This story was written in response to the following prompt on the live journal disney_kink community: "Tangled; would love some humorous Flynn/Rapunzel role play or just domestic-y romantic fluffy things!" There's that, and some smut. While it's been available on my livejournal for some time (inezelives . livejournal . com) , I put it here so more people could find it. HOWEVER, there are several more stories on that journal that will never be here on ff . net, so if you like my fics, go check it out.

Thanks Scout Troop Stupendous for egging me on, especially Airplane for absolving my sins in exchange for smut. Thanks Anon for the fun prompt.

Rapunzel's grandmother was a formidable woman. Her mother's mother, they looked quite alike but acted very differently. Lady Camille was her name, with steely grey hair and quick green eyes. She was not mean by any definition, just… direct. She spoke very plainly. Sometimes Rapunzel really appreciated this, because she never misunderstood her grandmother. Other times, she just didn't know how to respond.

They sat together at tea on one of the verandas, just the two of them. They'd been discussing different kinds of hats and the occasions to wear them, when suddenly, out of the blue, Camille said "Your husband… Eugene. He's a handsome fellow."

Rapunzel beamed, setting down her scone. She loved to talk about Eugene. They'd been married about a year, and every day she felt closer to him. After spending almost two decades alone, getting to know another person completely and intimately was constantly thrilling to her.

She nodded. "Yes, he's so handsome. I don't think I realized just how handsome he was when we met. Since then I've met many men, and I think Eugene is the most handsome of all."

Camille smiled thoughtfully, lowering her teacup onto her saucer. "Are you two… regularly intimate?"

Rapunzel's eyebrows shot up. She didn't blush, because it was actually something she'd very much like to be able to talk about, but everyone else got uncomfortable if she raised the subject, especially her mother. "I think so…" They made love almost every day, some days more than once, except when they were apart for royal duties or it was a particularly taxing day and one of them passed out before dark.

"I think you are mistaken," Camille said primly, her lips quirking at the corners. "Otherwise I'd have a grandson by now. Heirs are good for political stability, darling, and good for my heart, too."

Actually, Rapunzel hadn't born an heir because she wasn't ready to have a baby yet. Of course some day she wanted to. But for now, she'd keep taking those herbs that kept her from getting pregnant. She still had so much to learn on her own, before she was responsible for another life. "I'm only just past twenty," she said cheerfully. "There's plenty of time for that."

"Not at all!" said Camille, fluffing her bouffant. "When I was your age I was with child for the third time!" She shook her head. "No, no, this won't do. Rapunzel, you can be honest with me. Are you not pleasing him? Because you know, he'll never give you a baby if he doesn't-"

Rapunzel shifted a little in her seat, thinking of just how pleased Eugene could be. If she was honest with herself, it was her favorite part, even more than her own climax. The way he let go, the way his muscles clenched and then completely relaxed, how powerful and beautiful she felt, knowing she gave it to him. She loved how he spent himself in her, how he gathered her up in his arms after, perfect love in his eyes.

"I think he's pleased," she said quietly, almost privately. "He loves me, and I please him."

"Darling of course he loves you. I'm not questioning that! You are a fabulous girl. What's not to love? No. I'm merely saying, if you're not yet with child, you might want to… consider putting the sparkback in your marriage. You know, spruce things up a bit."

Rapunzel narrowed her eyes at her grandmother, a miniscule knot of worry budding in her stomach. The spark? Was the spark ever gone? It was true, she could control herself better than she could before she knew what it was to possess Eugene. She didn't want him any less now, but she certainly felt less of the frantic need that comes with the mystery of it all. Whereas, before their marriage, she was constantly agitated by wondering what big secret Eugene was keeping from her, now she knew. But it was still like a secret between them, something they shared with dark glances over dinner or a brush of hands in court, a request, a promise; soon? Soon.

