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A Tender Thing

Chapter Text

Rosaline looked at her neat, curly script clearing stating the message ‘To my Schmoopie, Love your Schnookums.’

“People are weird.” she muttered, delicately placing the card among the dozen bright pink roses, finishing off the flowers for delivery. She had just placed them about the back when she heard the little bell on the door ring. She made it to the counter in time to see the whole spectacle.

A young man with reddish brown hair and a light beard marched up to the counter, slapped twenty dollars down and looked her right in the eyes.

“How do I passive-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ with flowers?”

Rosaline let out a breathy laugh of disbelief. The man’s expression remained the same.

“Seriously?” She asked, moving out from behind the counter to walk around the shop.

“Seriously.” He began to walk with her. “My stupid cousin has gone and bloody eloped with the goddamn family rival’s daughter.”

“And you’re sending flowers to be polite, but still want to get a message across?” Rosaline asked, stopping in front of the carnations.

“Hell yes.” The young man was very riled up.

“Well,” Rosaline paused and considered for a moment. “You’ll want yellow carnations.” She plucked a few from the stand. She scooped and picked up a long flat-ish basket from the floor and handed it the youngman, placing the carnations on it carefully “They mean disappointment.”

She began to move around the shop.

“And some orange lilies, for hatred. But not too many because I imagine you’ll forgive your cousin eventually.” She placed three in the basket and heard a quiet grumble from the young man.

“Foxglove stands for insincerity and will look really lovely with geraniums.” She placed these into the basket too. And looked at the young man “Those mean stupidity.” She paced around the shop for a moment, her finger tapping her lip. It was missing something, something to tie it all together.

“Oh!” She reached out and grabbed a handful of meadowsweet. “These! They’ll be perfect.” She walked back over to the counter and began to assemble a bouquet, the young man watching her all the while.

“So why the-” He paused wondering what the flower was called, “The last ones?” He asked.
She looked up and sa his blue eyes smiling at her. She bound up the bouquet, tied some pretty ribbon around it and stuck it in a little plastic baggy of water.

“Meadowsweet mean uselessness. So all together it’s a beautiful bouquet that also says ‘fuck you’”. She smiled pleasantly at him. “Would you like a card as well?”

“Oh. Um, no. It’s okay, my handwriting is terrible.” He said reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

“I can write it.” Rosaline offered “They’re free with bespoke bouquets.” She smiled at him.

“Sure then!” He leant on the counter. “We need to word this very carefully.” Roseline smiled and held her pen at the ready.

“See, Romeo is a love-struck fool, but a nice guy, and I’m sure Juliet is sweet enough, I haven’t met her, but they’re both being stupid.” Rosaline dropped the pen and looked at the young man before her.

“We have to get a balance of ‘please name your first born after me and not Mercutio’ and ‘you’re both stupid and I wash my hands of the whole thing.” He looked up expecting to see that enchanting smile, but was greeted with a look of shock.

“You’re Benvolio Montague.” She said.

“Yeah, nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers.

“I’m Rosaline Capulet.” Benvolio went pale. He looked down at the flowers, his twenty still sitting on the counter, and the card unwritten.

“I suppose we could send the flowers from both of us then?” He asked, grinning slyly at her.

Rosaline couldn’t help but laugh.

Chapter Text

It had not been long after their very public betrothal that both Rosaline and Benvolio realised that they would have to marry. Even if the person truly responsible for the mayhem and hatred was caught, the families still needed a tie to bind them together. And that tie was their marriage. So as they stood, chests not inches apart, whispering in a servant's corridor of the palace, it was not about how to get out of a wedding, but how to get out of the Capulet compound.

“You can’t come with me Rosaline.” Benvolio kept insisting. “It’s too dangerous”

“No one will know it’s me. I can dress in men’s clothing and people will think you’ve found a new drinking buddy to drown the sorrows of your wedding with.” She snapped.

“I haven’t been out drinking since our betrothal.” He snapped back.

“Because you've had no company!” Rosaline responded triumphant. “Just wait outside of the Capulet gate tonight at sundown and I’ll meet you there.”

