Yes. Yes I did go there.

Now the only reason this came about is because fuckyeahtangled on tumblr tags loads of pictures revolving around the chair scene with BONDAGE and that is very very suggestive to someone with a mind like mine.

So then *this* happened. And to think I used to have trouble conceiving of Tangled and sex in the same mindframe. The solution to it was clearly kink. THE SOLUTION TO *EVERYTHING* is clearly kink.

Unconventional

Rapunzel was an unconventional girl in the broadest senses of the word. Spending any amount of time with her convinced anyone of that. She was a princess who would suddenly become fascinated with blacksmiths and spend an entire day helping out at a forge, coming home covered in soot, burns and wild stories about how they actually put shoes on horses' feet.

She was a royal who when visiting other nations would probably disappear at some point in the evening and be found on the roof, admiring the view and failing to understand people's concern at her climbing out of a very high window in order to get up there. She would chat with servants, call them by name, and went to personally thank every single cook at every single function for being so nice as to prepare their meal. Often she asked for recipes, or outright sat up on the counter and watched them work.

Eugene, her long-suffering husband, would often happen upon his plucky bride covered from head to foot in flour, dirt and the unidentifiable, so would lovingly hold her underneath a stream of water until she was reasonably clean again. She was, as mentioned, an unconventional creature, having grown up in a world not quite like their own.

When she was angry, for example, a lifetime of passive aggression and non-confrontation gave her strange behaviour when she was bearing a grudge. She and Eugene would have the odd argument, as most couples were wont to do, but if they really fell out, she would usually disappear completely, appearing only to tell him why he was wrong and then vanish again. It didn't happen often, or last for too long, but she was always rather cryptic in her movings.

However, in one case, she managed to misjudge the situation entirely. She and Eugene hadn't fallen out, so much as been very busy with their own business. Between this and that they had not seen very much of one another for some time, and like creeping damp on a wall, neglect grew into resentment.

However, Eugene had concomitantly decided that if she really wanted to see him, Rapunzel could very easily find him herself; he was adamant – following a particularly harsh hazing from the thugs that he was 'whipped so hard he had lashmarks' – he would not go hounding after her like a love-sick puppy, which of course he was. He was going to at least pretend to play it cool for once – an ego like his needed a little flattery every now and again.

But what he didn't account for was his beloved's unconventional ways; Rapunzel simply didn't react to things in the way everyone else did. Not that he had a problem with it, most of the time. It was just when it involved tackling him from behind in the corridor outside their bedroom that he had minor issues. Largely because it involved his falling and landing flat on his face, and maybe too many whacks in the head with a frying pan weakened his skull or something, but he was cold out the moment he hit the floor.

Which accounted for why he was very confused to wake up and find he'd been tied to a chair. At least it wasn't with hair this time, but his bemusement was not really any lesser. The curtains were drawn, but he knew his own bedroom, and looked curiously at the ropes that lashed his arms and legs to the frame of their sturdy desk chair.

"Uh... Rapunzel?" he called out suspiciously, and received no response. "... Captain?" he hazarded worriedly. He didn't know why the Captain of the Guard would want to tie him to a chair, but of all the people he knew who wanted to do him harm, he came top of the list.

"Eugene Fitzherbert..." came a low, threatening voice from behind him, which he thankfully recognised in a good way. Rapunzel circled him, and it was about then Eugene started to consider the fact that he was tied up in the bedroom with his wife. At which point the blood started running somewhat hotter through his body.

"Say, dear," he forced in as level a voice he could. "What's all this about?" He pulled against the ropes, found them tight, and had to stop himself taking a very, very deep breath.

"You've been avoiding me!" Rapunzel accused, jabbing out a finger like an ace prosecutor.

"I... haven't," he answered awkwardly. "I've been busy." She took a step closer to him, and he wanted to strain to reach her – knowing he couldn't reach, knowing it'd make him feel incapacitated and helpless – and by extension what that would do to him.

