Chapter Text
The gates opened with a warning, groaning metal on shuddering stone as if even the castle itself knew what it hid away but Beau stepped in anyway. His cloak was too long, soaked as the muddy hem dragged behind him like a drowned ribbon as he crossed the threshold, chin tilted high despite the tremble in his limbs. He was used to the stares and whispers.
“Look there he goes that boy is strange, no question
So fair and flawless, can't you tell?
Never part of any crowd
'Cause his head's up on some cloud
No denying he's a funny boy, that Beau…”
Let them talk. Here no one would know him, only one thing mattered. “I’ve come to take my father’s place!” Beau called out, voice carrying into the cold silence.
“Whatever he did may be wrong but please…take me instead.”
The stillness that followed felt alive, like the walls were listening. Holding their breath.
Then…
CRACK.
A sound of claws on stone. Beau flinched. Another sound followed, closer this time.
Then he saw it, him.
The Beast emerged from the shadows like something born of them, massive and hunched, fur bristling across bulging muscle. He didn’t look like the tales the villagers whispered, not a man cursed into a creature like they said but rather a beast masquerading to have been once a man.
He was huge, at least seven feet tall, maybe more. His horns curled back from his skull, sharp and bone white, his face all fangs and snout something lupine and leonine and all wrong yet impossible to look away from. His chest strained against the shredded remains of a shirt, fabric clinging to thick fur that covered slabs of muscle. His shoulders were massive and beastlike, so broad they filled the doorway before he entered. His arms hung low, longer than a man’s ought to be, corded with strength and ending in claws that clicked against the stair rail as he passed.
The Beast’s haunches shifted like a predator’s with every step, legs jointed wrong and bent like a dog’s with muscles rolling under dense fur and then, Beau’s eyes drifted below his waist to what little remained of his trousers as it clung to him like a prayer. Stitched together with desperation as the seams strained against the monstrous bulge beneath, the outline long and thick and heavy enough to sway with his stride. It wasn’t just that it was big, it looked almost wrong in its proportion. As thick as a man’s arm and far too long to be real, the kind of cock that said this creature was not made to be gentle.
The bulge was impossible to ignore, it looked obscene. Heavy and long and swinging as he walked, barely supported by fabric that tore at the seams. Everything about him smelled like musk and power, like something that didn’t belong in any civilized place, Beau couldn’t breathe, stuck frozen in place but he couldn’t look away either.
Beau’s breath caught as The Beast came closer.
Closer.
Closer still.
Beau had to tilt his head all the way back just to look up at him. The sheer size of him felt absurd. Beau’s entire face could’ve been covered by the Beast’s hand, one arm could crush him without effort. Golden eyes glowed under heavy brows as the Beast’s broad chest rose and fell, each inhale making his nostrils flare. He was scenting Beau.
He straightened himself and swallowed hard. “I…I…I’ll stay!” He mustered. “I’ll replace him…p…please…let my father go.”
The Beast said nothing as he moved a slow deliberate reach. Beau barely kept from flinching as one clawed finger stretched out and, far too lightly then he expected and hooked the front of Beau’s cloak and peeled it back slowly. It fell down Beau’s shoulder, down his spine and fell into a heap behind him.
The Beast sniffed. Once. Twice. Then spoke, low and guttural. "Upstairs. East wing. Red door."
Beau turned and fled. His boots clacked against the stone, hands trembled. He didn’t look back but if he had he’d have seen the Beast standing in the hall, cock fully hard, stretching the fabric so far the seams had begun to split and breathing harder.
Watching.
Scenting the cloak.
Wanting.
The room was warm and luxurious, too big, the bed could’ve fit three of him. The fireplace crackled, flickering against heavy red curtains and velvet draped walls and gold framed mirrors gleamed. The windows overlooked nothing but crisp snow under the moonlight.
Beau locked the door and stepped in on unsteady feet. His heart was still racing. That creature, The Beast, was monstrous and hulking and barely clothed. Beau swallowed, face hot. He could still see the shape of that massive cock in his mind, the weight of it, that absurd outline, that obscene swing between his legs. Gods, no man should be built like that, surely he wasn’t a man at all.
His knees wobbled at the memory as he stumbled toward the bed, unfastening his belt then the laces of his damp tunic. Everything felt too tight, too hot, he was flushed from head to toe, skin prickling as he collapsed face first into the bed and dragged his hips down against the velvet sheets.
“Oh…oh, gods,” he whimpered.
