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It was raining in Verona. Tybalt was sitting on her bed composing poetry about her love when she heard an abrupt knock at the door. And there, standing at the top of the stairway to her room, was none other than Benvolio, wrapped in a soaking wet cloak with shining eyes that pleaded for mercy.

Tybalt felt her muscles tense up, felt blood pump through her veins as though readying to fight.

“It’s you,” she said simply.

“Tybalt… I’m begging you, please let me in. I’ll freeze out here. I can’t get home.”

The Capulet took a deep breath, feeling heat in her face despite the cold air. It was all she could do not to grab the silly boy by her soaking wet cloak and shove her aside, down the stairs for all she cared. Slam the door in her face. Leave her outside to freeze.

Tybalt didn’t say a word, just abruptly held her hand out as direction inside.

“Goodness, thank you,” said Benvolio, and started babbling. “It’s only by the grace of God--”

“Don’t.” Tybalt shut the door behind her just as soon as she had stepped inside. “You can thank God, but not me.”

Benvolio nodded slowly, lowering the hood of her cloak to reveal cutely tousled blonde hair. “I understand,” she replied, still visibly shivering.

“Well then take that off, if you’re really so cold.” Tybalt reached to pull the cloak off her shoulders, tossing it aside, and Benvolio rubbed at her arms, just shaking. Tybalt reached to take her jacket, and poor Benvolio was flushed bright pink with cold and embarrassment.


Her hands touched Benvolio’s shoulders. “Even your shirt is wet.”

“It’s a terrible storm out there.”

Lightning flashed through the windows at that moment, crashing in their ears, and Benvolio whimpered in fear.

Tybalt started pulling off her shirt.

“Wha- Stop-” She started struggling, but Tybalt was stronger.

“Let me.”

So Benvolio gave in and let the shirt come off, left with just the binding over her chest. Tybalt took the blanket from her bed, and Benvolio wrapped herself in warmth.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

“Whatever,” said Tybalt. “You’re inside now, so leave me alone.” She went back to sit on her bed, staring at the half-finished page of poetry. Juliette was always the first thing on her mind, though Benvolio was a close second… Or could it be Benvolio was first?

The Montague noticed the confused sort of look on her face. “Is something the matter?” she asked.

Tybalt sighed. “You don’t listen, do you.”

“But you looked so deep in thought, and I just wondered…”

“Don’t wonder.”

Benvolio watched her scribble words on the page. She clutched the blanket close around her, getting the feeling back in her fingers and warmth back through her core. “What are you writing?” she asked.

Tybalt was beyond annoyed, but decided she might as well answer. “Love letter.”

“Oh.” Benvolio shifted to unzip her boots, one by one, and left them by the door. “I… I’m sorry there’s just nowhere else to sit, but, would you mind…?”


She took a seat on the bed, though not anywhere close to Tybalt. For a while there was silence between them, but with all the hurried scrawling Benvolio couldn’t help her curiosity. “Do you think I could read it?” she asked.

Tybalt looked up at her, utterly confused. “What do you care?”

She shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

“You can’t see it.”


A moment later, Tybalt crumpled the paper in her fist with a loud crunch. She stood up, went to the door, and chucked the crumpled page into the wind. Lightning flashed across her frame before she locked the latch and returned to the bed.

Benvolio could see that she was worked up, see her drawing deep breaths. “You didn’t like that one?” she asked.

Tybalt shifted in place. “There’s no hope,” she replied.

“Really... none?”

“You heard me.” Tybalt was mad now. “Are you trying to get hit?”

“S-sorry…” Benvolio was quiet then. As she warmed up she lay down on the bed, watching Tybalt stand to light another candle as the sky turned deeper black. The room already smelled of the smoke of extinguished flames, somewhat of rain, and in the sheets the faint lingering scent of Tybalt - her sweat and her perfume. Benvolio found herself breathing in the scent of the pillow, and memories flooded in - their faces an inch apart, each ready to strike.

Again she felt that tension seize her, as it always did near the Capulet. But something dizzy in her mind wasn’t sure if what she felt was hate or love. Being here on this bed trapped with thunder outside, and the flickering light of the candles…

“What are you doing?”

Benvolio looked up to see Tybalt standing over the bed. “It’s warm,” she explained.

“Move over.”

So Benvolio shifted, turning away, and Tybalt lay down beside her.

“Are you done with love letters?” Benvolio asked in a soft, kind voice.

Tybalt just grunted in response.

Then Benvolio unwrapped the blanket around her, offering it up to her rival, and she took it, though she wasn’t feeling mean enough not to share.

“Promise not to kill me in my sleep?” asked the Montague.

She didn’t get a response at first.

“Tybalt… I promise that to you.”

The Capulet sighed, annoyed by the sweetness and purity of that voice. “Fine,” she muttered. “I promise.”

