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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: 11066 -:- 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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Once Upon A Time…Gaston Made A Vow And Tried Keeping To It
A/N: Because it will start getting rather unoriginal and will quite possibly make me forget that this is a smut fic, the fights will be sorta montaged. On to the fic!
To say that Mrs Potts was livid was gross understatement.
“To say that I’m livid is a GROSS understatement,” Mrs Potts seethed at the two men in front of her. They were reclining on Adam’s king-sized bed, both nursing wounds from the fight.
The blonde had a bloodied bandage wound around his head and was gingerly touching the parts of his torso that had acquired a rather nasty case of rug burn. Whatever wasn’t swollen and red was swollen and blue from wild punches.
The brunette had a bag of ice positioned between his legs and something of a bandage cap from where the maid had assaulted him. His lip was busted and his nose looked slightly broken from when he had collapsed face first.
Neither acknowledged the other’s presence.
Mrs Potts looked between the two, “Is there no way you boys could bury the hatchet?”
Adam pointed enthusiastically at the man next to him, “He tried!”
“Oh pipe down, you big baby,” came the deep counter, “It was the back of the axe. I was saving the front for when you were knocked out! That gives you no reason to attack my family jewels!”
“It’s called self-defence, you imbecile!”
“That’s enough! Monsieur Gaston, what kind of guest goes around killing his host? How dare you, after all the Master’s done for you?! You egotistical, selfish, ungrateful ingrate! I should have you hung, drawn and quartered!”
The bigger of the two went a whiter shade of pale, his eyes wide in shock. It would seem that no one had ever put him in his place about anything. Adam sniggered – trust Mrs Potts to silence even the most unruly of villains. His gloating, however, was cut short when the small woman rounded on him.
“And don’t get me started on you, Master! I thought you had been taught better; I thought I had taught you better! At this rate, you’re no worse than this man and I will not have my son grow up learning such uncultured, aggressive, degenerative practices!
She placed her hands on her wide hips, glaring at both startled men, “So what if both your hearts were broken by the same woman? So what if one technically killed the other? That should have been water under the bridge the moment you saved you! For God’s sake, the pair of you, GROW UP!”
Neither man said anything as the no-longer-as-small-as-she-seemed woman briskly left, her skirts bustling in her frustration. Almost in unison, the pair tore their gazes from where she had stood and stared at each other.
“Well, that was rather uncalled for,” Gaston said pompously.
“Imagine growing up with her,” Adam replied, returning his attention to his enflamed right nipple. It was stiff and red and gave him a masochistic sense of pleasure every time he gingerly touched it.
It took a while for Adam to notice he was being stared at. He returned the gaze, only to notice that the icy irises were not focused on his face, but on his injured nipple. A part of Adam stirred when he saw that his enemy wore an unreadable expression, his thick black lashes hooding glazed-over eyes with dilated pupils.
The weight of the situation wrapped itself around Adam, as he watched his nemesis watch him touch himself on his bed. It sounded like the start of something rather dangerous and exhilarating and Adam didn’t know if he was right of mind to be entertaining such desires.
Their eyes met; a tense electricity between them. Adam was very aware of how alone they were, how quick it would be to lock the door; how something had to stop this foolishness.
“Belle dropped you too?” Gaston said the magic words that broke the spell. Adam flinched, as if the man had struck him again. Where had his promise of everlasting love gone? His willingness to wait on her to return? He was willing to throw away all memories of his one true love for a moment of sinful bliss. Displacing his anger, Adam narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, making sure his wounded nipple was hidden from view.
“None of your business,” he spat, looking away. He was shocked, and insulted, to receive the large burst of laughter.
For the second time that day, Adam gaped. The man seemed to hoot and holler obnoxiously, his torso shaking and tears springing from the effort. He was cut short, however, when he grimaced and pulled the ice pack closer to his groin.
“Serves you right,” Adam muttered bitterly. He figured the pain to the man’s genitals was punishment enough for making his broken heart the butt of a joke.
He was still sniggering though, “So I’m guessing she’s the four-legs-and-fur type?”
Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, too tired to get riled up, “Don’t talk about Belle like that.”
“Still a sore topic, isn’t it Beast? Wouldn’t want the kind and gentle Beast crying, would we? How pathetic – were you always this sappy?”
Adam pinched harder, “Out!”
“Oh I’m leaving,” the young prince blatantly ignored the slight disappointment he felt as the bed got lighter. Daring a peek, he watched his rival waddle arrogantly towards the door, ice pack firmly in place. The wounded man stopped, one hand on the door.
“Belle’s disappearing act doesn’t change a thing,” eyes like ice narrowed, showering Adam in that cold, wet feeling again.
“Hell or high water, Beast, you will die by my hand.”
***
“Encore!? Vraiment!?” Adam jumped leapt out the way as a dark mass, ululating, flew off the chandelier. He didn’t give it a second thought to grab the sword off a nearby suit of armour and engage in some serious self-defence. The now beardless man smirked, glinting perfectly straight white teeth as he wielded his machete.
Fighting for his life in his own home was becoming a daily ritual for the young prince. He spent every minute looking over his shoulder and starting at every small movement. Every time he walked into a room, he mapped out several escape routes and a possible weapon should he be forced to fight back. Cogsworth observed that his body seemed tensed. Lumière commented on his enhanced sense of hearing. Chip admired his ability to smell out a dangerous person. Babette politely asked him not to use the tapestries for shielding. Mrs Potts merely smiled in that annoying way of hers.
“Having fun, dear?” she asked as he was knocked into a wall. He merely grunted a reply before launching himself onto his opponent.
Their battles always left him covered in sweat, blood and bruises, out of breath and unreasonably excited. Adam had tried to avoid entertaining the bastard’s ideas on “unfinished business” by merely deflecting attacks. But there was something undeniably good about landing a well-placed punch or using the right fencing combination to slice a fairly deep wound. It became less about survival and more about satisfaction, not that his enemy minded. In fact, the man seemed to revel in Adam’s resistance.
“He’s a lovely distraction, isn’t he?” a freckled nursemaid had said one particularly hot day as she handed the blond an ice pack. Adam used his good eye to peer over to where Mrs Potts was lecturing and mending his…nemesis.
“Distraction from what?” he sneered when his gaze was met.
“From the young Mistress…I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…! I’m going to stop talking now…” the poor girl flushed and busied herself silently.
It was true though, and Adam was surprised at how unaffected he was by this revelation. Whenever his mind wandered towards his former fiancée, there would be another attack – almost as if on cue. His mind had been so preoccupied with battle techniques and strategies and the pure adrenaline rush of skin-on-skin that he hadn’t found the time to mope or grieve.
But he never thought much of it until his rival had collapsed – topless – on top of his equally topless self, tired from a particularly passionate battle in the palace gardens. The sun dried their hot, sticky bodies closer together, their legs tangled down to their boots. Adam could feel the other man’s heart beating, horribly out of synch with his own and thumping uncomfortably against his ribcage. A thick, sweaty lock of black hair, torn loose in their haste, draped over his chin and across his shoulder and Adam was finding it hard to ignore the thigh nesting against his growing erection. He was finding it even harder to ignore what felt like the startings of an erection gently poking into his thigh.
“You’re heavy,” he huffed, suddenly claustrophobic and aware of every blade of grass under him. As discreetly as possible, he started wriggling away from under the larger man, but stopped abruptly when a large hand found a way to his hip and squeezed.
“Ferme ta bouche,” came the gruff reply, tickling the spot behind his ear and making him sigh deeply. A nose nuzzled into the nape of his neck and lips ghosted over the flesh they found there. The young prince manoeuvred his arm so that he could stroke and play with the damp curls and received a slight nip on his earlobe as gratitude.
As unsure as Adam was, it must have been at that moment.
There, on the last day of summer, battered and beaten in the palace gardens with tenting tights and sensuous lips brutalising his ear and well-placed legs gently rubbing humming groins.
It must have been then that Adam started calling him Gaston.
***
Encore: Again
Ferme ta bouche: Shut your trap/ shut up
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Once Upon A Time