His cock was tiny but painfully hard, barely more than a flushed leaking nub rubbing through the linen of his trousers but his hips wouldn’t stop moving. He rolled into the soft bedding again and again, breath catching as his moans spilled from his lips like silk pulled taut. His face was buried in the pillows as he pushed into the mattress like he could bury the urge there. “I…I shouldn’t…”
But he couldn’t stop thinking about it. That body. That cock. That hand the size of his face and that deep rumbling voice that had Beau's stomach in knots in a way the village brute Gaston never could. The Beast had looked at him like he was prey and for once Beau wanted to be hunted.
“Nnnghhh…so…big…he’s…aahhh…” Beau moaned into the bedding and thrust harder.
He refused to even touch himself from the sheer amount of shame he felt at his arousal even as his pretty little cock smeared precum into the silken sheets and soaked through his trousers, his thighs clenching with every desperate hump. He sounded like a whore, breathless and keening, murmuring under his breath.
He humped like he was losing his mind, hips lifting and rocking, his hands fisting the pillows to resist the urge to touch himself. His cock throbbed, sensitive beyond bearing.
“I shouldn’t…I shouldn't be…nnnh…” He gasped as he bucked into the mattress again, rutting his hips down and feeling precum leak into the sheets. “He’s…a…a monster, I shouldn’t…”
But his hole fluttered each time he thought about it. That size. That stare. That voice. He was going to spill just by rubbing against the sheets like some wanton harlot. He was right there, so close…
CLACK.
Something behind him creaked and he froze in shock.
Another sound, a low curious hum. Beau whipped around and gasped.
The wardrobe, towering and gold trimmed in the corner was open and looking at him.
“Gracious,” came a smooth amused voice from within, soft and feminine and very much awake. “Is this how you settle in, little one?”
Beau fell backwards off the bed with a startled noise, landing in a sprawl of tangled limbs and shame. His trousers were tented with a pitiful little bulge, his thighs still twitching.
“I…I…I…what…w…who’s there!?” he stammered, voice breaking as he scrambled back.
“Oh don’t be shy,” the wardrobe cooed. “You were doing quite well.”
A second voice piped up, bright and theatrical. “And such a lovely voice too, mon ami.”
Beau turned, hands covering his lithe body, wide eyes toward the nightstand where a brass candlestick with a face was bowing deeply. “Y…you…you talk!” Beau gasped. “You’re…alive?”
“Ofcourse,” said the candlestick with a wink, “and very impressed.”
Beau’s lips parted but no words came. He just sat there, in silken sheets, blushing violently. His cock was still hard, his breath still uneven.
The wardrobe chuckled at the sight before her. “Oh, darling. What a pretty sight you make for our sore eyes.”
The Beast stalked the corridor like a caged animal, claws tapping the stone with every step. His breath was shallow, chest heaving beneath the torn shirt. The thin remnants of his trousers rode low on his hips, stretched to their limits.
His cock was aching, knot flaring in desperation.
The Beast growled low in his throat and adjusted himself, curling a heavy paw around the obscene bulge trapped beneath his waistband. The fabric was dark with precum, damp and straining at the seams. It felt like all the blood in his body had migrated, pooling thick and hot between his thighs. He hadn’t been aroused in years, not since the curse. Not since he'd stopped feeling anything so…human.
He leaned against the stone archway, shoulders braced, claws curling into the masonry. He saw the boy’s face in his mind, the words, that voice.
“Take me instead.” The silly thing had said, shivering in his boots.
Those delicate hands, the line of his slender neck. The way he moved when he turned, so light and graceful like he weighed nothing. That boy wasn’t built for labor or hunting, no, that body was made for silks and being touched, for being…
The Beast’s cock jerked against his trousers, twitching with greed and drooling more precum into the fabric. His tail thumped the floor, wagging at the memory of that delicate thing that now roamed his halls.
The moment the boy had turned away, hips swaying like he didn’t know what he was doing The Beast had gone hard as a rock.
He tried to stay away, tried to be decent. To breathe. To pace the hall and run the perimeter, soak his head in the fountain and think of anything but the way that boy smelled but the more he resisted the worse it got.
It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. He was supposed to be terrifying, he was terrifying. No one ever looked at him without screaming but this boy, this little creature who barely reached his ribs, with a waist so tiny he could wrap one hand around it, with his eyes wide in a perfect mix of defiance and fear, he hadn’t screamed. He hadn’t run. He offered himself to save his father. Such a noble heart, such a foolish thing.
The Beast let out a snarl as his cock tore at the remnants of his trousers. The seam gave easily, already weakened from strain, the fabric peeled off his hips and bore his monstrous cock in full.