Benvolio sighed in resignation. “As you wish, my beloved.” Rosaline rolled her eyes at the teasing name and was about to respond when Benvolio pressed a finger to her lips.

“Someone is coming.”

Rosaline peeked out from the edge of the corridor. “It’s Escal- the Prince.” Rosaline hissed at Benvolio. “He can’t see us together like this. He’ll know we’re planning something.”

Benvolio looked around them for a moment, then down at Rosaline.

“Forgive me, my lady.” He said before kissing her passionately. Rosaline froze for a moment, as her mind caught up with what was happening, then began kissing him back. Her hands found their way into his hair, and his ended up around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Slowly they moved until Rosaline felt her back hit the wall. Benvolio continued to kiss her, his hands roaming, but not too presumptuously, over her waist and back, whilst her hands tangled in his hair pulling his mouth closer to hers.

A cough interrupted them.

Benvolio pulled away from her, a look begging for forgiveness in his eyes before he turned and looked at his prince. He bowed slightly.

“I’m sorry your grace, you seem to have caught me-”

“Taking advantage of Rosaline.” Escalus interrupted, anger burning in his face. Rosaline, who had been standing with her fingers pressed against her swollen mouth, stepped forward.

“Something you’d know quite a lot about, your grace.” She scowled at him. Refusing to bow to his title or the emotions on his face.

“And Benvolio would never take advantage of me.” She linked her hand with that of Benvolio “He respects me too much for that.” She turned slightly to Benvolio. “Our uncles will be waiting for us.” She curtsied to the prince before walking off, her hand still in Benvolio’s and a sly smile on both their faces.

Chapter Text

Rosaline had been restless lately and found walking the street of Verona when she couldn’t sleep soothed her. Knowing it was unsafe for a lady to walk alone at this time, she had found the clothes of a boy street urchin and would don this when she needed to escape from the Capulets. Her small stature and the loose clothing made it impossible to determine her gender at a glance, and no one was interested in the peasantry to spare her more than that.


Rosaline turned at the sound of a scuffle.


Her eyes widened as she saw Benvolio collared by two men, leading him to the bridge. He was struggling against their hold until the larger of the men pulled out his dagger. Rosaline’s breath caught in her throat. The larger ruffian, brought the handle down on the back of Benvolio’s head and his body slumped into unconsciousness. Within moments they’d hoisted Benvolio onto the ledge of the bridge and thrown him into the rushing river below.


Rosaline didn’t pause to think. She began running to the river, stripping off her heavy cloak, her doublet, kicking off her boots, before diving into the river after Benvolio. She could see his body floating, being carried by the current and swam towards him, praising her father for teaching her and Livia how to swim and how to swim well. After what seemed like an age she reached him. He had been rolled face down in the current and his chest was still.


He’s not dead . Rosaline insisted to herself as she grabbed him by his waist and began to swim back to shore. This was much more difficult as Rosaline could only use 3 of her limbs and had to support the weight of her unconscious betrothed, whilst fighting the river’s current. Finally she reached the river bank and hauled Benvolio up to land.


He’s not dead. She shook her hair out of her face and pressed her ear to his motionless chest. She could still hear his heartbeat. It was faint, but it was there. His face was pale and his lips were turning blue. He needs to breath . Rosaline’s hands hovered over his body for a moment. Her breathing was becoming rapid, her mind becoming fuzzy, her heart beating hard against her chest.


He’s not dead. Rosaline took a deep steadying breath. It’s just like choking on wine  she thought You need to get the liquid out of the lungs . She rolled Benvolio onto his side and began to pat his back, like Livia did for her when she choked on wine or water. He can’t cough for himself Rosaline realised after a moment. She began to pat his back harder, trying to will the water to leave his lungs. Suddenly his chest wracked violently and Benvolio started to cough and heave water. Rosaline let out and breath and continued to pat his back, gently now. After a moment of coughing and heaving and vomiting water Benvolio turned his head to look at her. His blue eyes were dazed, but his lips were turning pink again.