"No, you've been avoiding me," she insisted firmly, crossing her arms and scowling. "Why? What have I done? I know that-"

"Look," he cut in suddenly, an urgency to his tone that he couldn't hide well. "Can you please fill me in on how my avoiding you relates to my being tied to this chair?" Even saying it was bad enough, as he felt his pulse beating fast in his neck, his fingertips and elsewhere.

"I'm making sure you can't get away," she answered simply, like it ought to be obvious. "This way you can't avoid me, you have to tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," he tripped over himself saying; if anything, things were a little too right. Maybe he wasn't quite the most conventional guy either. Of course, it wasn't just anyone tying him up that would do the trick, but it being her – and the way she was doing it – pushed a lot of buttons that he didn't often have pressed. "I just... I was..."

"Yes?" she prompted expectantly, completely and totally oblivious to the situation. In her mind it made perfect, simple sense. Her husband was apparently taking steps to evade her, so she confined him to one place, tying him down for extra security, to make sure he couldn't get away.

"I was just... the guys said," Eugene babbled more than he spoke, and tightened his hands around the arms of the chair, his knuckles blanching. Rapunzel wasn't actively encouraging, but she was there, and his mind was more than ready to supply the rest. He found it increasingly hard to think straight – or better yet, to think of anything outside of his restraints, Rapunzel, and what could happen between the two.

"Eugene, are you all right?" she asked quizzically, realising at last that he was not his usual self; what was normally a flair for words – particularly when he was in hot water and wanted to talk his way out of it – was an inexplicable jam of half-formed sentences.

"I'm fine," he shot, and he was going to be a lot more than fine if she didn't let him go soon. "I... uh," he tried to shift his feet, but they were not going to be moving anywhere; she was now very almost close enough, but he couldn't do a thing about it.

"Wait, wait a minute!" she burst, as if she were finally piecing together a very hard puzzle. "Are you... are you turned on?" Words he'd given to her, taught her – and hearing them now made it worse. Eugene knew that his chest was heaving, that – if they could move – his hands would probably be trembling, so he kept his eyes on the floor, because he couldn't stop it. She would have noticed soon enough anyway; of all the blood pounding through him right now, a lot was heading south.

He couldn't help himself, he hadn't expected her to do this. It wasn't something that happened accidentally, so he'd felt safe in the knowledge that a little preference like his wouldn't ever crop up unless he wanted it to. But no, not with Rapunzel.

He wanted to speak, but knew his voice would come out wrong; in a romanticised world, he would sound husky and masculine, but the reality was not so pretty. So he nodded instead, a small and modest gesture, leaning forwards as far as he could, head tipped down.

"What? Really?" Rapunzel exclaimed with too much surprise to be reassuring. "... Why?"

"Wh-" he choked, and cleared his throat. "You can't ask why," he muttered, clenching and unclenching his hands, like it might help.

"But I don't get it," she replied simply. "I thought you were mad at me." Even if he had been, he certainly wouldn't be any more.

However, the words to express such sentiments were not making themselves part of Eugene's vocabulary. The only things he found himself at all disposed to say were along the lines of please god kiss me, I'm begging you, and others of a similarly grovelling type. Rapunzel was still only about a pace away, and inched ever-so closer, quirking her head at him, clearly trying to figure it out.

"Is it because I tied you up?" she guessed, but didn't sound entirely convinced. She'd done it to him once before – the first time they met – and this certainly hadn't happened that time, but then the context had been very different; although, that wasn't something she would necessarily realise.

Eugene didn't reply, and instead let go of a short, hot breath he'd been holding in a little too long. Even if it wasn't intentional, having to sit here while she chattered at him, completely out of reach, only added to the effect. He still had to sit and comply, and it was not having a choice of his own, nor power nor control – it was being helpless, and it made him so unbearably hot.

"I don't get it, Eugene," she repeated honestly, and moved closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked up all of a sudden, mouth half open, eyes fixated on her. Like she was the entire world to him at that moment.

