Compromise was the cornerstone of any good relationship.
Rapunzel ardently believed that if two people had decided to spend their lives together, needing a stuffy ceremony and public display was plain unnecessary for enjoying things like teasing and sex. Eugene, however, insisted he was very attached to his neck, but quickly offered a solution - as long as there was no chance of an accidental baby, it wasn’t technically sex, right?
That was a compromise they could agree on. Because hey - the rush of almost getting caught with their hands down each-others underwear was as heart-racing as any actual intercourse, as far as Eugene was concerned. (Blondie, ever the keen minded, was saving her judgement until she got to try it all out.) But whatever - it worked.
And then came the caravan Hairavan Hellivan.
Months on end of sharing a cramped space with four other people. It wasn’t Shorty’s deranged rumblings and sleeping in a bathtub, or Lance’s whistling, or even Cassandra and her barbed snipes that wore Eugene down. It was listening to Rapunzel hum and sing whenever she snuck off for a bath. It was watching her tongue peek out of her mouth and her brow furrowing whenever she was concentrating on a painting, and not being able to rush over and swoop her up and tickle her and make her sigh.
Flynn Rider had experienced the odd brush with torture before, but camping out with Blondie in his arms and not being able to sweep her hair back to suck her earlobe was hell. Having thugs and horses and the lady-in-waiting with an armoury nearby sucked. He should be doing the sucking! Not… this!
In the end, Eugene lasted about.. 8 or 9 years. Months. Something like that. It was hard to keep track of time anymore. He lasted a long time until they found themselves spending days in the funhouse of horrors, where they had hundreds of doors to check and none of them seemed like an exit. He lasted until two days after the brow-pinching experience with Matthews blasted time-changing top before he snapped.
“Hey, this one looks promising,” he cheered, peeking inside a room that was not a hallway or stable, a shed or anything that could remotely lead them back outside. Just nothing. A space. A blessed, empty space, free of vicious dogs and cursed mirrors and toys that were obviously carved from the wood of some ancient tree where thousands of people were hung to death or -
“Princess, care to join me?” He waggled his eyebrows playfully, charmingly, and all but dragged her inside before slamming it shut, leaving them finally alone. No monkeys or horses or Angry and Red (bless them), no Shorty or Cass or Pascal, nothing but the flare of Rapunzel’s hips in his hands and the soft flesh of her lip as Eugene kissed her heatedly and sucked.
“Eugene!” Rapunzel squeaked and he wanted to just swallow it up. “This isn’t - this is just a room!”
“I know!” He laughed and kissed her again, his hands grabbing onto her narrow waist as he felt her responding. “No Vigor, no Lance, no nothing,” he hummed, his lips moving to the back of her neck where he could bite at that one cord behind her ear. “I really like this room. It’s a good room. Let’s stay here a while.”
“Eu-gene.” Blondie drawled his name out, somewhere between an admonishment and what he thought hoped was a pleading sound. “We can’t stay here…”
“I think we can,” he murmured, a wide hand sliding down her side. As soon as his fingers brushed against her skirted thigh her leg slid up against this. Either he’d become hyper-sensitive or Blondie’s bare toes for digging right through the material of his trousers.
Probably a little of both.
“Let’s compromise,” he purred, tilting her head back up to kiss her again. This time he was sure he felt the tiny tip of her tongue against his and blood rushed through his ears and head. “If you want to enjoy five minutes without the kids say ‘More.’ If you want to go back, say the alphabet backwards while standing on one -”
“Oh, stop talking.” He must’ve imagined that, because Rapunzel never, ever was that brazenly assertive. And it was just as well, because he wouldn’t survive it - every ounce of blood rushed straight to his groin and left the back of his head buzzing.
“Is that a more?” The words became a strangled groan as Rapunzel’s leg tightened around him and her hip rolled harshly against him, butting his hard arousal with everything she had.
“Yes. More. Much more,” she breathed, and Eugene decided how much he absolutely hated her dress and corset and all of the things keeping him from stroking across her breast and kissing her stomach and petting her sex.
“Oh, Your Highness,” he purred, lips moving down to her collarbone… before the world thumped and they shared a heart attack.
“Raps! You okay in there!”
Eugene also hated Cassandra right now, but that’s okay, because he was pretty sure the look on Blondie’s face was the most annoyed he’d ever seen her.
“Fine!” Oh, that was a snap. That was a harsh snap, no doubt there, and Eugene pushed her skirt up past her knee because good lord he loved this woman so much right now. “We’re just busy checking things over - we’ll be about fiv - ten minutes!”
Ten? Eugene glanced up. Rapunzel bit her lip and winked, a pretty blush highlighting every freckle adorning her nose. He didn’t even try to look away before reaching between them and pulling her damp underwear aside, brushing his fingers across the wet folds of her core and drawling a delicate circle over where he knew her clit lay.
“Ten?! Are you sure you’re okay in there?”
“Believe me, Cass!” Rapunzel’s fingernails dug into Eugene’s shoulders as he teased her, split her and began to ease a finger inside her, earning a throaty mewl from deep inside her chest. Rapunzel arched, a hand pulling harshly through his hair and leaving Eugene with the most exquisite scratching he’d ever had. “I’ve never been better…”
Bless this woman for laughing so musically as he pushed a finger in and out of her.
“Why am I not grabbing your bare butt right now, Eugene?”
You forget the root of all evil could be to blame- Pongo. With his menacing black spots, he probably cooked up something with Archie or even Cruella (his mortal enemy), but tbh I might need some help to trace the crime back to him, because he's that good..
*gasp* HOW DARE YOU BLAME PONGO. Pongo is a perfect precious cinnamon roll and anyone who says otherwise is... dog-ist. Anti-dog-ist? Canophobic? Something. You monster.
No but really you make a good point - we should blame Archie. He’s a terrible therapist. If he’d been better at it maybe Henry wouldn’t have been driven to the point where he ran away to find Emma.
Totally not thinking of getting THIS decal for the laptop. Nope. Not at all. I don't have a problem. I just name computers and really like Supernatural, that's all!