“Capulet.” He muttered, reaching a hand out to touch her face, as she wasn’t real to him. “What-” He looked around and attempted to sit up, Rosaline gently pushed him back down.


“Someone tried to kill you.” She responded, her hand now rubbing gentle circles into Benvolio’s back.


“Oh.” Benvolio nodded slightly as if this answer made perfect sense and required no more thought or question.


He’s not dead.


“We should get you to a doctor.” Rosaline stood and looked around for where she discarded clothes lay. They weren’t far from where Benvolio was and were on the way back to the city. “Do you think you can stand?” She asked. Benvolio took her outstretched hand and was soon, unsteadily, on his feet. He leant on her as they made their way up the river bank and paused when they reached Rosaline’s discard boys garb. She pulled the doublet back on and slipped her feet into the boots, but wrapped the cloak around Benvolio’s shivering frame.


They were almost at the paved city street when Benvolio stopped, needing to catch the breath that was almost stolen from him. Rosaline looked at him. He had blood matting the back of his head, his clothes were wet and hanging from his frame, his breath was ragged and probably painful.


He’s not dead.


“Capulet?” He asked looking at her.


“Yes?” She responded with a gentle smile


“What on earth are you wearing?”

Chapter Text

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

Rosaline nearly jumped out of her skin as her husband addressed her. She had been reading, reclining on their bed, enjoying the quiet calm away from the city and the public, enjoying being Rosaline. Not Rosaline Montague, Rosaline the perfect wife, Rosaline the passionately in love. Just Rosaline, reading a book.

“Yes.” She responded, attempting to sound casual as she pretended to continue reading.

Her eyes glanced up to her husband. He was leaning against the door frame, his doublet loose in his hand, his shirt almost completely unlaced, his smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“May I ask why?” He walked further into the room and began to prepare for bed. They’d been married two months now, and all shy modesty had been done away with.

Rosaline placed her book on the table beside her bed and watched her husband wash his face and neck.

“All my gowns are too-” She paused looking for the right word “restricting.”

Benvolio looked at her frowning.

“You had most of them fitted barely a month ago.”

Rosaline sighed. “They fit, it’s just that they aren’t comfortable. I can’t move and relax in them. I have to be all proper and elegant all the time, even in my sleep.” Benvolio smiled at her.

“I see.” He pulled back the blankets and climbed into his side of the bed. “Wear as many of my shirts as you like then.” Rosaline smiled at her husband.

They had not consummated their marriage yet. Not that anyone knew. Benvolio had frightened the life out of her when he’d pulled a vial of blood out the morning after their wedding and poured it strategically on the bed sheets and her night gown. He’d informed her it came from the pig that had roasted at their wedding feast. She truly began to trust him then. Implicitly. They’d shared the same bed every night since.

It had began rather awkwardly, with each of them as far away as they could get at first, but then the weather began to change and Benvolio could feel the bed tremble as Rosaline shivered, trying to get warm. Until one night he couldn’t take it anymore and scooped her up into his arms and pulled her to him.

“How are you so warm?” She’d asked, pressing her bare feet into his warm legs. He jumped at her cold touch but allowed her to press herself against him, to burrow into the warmth.

“I’m always warm.” He’d murmured into her hair as she pressed cool fingers into his chest. And that’s how it had begun. It became the norm for them to fall asleep in each other's arms and wake up the same way. Benvolio relished the sweet floral smell of Rosaline’s hair, and Rosaline adored the way Benvolio’s hands seemed to always pull her to him. From there it had seemed natural that they became more familiar with each other. Their touches becoming less forced, their kisses less of a demand more of an enjoyment. And here they were. Comfortable. Friends. Finding some kind of balance and routine.

Rosaline doused her reading candle and felt Benvolio’s hands searching for her in the bed. She lay down and snuggled into close to him, her nose brushing his collarbone. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he drew breath and felt the need to do something she’d never done in the privacy of their chambers. She reached up and gently pressed her lips to his.