So the two of them drifted off to sleep there together.


When Benvolio woke, it was still dark, and Tybalt was pressed up against her back with an arm around her chest. She realized that the touch had awoken her, and Tybalt’s hand was moving to clutch at her neck.

Benvolio gasped out in fear.

“Shhh…” Tybalt’s breath tickled at her ear.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “You promised.”

Tybalt held her hand against her neck, feeling the steady pulse beneath her flesh. “You’re warm,” she whispered. “I feel your blood.”

Benvolio gasped for breath. Though there was barely pressure, she felt hardly able to breathe.

But then Tybalt let go, holding her instead around the waist, and the touch at her neck was replaced with the gentle touch of lips.


“Quiet,” said Tybalt. She went on kissing, and Benvolio lay still. “If you ever tell… I will kill you.”

Benvolio felt heavy breaths fill her chest. Her body was enjoying the touch, and it was terrifying. But then Tybalt took her face in her hand to tug her close, and when their lips met, it was so incredibly tender and sweet. Benvolio gazed up into her eyes with startled innocence, unable to understand.

“It’s alright,” Tybalt whispered. “I won’t hurt you tonight. I won’t hurt you unless you tell.”

Benvolio nodded in understanding. Seized with lust, she leaned in to initiate a kiss of her own, and Tybalt was incredibly pleased.

“Good boy,” she muttered, stroking her hair. “You like it...”

Her voice was soft and small. “Yes, Tybalt.”

She growled then, and shoved Benvolio’s wrists into the bed to the sound of a startled, feminine cry. Tybalt pressed her thigh hard and rough between the other boy’s, and Benvolio kept whining in pleasure.

“Quiet… Jesus… You’re so loud.”

“Ah- I’m sorry. Oh it feels good.”

“Yeah? Like that?” Tybalt chuckled darkly, shifting to unfasten her pants. “Just wait…”

Benvolio could hardly stand the pleasure and the shame when she felt the hand of a Capulet between her legs. She clutched at Tybalt’s back, nearly crying. “Oh… oh, no...”

“You’re so dramatic.” Tybalt was actually amused. “What’s the matter with you?”

Benvolio looked into her eyes, at her mercy. “Tybalt, it feels so good.”

She chuckled in response, feeling a little sadistic. “I guess I’ll stop then.” She withdrew, and wiped her hand on Benvolio’s pants.


Tybalt really cackled then. “You’re so easy to fuck with,” she said.

“You’re just being mean,” said Benvolio. Determined to cause something pleasant, she reached to unfasten the Capulet’s pants instead.

“Don’t bother,” said Tybalt.


She pushed away Benvolio’s hands. “Just don’t bother.”


“Because I said.”

“But I wanna.”

“Fine.” Tybalt lay still, rolling her eyes, and let Benvolio unzip her pants. She looked utterly bored as the Montague’s hand slipped inside, but Benvolio could feel that Tybalt was turned on already.

“Oh,” she whispered, smiling slightly with an innocent optimism. “How nice…”

Finally Tybalt gave a soft little grunt, and her look of utter boredom seemed a little more like pleasure. Benvolio smiled in delight. She kept on touching, but Tybalt just sighed. Then Benvolio leaned closer to kiss at her neck, and her fingers slid lower… and inside her.

Tybalt made a soft little sound in pleasure. Her breaths were more labored as the Montague made love to her, and her fingers reached to clutch at blonde hair.

“Ahn...mmmh… Benvolio,” she murmured, eyes shut.

She was smiling, unseen, and trying not to giggle in delight.

“Fuck-” Tybalt growled as though annoyed, but her hips told a different story. Benvolio shifted to touch her in a way that just might make her come, and it didn’t even take very long. Tybalt suddenly gave a low grunt, then promptly shoved her away, lying panting for breath.

Benvolio had to cover her mouth to keep from giggling beside her. Even still, she started laughing behind her hand.

“Shut your mouth,” said Tybalt, and smacked her in the head.

“Don’t, don’t! You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Oh, fuck it all.” Tybalt was still trying to catch her breath. She just lay there, wanting sleep to drown her thoughts.

Benvolio watched her as though it was all very interesting. The rise and fall of her chest, the flush in her cheeks and her messy waves of hair. “Thank you, Tybalt,” she said in the softest, kindest voice. She kissed the Capulet on the forehead, and then snuggled up beside her. “You kept me safe tonight.”

Tybalt took the Montague’s hand where it rested on her chest, lingering for just a moment - as though they might hold hands. “Don’t touch me,” she said, and pushed her hand away.

“Alright,” said Benvolio, and pulled the blanket over them both. “Sleep well, Prince of Cats.”

Tybalt hoped a sigh might exhaust all the breath from her being. But still she could speak, so she did. “Just sleep.”