Solstice

She was dizzy, and had a very hard time keeping her eyes open, but she wasn't tired. It was the exact opposite, actually. She was wired and hyperaware of everything. There was a loud buzzing from a fly that couldn't figure out how to move over to the left just a bit to escape through the window from the stuffy library to the muggy outside. There was the scratching of chalk against the board as the Geography professor droned on about the northern grass fields of the mainland, home of the seven Gypsy tribes of Rendor. There was the way her dress stuck to her skin, wet and uncomfortable from her sweating.

No, her eyes drifted closed every time she shifted a bit in her seat to get some kind of relief, and her legs would rub together. A bloom of sweet honey warmth erupted from the apex of her thighs, and her head would get fuzzy, unfocused on everything but the tingling in her extremities and the way her underwear would rub teasingly against her sex. And all too soon the real world would crash into her, and she stared dumbly at her professor as he checked her temperature. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he scrutinized her face, flushed and warm. His hands rested on her shoulders, light and spindly, like a spider crawling on her skin, and he announced that she seemed ill. Perhaps she should see the physician. She noticed the timber of his voice was not too unpleasant, and wondered how it would sound if it were panting and whispering her name huskily as he explored the insides of her—

She practically shouted her gratitude at such a brilliant suggestion, and would see the royal physician promptly. Without any kind of dismissal, she left the library and got only a moment of relief as a slight breeze danced over her skin. It ended all too soon, and she was back to noticing every little detail of every damn thing. The creases of the tapestries hanging on the wall. The soft, wet slop, slop of a mop as a maid down the hall cleaned the floors. The thought of the maid undressed, hair come loose from the severe bun she was required to wear, whimpering in abandon as she used the handle of the mop to pleasure herself.

Rapunzel nearly fell over in fright and frustration, and broke into a run toward her suite. There were only a few remedies that really helped when she got like this, one of them being a frigid ice bath.

These sensations were nothing new to her. It had been this way ever since her cycles started when she was a teen, but only on the longest day of the year: the Summer Solstice.

On this day, her body was not her own, and heated and wanted something Rapunzel could not name. When Mother Gothel first noticed this strange behavior, she would unceremoniously drop her into a freezing bath, and tell her that she was not to come out until she stopped her vile and disgusting ways. Guilt and Cold brought her down from the strange, oppressive high, and things would go back to normal.

While it wasn't always easy to deal with in the tower, it was even worse in the palace. In the tower, she only had vague ideas of what other sort of uses candlesticks had, or what would happen if she used her hairbrush down there instead of on her head. In the palace, there were people. People were different from candlesticks and hairbrushes. They moved, touched, and had the ability to take their clothes of too, like her. Her mind was flooded with visions of palace guards or maids or cooks engaged in strange embraces and kissing and divesting.

It was during her first Solstice at the palace that she discovered books in a dark corner of the library that lent her another way to ease some of the tension, and that was touching herself. Rapunzel locked herself in the bathroom and worked furiously at rubbing and pinching and using her fingers to fuck herself, like the words instructed, while biting down on a towel to keep her screams muffled. And she felt empty and humiliated afterwards, especially when Eugene and her parents would knock and ask if she was alright, but at least she found some semblance of normalcy again.

As she entered her bedchamber, Rapunzel ordered the present handmaiden to run to the kitchens for as much ice as she could manage. Enlist help if she had to, for the Royal Physician had ordered her to cool down immediately lest she develop a fever in this heat. The lie fell easily from her lips and the handmaiden bowed and darted for the kitchens. She paced her room, wringing her hands together to keep from taking a nipple and pinching as hard as she could stand.

Not soon enough, the maid entered with two scullery maids, holding buckets of ice, and the princess almost fainted in relief. They made quick work of preparing the bath, and did not question Rapunzel's refusal to be assisted in taking off her dress. The door was locked and she all but dove into the water. For a second, it was bliss. The heat was gone, the acute awareness of everything faded into an icy haze, and she was normal again. She thought of nothing, she became nothing, until the slightest bit of warmth made itself known inside her belly. It was with much effort that Rapunzel kept the panic at bay, and instead tried focusing on the water, which was still freezing. It didn't help, and then it was like she was boiling in a giant pot of her own desire and shame.