Benvolio opened his eyes. It was pitch black and Rosaline Capulet - Rosaline Montague- was kissing him. He kissed her back. It was gentle and sweet and soft. And slowly, Rosaline deepened the kiss and Benvolio followed her lead. He wouldn’t push her, he wouldn’t demand things of her, he would follow where she took them.

Her hands came up to play with the hair at the base of his neck and his hands tightened around her waist. Slowly, her hands slipped down his back, her nails gently scratching his skin. He tentatively ran his hands further down her waist, feeling the curve of her hips until his fingers found the hem of his own shirt and he felt her shiver at his touch. He went to pull away, to move his hands back to the safe and familiar area of her waist. But her hand came down on top of his, pushing his hand around her hips, under the shirt. Benvolio groaned into her mouth and he felt her smile against his lips.

Slowly their kissing became more passionate, and Benvolio rolled onto his back as Rosaline straddled his lap, his hands found that perfect curve where her waist tapered out to her hips and rested there, gently pushing her hips to create friction where they both needed it.

The moon had risen fully by now and Benvolio could make out the petite silhouette of his wife, covered in the volume of his shirt. Her hair flowing down her back, the shirt pulled across to expose one shoulder, the way she bit her lip as she looked at him. He reached up and caught her mouth with his, kissing her again and again, breaking only to murmur “You can wear my shirts anytime you like”.

He felt the breath of her chuckle on his cheek and had to suppress a moan as she pulled away from him. Rosaline locked her dark eyes with his blue and slowly pulled off the shirt. Her smooth skin seemed to glimmer in the moonlight, her nipples erect from the cool air or her own arousal, her hair still falling down her back.

“I take it back.” Benvolio said, wrapping his arm around her waist and flipping them. Rosaline let out a giggle as her back hit the mattress and Benvolio kissed her neck, seeming to worship her body. He paused before he reached her breast and looked at her “I much prefer you like this.”  

Chapter Text

Benvolio stopped as he heard her footsteps retreating. The smile still on his lips he turned and followed her.

“Capulet.” He called and was surprised when she stopped for him. “It’s dangerous in the city, allow me to walk you to the Capulet estate?” It was posed as a question, but Benvolio would have followed her back even his she’d refused. Rosaline nodded and kept walking at a brisk pace.

After a moment Benvolio broke the silence. “I’m surprised you can walk so quickly in such an outfit.” He remarked.

“Are you insulting my dress?” She asked, her tone indigent.

“Complimenting your ability to move in it.” Benvolio clarified. “It must be difficult was all those petticoats and layers, not to mention a corset.”

“Of course you’re familiar with a ladies undergarments.”

“You truly are determined to hate me, aren’t you?” He asked, watching her face out of the corner of his eye.

“I hadn’t really thought about hating you.” She admitted, her pace slowing. “I’ve just been so determined to hate the whole situation.” They quiet for a moment. “ I suppose that’s rather selfish of me.” She murmured.

“You have to think of yourself, when no one else will.” He responded. “If your family, your sovereign, are so willing to make you the sacrificial lamb, you have to protect yourself.”

“You’re in the position I am. I should have realised that.” She said, her face turned to him. Benvolio shrugged and kept walking. They walked in silence for a while.

“Can we stop for a moment?” Rosaline asked, leaning against a building.

“Weary already?” Benvolio asked, an eyebrow raised with a mocking smirk on his face. He watched as Rosaline bent down and pulled off a pair of those heeled shoes, he noticed her stockings here stained with blood where her shoes had caused her pain. “You should have told me you were in pain.” Rosaline shrugged and rubbed one of her feet between her hands.

“I’m more impressed you can run in those and that dress.” Benvolio said after a moment. Rosaline looked at him and smirked. She held her shoes in her hand and began to walk again.

“I’m impressed you can do anything in trousers so tight.” She threw over her shoulder. Benvolio stood for a moment, half shocked, half embarrassed before jogging to catch up with her.

“Been admiring my physique Capulet?” He called after her.

Rosaline turned slightly and smirked at him.