Even if she didn't understand exactly why he was getting off, Rapunzel could still see the end result, and knew what to do, so she leaned in, as if to kiss him. Eugene let out a sigh and stretched to meet her, but then she stopped, hovering an inch or two away from his mouth, eyes still wide open and watching him. Eugene deflated like a bust lantern and crumpled into the seat.

"No," he said quietly, with the air of a man broken. "Please."

"Oh," Rapunzel hummed. "Oh." She moved her fingertips inquisitively to trail up his neck, skating around his ear, burying in his hair; he rolled into the touch with eyes closed, breathing short and shallow. "Is that what it is?" she asked. "Wanting, and not being able?"

That was exactly it, or part of it, and Eugene swallowed. He was the one who had experience with the physical, he was the one who took the upper hand, part-teacher and mostly-lover, when they married. He'd never been anything other than the leader. Now he was stripped bare, and Rapunzel was just realising why that mattered.

"Please," the word slipped his lips again, a desperate plea for some kind of release. "Please, Rapunzel." Now, he wasn't a rude person, but he didn't really use platitudes all that often, and never like now.

He was accidentally informing Rapuznel of exactly how far he could be pushed, how malleable willpower was, but he was very much past caring. Soon, his desperation came across enough for her to take pity, or at least to stop holding out, and she closed the space between them in a kiss.

Eugene didn't even offer a passing nod to chaste pecks or a gentle lead-in, and went full force into a deep, throaty tangle, trying to let loose a little pent-up frustration. It was his dominance for taking in a kiss, his arena, but all Rapunzel had to do was move away again to end it, and she did just that – drawing back curiously, if only to see what would happen. Eugene's mouth hung open, want only inflamed instead of dampened.

"No," he pleaded instantly. "You can't stop." Rapunzel didn't say anything, just observed him. He felt like an experiment, like she was about to pull out a notebook and start scribbling down everything that was happening.

"You want me to carry on?" she inquired; not exactly naïve, but without the lust that soaked his voice, his whole body. Eugene just moaned a wordless agreement, as it was becoming very obvious exactly how he was reacting to toying.

"Please," he repeated, the words flying from his tongue freely. There were people who'd failed in a lifetime to get as many pleas from him as Rapunzel had in a few minutes. But then, none of those people had ever had him tied to a chair, and certainly never crept forwards and bent up one leg over his, kneeling over his lap and wrapping their arms around his neck. She kissed him again, heavy and thick, wading slowly into the bog, sucking her in, pulling her down to the same toxic level of desire as him. Then she discovered that if she leant all the way back, he could not reach her. Even though he tried, leaning out and very nearly unbalancing the both of them.

"Rapunzel," he rushed as his arms locked and stopped him chasing her. "What are... you can't-"

He threw himself back in the chair frustratedly, but slowly Rapunzel edged herself forward, till her knees slipped past his hips, until she had him straddled. Her face was a little too high for Eugene to reach, but her neck and chest were just right, so he rubbed along the curve of her collarbone, like a pet begging for attention – he didn't feel like much more. He set instead to working tongue and teeth worked up to her jaw, and then felt her hands resting over his wrists, directly over the ropes that lashed him to the frame; they paused.

"Do you want me to untie you?" she asked in a clear, calm tone, but she'd felt him now – she knew – and Eugene shook his head against her skin.

Although she couldn't exactly explain why he was getting so much from it, Rapunzel didn't mind because it gave her a chance to have free reign – it was always when he started putting his hands on her that she invariably forgot about anything else. Like this, she could focus on anything she wanted, and Eugene was less able to derail her. He could still use his mouth, but all she had to do was move a little and he couldn't even do that – he was hers to investigate.

Slowly she started to trace a finger from his Adam's apple down to the hollow of his throat, then assertively to the first fastened button of his shirt. This she undid with a calm, but inquisitive air, and Eugene pushed his head back and shut his eyes. The next few followed, and she could feel him pulsing, desperate and hard underneath her. When she had the shirt fully undone, she pushed it half-open around him, heat rolling off his skin, the slightest traces of sweat forming in the recesses of his throat and along his collarbone.