The bath now a tiny pool of hell, she scrambled out, and gingerly dried herself with a towel, trembling as her skin made note of every single fiber rubbing against it. She dropped to her knees on the floor. Her hands shook as they groped her tender breasts, and the pleasure pain teased a whimper from her lips. She readied the towel, and then slid a hand to her clit. The intense pain she felt was not quite what she was expecting. She bit down on the towel to keep the immediate cry from leaving the bathroom. After a moment, her breath steadied, she tried again. The pain was blinding white behind her eyelids as tears slipped past them. She was too sensitive. The universe, she decided, was a cruel and vicious beast whose sole enjoyment was watching her come completely undone at this torture.

Rapunzel had to escape her prison, and peeked through the door into her room to check for signs of life. Sure that the coast was clear, she slipped out of the bathroom, flitted to her wardrobe and yanked on the first dress she laid her hands on. On any other day, the dress she wore would've been a pleasant affair, one she delighted in, because it felt like she wasn't wearing one at all. On this day, the fabric was scratchy and smelled like closet, and she yearned to take it off. Maybe she should just leave the palace altogether. Find a place to be completely alone and ride it out, or crawl into a disgusting hole and die, whichever came first.

Every person she passed was filed away in her mind by gender, build and possibility. For instance, two palace guards were lounging in the courtyard in friendly ease. They were filed under male, medium build, and since they didn't seem to be sexually attracted to each other, but still close friends, they would probably take her at the same time, not unlike the chickens the cooks sometimes prepared on a rotisserie. The etiquette tutor was a severe woman, spectacled and completely laced up. She was filed under female, tall and thin, and would not let a single strand of hair come loose as she spanked Rapunzel's bare bottom, while ordering her to recite "The Final Admonition".

Her steps hastened, and in her intense focus, she noticed every single look of concern she passed. She managed to smile politely and say something about getting some fresh sea air to clear her muddled head. Her head wasn't muddled at all. It was working on overdrive. It took stock of the different types of hands people had, and what kinds of sensations they would make her feel. It brought to attention the fact that her recently fresh underwear was now wet and sticky from her juices. Her knuckles were white as she fisted the thin fabric of her skirt, and once again she tried to focus on anything but her thrumming body. The path she was taking would lead her from palace proper to the Circus, where the guards trained. It looked deserted, and therefore safe for Rapunzel to brisk through to the cliffs just beyond.

But she never made it passed the Circus. She didn't even get halfway through the grounds, actually, for just outside the racing track, closest to the palace was the small patch where the guards, all men fit and virile, lifted weights and did pull-ups on old rusty bars set just above their heads. It was empty, save for one man. Every other civil servant was gone to spend time with family, or enjoy some free time before the festival to come that evening. This man, the princess knew, never took that proffered family/free time. His family lived in the castle, and his free time was usually spent with the princess. Except on this day. After three years of witnessing her strange behavior during the Solstice, he learned to leave her be. Eugene was considerate like that.

She stopped dead at the sight; watching him pull himself up, then lower back down, from the bar. The heat seemed to pulse around her, like a living thing, and she pulsed right back. His bare back was to her, which she appraised hungrily. Her eyes followed a bead of sweat running down his tanned skin. Her ears dissected every grunt and labored breath he took. Each birthmark and freckle and scar told a story, and each rippling muscle slid deliciously underneath his skin. She sucked in the warm air, and it pulsed again.

Rapunzel found her prey, and moistened her lips as she soundlessly walked closer to him. His normally sharp senses were probably dulled due to heat and exercise, and she leaned against a rack of dumbbells, eyes almost closing in bliss at the thought of those muscles working to please every inch of her. This, the books told her, was another way to relieve the tension. Intercourse; commonly referred to as sex, lovemaking, and the vulgar yet very popular, fucking. That was what she needed. A proper fucking.

She had already thought of others and herself engaged in such activities, and while they were indeed pleasing, it wasn't like when she thought of Eugene on these miserable days. In summers prior, she could close her eyes and imagine him moving above her, under her, beside her, inside her, and it would be enough. Not now, not this time. Her need was much more aggressive than before. Her body tuned itself to him, and his musk made her lightheaded.