Chapter Text

As per usual, Rosaline was in the Verona Hospital’s emergency room following an ill fated snapchat with Mercutio screaming “parkour” followed by a thud and a muttered “oh shit.”. So here she was, sitting in the waiting room whilst her cousin weeps over the broken arm of her beloved.

She looked across the corridor and watched Benvolio. He was, strangely, the one that was always sober. He was the one who always called Juliet when Romeo was too drunk, or got injured, or let her know they got home safe. He was the one responsible for everyone. And now he was cradling his head in his hands. He looked like he was about to cry and scream and fall asleep all at once.

“You okay?” She asked. He looked at her through his fingers.

“Not really.” She tilted her head instead of asking. “I have to tell Mr Montague what happened.”

“Oh.” Rosaline knew what that scene would be like. She’d had experiences like that when Juliet had come home drunk one night. She’d hidden bruises and tried to block out the shouts. “You thirsty?” She asked standing up.

He looked up at her.

“They’re going to be in there for awhile and I need sugar or caffeine if I have to deal with Juliet sobbing the whole ride home.” Benvolio stood and seemed to sway on the spot. Rosaline reached out and steadied him. Her hand slid down his arm and slipped into his. “This way.”

Benvolio followed her as if in a dream. He didn’t resist when she led him through the doors. He didn’t pull away when they entered the bright 7-Eleven next to the hospital. He didn’t fight her when she pulled him toward the back of the store.

“Really?” He asked when she pulled out two giant slushie cups.

“Really. They are the perfect combination of flavoured sugar and water. They keep you alert and buzzed without actually impeding your sense.”

She handed him a cup filled with red slushie and looked him dead in the eye. “Slushies aren’t just for kids. Fuck society.”

And for the first time since Romeo had decided to try and climb the side of a building like Spiderman, Benvolio smiled.

Chapter Text



Rosaline looked at her handiwork critically. It was good, not perfect and not as good as the ones Livia made when they were children, but still a passable flower crown. She placed it on her head and looked around her. The Montague and Capulet men were down by the lake, fishing or hunting or play fighting, whatever men did, and Rosaline had gotten bored with the chatter about Lady Someone’s dress and the shocking affairs of Countess So-and-So and had taken herself for a walk.


The field was a mosaic of colour as the flower bloomed and Rosaline had succumbed to the desire to re-live her childhood and make a flower crown. She was almost finished a second one, when she heard rustling behind her and turned.


Her betrothed was walking towards her, a satchel slung over his shoulder, his shirt loose, and his brow sweaty.


“May I be allowed to enter the court?” He asked with a mock bow.


“The fairy queen permits the entrance of her betrothed.” Rosaline mocked back.


“Fairy queen?” He asked, sitting beside her on the ground and digging through the satchel.


“This is a popular spot of Capulet family gatherings. My father used to bring Livia and I here when Uncle would summon him. We would play in the fields for hours whilst the adults talked. We made a whole fairy kingdom.” Rosaline smiled at the memory of the seemingly perfect moment.


“When Montague’s would gather, Romeo, Mercutio and I would run off and find wooden swords or the dogs in the yard to play with. I remember it always ended with Romeo and Mercutio being taken away and fed and I was left to be shouted at for being immature.” He took out a bag of cherries and offered her some.


“The burden of responsibility.” Rosaline responded, taking a cherry. They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in memories, until Benvolio sat up and spat his cherry pip as far as he could. Rosaline looked at him with a mixture of shock and disgust.


“You never did that as child?” He asked, taking another cherry.


“Young ladies never have pip spitting competitions.” Rosaline responded, discreetly pulling the pip from her mouth and placing it on the ground.


“You missed out on half the fun of cherries. Try it” Benvolio offered her the bag. Hesitantly Rosaline took as cherry, ate the succulent outer flesh and, with a force that surprised Benvolio, spat the pip into the distance.


“Nicely done, my lady!” He exclaimed. Rosaline smiled and took another cherry. They sat like this, chatting, eating, spitting pips until Rosaline turned to Benvolio with a look of solemnity on her face.


