[Ianchus manages to drag one hand (heavy, it's so heavy!) out of the sheet to try to grab Jezebel's arm, but he misses. His eyes are starting to roll into his head, his lips flecked with spittle, his lungs and chest and heart and head burning.

But there's another heat there, of course, another base, animal instinct flooding his body.

Failing to grab Jezebel's arm, he grabs desperately at his waist with hands that don't feel much of anything.]