"Eugene…" It was hardly a whisper, but not very loud, and if the rest of the Circus weren't empty, he would've missed it. Since that wasn't the case, he did hear her, and lost his grip on the bar, only just managing to catch himself on his feet. Oh, yes, agile and limber he was. Rapunzel's eyes darkened as he turned to face her.

"Fuck, Blondie! Warn a guy next ti-" His voice faded. There were no words for the intense pleasure she felt at his expression. His honey eyes were wide, his skin flushed with effort, and his fingers twitched. Eugene had never seen her like this. Not on this day. "Rapunzel? You, uh…You okay?"

"No," she began, low and dangerous. He was her prey. She would make him understand that. The heat, and this time the sunlight pulsed again, and she stilled. For the first time since these symptoms started, she stopped shaking. There was purpose now, and her body responded. The light pulsed again. "No, Eugene. I'm not okay."

Alarm graced his features, and he swallowed nervously. He tried to look concerned for her wellbeing, and not at all like a skittish street cat caught in a corner. "The maids said you might be coming down with a fever. You think it's a good idea to be out here? Maybe we should get you back inside…"

"Uh-uh."

"Why not?"

Her head tilted to the side in consideration, not of the question, but of how best to answer and not send him running. It was too hot to chase after him. Still, if she had to, she would. "Not what I need right now."

"Not what you…" Eugene instinctively took a step back. "What do you mean, 'not what you need'?"

Rapunzel eased up off the rack, and gracefully, slowly advanced on him. "Being inside would be counterproductive." The heat around them hummed in approval.

"Counterproductive to what, exactly?" She knew this tactic well. Keep her talking, keep her distracted and maybe he can find an opening to escape. So not happening.

"I may have found a cure, but I'm gonna need you're help with this."

"Ah-ha. Help. Okay, cure. Cure for what?" The heat must have been getting to him, as Rapunzel noticed his pupils dilate a tiny bit. Progress.

He was backing up in time with her stalking, and her senses told her if they kept going, the back of his knees would come up against a resting bench. The light pulsed and Eugene jumped a little. He must have noticed it, too.

In a fraction of a second, Rapunzel considered the ramifications of her actions, current and impending. She was stalking a man, readying herself to take him and all he could offer, completely out in the open, where anyone could see. From the high windows of the palace, all they would be able to see was two figures hugging on a bench, too far away to properly identify. The only way someone would know who was out there was if he or she came down to the Circus with them. It was well worth the risk.

A single brow shifted upward at his question. Silly man thinking he could escape with his banter. The heat pulsed rapidly in wicked glee. Just a little more, and his knees buckled at contact with the bench. "What indeed?"

"Look, Blondie. I don't know exactly what you're thinking, but maybe the heat's gotten to you." He looked around nervously, suddenly paranoid that they might have an audience. "We can't, not here."

"We can, Eugene." She smirked as her eyes trained on his shiver. "And, we will"

"But, hey, Blondie." Her tiny hands made contact with his shoulders, now level with her ribcage. "Rapunzel." They skirted over his skin, up the sensitive areas of his neck, leaving a trail of goose bumps as they buried themselves into his hair. "Look at me, Rapunzel."

Her eyes met his, and his next words died in his throat. Perhaps they saw the need in them, and finally understood her pain. Perhaps he realized she was acting purely on instinct, body taut and ready. Eugene's breathing grew heavy, and she relished in its sound. But he fought her still.

"We're not married, you know." His resolve was fading, she could tell. It only served to annoy her as he struggled fruitlessly for control. "And, and, you're a virgin. This is not the right place for you to lose-"

"Don't care. I need this." His breath hitched. His hands found her hips. His eyes darkened completely. He was hers.

There was no preamble, no tense, torturous seconds before the kiss. It just happened, and all her anguish was let loose upon him. He groaned into her mouth, the sound low, primal.

She fisted his hair and she climbed into his lap. Everything began to spin as the heat and light pulsed around them. All the frustration and tension and desire from since this whole mess started hit her full force, which left her digging into him, needing him to be all around her, inside her, and she desperately needed to be what he needed as well. It was almost a panic as her fingernails dug into his skin, then decided they'd be put to better use clawing at the clothes she was still wearing.