“The queen of the fairy court wishes to bestow a gift on this most amusing visitor.” Benvolio smiled and sat up straight.


“Any gift from someone as dignified and beautiful as the fairy queen would be an honour to accept.”


Rosaline reached out and placed her, now finished, second flower crown on Benvolio’s head.


“As we are to be married, it is only fitting that you prepare for your place as fairy king.” Rosaline said in voice that was barely above a whisper. She was close to Benvolio and his face was slightly flushed with the warmth of the spring sun. His eyes looked so blue today, as if they had taken their colour from the sky. Slowly, hesitantly, Rosaline leaned forward and gently kissed Benvolio. A simple, sweet kiss. She pulled away and it took a moment for Benvolio to open his eyes. They smiled at each other before Rosaline murmured.


“A kiss makes the proclamation official.”





Rosaline was trying to kill him. Benvolio was convinced, because if the weather wasn’t hot enough, Rosaline was making Benvolio very flustered.  The way her dresses had become lighter in colour and layers, and how she seemed to know that if she stood in front of a light source and if Benvolio stared, he could make out the curve of her legs. She seemed to torture him when she would run her hand in the cool water of the fountain, before letting the water drip down her neck from her hand. She was trying to murder him.


On this particular day Benvolio was walking around their garden looking for his new wife. The sun was beating down on him and Benvolio just wanted to get inside, in the cool, and doze off to sleep. But instead he was looking for his wife because they had a meeting with their families to discuss an heir. A goddamn heir! They had been married a week! Benvolio turned the corner of a hedge and found Rosaline. She was sitting with her hands behind her, supporting her as she leant back, her face tilted to the sun, her skirts were pulled up to her knees and her feet and ankles dangled in the water of their pond.


Benvolio stood and stared. He wanted to imprint this moment in his mind. He wanted to remember the way the light shimmered on the water, the way Rosaline’s eyelashes brushed her cheeks, the way her light blue dress rumpled around her knees and thighs. He wanted to remember every detail so he could immortalise it in his sketch book.


He cough quietly to alert her to his presence. She lazily opened her eyes, as if she had been half asleep, and looked around her. When she saw him, she quickly stood and attempted to hid her discarded shoes and stocking with the petticoats of her dress.


“Yes, my beloved?” She asked, slightly flustered. Benvolio noticed the way her breasts seemed to overflow from the top of her corset, the way her skin seemed to invite him to touch, to taste, to worship.


“We- um” Benvolio looked at his feet for a moment, trying to regain his composure. “We must depart soon for the family council this afternoon.” He finished.


“Of course.” Rosaline took a step forward, realised she was bare footed and stopped. “I’ll join you in a moment.”


“Let me.” Benvolio walked forward and picked up the discarded shoes, tucked the stockings into them, and offered his arm to Rosaline. She took it and they began walking back to their chambers together.


“I suppose you think me rather scandalous now.” Benvolio smiled at her comment.


“Only slightly my lady.” He responded. “If you had been swimming, that would of truly shocked me.”


“Oh I couldn’t do that!” Rosaline responded. “At least not during the day.” Benvolio paused outside their chambers and looked at his wife quizzically.


“People might see me, and swimming naked is much better than in a petticoat.” Rosaline smiled innocently, took her shoes from his hand and walked into their chambers.


Benvolio was absolutely certain. Rosaline was trying to kill him.





Rosaline’s feet ached. Her back was sore from the uncomfortable chairs, and she felt as if she had not been able to get a proper breath since her corset had been tightened hours before the ball. She leant back against a marble pillar and slipper her left foot out of the heeled shoe. She almost gasped in relief as she wiggled her toes.


“I thought I was the only one that could bring that look upon your face.”


She felt her husband’s warmth as he whispered into her ear.


“You, and the relief of being able to feel toes I feared I had lost hours ago.” She smiled at him as she slipped her left foot back into its shoe and liberated its twin.


“I wish we were home so I could bring that look to your face.”  Rosaline shivered as a blend of memory and anticipation passed over her.


