as he'd danced them toward the bed in this ocean of broken things her anger had made. She was beautiful, traveling through the air and reaching for him, until she collided with the sheets and her breath was forced from her lips just so. Had she needed him, during her flight? The thought stuck with him. Her breasts had moved lewdly with the crash, and he savored the image as he quickly subdued her. For all her anger, she couldn't fight him very well, and was reduced to this, his beautiful toy.<br/><br/>Unhappy about his negotiations, or rejection of her offer, rather, she became petulant, face away. Such haughtiness was remedied with the hot of the wax. How enticing, the way she moved her hips to escape. He did not let that happen. She betrayed herself with her voice, which suggested she loved his teeth on her breast's bud. What a perfect disposition, given her new life. Teeth, he could provide. Finally the secrets to her inner tastes were being revealed. He couldn't wait to map her out completely. How much would she hate to be pleasured while she scowled?<br/><br/>He did not stop when she demanded it. It was too exciting to fidget with the wax, having the smooth, oily patch rub against her supposedly protected sex. The news she gave him as he circled her weak nipple with his tongue, and her hooded nub underneath the chainmail, were bitter, but they didn't really change anything for them. "Sounds like you..." he said, before roughly pushing down on the wax again. "have your work cut out for you then, princess." he said without worry.<br/><br/>He kept her hands were they were as he continued to play between her legs. There was less anger in him now, as he seemed content with the plan. His hand was expertly trying different ways to massage the wax against her cunt, and would continue a certain way if she gave any indication to liking it. He was building his arsenal of her admitted pleasures to use against her. "You talk about your father a lot." he said almost casually. "Did you two have something illicit going on? I hear some kings are protective for a reason." Aerill said, his blue specs aglow like summer comments in this almost night-room.<br/><br/>"He made a castle out of your quim, and you're thinking about him even as I diddle you." Aerill laughed to himself, never letting up. He wanted to see her dew shine the little piece of wax, a confession that her voice wouldn't give. "Did you see this room often, perhaps?" A horrible suggestion, but he was painting it like it was any other, every-day subject. "Did you have to take over for your mother sometimes, and he couldn't bare a cock that wasn't his coming inside you? It's not really a scandal. It's not even that uncommon, I hear. Should we put it in your father's history notes?"<br/><br/>Aerill leaned down again, suckling her punished nipple. He hummed into her tit like the bud was the most honeyed thing he'd ever tasted. His hand was even more insistent between her thighs. When he lifted his lips from her breast, there were saliva strands tying his tongue to her nipple, still. "Did you want to buy your brother some time, though? I'll let you have an hour, him a finger, if you get me off. Maybe with your tits, maybe with your hands?" He looked at her like they were friends, like he wasn't holding her wrists down and forcing her sex to feel pleasure. "Or your mouth? Careful now. if you answer correctly, I'll even throw in an extra hour for him."<br/><br/>Despite his calm, he was furiously looking for her orgasm.