She felt a tingle down her spine just thinking about the gentle kiss Eugene had given her this morning before he set out for the day's meetings. He'd promised to come home as soon as the conference with the neighboring ambassadors about security for the upcoming tournament was over, and then he'd kissed her, on the lips, in front of the entire court, which was very improper. It was a simple kiss, chaste, but there was love in it, and the public nature of the exchange was unexpected and tantalizing. If they were alone, she would have pulled him closer, held him tighter, but she couldn't. She'd merely rubbed her thighs together under her enormous gown and hoped she didn't look as pathetic as she felt when he'd smiled at her. Later.

Rapunzel felt a little warmer. Later was soon, now. Thank goodness. Just thinking about it made her toes curl. Certainly, they had quite enough spark. "I think…" she said slowly, trying to match her grandmother's bluntness. "That if I wanted Eugene any more than I do, I wouldn't be able to fulfill my duties as princess."

"Oh that's clear, Darling. You watch the man like he's the last croquette at one of Aunt Dervla's garden parties. Goodness knows I love those little things, I think I'd lick my fingers after I ate one if no one is looking. What does she put in them? Paprika, I think, Paprika and…"


She cleared her throat. "The question is, does he look at you that way?"

Rapunzel paused, surprised by the question. It was true, Eugene didn't usually look at her with the same bottomless hunger she felt burning in her gaze. His expression was more careful, more self-aware, but she always thought it was because he had more practice masking his feelings, more control over his desires. He was quite a bit older than she was, and had much more experienced with sex – with having it, and not having it, and wanting it.

And when it came to actually making love, she almost always initiated the activity. He responded immediately and passionately, and he always made sure to give as well as receive, but… now that she thought about it, she was the one who always backed him against the wall first, she was the one who reached for the buttons of his shirt first, she was the one who pulled him down into the bed.

Did he not feel the spark? Was he humoring her? The miniscule knot in her stomach blossomed into something big and nauseating, and she pushed away her tea. She looked up at her grandmother, crestfallen. "You think he doesn't want me?"

"Oh sweetheart, it's not you! It's just… it's just marriage. Men never want what they can have. But we women have our tricks. Don't you worry."

She didn't want to trick Eugene into wanting her. It depressed her to think he didn't feel the same pull she did. He was her whole world, as far as she was concerned. There was the kingdom, there was her family, but it was Eugene she reached for when she woke up in the morning, and Eugene she offered herself to, completely and utterly, again and again. Her voice came out thick and uncertain. "Tricks?"

Camille nodded sagely, offering a wise smile Rapunzel supposed was intended to be comforting. "Of course! If you keep flinging yourself at him, he'll never want you like you want him. You need to make him fling himself at you."

Rapunzel couldn't imagine Eugene flinging himself anywhere, at anyone. He was the strong one, he was the steady one who caught her, as she was known to do quite a bit of flinging. And even if he did pick up flinging, could she catch him? What then?

"Sweetheart I see the wheels turning in your head. I'm speaking metaphorically here. He does not need to throw himself at you bodily. Just… make things a little more novel for him. Make him want you."

Rapunzel wanted Eugene to want her almost as much as she wanted him to love her, and that was a lot. She squared her shoulders. "What do I have to do?"

Camille tossed her hand as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Let him make the first move, for starters. See how that goes. Then try dressing up! The smallest change can go a long way in the bedroom."

Rapunzel cocked her head. "Dressing up? Like for a ball?"

"No, Darling. Like something forbidden. Someone forbidden. Be something he can't have every day. If you have something every day you're bound to get tired of it. Be someone against the rules."

Rapunzel bit her lip, the sick feeling spreading into her heart. Eugene was tired of her? He wanted someone different? She had to be this someone?

Camille patted her hand. "Sex between committed couples can become a chore. But, be creative!" she said. "If one thing doesn't work, try another! The possibilities are endless. Which is a good thing, too, because marriage is forever."

The meeting must have gone late, because Eugene wasn't home for dinner. She spent the meal pushing her peas around and wondering if he thought about her at all. The discussion with her grandmother made her feel desperate, clingy, and inadequate. She never used to question these basic aspects of her relationship with her husband. Of course he thought about her – of course he looked forward to coming home to her. Now she wasn't as confident. Was she a chore? Was she a chore Eugene was going to have to do forever?

