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Once Upon A Time	By : Madame_Lazla Category: +1 through F > Beauty and the Beast (Disney) > Beauty and the Beast (Disney) Views: 11063 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and the Beast, nor do I own any of the characters in it. I only own the pervertedness. In conjunction, this is a work of pleasure - I make no money from it

Chapter List
- 9
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Once Upon A Time…Adam Made Amends
“Oh for God’s sake, Master – talk to him! You’re both moping and it is putting everyone down!”
Adam shrugged and walked faster. When was Lumière ever going to learn? Adam could outwalk him hopping, and yet the manservant was still adamant about pestering him to the ends of the earth. The prince had to admire the perseverance of one of his closest friends – once again trying to talk him into removing his foot from his backside. However, once again, he was going to ignore what was sound advice and make a greater idiot of himself. It was his decision to make and he was not to be wavered from it.
“If you were so eager to go hiking with me, Lumière, you should have worn thicker shoes,” Adam threw over his shoulder, ever charging forward. He was tired with the reproachful glances/glares he was receiving from everyone in the castle and even more tired of having to walk out a room if he saw the semblance of something burly. He was rightly entitled to his anger, so why was everyone treating him with disdain? Were a few high-grade chunks of hide really worth the treason? True, Adam had only been fed gruel and undercooked vegetables since his row with Gaston, but he did not see how an altercation between a prince and his houseguest would become a matter to the staff.
The stumbling footsteps behind him told him that Lumière had not left. Honestly, whenever did he get such interfering servants? Whatever had happened with the concept ‘seen, not heard’?
Adam heard a squeal and turned in time to catch the thinner man as he tripped over some undergrowth. In all honesty, this wasn’t working out – he would not be able to peacefully seethe with Lumière ambling about and potentially hurting himself. He wasn’t sure how long he would be able to fume, in any case. Much as he hated to miss it, he really felt Gaston’s absence and it was near unbearable.
However, that did not negate his current emotions. Gaston really had pushed his luck, but it was not that that terrified Adam. It was the fact that Gaston seemed to think he was allowed to, as if he truly was a part of the castle.
A part of the family, the pesky voice in Adam’s head taunted, Would that make you happy? After all, it wasn’t as if you were in love with Belle. Oh wait, you were. Remember her? Or are your allegiances based on the thing closest to your piece?
Adam sighed, allowing Lumière to splutter thanks and dust himself off. This whole situation was getting more complex than Adam was prepared to handle. Especially since his rather turbulent emotions were getting involved.
“Maybe we should head back, Master,” Lumière suggested, the last bits of dirt falling off his body. Adam relented, not in the mood for another argument, and led the way back to the castle. They had only been walking for what seemed to be mere minutes when Adam bolted, ignoring Lumière’s insistent cries as he plunged himself deeper into the forest. His heart pounded in his ears and his blood began to heat with excitement as he sought to put as much distance between himself and his friend as possible. He had no intention of going home and being glared at by everyone and the furniture, and escape seemed like the only sensible tactic.
Twigs and dead leaves caved under his heavy footing as he ran, thrilled at how fast he was moving and not really caring where he went, so long as Lumière was not there. Part of the adventure would be trying to find his way back without being mauled by anything.
His ecstatic racing was stopped short when he felt his midsection collect with something. The sheer force of coming to a complete stop brought his balance off kilter and he landed – flatly – on his backside and into a particularly sharp stone.
If his sudden presence had not scared the deer off, his yelp of pain was enough to send it frantically prancing off. He watched after it, still slightly confused when he heard a rather colourful oath ring not too far from him and the bush he found himself behind was unceremoniously shoved aside.
Adam was not able to see much, but the hulking figure that blocked the sun could only belong to one person. The young prince gulped audibly, caught off guard in a heap of dead foliage. He was relieved that he could not see the hunter’s face clearly, but wisps of the perfectly coiffed hair glinted in the glow of the halo the sun provided. He was almost an angel.