“Do we have to stay until the end?” She asked,  moving to stand in front of him. Her back was to the ballroom now, her face inches from his chest. Whilst it might have been improper for a lady to stand this close to a gentleman, the gentleman in question was her husband.


“It’s the Harvest Ball, Rosaline.” He smirked down at her. “We should at least stay longer than the children do.”  Rosaline rested a hand on his hip. He looked around the room, but no one was observing them, all too focused on the dancing or the food or a lover of their own. She moved her other hand up to toy with the ruby trinket he had given her earlier in the evening.


“We could sneak out.” She murmured, letting one hand trail down to the swell of her breasts. Her eyes had not left his. Tension and desire was building between them.“No one would notice.” Her hand roamed around to feel his backside, before gently grazing the inside of his thigh. He suppressed a shudder of delight and attempted to ignore his rising manhood.


Rosaline always enjoyed teasing Benvolio when she was dressed in all the finery befitting a lady of the two most powerful houses in Verona. She could still feel him, see the lines of his body in the clothes society demanded a man wear. And whilst her breasts may swell at the top of her bodice, or her arms appear almost bare, the curves and supple feel of her body was hidden under layers of petticoats and corsets and dresses.


“Our families would notice.” He insisted, moving his hand to touch her waist. His eyes were now trained on the hand she held at her breasts. She slowly moved it up to touch her bottom lip, whilst her other hand, gently began to palm Benvolio’s manhood. She watched his eyes follow as her finger traced the delicate line from her lip, down to her neck, toying ever so slightly with the necklace, before tracing her collarbone.


She knew he would follow this path later in the night. When they were safely ensconced in their chambers, his lips would follow the line of her throat, worshipping at the taste and feel of her skin, adoring the way he could make her moan and whimper for his touch. But now, she wanted to make him whimper.


“Oh. I don’t think they would.” Her fingers teased over the swell of her breast before dipping, ever so slightly between her cleavage. His eyes darted from the curve of her bust to meet her eyes. There was hunger in that look, and passion, and desire, and a pure, untarnished love of the woman he beheld.


“You know Capulet,” He said, gently removing her hand form his manhood. “I don’t believe they would.” He pulled her towards the closest door, and began to kiss her the second they were in the darkness.




Benvolio rolled over, pulling the blankets up over his head and felt around the bed for his wife. They had been married for almost 9 months now and Benvolio detested waking up without her in his arms. The bed next him was empty and cold. He peaked out from under the blankets and saw his wife standing next to the open window, looking out on the cold morning with nothing but a shawl wrapped around her shoulders.  


Rosaline didn’t jump when she felt Benvolio’s arms wrap around her waist, his chest pressed against her back, his chin resting on her shoulder.


“It’s freezing, my love.” He commented, dropping kisses on her neck and shoulder.


“But so fresh.” She smiled at the foggy yard that was their garden.


“Come back to bed, it’s lovely and warm.” He murmured against her skin.


“You’d have me spend the whole day in bed with you.” She responded, tilting her head to give him more access to her neck.


“Because the bed is warm” He responded, kissing the newly exposed skin. He stopped for a moment. Rosaline let out a cross between a giggle and a shriek when Benvolio picked her up. He walked back to their bed and dropped her onto the mattress, joining her and pulling the covers over them. Rosaline smiled as she snuggled into him, wrapping her legs around him, nuzzling the join of his shoulder and neck. She felt light kisses grace her hair and forehead and smiled.  They lay like that for a moment, their bodies entangled and entwined, warming the bed again, before Rosaline reached up and found her husband's lips with her own.


She kissed him, and in that kiss she tried to show the love and admiration and respect that had grown in her heart for him. She tried to show him that he would never be alone in his pain or suffering again. That she truly, deeply, and with her whole heart loved him. She pulled away for a breath and felt Benvolio smile.


“I love you Rosaline.” He murmured, feeling this was the only appropriate response to the passion of her kiss. She smiled back, before quirking an eyebrow at him.


“Prove it.”