She put on the nightgown Eugene liked best – it was bottle green silk, with thin straps and a low back. The smooth, cool material clung to her breasts and her waist and her hips, making her feel more endowed than she really was, and stopped just below her ass in the back. She loved when Eugene slid his hands over her in it, loved how she could practically feel his palms through the thin material, how he'd bunch his hands in it and tug it up over her head to find the skin underneath.

She settled into their enormous bed and felt tiny in it without him. When he was away, she missed her little bed in the tower. She'd always felt cozy there. This monstrosity was gigantic, with dozens of pillows and curtains hanging down the sides. Although, when Eugene was there, sometimes it didn't feel big enough, and she often ended up hanging off the side a little as he pressed into her. It was fun.

Finally, long after the palace had gone to sleep, Eugene quietly snuck into the room, surprised to find the candles by the bed still lit. He looked tired, clearly he'd had a long day, but his smile was warm when he spotted her. "Hey," he said softly, rubbing a crick in his shoulders. "What are you still doing up, Blondie?"

Should she tell him she was waiting for him? That after that kiss that morning she'd been on firewith the waiting? That after she talked to Grandma Camille she desperately needed some reassurance, and that reassurance needed to come in the form of wild, wanton sex initiated by himself? No. He probably didn't even remember kissing her like that. She needed to make him want her, so that she could put the spark back in their marriage. Or something.

"Oh, you know," she said awkwardly. "Just… sitting here."

Eugene made his 'puzzled' face but then shrugged, shaking his head. He was used to her weirdness. He sat on the edge of the bed to take off his boots and smiled at her over his shoulder. "And how's that going for you?"

"I don't like how big the bed is when you're not in it," she blurted out, immediately regretting it.

He laughed a little and scooted down so he could reach out and ruffle her hair. "You're adorable," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I stink. I'm going to take a bath, then I'll get in with you."

She was adorable?No! She wasn't supposed to be adorable! If she was labeled adorable in this, his favorite nightie, then what could she do? She watched him shuffle off to the connected bathroom, heard his clothes hit the ground and his low sigh as he settled into the water. She had a mind to go in there and sink down into the tub with him, rub away the day's wear and coax him to love her right there in the water. They'd done it more than once. It was tricky and kind of uncomfortable, but she'd take it this point.

But she didn't. She waited, tensed, for him to call her. And he didn't.

This was stupid. This wasn't working at all. Who was Camille to give advice? She didn't seem like a woman who knew what it was like to be with someone like Eugene. She should just tell Eugene what Camille said, and he'd say Camille was a crabby old woman and they were fine. Rapunzel could hear his words in her head. He'd said them about her grandmother enough times before. Then he'd probably gather her up close to him and prove it.

But the words died in her throat when Eugene finally came out of the bathroom, wet hair skewed and falling over his forehead in an effortlessly attractive way, completely naked and smelling like soap. That was one of her favorite things about being married – once they'd become familiar with each other's bodies, they could just walk around naked. It was great. He crawled into the bed next to her, lying on his side facing her, propped up on his elbow.

He reached out to trace a finger along the thin strap of her slip, a glint in his eye. "I like this," he said softly. "You're gorgeous."

Good! Good, this was more like it. Gorgeous she could work with. Her instinct was to lean into his touch, to return the compliment and his affection. She resisted, she had to seem like something he couldn't have any old day. "Thanks," she said quietly, trying to keep a straight face.

He cocked his head a little, eying her curiously. Curiosity is good, it's a kind of interest, right? He ran his fingertips over her arm, and she stayed as rigid as a board, her wide eyes glued to his forehead so as not to betray what she was feeling.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"Because you look like you're lying on a bed of nails and you won't meet my eye."

She couldn't help but meet his gaze then, and he was obviously concerned. His hand turned comforting, moving to cup her jaw and stroke his thumb over her cheek soothingly. "Hard day?"

