One month had passed since Beka's return, and Rosto was getting used to the fact that nothing between them was going to change.
As he sat on his wooden 'throne' at the Dancing Dove, he watched her as she sipped her raspberry Twilsey.
Beka remained as unresponsive to his advances as she had before going on her pox-rotted hunt. Rosto berated himself; he was trying to force something that Beka wasn't ready for, emotionally at least.
With that in mind, a thought presented itself to him; if Beka wasn't ready for an emotional relationship, perhaps she would be more open to one of the… sexual kind. It might just work! Trying to keep a grin of his face, Rosto knew he had something. Beka desired him, which was clear when he had managed to steal those kisses, and after all, she had needs. A fact that had become infuriatingly clear when Dale Rowan had come into the picture. Rosto had to consciously stop himself imagining the many torture methods he would love to practise on Master Dale. Only problem was, he would have to convince her she was his only mot. That might be the difficult part; since Rosto was quite sure Beka had half his female court in bed with him. It might have been true a while back but now Rosto only wanted one mot. Her.
Focusing again on the outside world he noticed Beka was walking towards him.
"What are you plotting Rosto? I can hear the cogs turning across the room." She had stopped about three feet in front of his chair, hands held behind her back. Classic Dog pose. Someone had managed to get her to wear a dress tonight, oh and Mithros save him! Beka looked more beautiful then usual.
"Well you see love; I'm trying to figure out which one of our dear friends managed to get that beauty on you, since none of them are missing in action." She scowled.
"I'm not answering that Rosto." Rosto shrugged; he just wished he could be the one to take it off her.
"Didn't spect you to." He said grinning in way, most people would call rogueish, "So, did you want anything?"
"Only to say goodnight."
"What? Leaving so soon?" Beka smiled at his disappointed tone.
"I'm tired," she explained "I had a long watch, and then I came straight here." Obviously not straight here, he thought, eyeing the dress.
"I know what will pick you up." He leaned over and passed her his jack of ale.
"Rosto!" she gave him a glare that would make a weaker man cower. "You know I don't drink." he gave a full belly laugh and half his court turned to look at the pair.
"I know, love, I know, your never gonna get me to stop offering… unless you drink that. Then I promise the only ale your ever going to taste will be on some lucky cove's lips." Beka was furious; Rosto could see it in the way she stiffened and the almost unperceivable glint in her eyes. But she lightened her features, as only a Dog can.
"I'll hold you to that Rosto the Piper." Throwing back her head she gulped down the ale. Rosto stared on in shock; he hadn't actually expected her to do it. She slammed the jack down on the table next to them and suddenly seemed to realise they had an audience.
Deciding he may as well do something useful, he yelled at the mumpers to mind the own business. They quickly went back to their conversations, not wanting to anger their King.
"Mithros Beka," he said, she looked very queasy "come on, I'll walk you to your room." Something must be wrong since she wasn't vehemently refusing. He stood up, took Beka's hand and showed her out one of the many back ways.
"You alright love?" Rosto asked as they walked across the street, he noticed she didn't let go of his hand. Beka grinned.
"I'm tipsy." That explained it. They reached her building and Rosto opened the door. Bowing like a player
"My lady." She giggled, Beka giggled. He gaped, but quickly closed his mouth as they tramped up the stairs. At the door to Beka's room he let go of her hand.
"Well love, I'll never again be able to get you even slightly drunk, so I'm gonna take advantage of the situation." Rosto leaned over and gave Beka a small peck on the lips. As he pulled back, he could see Beka was frowning. In a move so fast he didn't see it coming; Beka covered his mouth with hers and pushed him back into her door. Rosto couldn't think properly. She's kissing me back! Was the only thought he could focus on. This was better than Rosto could imagine, kissing Beka wasn't like feeling sparks, no, it was like feeling a bonfire. Behind Rosto the door gave way, and he realised Beka must have opened it. She backed him up till his knees hit her bed and pushed them both on to it. Rosto rolled them over so he was on top and started kissing down her neck and jaw bone.
"Are you going to regret this?" he asked softly in between kisses. Beka was breathless and gasping but she managed to get out a 'no' before they both surrendered to each other.