A few seconds ticked away as he watched the bow and arrow, not yet used, settle limply in the man’s hand. He wanted to say something, anything, but his voice seemed to have run away with the deer.
Gaston, however, did nothing else but snort derisively and flounce off – not so much a backwards glance as he went in search of another target.
***
“Are you going to feed me anything more than rabbit feed?”
“No. Bonne Appétit.”
“Well, can’t I at least eat with everyone in the dining hall?”
“No. Gaston eats there and wouldn’t be comfortable with you.”
“You forget who the Master of this castle is.”
“You forget who’s providing us with lean meat.”
“You would too if you hadn’t had any.”
“And you’re not getting any, Master, until you control your temper,” Mrs Potts threw him a withering look as she finished setting the paltry meal on a handsome side-table. Adam was pacing around the room, still trying to adjust to the new improvements. Yes, the West Wing had improved, that Adam could admit. It just wasn’t acceptable how it had come to be improved.
“He had no right to do that, Mrs Potts. This isn’t his home,” Adam stated plainly, not raising his voice because he knew it would not sit well with the elderly woman.
Mrs Potts removed her small, oval spectacles and stared at him, “Would it be so wrong if it became his home? The boy has nowhere else to go and the place certainly is big enough to –”
“Don’t. Even. Try. He had a village full of lovely women eager to take him back with welcoming arms. Or did you not hear? He is a perfect and faultless dunderhead god to the uneducated, unwashed dunderhead masses,” Adam did try not to let his bitterness seep through, but it was hard. It had been a few days since he had bumped into Gaston and that had fuelled his sulking to a new level.
“Must you always be like this?” Mrs Potts huffed, placing her hands on her hips and visibly ruffling, “So thick-headed? Admit it, Master; the West Wing has never looked so grand. He did this for you, didn’t he?”
“He’s squatting in Belle’s room.”
“Because she’s here to occupy it, isn’t she? Oh love, we both know she’s not coming back. As for why he chose that particular room, would you begrudge him some satisfaction? Maybe her room to him is like her book to you – and don’t pretend you don’t understand what I’m saying.”
Adam pinched the bridge of his nose; he had never given it much thought. “He’s trying to take away my memories away, Mrs Potts. I know he is! Everything he does…he’s trying to make me forget what I’m not allowed to.”
The kindly Englishwoman straightened off her apron and adjusted her nightcap before wandering over to the prince and placing a thin-lipped kiss on his cheek. “He can’t make you forget, unless you want to forget, dearie. Now let’s stop this nonsense. I expect you two to be breaking priceless, irreplaceable items by bedtime.”
***
Adam did not want to apologise. He was not going to apologise, for it was a submissive act and apologising would be giving Gaston permission to continuing playing Master. But Mrs Potts was right – if this whole charade did not end soon enough, he would be mad by spring.
So he was awake, washed and dressed before the sun peaked out in the horizon. The castle in the morning was vindictively freezing, but he ignored it in favour of clothes and boots that would not weigh his flat-footedness down. He splashed some cologne on, fearing the stench that came with hours of exercise.
By the time he ran to the entrance hall, the sky was a lighter shade of navy and birds were tweeting. He caught himself the minute he saw the strong, muscular back flex and gloved arms opened the door. Trying to look nonchalant and unfazed, he leaned against the stair rail and cleared his throat loudly.
Gaston turned around, a little surprised to see someone awake so early, but his features schooled into a mask of disinterest when he saw Adam, poised at the top of the stairs.
“Bonjour,” Adam ventured, hoping it didn’t sound as scripted as it was. Gaston stared at him for a moment before grunting a reply and bending down to collect a series of guns, bows and bags.
Adam felt his confidence sink a bit. This wasn’t exactly the interaction he had expected – Gaston was meant to smile, look pleased and invite him back into his life. Adam cleared his throat again, and fought the panic that rose when he was once again ignored.
“So, you’re going hunting?” he tried again.
“Oui,” came the non-committal reply.
The bastard was really not picking up on the hint and if he was, he was deliberately ignoring it.