She nodded silently, transfixed by the way the candlelight reflected in his eyes, the way his chest moved against her side as he breathed. The urge to wrap herself around him was almost unbearable, to feel the rhythm of that breath pulse through them both as they moved together. But, he had to reach for her first.

He smiled understandingly, then moved over her…

And blew out the candles. Okay, he wanted to do it in the dark. Usually Eugene liked to make love when the room was lit, liked to watch her when she came apart in his arms. But that meant that they were doing something novel with the lights out, which was the idea.

But when he gathered her into his arms, sheltering her against his chest, he tucked her against him in the familiar way he did when they'd drift off to sleep. He kissed the very top of her spine once, sweetly, and then relaxed into the sheets. In only a few minutes, she felt his breathing even out in sleep.

She'd put him to sleep.

Rapunzel fretted about the castle all the following day. She paid polite attention at the Circle of Philanthropic Countesses brunch, and she read the closing meditation at the retirement of an accomplished warhorse, but otherwise her thoughts were consumed by Eugene and her utter failure the night before. Clearly, she had not been forbidden enough. She had to be more forbidden.

It couldn't just be any old act. It must be something truly out of his reach, something so new he'd be amazed and consumed by intrigue.

Which was why, when Eugene got home from another long day of meetings, Rapunzel was ready. She'd made a kind of shroud out of extra sheets and rubbed brown and grey makeup here and there. It wasn't perfect, but she thought it conveyed the idea.

Eugene eyed her warily, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and studying her. "Goldie…" he said, "What are you wearing?" His tone was carefully neutral. He was trying to be diplomatic. No need.

"I'm not Goldie," she whispered darkly. "I'm a leper."

Eugene blinked, frowned, then reached out a hand to feel her forehead.

"You're not allowed to touch lepers," she said, trying to sound ominous. "Leprosy is dreadfully contagious."

"That's true," he said, pinching a splotchy spot on her arm. "So it's a good thing this is eye shadow and not decayed flesh. What am I missing? Why are we dressed as lepers?"

Rapunzel huffed. "We are not. I am dressing as a leper." She pulled the shroud aside a little to reveal one long, slender, blue and brown leg. "So that you can have something… forbidden." She arched an eyebrow and dropped her voice an octave, hoping it conveyed her meaning.

Eugene leaned in, and she thought he would kiss her, but he only studied her pupils. Finally, he pulled back. "So… you want me to have sex with you while you're dressed as a leper?"

Finally! She nodded enthusiastic ally. "Yes! I will actlike a leper, too!"

Eyebrows knit, Eugene took the tea from her bedside table and sniffed it, then poked the half pastry she'd left uneaten. "And what does that entail?"

Eugene's obvious skepticism starting to discourage her, Rapunzel shrugged. "I'll moan and groan a lot. I won't use the limbs that I've designated as rotted away. You can pretend you snuck into a leper colony and-"

"Why would I sneak into a leper colony for sex?"

"I don't know, maybe you wanted an adventure, maybe-"

"Do I come across as a guy who gets off on lepers?" He looked legitimately concerned for his reputation, so Rapunzel quickly shook her head.

"No, no! I just thought… I don't know, I thought you might want to try something different. You know, have something you can't have every day."

Eyes softening, Eugene bent down to push the shroud away from her shoulder and press a kiss there that tingled all the way down her spine. "Don't be silly," he murmured. "I married you because I wantto have you," he punctuated his words with hot, open-mouthed kisses across her collar bone. "Every. Single. Day."

She moaned softly, arching up into his lips, and when his hand moved to rest on her exposed thigh, she jumped on her cue. "OH GOD!" She wailed, "NOT THAT LEG. IT BURNS!"

Eugene snatched his hand away and sat up instantly. "What's wrong?"

Rapunzel brought her hands together as if in prayer. "Dear Lord," She cried. "Why do you afflict me with this disease? Why must I be isolated from my fellow man? Must I never know the pleasure of flesh on flesh?"

Eugene stared blankly at her for a long time. Finally, he shook his head. "I'm going to take a bath."

