Ticklish
For Katy's birthday! Happy birthday, Katy! I got you some limes!
(N1 for Fic Bingo)
Warnings: Sexy times
“Eep!”
Rapunzel jerked across the couch so quickly she almost fell over, staring at Eugene in shock.
“What are you doing?”
He blinked at her. “Tickling you?”
Actually all he’d done was poke her between the ribs, not expecting such an exaggerated reaction. The library was boring and she was not paying nearly enough attention to him.
She gave him a blank stare. “Whatever tickling is it’s not good and should never, ever happen again.”
Eugene disagreed. A smirk spread across his face and his eyes lit with errant delight.
“Oh, no. Eugene- I - Ack!”
He grabbed her, tackling her to the sofa, and tickling her sides without mercy. She tried to curl into a ball and roll to the floor, as if she could hide like a hedgehog, but he had her pinned and unable to escape.
She slapped at his arm with her book, only to have it plucked from her fingers and tossed to the floor.
"Eu- Eugene- Ah ah haha! What-? Ah!"
Her arms clamped tightly against her sides, trying to shield herself, her elbows jabbing out to push him away. Her hands curled in fists in front of her face to hide from him or bottle up the laughter.
It wasn't working. She giggled hysterically - loud, rolling laughs wrapped around pants and gasps of his name.
"Ah ha! Ha! Ha!"
She snatched one of his wrists, pulling it away enough to stop the onslaught, only to realize a moment later he had two hands and she now had an open, vulnerable side ready for tickling.
With a squeak, she released his wrist to hug herself tight.
This left her belly undefended, and he seized on the opportunity.
"Hahahaha! Eugene! Why? Ha hahaha!"
"This is a very important milestone, Blondie," he said, raising his voice over her laughter and failing to hold down his own. "Everyone has to be tickle tortured at some point. Coming of age thing. It's a real tragedy that you've missed out this long."
"I'm- Ha hahaha - I'm okay... with... with that."
"Nope. I don't think so."
"Euge- Eek!"
So, maybe his intentions weren't entirely pure. Or remotely pure. There was something thrilling about touching her, letting his hands roam across all the sensitive planes of her body. His every action eliciting an immediate, unrestrained response. She couldn’t control herself and that fanned at the embers glowing in his stomach. It made his muscles tense in anticipation of holding her.
Then there was her laughter itself, beautiful and joyful and wild. Her eyes squeezed closed and her nose wrinkled. She grinned, beaming like the sun.
Without easing his attacks, he struggled to snatch up both her squirming hands in one of his own, lifting them over her and eliciting a shriek, leaving her completely at his mercy. He was powerful in the tamest of possible ways.
Her hands were thin, slippery little things that would slip loose to try their own attack against his ribs, only to be diverted and distracted by a renewed attack of his own. They were easy to recapture, as if she wasn’t really trying, as if she wanted him to touch her even like this.
“Having fun yet?”
“I don’t- Hahahahaa ha ah!”
One of her knees jerked to try to kick him or knee him or throw him off. There was no telling since it didn’t work. He grabbed her leg, hiked up her skirt, and set to tickling behind her knee. Shaking violently, she threw her head back, laughing so hard she was nearly in tears.
She writhed against him, wanting him to stop or keep going, neither could be sure. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath, straining against the silk of her dress.
“Eu- Eugene- Eu- Oh!”
So he kissed her. Because that was obviously the thing to do. Kiss her and let her laughter roll into his mouth, breathing in her joy, reveling in uninhibited response.
The movements of his hands slowed, sensual and still aggressive. Her laughter was replaced by moans, no more controlled, no more restrained. She still writhed. She still gasped. She didn’t melt into his arms, instead holding her body taut and vigilant, not trusting the slowing of his hands to last, unwilling to let her guard down even as she pressed closer, deeper.
When one of her hands snuck free it wrapped around his shoulders, anchoring herself. When his tongue hit a sensitive spot against her neck, she arched against him, wrapping her leg tighter about his waist.
Her hand trailed down his chest, feeling every plane and muscle, treating him like clay, forming and pressing and stroking until he came alive under her touch. She roamed further, panting and nipping at his lower lip, grabbing the side of his belt like a handle and yanking his hips forward to press against her with a hiss. His fingers dug into her hip as she guided him into a rhythm, grinding against him and winding him tighter and hotter until his vision grew fuzzy and his heart against her skin.
And he looked into her face to watch her in all her glory, to lose himself in the depth of her eyes, only to see a sparkle that was not supposed to be there.
“Rapunzel- What-“
Her fingers dove into his ribs with a vehemence he was not at all expecting, and in his flailing to protect his sides and grab at her fingers, he quickly ended up in a pile on the floor, his head ringing from where he hit it, his hands trapped over his head.
Rapunzel grinned down at him from her perch on his chest, huffing happily and tossing her head to brush the hair from her face.
“Oh, that is so not cool.”
She giggled and leaned forward to peck his lips, pulling back before he could make anything more of it.