If his hands weren't tied down right now, Eugene would surely be pushing the skirt of her dress further up from where it has bunched around him, feeling to unlace the body of her dress, slip it from her shoulders. But he couldn't, and she had no inclination to do it for him. There was something else between them like this, she realised, it was more than just love and desire – there was power. She'd never had control over someone else before. It was slightly darker, just the hint of a sharp blade in a gentle touch, and she thought she might be starting to understand.

Then she kissed Eugene and it was electric; of course, he was always enthusiastic and passionate when they were intimate, but now it was that and more. Although he rolled his hips against her, it was not enough to satisfy, only to further impassion; so when she tightened the grip of her legs around him, his head dropped to her shoulder helplessly. She moved with him for a moment, feeling the slow grind warm right through the core of her body. Wrapping her arms all the way around his neck, she held herself close, foreheads pressing together, and they breathed in sync.

He couldn't endure much more of this. Without realising it, Rapunzel was doing everything he wanted – everything he didn't want, or shouldn't want, but still wanted. The things that stoked the hot, corrupt fire in him, ready to take over, to burn everything dry. Until he couldn't think. Not like now, now he could think just enough, which was far too much.

"Rapunzel," he panted. "Please, I'm begging you." Those were words that no one else had ever managed to coax from him; yet now they flew without request, without hesitation.

"You're what?" she said, sounding almost proud of herself.

"Begging. I'm begging you," he repeated. "No more. I can't... I want..."

"What?" she found herself asking, and it wasn't innocent ignorance driving her – she knew exactly what he wanted, not least because she did too, but she wanted to hear him say it. She trailed her fingers down his chest when he was silent.

"I want you to have sex with me," he shot, forcing it out with a wince and desperate rasp of breath. He could feel her stilling, taking in what he said – it wasn't them in an act together, but her doing it to him. An action, almost one-sided. She'd probably never believed herself capable, not of doing it like this, but here she was.

She breathed deeply and took Eugene's face in her hands, tilting him back, pressing her mouth to his, and then gently nodding. It was not a leisurely or glamorous affair, it was a push to even call it romantic, but it was something Eugene had never had before – never been so completely ruled over, so bound.

An infamous thief like Flynn Rider would have been mad to let anyone get restraints on him, but perhaps the fact that it never happened only made it more desirable. Because it was. Eugene was the one who had pleasure wrung from him completely, who came through no action of his own because there wasn't anything he could do but have the feeling ripped from him, like it was not his to own.

He ended up sweating through his clothes and exhausted, shaking slightly, like Rapunzel had pulled the soul from him. She, in contrast, seemed calm, possibly even proud.

"That," he heaved, chest fluctuating. "That was amazing."

"Really?" Rapunzel asked curiously, starting to unfasten the first of the ties on his wrists; their use had been served, after all.

"Are you kidding," he breathed. "I...I," he broke away, still panting softly, "... wow," was all he could offer. Love and adoration – all he'd ever been able to give her.

The moment his hands were free, he pulled them quickly away from the arms of the chair and had them wrapped around his wife before she could so much as squeak. He closed her in a deep, enveloping kiss. One that reminded although dominance might be temporarily lost, it would not be too far off.

"Thank you," he murmured against her lips, swollen and sensitive – he probably needed to shave, if he was scraping delicate skin too much.

"What for?" she said quizzically, carefully getting up and then dropping down to release each of his feet. She was not wholly unaffected, of course, lightly sweated, faint marks on her skin and a smile steeped in afterglow, but he was taken apart. He'd never felt it so strongly before, the want to give in. Where he'd do absolutely anything asked of him, to not think – to just feel.

"Uh, never mind," he responded, closing his eyes and basking in waves of aftershock. If she didn't get it now, she'd probably understand eventually – she was a quick learner. He didn't mind waiting, letting her work it out for herself. "I think I better go clean up," he remarked, heading for the bathroom.