Rapunzel was puzzled. Maybe the costume wasn't as professional as it could have been, but her superb acting should have made up for it. She'd definitely performed the role with verve. Effort should count for something in these situations.

Maybe forbidden wasn't the right track. Maybe she should be something that he used to have, but couldn't anymore. But the next night, when she'd done her best impression of a prostitute with ripped stockings and smeared lipstick, he'd mumbled something about how he thought marriage meant he didn't need to pay for sex anymore, and then he took another bath.

That was the last straw. Rapunzel knew she needed to pull out all the stops. There was one thing she knew that was the sexiest thing she could think of andthe one thing Eugene would never able to have. Because the one downside to being Flynn Rider is that Flynn Rider can't simultaneously be your boyfriend. Unless you have a wife who enjoys dress up.

Thus after some rummaging in the back of her closet, some cleaning, some mending, and some primping, Rapunzel laid herself out on the bed clad only in the old blue vest Eugene wore when they first met. She'd belted it tightly at her waist, and bunched it so she actually looked rather good in it. She posed in her best come-hither position and channeled every ounce of self-confidence and sexual appeal she could find in herself.

Still, when Eugene got home, he took one look at her and burst out laughing.

Fine. That's okay. People react to the sexiness that is Flynn Rider in all kinds of ways. He'd come around if she gave him a moment to collect himself. She kept a straight face.

"Oh," Eugene murmured, wiping a hand across his face and then holding it over his mouth as he looked her over. "Oh Blondie, what have you done this time?"

She quirked an eyebrow, running a hand up her side. "It's Flynn Rider."

He shook his head, looking at her like she was the cutest puppy in the world and had just brought him his slippers. "Alright, Flynn. What are you doing in my bed and what did you do with my wife?"

"Count yourself lucky," she said huskily. "It's not every day you find Flynn Rider in your bedroom."

Eugene crossed his arms over his chest, smiling. "Are you trying to seduce me? Why do you think all of these costumes are the way to do it?"

She got up on her hands and knees, crawling down the bed towards where he stood at the end. "I see you aren't familiar with my skills," she said. "I am the greatest lover in all Corona."

"Did I ever say that? That's a terrible line."

"Don't be frightened. I'll go easy on you."

He snorted, the open sack by the bed catching his eye. It contained all their old things that she didn't have the heart to throw away. "So, if you're Flynn," he said, stooping to pick something out of the bag. "Does that make me you? Am I Rapunzel?"

Rapunzel faltered. She hadn't thought of that. "If you want to be."

Eugene lifted her old corset and inspected it. It was still in pretty good condition, if a bit faded and frayed. "This is way too small for me to even try on. Hmm…" He took a sheet out of the closet and put it over his head so his face was visible and it trailed down his back. He looked a bit like a nun, or a bride. "I'm Rapunzel," he said in a higher attempt at sounding feminine. "And I think you don't care a bit about my womanly wiles, Flynn Rider. I think you just want all of my hair! Do you know how many afghans you could knit out of this hair? Do you know you could carry all of your worldly possessions in this hair? Stay back!"

Rapunzel stifled her own laughter and reached out to stroke his cheek, biting her lip when he batted his eyes at her. She cleared her throat. "I didn't want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice." Then she mustered up all her courage and put on her very best smolder.

Eugene raised an eyebrow. "Flynn, why are you making such a ridiculousface? I have no idea what you could possibly have in mind with that face. I'm going to completely disregard it. Tra la la!"

Rapunzel had never actually been intimate with Eugene when he was still in full on Flynn Rider mode, so she stretched her imagination a little and imagined what Flynn would have done in such a situation. Grinning, she swept Eugene up in her arms and tossed him (really it was more like she dragged him) onto the bed.

"Ruffian!" Eugene exclaimed, clutching the sheet on his head. "Back away or I will beat you with a cooking implement!"

Rapunzel descended upon him, kissing his protesting lips and then moving to his neck, pushing his shirt aside to press kisses along his collar bone and shoulder, licking and nipping her way across his skin, trying to focus her entire being on what she was doing because that's how it felt when Eugene kissed her – like she was the center of his world.

