Chapter 4

"We were just getting to the parts I didn't know," Rapunzel chides as she dabs at Eugene's bleeding head with one of the napkins he lifted from the tavern. She looks slightly intimidating standing over him like this while he sits on a stump in the woods and tries to look a bit more wounded than he is. "Why did you have to go and start a fight with them?"

He winces as she pushes a bit too hard against his cut. "I'm sorry that I had to break up your girl talk, but you were getting into dangerous territory and something had to be done. I don't want you picking up their perverted habits."

She pulls back and frowns down at him, her expression one of confusion bordering on distress. "You don't?"

He blinks at her. "I-" The image of her in a compromising position flashes before his eyes before he shakes it away. "No."

Her shoulders slump and her face falls further. "How am I supposed to make sense of all this if there's no one to explain it to me and there aren't any books in the library?"

"I'm pretty sure there are some books."

"Then where are they?" She stamps her foot at the complete unfairness of it all. "I'm trying, but it's hard, and I'm scared, and no one will help me, and it's just one more thing that I don't know and everybody else does, and they all think I'm stupid and naïve, but I wouldn't be if someone would just tell me!"

"Woah, woah! Calm down, Blondie. It's alright." He reaches for her, but she swats him away to turn and pout. "Hey. It's ok." He stands and reaches again for her shoulder. She allows him to rest his hand there and squeeze, but she's determinedly not going to be happy about it. "If it's really bothering you this much, we'll figure something out. Something that doesn't involve asking the Mauling Wonder and the man with the face only a mother would love, because honestly, Blondie, that was one of your less inspired ideas."

She spins on him and glares. "Don't you call me stupid."

"I never called you stupid."

"And don't make fun of my friends." She emphasizes her words with several sharp pokes to his chest. "At least they were trying to help."

"They were trying to lead you down a path of debauchery."

She pushes up onto her toes to get right in his face. "That's what you say! They thought they were helping, and I've learned to make my own decisions about who to trust when people say they want to help me."

"And you trust them over me?"

"You don't want me to know!"

"Of course I want you to know! I want to be the one to show you!"

"Then do it!"

"Maybe I will!"

"Good!"

"Do you have any idea how hot you are right now?"

"I don't know what that means!"

He's grabbed her before she's even finished her shout, his mouth over hers, hungry and demanding, because she has set him on fire, and she's pressed so close that he can feel all the liquid tension of her body.

She pulls back in outrage, and he blinks at her once before she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him so fiercely that he stumbles and trips and ends up on the ground, sitting with her in his lap while she forces her tongue into his mouth. Her corset is thick and tough, but he can still feel the delicate cage of her ribs in his hands. He can feel the tremble of her flesh, the thinness of her waist, the arch of her back. He pulls his mouth to her neck to suck her pale skin and hold her as she gasps, head tilted perfectly to the side to expose as much skin to him as possible.

He wraps one arm firmly across her back for support as she shivers. It's something solid, something firm. It's her rock as she floats in euphoria. His other hand skates lower, rubbing circles with his thumb, hard enough that she can feel it through her corset. He struggles for breath against her ear, and she shudders at the sensation. "Shh," he breathes. "Relax." She nods shakily and presses closer as his hand moves gently to the spot on her stomach that set her off before.

A small cry escapes from her throat before she muffles it, and he kisses her and whispers to her, words of comfort that she doesn't comprehend because she's lost in the tender movements of his hand and the feeling of flying. His fingers trace upwards, finding new places, each with their own subtle colorations that are too overwhelming for her to tease out at the moment. The back of his hand grazes the underside of her breast and she's startled to realize that the thugs at the tavern were right. It feels different, more, better, she doesn't know, but she knows that she disapproves of his hand running back down her stomach. She is thoroughly convinced that that is the wrong way for him to be heading, even though it still feels wonderful.

The thought reminds her that she isn't doing anything for Eugene. She should be stroking him the same way he's stroking her. She wants him to feel these things and she doesn't want him to be bored. So she pulls his mouth back to hers and kisses him, taking pride and a thrill of pleasure as he groans.

He hisses as one of her hands grazes the cut on his forehead. She jerks away and squeaks an apology, her cheeks flushed prettily, her lips swollen and darkened. "Don't worry," he pants and pulls her back, claiming her mouth, pressing her hand back against his cheek. He lets her hesitant fingers explore his face, trailing the strong line of his jaw, teasing against his stubble before caressing his beard and tipping his chin to alter the position of their kiss. He loves her curiosity. He loves it, and he rewards her by pulling her lower lip into his mouth and sucking, drawing out a prefect little moan.