Eugene noticed this, and eased her hands back onto him, where they squeezed any bit of him they could get a hold of. His own big, masculine hands then tackled her dress. A flick here, a tug there, a tiny ripping sound later, and the bodice was off her torso. His lips tenderly kissed the valley of her breasts before moving to take a hard nipple into his mouth. He understood, finally, and was soothing the ache inside of her. What a gentleman.

The sweat off his shoulder was like sweet ambrosia, coupled with the needy grinding of hips, and Rapunzel was lost in erotic euphoria; the pulsing heat only serving to amplify the sensations. He greedily took the other sensitive nub between his teeth and pulled, earning a pained and pleasured cry from the woman above him, all the while kneading her ass through the skirt. She ground shamelessly into him, moaning and loving every twinge that rocked through her, every growl that rumbled in his chest.

"More." The roughness of her voice startled her, "more," Though it soon dissipated when she felt her skirt being lifted above her head. She lifted her arms up, and the pretty dress was gone, thrown somewhere off to the side and forgotten, like she'd never worn it. Eugene's hand roamed all over her body, pulling her deeper into the dizzying heat around them, as if they too could be part of it. Though, there was still the matter of her underwear.

In the haze, she heard a satisfying rip, and Eugene presented her with her now ruined panties. He made a show of smelling the evidence of her arousal, causing her to whimper and buck into him. Ah yes, his pants. Those were a problem, too. Before she had time to bark an order, he wrapped her in his strong arms and brought her down at his side, where she could lay down on the bench.

"Tell me you're sure, babe. Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me." He unfastened his pants and brought them down just enough. There was no time or patience for mucking about with boot straps and pants that would cling to his sweaty legs as he tried to pull them down. There were more important things to worry about, like the heat of Rapunzel's pussy, and the slickness that coated his fingers as he worked them around her clit.

Her eyes rolled back and closed. She didn't care that she was being loud, or moaning like she'd never before known she was capable of. She didn't care that her breasts bounced just a little as she jolted in ecstasy with each pass of his skilled fingers. She didn't care that she may have looked like a common whore, legs spread and sweat glistening in the sunlight. All she cared about was the man above her, giving her exactly what she needed. Giving her freedom from the heat and pain and hollowness.

"Need. Please. Need, Euge-"

It hurt. More than what she had expected. The books told her about this too. Tears pooled at the corner of her eyes. She tried to hold back the sob of pain, but couldn't. He kissed her tears and ran a hand through her hair. He didn't apologize or tell her everything would be okay. He didn't reassure her that it would stop hurting in a minute. He brought his lips to hers and devoured her hiccups and whimpers. After a moment, he pulled away, panting, and told her what she needed to hear. "You said need, baby."

He moved inside her, the fullness of him coaxed the hunger back out. Rapunzel forgot all pain then, and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her heels dug into the flesh of his ass, pushing him harder and faster into her. The light and heat pulsed and danced around them, in time with their lovemaking. His panting quickly gave way grunts and moans, mixed with colorful swear words and declarations of devotion to her tightness and slick beauty. Hers were mewls and whimpers, but she couldn't form words or coherent thought. Eugene took that as a compliment.

He hoisted her legs up over his shoulders and straightened slightly, not slowing down in the least. The new angle, and the waves of pleasure that accompanied, pushed Rapunzel closer and closer to sweet oblivion with each thrust. More, more, more, Sweet Fucking Christ, more! She was so very close.

"Hey, Blondie," the rasp in his voice was enough to send tingles to her sex. She managed to open her eyes. Her hands flew up to his dark tresses, drenched in sweat, and fisted roughly. She was sure it hurt, but all he did was growl and buck harder. "Babe. 'Punzel."

Rapunzel watched him struggle for a tiny portion of control. She decided that her new favorite look on him was undeniable lust and love, with all of this set in the flushed skin of his wonderful face. The Smolder was a close second. "Touch yourself. I want to watch you."