"Oh," Eugene sighed, his flailing arms falling limp onto the bed. "Oh, Flynn. I see what you have in mind!"

She grinned against his skin, dipping her tongue onto the hollow of his throat.

He let out an exaggerated, throaty moan. "Don't Stop!" He tossed his head back and forth. "Flynn, you arethe greatest lover in Corona!"

Rapunzel pulled back, frowning skeptically. "I've only just started."

"I'm so sensitive!" Eugene whined, arching up into her. "I need you, Flynn! WOW!"

"You're mocking me." Rapunzel said with a scowl. "I do not act like that. I did not act like that."

Eugene grinned up at her, eyes sparkling as the sheet spilled over his face a little. "Wanna bet?" He reached a hand under the hem of her vest, settling his palm on her hip and pushing his thumb hard against her abdomen as his fingers flexed into her flesh. Without a thought a low, needy moan tumbled from her lips as she leaned her head back. But the moment she heard it, she snapped her mouth shut.

He chuckled. "Don't be embarrassed," he said, pushing the sheet back from his face. "I like that about you. I love that you love when I touch you." He squeezed her hip again and she bit her lip, holding back her moan.

He got up on one elbow. "Aw, don't hold back to punish me. I was just playing. Come on." He pulled her flush against him and kissed her, their first real kiss in days, and she couldn't contain the aching moan as he settled his lips over hers, coaxing her to open for him, teasing his tongue along hers. When he withdrew, he rested his forehead against hers and smiled. "That's my girl. Here, get up for a second, I have an idea."

She did as he said, because when he kissed her like that he could get her to do anything, and three days between proper kisses was too long. They stood next to the bed and he pulled off his shirt, then loosened her belt and divested her. She was almost shy, standing naked before him, but he didn't pay any attention as he slipped the vest over his own shoulders and then flashed her a dashing grin. "How about," he said. "I be me, and you be you. I think that would be incrediblysexy. Making love to Rapunzel is one of my most persistent erotic fantasies."

"One of them?"

"Don't push it," he laughed, reaching down for her old corset and spinning her around so he could fit it to her form and lace up the back. He was quick with laces when she met him, and now he was an expert.

When it was done she turned in his arms, and they each saw each other in many ways at the same time. She saw her husband, and her lover, and her best friend, and she saw the thief that snuck into her prison and freed her, and the man who'd traded his life for hers.

He kissed her once, softly, slowly on the lips, then hummed his appreciation as his hand settled on her hips. "Palace life has been good to you," he murmured. It was true. The corset still fit but was snugger. She'd filled out, and now the silk and boning clung to her body the way it should to a woman, and the lacing at the top just concealed nipples which were already hard from wanting him.

He lifted her so she was seated on the edge of the bed and stood between her legs, hands trailing up her sides until they cupped her face, and he bent down a little to kiss her again, this time hungrily, thoroughly. They moaned together as she clung to his shoulders, the feel of the old leather under her hands sparking a hundred different memories through her head.

She dragged her palms down his front, over the lean muscles of his chest and his abs, bucking her hips against him at how good he felt. He always felt good, everything about him was good to her. She was wet and aching for him. Most nights he'd take his time getting her ready even though there wasn't even a need. She was always ready for him.

He broke the kiss, rocking up against her. "I've missed this," he said, low in her ear, one hand pulling her corset down enough to cup her breast, stroking and massaging her, teasing her nipple with his thumb. "We have all night to take it slow, but can I just-"

"Yes," she moaned, grabbing his belt. She'd learned to be quick, too, and the buckle was undone and his pants down before he finish the sentence. "Now," she begged, getting as close to the edge of the bed as possible and wrapping her legs around him as he teased the head of his cock into her entrance.

She shuddered, tugging the front of his vest insistently. "Gentle later," she gasped. "Take me now."