"Dinner in an hour," she called after him, following to the bathroom but only for a washcloth – all she needed was a wipe down to be right again, but he wanted complete cleansing. Needed to strip down to his skin and rinse it off him – otherwise he'd never get a straight mind again. "Are you coming?" she added tentatively, and he remembered their estrangement. He was busy, he did have a somewhat important councillor to wine and dine – such was court life – but then he absolutely, wholly and undoubtedly did not want to.

Instead, he wanted to be as close to Rapunzel as possible. They had been together for a few years, so gradually the compulsion to spend all their time together – like it might suddenly run out – had dulled. He didn't appreciate being parted from her, but at the same time he did not mind too terribly, especially when occupied. But today... it was like the very beginning again, hurting and fresh desire. Like being away from her would make him simply cease to exist.

He'd stripped and poured a few large, tepid buckets of water over his head, the run-off draining away with a noisy gurgle and out the castle walls. Scrubbing a little, he doused himself once more and then walked back into the main room, his feet appreciating the warm feel of carpet. She was stood at her wardrobe, but turned to face him immediately – still expecting an answer.

He reached out with wet hands and clasped her face in his – dripping water and completely naked, but that was hardly scandal between them – and gave her a kiss.

"Of course," he answered. She smiled and reached for a cloth, setting it over his head and ruffling his sodden hair. He hoped so very much that this was not going to be a first-and-last type affair, because the idea of not being able to feel like this, like that again could break him.

At dinner with his in-laws, also the reigning monarchs of the kingdom, Eugene could not have felt more serene if he'd looked up and seen a halo over his head. He was always a bright character, but now he really couldn't stop smiling, and was expecting to receive some remark on it when.

"My, Eugene, what have you done to your arms?" came the Queen's enquiry not long after they started eating, and for a moment he had to try and grasp what she was actually saying, his head trying to supply words of its own. He stopped, looked down at his forearms, and saw the rising purple bruises across each of his wrists. So maybe he'd pulled pretty hard on those ties. They didn't hurt, until he touched them, when he hissed with the sudden shock of pain.

"You look black and blue, man," the King commented, and around the table Eugene watched Rapunzel start to go very, very pink.

"I... uh, yeah," he said vaguely, turning his hands over to see how far the marks ran – pale and unblemished on the inside wrist, where there'd been nothing to pull at. Deepest and darkest on the top, where he'd tried so many times to pick his arms up and failed. "It looks worse than it is."

"However did you do it?" the Queen replied, and then while Rapunzel was in the process of going positively fuchsia, he realised that yes this might be a little awkward to explain.

"I," he started confidently, and then cursed his over-satisfied mind for not having any good lies on hand. He wondered if he had matching ones on his ankles. "Well, I dunno," he answered at last tritely. "I never noticed it until just now."

"Oh my, how strange," the Queen remarked, and reached out as if to feel, but Eugene snatched his hand away; somehow letting the Queen touch the marks her daughter left on him seemed wrong, not least considering the context in which they were given.

"Rapunzel dear, are you all right?" the King added distractedly, noticing his daughter looked as if she were about to pass out. "You look terribly..."

"I'mfine," she cheeped, and put her hands to her face in mortification, trying to force out the blush with the coolness of her palms.

"You're awfully warm," the Queen said, putting a hand to her forehead. "Are you well?"

"I, um, maybe," she mumbled hesitantly, and her mother slid down her hand to pat her shoulder soothingly.

"Why don't you finish up and have an early night?" she suggested. "Rest might do you good." Rapunzel nodded awkwardly, and set back to her meal; Eugene caught her eye, and then slowly lifted a corner of his mouth into a smirk – it was a bit funny to be fair.

She pouted, finished half of her meal and then excused herself – mother and father advising her to bed with well wishes and hopes of good health, as Eugene just watched her stand, a look that was all heat, and grinned.

Yes, an early night sounded like a fantastic idea.

Oh god Eugene you sexy bad man.

(Disclaimer: This is M-Rated of course and although it contains an explicit act I have got much more explicit things up on without issue, so please no wank, this is not a fic for Disney's target audience, it is by an adult for adults with adult themes.)