“You’re right,” she said, “this is fun.”
(N1 for Fic Bingo)
Warnings: Sexy times
“Eep!”
Rapunzel jerked across the couch so quickly she almost fell over, staring at Eugene in shock.
“What are you doing?”
He blinked at her. “Tickling you?”
Actually all he’d done was poke her between the ribs, not expecting such an exaggerated reaction. The library was boring and she was not paying nearly enough attention to him.
She gave him a blank stare. “Whatever tickling is it’s not good and should never, ever happen again.”
Eugene disagreed. A smirk spread across his face and his eyes lit with errant delight.
“Oh, no. Eugene- I - Ack!”
He grabbed her, tackling her to the sofa, and tickling her sides without mercy. She tried to curl into a ball and roll to the floor, as if she could hide like a hedgehog, but he had her pinned and unable to escape.
She slapped at his arm with her book, only to have it plucked from her fingers and tossed to the floor.
"Eu- Eugene- Ah ah haha! What-? Ah!"
Her arms clamped tightly against her sides, trying to shield herself, her elbows jabbing out to push him away. Her hands curled in fists in front of her face to hide from him or bottle up the laughter.
It wasn't working. She giggled hysterically - loud, rolling laughs wrapped around pants and gasps of his name.
"Ah ha! Ha! Ha!"
She snatched one of his wrists, pulling it away enough to stop the onslaught, only to realize a moment later he had two hands and she now had an open, vulnerable side ready for tickling.
With a squeak, she released his wrist to hug herself tight.
This left her belly undefended, and he seized on the opportunity.
"Hahahaha! Eugene! Why? Ha hahaha!"
"This is a very important milestone, Blondie," he said, raising his voice over her laughter and failing to hold down his own. "Everyone has to be tickle tortured at some point. Coming of age thing. It's a real tragedy that you've missed out this long."
"I'm- Ha hahaha - I'm okay... with... with that."
"Nope. I don't think so."
"Euge- Eek!"
So, maybe his intentions weren't entirely pure. Or remotely pure. There was something thrilling about touching her, letting his hands roam across all the sensitive planes of her body. His every action eliciting an immediate, unrestrained response. She couldn’t control herself and that fanned at the embers glowing in his stomach. It made his muscles tense in anticipation of holding her.
Then there was her laughter itself, beautiful and joyful and wild. Her eyes squeezed closed and her nose wrinkled. She grinned, beaming like the sun.
Without easing his attacks, he struggled to snatch up both her squirming hands in one of his own, lifting them over her and eliciting a shriek, leaving her completely at his mercy. He was powerful in the tamest of possible ways.
Her hands were thin, slippery little things that would slip loose to try their own attack against his ribs, only to be diverted and distracted by a renewed attack of his own. They were easy to recapture, as if she wasn’t really trying, as if she wanted him to touch her even like this.
“Having fun yet?”
“I don’t- Hahahahaa ha ah!”
One of her knees jerked to try to kick him or knee him or throw him off. There was no telling since it didn’t work. He grabbed her leg, hiked up her skirt, and set to tickling behind her knee. Shaking violently, she threw her head back, laughing so hard she was nearly in tears.
She writhed against him, wanting him to stop or keep going, neither could be sure. Her chest heaved as she fought for breath, straining against the silk of her dress.
“Eu- Eugene- Eu- Oh!”
So he kissed her. Because that was obviously the thing to do. Kiss her and let her laughter roll into his mouth, breathing in her joy, reveling in uninhibited response.
The movements of his hands slowed, sensual and still aggressive. Her laughter was replaced by moans, no more controlled, no more restrained. She still writhed. She still gasped. She didn’t melt into his arms, instead holding her body taut and vigilant, not trusting the slowing of his hands to last, unwilling to let her guard down even as she pressed closer, deeper.
When one of her hands snuck free it wrapped around his shoulders, anchoring herself. When his tongue hit a sensitive spot against her neck, she arched against him, wrapping her leg tighter about his waist.
Her hand trailed down his chest, feeling every plane and muscle, treating him like clay, forming and pressing and stroking until he came alive under her touch. She roamed further, panting and nipping at his lower lip, grabbing the side of his belt like a handle and yanking his hips forward to press against her with a hiss. His fingers dug into her hip as she guided him into a rhythm, grinding against him and winding him tighter and hotter until his vision grew fuzzy and his heart against her skin.
And he looked into her face to watch her in all her glory, to lose himself in the depth of her eyes, only to see a sparkle that was not supposed to be there.
“Rapunzel- What-“
Her fingers dove into his ribs with a vehemence he was not at all expecting, and in his flailing to protect his sides and grab at her fingers, he quickly ended up in a pile on the floor, his head ringing from where he hit it, his hands trapped over his head.
Rapunzel grinned down at him from her perch on his chest, huffing happily and tossing her head to brush the hair from her face.
“Oh, that is so not cool.”
She giggled and leaned forward to peck his lips, pulling back before he could make anything more of it.
“You’re right,” she said, “this is fun.”