There was no shame in her movements. One hand let go of his hair and gingerly rubbed at the swollen flesh, mindful of the pain she had felt earlier. Having found no evidence of it, her eyes drifted closed and her tongue darted out to run over her lips. Her everything felt wonderful, and freedom was that much closer. Sweet mewls became deep and rich moans, almost cries of torture, but a torture she willingly embraced. The light danced erratically. The heat pulsed dangerously. Eugene's warm breath grazed across her face, and she opened her eyes to find him watching her in rapture. He said only one word, one gruff command. "Come."

Rapunzel let out a keening wail as her muscles shook and tightened around him. The light and heat burst blindingly, dazzlingly along with her. She swore she could see it when her eyes flew open, the semblance of a living, breathing thing as she watched atmosphere shudder and tremble around them. A liquid heat filled her belly as Eugene quietly moaned her name like a desperate prayer. They clung to each other, trying to find some kind of purchase while they rode waves of agonizing bliss. He watched her rub lazy circles on herself as she came down, and bent to bite down hard at the skin of her shoulder and neck.

She was weak and limp, making her legs drop easily from his shoulders. She took a moment to collect herself, and immediately she noticed something. Or rather, the lack of a few somethings.

Gone was the unexplainable focus. Everything was a sated haze, murky and pleasant, like when she drank a little too much wine last Christmas. Also gone was the pulsing heat that threatened to suffocate her. Instead, she waded in loving warmth given to her by Eugene's heartbeat and his hands running up and down her sides. But most importantly, the need was gone. No more thoughts of maids or professors or guards. No more analyzing any and all phallic shaped object and their efficiency factor based on length and girth. Rapunzel was sated. Sated and happy. Eugene had successfully sated her. She should bake him cookies. A giant batch of 'thank you, oh master of the sex' chocolate chip cookies. Or bake him a pie. Naughty pumpkin pie. Or paint a mural in her room, dedicated to all his masculine glory and sexual prowess. It would be a nude piece. A heady drowsiness came over her, and she let Eugene guide her to a dark and secluded corner of the Circus.

Eugene's pants were pulled up again, but left unbuttoned. He leaned back against a tree, enjoying the little shivers Rapunzel's slender fingers gave as they danced across the skin below his navel. She was nestled against his side, using the contour of his shoulder and collarbone as a pillow and her dress as a blanket. A leg was draped over one of his and her breasts pressed against his side with each deep breath she took.

He thought about her explanation after they had found that comfortable spot in the shade, that these sensations and feelings came over her every summer and only on the longest day. They made her want things and think things she didn't always understand and almost never welcomed. He also wasn't too happy to find out she thought of other people as well as him. From there on in, he ordered, it was a Flynn Only crazy lust diet. His serious tone and expression sent her into a fit of delighted giggles and promises to want him and only him and she was a silly little beast for even thinking of other, lesser mortals. He questioned her sincerity, but considering the circumstances, and the mind blowing orgasm he recently experienced, let it slide. Just this once.

It didn't make sense to him. How could something just suddenly come over her, a force so strong she had no way to control it, only ride it out and hope she could withstand it. He's had need before, sure. He's made women need him, this was also true. But not that intense. Rapunzel stopped being Rapunzel, if he really thought about it. She stopped being a human being and turned into something that reminded him of a cat in-

His deep chuckles broke the silence as he realized what it was that afflicted his poor little princess. "In heat."

"Hmm?" Her sleepy response was tinged with curiosity.

"You were in heat."

Eugene watched as she considered his words. She knew what it was for an animal to be in heat. It meant procreation for the little beasts. Mating season. So, Rapunzel had a mating season? But she wasn't a beast, was she? "But, why?"

"The sun, maybe? A hold over from the magic?" He laughed at the thought that sun magic could make you hornier than a teenage boy swimming in a sea of cock hungry nymphomaniacs. "That's pretty crazy."

"But what about you? I healed you, remember?" She pushed herself up to look at him directly. "Shouldn't you be going through the same thing?"

Hmmm. Well, "I wasn't born with it, Blondie. And besides, guys want it all the time, anyway."

"Huh…"

The silence fell over them again, contemplative but comfortable. "In heat," she whispered quietly to herself. Then a giggle, "Little Beastie's hungry."

Eugene only had one response for this. "You should know that you are the strangest girl I've ever done…"