“So…it’s hunting season, then?” Adam tried a third time, frustrated at how stupid and redundant the phrase was. The things he was risking to make things right.
Gaston looked at him with a slight condescending glint in his eyes. Oh yes, he had picked up the clue all right, “Yes. Yes it is.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
A few awkward moments ticked by, each staring at the other. Adam was frantically finding something else to say, other than the dreaded “s” word and Gaston was ignoring anything other than the dreaded “s” word.
Adam caved, realising that this would not work. He was not sorry for being upset, only in how he conducted himself and he would not give Gaston the satisfaction of an apology. However, it seemed that Gaston was not ready to reach out and take things back to the way they were. Perhaps it was better that way – Adam could learn to forget about the other gentleman in his house and it was only a few months until winter would end and he could leave. It would still hurt though, but he had tried. He really had. Giving an off-hand smile and wave, Adam made to go back into his room and catch up on much needed sleep…
“Do you know how to hunt?”
Adam almost tripped up the stairs, shocked at the unexpected utterance. Was this his chance to reconnect? His response would be vital.
“With fangs and claws, yes,” this was true. Although he had been trained in hunting as a young boy, the years spent without opposable thumbs made man-made ammunition and techniques a thing of the past. He was far too heavy on his feet and much too loud as a human to be successful in killing anything.
Gaston snorted arrogantly, “Why am I not surprised? God, I should have killed you long ago. Well, don’t just stand there, you overgrown mongrel, grab a bag and that blunderbuss while I’m still young and gorgeous!”
***
Adam made a horrible hunter. The only things that he could kill were the bugs under his heel and the hare his horse had accidentally trampled when he lost balance and fell off. He had once come close to shooting migrating ducks, but started when Gaston tried to hold his arms steady and got flustered and ended up injuring an owl. The bird made a nice soup.
Gaston would not let him handle the faster creatures, such as the foxes or the deer. Too much stealth was required and there was always the frustration that occurred when they picked up a scent or smell and bounded off. Gaston would sulk and strop and bemoan Adam’s existence whenever this happened, which would spark some argument of a sort.
For the most part, they seemed content with each other – their rather intense row long forgotten in favour of more petty disagreements. Gaston seemed to appreciate Adam’s interest in hunting, no matter how much he complained. For he would patiently wait for Adam before he left, and if Adam were to oversleep, he would barge into the prince’s bedroom and kick up something terrible until Adam gave in and woke up. He would spend hours recounting his amazing feasts against nature and, surprisingly, was well versed in the history behind every weapon in his arsenal. He would speak of each tool with reverence and a near academic register.
He was also unnecessarily hands-on with the handling of the equipment. If Adam was not holding something decently enough, Gaston would stand behind him, hands placed gingerly on his hands and breath gently tickling the neck and ears as he softly whispered instructions. The touches would always linger a little too long and Gaston would stand a little too close, his nose and lips sometimes finding that curve of Adam’s neck that would make his eyes roll back languidly. After a week of hunting, Adam surmised that his failure in body counts was directly linked to how inappropriately Gaston touched him at crucial moments. What was also worth noting was how Gaston would increase his ministrations if it seemed that Adam was about to better him.
“Damn,” Adam cursed, as a twitchy hare dodged his arrow and burrowed into the hardening ground. He sighed, resigned to the fact that he had nothing to bring back to the castle. At least the rest of the house considered him redeemed enough to eat proper meals in their presence.
“No wonder you can’t hit the side of a barn, you’re wielding the thing like an axe,” Gaston sauntered over to him, typing a heavy cloth bag to his horse’s saddle before taking the all too familiar position behind the blond. Adam gulped audibly, feeling those pesky emotions again and hating how he came up to the bridge larger man’s nose.
“Here, you hold it like this,” Gaston began pompously, roughly forcing Adam’s arms up. His left hand was steadying Adam’s on the grip, the other hand pulling the twine back. He felt the full-on flush of a wide chest against him and unwittingly pressed back into it. He felt a puff of air by his right ear that served as a grunt of approval and shivered at the nose that nuzzled itself to the side of his head.