It swung heavy between his thighs, throbbing and flushed dark with heat. The shaft was thicker than a wine bottle and veined all the way to the head which was already leaking precum in long sticky drips. His knot pulsed with the need to breed as his balls clenched tight beneath it, aching from years without release.
“That…was a man, wasn’t it?” he growled to himself pawing at his shaft, curling a hand around it. His voice ragged. “He smelled like one...didn’t he?”
He groaned, stroking slowly down the length, thick claws held carefully wide. His hips jerked, his chest heaved. “Couldn’t be. Couldn’t...too soft. Too small. Pretty little…gods, his mouth…”
A long string of drool stretched from his tongue as he humped into his own grip, panting like a beast in heat. His other hand reached behind him to grab blindly at some pillows from the nearby chaise, he yanked a stack of them to the ground and threw himself over them, humping and rutting into the fabric as his cock spurted more precum than most men’s full release. He roared into the pillow, grinding harder.
“I’d break him,” he growled, voice strangled with sorrow. “He wouldn’t…he couldn’t…gods, I’d split him in half.”
But the image wouldn’t leave him. That brave boy’s delicate face, the way his mouth had parted as his pink lips trembled. His flushed cheeks, that absurdly narrow waist. No man looked like that, no one had ever made him feel this hungry.
His hips jerked faster, cock sliding through the pillowcase slick with his own mess. He humped harder, his teeth bared with frustration. He gripped his knot and pressed down on it to relieve some pressure and humped the silken pillow below him relentlessly.
He’d spoken like a man, offered himself like one but gods The Beast had never seen a man who looked like that. That face. That waist. That lithe body, narrow and slender, small enough to pick up with one hand. Even the way he smelled, fresh and soft and sweet beneath the cold like crushed flowers.
The Beast never imagined a man could look like that, sound quite like that. Smell like something he wanted to bite into and rut from behind until the stone beneath his feet cracked. He let out a frustrated snarl and dragged his claws across the floor.
He wasn’t supposed to want this. He’d spent years untouched and unseen, no one entered the castle and now this man, this pretty little stranger, was sleeping upstairs just a few halls away.
The Beast thumped his head against the wall with a low groan. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t fuck him. He couldn’t touch such a delicate thing with his monstrous paws but his knot didn’t seem to care. It pulsed again, every breath he took seemed to bring the boy’s scent back softer than the snow, sweeter than any perfume.
His balls hung heavy and aching, he hadn’t touched himself in years but now he felt feral. He pressed his hips to the pillow, would his skin feel as soft as this silk The Beast wondered. He groaned, deep and low, as the heat in his gut sharpened into something dangerous.
“Shouldn’t…gods, I’d ruin him…break him in half…” He growled, stroking harder.
The slap of fur and muscle echoed in the corridor as he rutted his cock along the soft silk, teeth bared and panting like an animal. “That was a man…had to be…fuck, so…too…soft…”
He imagined that waist in his hands, that slender back arching under him. His soft body pressed against his own furred belly while he slammed in over and over…
His thighs clenched as his claws scraped stone. The pressure built fast, hot, violent, impossible to stop and when it hit him. His cock pulsed and began to erupt.
“RRRRRRAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH!!” The Beast roared a raw ripping sound that thundered off the castle walls, his howl was so loud it startled birds from the trees outside and sent snow tumbling from the eaves.
He jerked forward as his knot flared in desperation and his whole body shuddering as thick molten ropes of cum sprayed the wall, his tail wagged wildly. “RRRRUH! HHNNNNHHHH! FUUUCK! RRRAAAAGHHH!”
He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to. His hips kept thrusting, cock pulsing on the slippery pillow as his balls emptied for what felt like minutes, each spurt slapping against the stone with wet, splattering force as the cum soaked the floor.
“NNNNGHHHHAAAA! RRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
He slumped forward with a gasp, one hand gripping down on his knot to try to mimic what it needed, chest heaving and tail wagging in delight for the first time in a long time and that’s when he smelled it.
Beau.
He blinked then snorted, his nostrils flared. He smelled something new, something sweet.
Faint. Close...
He followed it on instinct in the haze of his orgasm, staggered up the stairs and past the east hall and through the corridor. He sniffed the air like a wolf. There. That door. Red frame. The scent was thickest there.
Beau’s room.
He pressed his nose to the wood and inhaled deep.
Heat. Sweat. Lust. The boy had been touching himself.