He pushed her back on the bed and himself inside her completely, both of them groaning as they joined together. Her body thrummed with the feeling of fullness, and she squeezed her calves against his ass, keeping him inside her for a moment longer before releasing him, reveling in the empty ache of his withdrawal, relishing his return. He leaned over her, wrenching her corset down so he could pleasure her breasts with his mouth, one hand holding her hips steady as he pushed them both towards completion.

"Harder," she pleaded, needing to be consumed, needing to be his. No more games. No more guessing.

He smiled devilishly, seeming to understand, pulling her wrists up over her head to hold them there, to hold her stretched, open to him. It was the most delicious, addictive surrender she could imagine, and she arched into his sheltering frame, eyes closed against all sensation, bracing herself against him as he obeyed, pounding into her.

Their years together only made them more adept at pleasing each other. When her cries grew stronger and higher, he moved his free hand from her hip to her center, stroking and circling her clit with two fingers, coaxing her to give in to herself and to him. It was always a sweet struggle for her, not wanting the moment to end, but knowing she'd reach it with Eugene over and over again.

She hung on for three more thrusts before accepting her release, opening her mouth in a silent scream as waves of pleasure crushed her into the bed, his hands burning into her wrist, into her core, the tight boning of the corset hugging her in as she came undone.

She had the presence of mind only to squeeze as hard as she could around Eugene, saying his name over and over, watching him watch her come, knowing what it did to him. His eyes burned into her and he yanked her upright, slinging her arms over his shoulders and holding her flush against him with one arm, the other cupping her ass.

He held her gaze as he took her, riding out her orgasm with her, holding her upright as he pumped into her. She watched the resolve burn out in his eyes and he rasped "I love you," before closing his mouth over hers as he came, moaning his pleasure into her mouth, spilling himself inside her.

They both collapsed onto the bed.

A few hours later, after they'd recovered, taken things more slowly, then recovered again, Rapunzel was cuddled up against Eugene's chest, happy as Maximus in an orchard.

"So," Eugene said, running his fingers through her hair. "Are you going to tell me what all the costumes were about?"

She felt embarrassed now, when the thing that really ended up getting Eugene's attention was being herself. She was hoping he would drop the subject, but so much for that. She shrugged a little, hiding her face against his neck. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I just wanted to… 'put the spark back in our marriage.'"

He pulled away from her a little, tilting her chin up so he could see her face. There were a few little worry lines between his eyebrows. "Is that something you're concerned about?"

She shook her head. "No. I'mnot concerned. It was… well it was Grandma Camille. She said I watched you like a croquette and that you love me but maybe you don't want me as much as you should…"

Eugene rolled his eyes. "Your grandmother is…" he sighed. "I'm sure she and I will have our showdown soon enough. It doesn't matter. Rapunzel, if you're concerned about our relationship, then talk to me. I would gladly have made it clear that I want you plenty. As I hope I have." He kissed the tip of her nose.

"But… when it comes to sex, I'm always the one to start things."

"Blondie, you're kind of in a delicate emotional state oh… all the time. I want you to feel in control of what you do with your body and when. Anyway, I'm sure in ten years your interests will cool and I'm going to be begging for sex like every other poor married sod. I'm enjoying your immense sexual appetite while I can."

If the already growing ache in the pit of her stomach was any indication, her waning desire was doubtful. "I don't think I'll ever stop wanting you. I don't think I'll ever want you less than I do now, than I always have."

He stroked her cheek. "I guess being locked in a tower could have brewed some crazy bottomless lust in you."

Grinning, she nipped at his jaw, twining her legs with his. "Everything has a silver lining."

He grinned back. "Yes. So just talk to me if something like this happens again. I would have told you what my actual kinks are. And saved you the trouble of pretending your flesh was rotting off."

She blinked, cocking her head a little. "We've been married a year and you haven't told me about your secret fantasies?"

"Not all of them."

"Like what?"

"Well… for starters, I wouldn't mind if you went down on me while I wear my crown."


He laughed. "Hey! How many times have we snuck into the mathematician's tower and done it because you have a thing for numbers and heights? I humor you."

Mmm… numbers and heights. "Get your robe on," she whispered. "Round three in the mathematician's tower!"