He lets his hand wander back upwards. He wants her to be pleased with his ministrations rather than startled. He wants her to want it before he touches her. He drags his fingers slowly around the curve beneath her breast, holding her close as she takes a deep breath to press deeper against his touch, which courses back and forth and up and around to finally hold the fullness of her in his palm. The feel of her is perfect because God! she's perfect, and damn it he hates her stupid corset and he hates that he's still wearing his vest because her shaking touch has run down to his chest to mimic his own movements and fuck! she's a fast learner.

The heat between them increases, like strain, like need, and she feels as though all that tension is starting to focus on a spot between her legs. She shifts and finds that putting pressure against it helps bring some relief – relief in one sense but also the feeling of coiling tighter. Eugene knows the feeling as without thinking – he no longer has a brain to think with - he takes hold of her hip and eases her into a steady rhythm, guiding her body to rub against his own full arousal. He swears and knots a hand in her hair, pulling her close so he can taste the skin against her collar bone. He's starting to feel numb and shivery, and his insides quiver, the passion building.

And somewhere in her brain she knows that all this rubbing and the movement of her hips is all quite odd, but she doesn't care because it feels so natural, it feels so good to press against whatever resistance is in Eugene's pants.

Wait. What?

Oh no! "Eugene!"

"Huh? Wha-" Why did she stop? What did he do?

In all seriousness, despite her tousled hair and her flushed features, she slowly whispers, "I've found the dead thing in your pants."

It takes a moment for his foggy mind to figure out what the hell she's talking about. He blinks at her. Then he groans and his body slumps. "I'm going to murder them."

"Who?"

"Ugg. The idiot twins."

"Why?"

"Because my cock's not dead. They were just being rude."

"Your cock!"

"Yeah."

"You do have an animal in your pants!"

"What? No!"

"Then what is it?"

"Oh God! Don't touch it!" He grabs her wrist and pulls her hand away, breathing far too heavily, and scaring her nearly out of her wits. She sits frozen for a moment as Eugene tries to compose himself.

It takes a while.

"Eugene?" she whispers.

"Yeah, Goldie."

"What is it, and why did you… react that way?"

"Uh… well…" He runs a hand through his hair.

"You said you wanted to be the one to tell me."

"Yeah, but it's uh…"

She takes a deep breath. "Eugene, please don't take this the wrong way, but I don't have time for this. Can you just have Flynn explain it to me?"

"What?"

"Usually you're really good at explaining things, and I like you much better as Eugene, but I think it would be better if Flynn Rider told me about this one."

Eugene doesn't really think it would be better. He's also a little offended, but he's not sure why.

"It's not like we're two different people," he says defensively.

She gives him a look crawling with skepticism.

"Ugg. Fine. That down there is my penis, and it is very much alive as I'm sure you've noticed."

"Penis," she repeats. She has a certain way of saying new words, almost as though she's in awe of them. As though new words are delicate little things that might get frightened and run away. She tries to memorize the name and the feel and the function and file it carefully where she can find it again. "What is it?"

"It's a part of my body."

She gasps. "Like another arm?" She knows that Big Nose has an extra toe, but she never thought that it was possible to grow a whole other appendage. Poor Eugene! He's deformed!

"Well, not really. It's more like a… thumb? No, that's not quite right. Are you sure you've never heard of a penis before."

She nods her head soberly. "Very sure."

He shifts, reclining back a little, thinking for a moment. "Do you know how nuts and bolts work?"

"Yes," she says slowly. "I used to fix the windows in my tower when they got worn out."

"Well, there you go. A man's cock is like a bolt and what you have is like a nut. They fit together, you see."

She stares at him while she processes this. Did that mean that all men had bolts, or was Eugene special in this ability to fit with her like a piece of hardware? Did that mean that he didn't have a nut? She knew there were differences between men and women, obviously. Men were generally taller and had beards and deeper voices. Was there more that she didn't know about? Most likely there was. And why on earth would you want to fit together with someone like that? It doesn't sound very pleasant to have a strange part of someone inside her. But then again, she likes having Eugene's tongue in her mouth, and she hadn't been too excited about the things that the thugs had suggested doing to breasts, and that had turned out to be quite pleasant.

"This is all very strange," she says. It's the only complete thought she can manage.

"Yeah," he says. "No kidding."