The Beast rumbled low in his throat as one paw instinctively went down to stroke himself again, his cock was still hard and spilling precum down his thigh. He braced a paw against the doorframe and slowly fucked into his hand.
He didn’t need to see him, he could smell it and it was driving him mad. Beau sat on the floor, heart pounding and his cheeks flushed, his legs were still tangled in the sheets he’d just tried to rut into as his cock throbbed, tiny and twitching and leaking helplessly against his thigh. He felt like he was going mad, not because of how lustful he felt at the sight of The Beast but because the furniture, inanimate one second ago, was now talking to him.
The wardrobe’s golden trim shivered as she laughed again, warm and deliciously wicked. “You’re adorable, you know. You came in here all cold and brave and now look at you.”
Beau scrambled to pull the sheet up over himself. “Y…you’re…you’re alive! You’re not supposed to…how is this…what are you?!”
“Magic, darling…” said the wardrobe, “cursed magic if you must know but still quite useful, I was…ahem…I am Madame de la Grande Bouche and this is Lumière.” She nodded toward the candelabra who gave a flamboyant bow as his flame flickered dramatically.
“A pleasure chéri,” he said. “Quite the entrance you make. We rarely have guests who start the bedding before the tour.”
Beau turned bright red, pulling the sheet tighter and his cock gave a sweet little twitch beneath the soft fabric.
“I…I…I didn’t mean to…”
“Oh, hush now sweet thing,” the wardrobe cooed. “It’s only natural. That Beast of ours is…a lot to take in.”
Beau swallowed hard. “He’s…not…he…he didn’t scare me.” He tried to convince himself.
Lumière grinned. “No, I imagine that was the problem.”
Beau didn’t answer, he just bit his lip and glanced toward the fire.
The wardrobe’s voice softened. “You’re safe here little one, no judgment, no shame. If you need time to…collect yourself we’ll give you some privacy.”
Beau hesitated. His hand shifted under the sheets just a little. “I just…need a moment.”
“Of course,” she purred. “Take all the time you need. I’ll prepare some fresh things for you to wear, perhaps something soft and nice.”
The doors creaked shut with a sigh as Lumière winked once more and hopped down from the nightstand, trailing candlelight toward the sitting room. Then he was gone and Beau was alone again. Silence settled around him like snowfall and he let the sheet fall open. His cock was still hard, pathetically small and flushed pink, something he was teased for relentlessly back home. His thighs trembled as he slid back onto the bed, heart hammering and his hole fluttering from the unspent tension.
He reached beneath himself as his slender trembling fingers slipped behind his cock, between his thighs and circled lower. Gods it felt wrong but it felt perfect. He curled into the sheets, hips lifting and his legs parting gently as his fingertips found his hole and gently teased the rim. Just enough to penetrate himself but just enough to imagine what it might be like if The Beast…no…no, don’t think it. Don’t say it.
But he did.
His breath hitched as he pressed the tip of one finger inside. “Oh…oh gods…”
The stretch was barely anything but he needed it, he wanted it. He’d never felt like this in his life, wet without being wet, open without being touched. His tiny cock dripped weakly as he started to work his finger deeper. Then another.
His fingers slipped past his cock, still flushed and embarrassingly small as it twitched with every breath and brushed lower. His hips lifted instinctively. He didn’t mean to go further, not really, but he rubbed there anyway. The pressure, slow and gentle, made his eyes flutter shut.
Was that what The Beast would feel? That thick? Probably more. That heavy? Definitely more. Oh Gods…
His thighs shifted open on instinct and his heels dug into the bed. His cock drooled helplessly as soft little gasps caught in his throat and he rutted into the sheets, whining softly. He wasn’t even stroking himself, barely pressing in.
“What if he…touched me like this…if he grabbed me…if he…”
“RRRRRRAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH!!” The roar shook through the room making Beau cry out in surprise and shock, sobbing into the pillow as his fingers pressed that sweet spot inside him making his cock spurt a pathetic untouched orgasm against the sheets.
Another roar followed it, long and hoarse and guttural right outside his door. He gasped, chest heaving, hole still spasming around his fingers. His body felt like it was on fire the moment he heard that deep animalistic roar.
“W…what…what was that…is he…”
He didn’t know the Beast had just come to the sounds of his sweet whimpers, stroking himself off to the scent of Beau’s heat right outside the door. He thought, gods he thought the creature was just being terrifying again to remind him who was in charge.
Beau curled into the bed, sticky with his own spend and trembling around his fingers as he whispered into the sheets. “…What is this place?”