“When you’re handling the bow, you have to stand just so,” Adam was certainly imaging how husky the voice that tutored him was, and he was certainly fantasising on the suggestive manner Gaston had said ‘bow’. He gave an undignified squeak when his foot was pushed and his legs opened wider so Gaston could place a leg between them. Adam felt large, warm hands trail away from his arms and ghost themselves over his front torso. Not enough to make indents on his skin, but enough to make their presence known. Adam breathed a loud sigh of relief and closed his eyes slightly. Minutes ticked away as both sighed and shivered slightly.
“I’m not going to apologise,” Gaston finally murmured from somewhere in Adam’s hair.
Adam snorted softly, “Like you’d admit to being wrong.”
Gaston replied by nipping on the blonde’s ear and sucking loudly on the lobe. Adam gave an involuntary moan, giving a slight twitch as he let his arrow loose and felt the bow slip through his fingers.
Gaston took the opportunity to turn him around and force Adam flush against this body. Not one to be dominated, Adam grabbed at the other’s hips and forced him closer, finding Gaston’s neck and running a trail of saliva up his neck. He grinned against the flesh when he felt the man melt pitifully into him.
“Why does a room matter so much to you?” he heard the raven-head whisper into his ear. They shifted their heads until their eyes were caught within one another’s and their noses were inches apart.
Adam had the sudden urge to kiss Gaston, to taste the lips that could get him so angry, lonely and flustered all at once. He had an unfamiliar, animalistic yearning to explore the hunter’s mouth until it was swollen and busted and bleeding. He had never had memory of wanting anything more in his life, and yet something held him back.
Adam remembered, if only vaguely, that he had not answered the question. He knew this conversation had been a long time coming, an elephant in the room, so to speak. Entranced as he was by their close proximity, Adam was not going to submit.
“It was not your decision, this is not your house,” he managed to mutter through clenched teeth. Gaston gave a slight smirk, as he leaned forward.
“Oh yeah?” Adam could feel the heat of Gaston’s lips so close to his, but not touching. Still not touching.
“Cleaning my Wing is arguably forgivable. But you will move out of Belle’s room immediately.”
Gaston stared hard, his hands freezing against the small of Adam’s back. “What does it matter? She’s gone. You’re not still in love with her.”
“She’s my wife, Gaston. I’ll always love her.”
Gaston’s hands had bundled up Adam’s shirt in fists, his eyes glinting something manic. He forced his body against Adam’s, taking them both down to the ground. Adam grunted as the air was knocked out of him, glaring at eyes that no longer seemed to belong to a human. Gaston looked livid enough to murder him…or make him hurt in a different way.
Gaston leaned in, the incisors of teeth claiming the bottom of Adam’s lip. Adam found himself gasping and whimpering to the touch, rotating his hips to meet Gaston’s solid body. Gaston’s tongue traced gently over the skin it had captive, before he bit down with his might.
Adam whimpered, his eyes tearing up. The taste of metal that found a way onto his tongue informed him that the man had drawn blood, and was eagerly lapping it up. He could not fight the erection straining against his tights, nor did he want to. He was greeted by a low moan and an equally strong erection when his hips jerked upwards. But it was still not enough. He wanted, craved, more.
And then, all of a sudden, all the lovely pain and pressure and gorgeous tension was gone and Gaston was up and climbing his horse.
“She’s not coming back, Beast.”
Adam watched, confused and with patches of smeared blood on his chin, as the hunter forcefully wiped traces of Adam’s blood off his lips and rode off in a hasty gallop. The prince blinked a few times to steady himself, unsure of what had transpired between them. When he was finally ready to pack his half of the equipment, he rose and dusted dirt off himself. He was rather surprised when he found that dratted hare, pinned to the ground with none other than his own arrow.
Perhaps he was not a terrible hunter after all.
***
A/N: Bonjour = good day
Oui = yes
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- 11
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Once Upon A Time