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My Beautiful Beast	By : praiseofblood Category: Fairy Tales, Fables, Folklore, Legends, and Myth > Fables Views: 8215 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction, any resemblances to anyone is coincidental. This story is copywritten by praiseofblood. Do not copy

Chapter List
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Chapter 6: Dinner for Two?
Adrian blinked as a knock sounded at the door to the great chamber. He’d found a bathing room, with a hot pool of water already drawn, though who drew it, he had no clue. He’d bathed the week of pig-stink, stone dust, bush and sweat clean off his body. He’d wanted to lounge a bit and rest in the sweet water for a while longer but at the knock, he rose and padded out to the door. He didn’t care much for his nakedness—in the village, everyone pretty much knew what a naked man looked like—and the girls too young to know were kept inside. Besides, Adrian had never had anything to be ashamed of.
And in a castle with no people, who was there to gape at him? Adrian swung the heavy oak door wide, running a large hand through the curled mop of hair atop his head. “Yes?” he blinked, before taking a step back.
My, the boy was uh, well built. Dominic stared for far shorter than he would have liked, though obviously much too long for the boy’s comfort. He was pretty, large brown eyes, curled hair darker than oak soaked through with rain, a strong jaw, an impressive build, complete with a trail of hair leading to a…delectable cock.
Dominic wished to be human again, if only to be able to run a paw—er, hand—down that finely sculpted body, and feel it against his.
Adrian frowned, looking at the beast before him. He frowned. “What do you want, beast? And why am I in this…grand old room when I’m meant to be your prisoner?” he gestured to the room around him with a wide sweep of his arm, his upper body turning with the gesture and his dick swinging pleasantly. Mmph. “Not that I’m complaining, mind you—but I am admittedly confused.”
Why was he still talking? He should be dancing, swinging that lovely cock of his about some more.
“Beast! Do you hear me?” the man frowned again and Dominic sighed and forced himself to answer.
“Hello, peasant,” Dominic cooed, his gravely voice tinted with lust. He cleared his throat. “I’m here to ask you to supper. Will you dine with me?”
Well, that certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. Adrian frowned, “What?”
“Oh come now, peasant. You don’t want to starve do you? When your Master asks you to dine with him, you do it, or not at all.”
“You’re no Master of mine,” Adrian frowned back at the beast. Big asshole. Who did he think he was?
“And your dangly bits are exposed to the elements—do you really think you can refuse me? You have no pickaxe to wield now, boy,” Dominic pointed out.
Adrian blanched at that and grabbed a candlestick from the side table.
“Hey!” the thing cried out and Adrian cried out and dropped it. “It’s alright, Gaspar,” Dominic chuckled.
“Alright? Let him grab you by the shaft and see if you’re alright with it!” the candlestick grumped, its arms bending down to dust itself off.
Dominic only rose a brow through his fur. He’d actually be perfectly happy with the peasant grabbing his shaft.
“Don’t mind him, he always did have a bit of a problem with people touching him,” Dominic chuckled.
Adrian blinked, before chuckling, “Sorry about that, skinny.”
“Skinny…original,” the candlestick grumped. Though the quip actually was original, he’d been a rather full sized man, and as a candlestick, no one thought to comment on his shape before. But even still, Gaspar was a grouchy old bastard, and he quipped back in turn. “You’re free to stumble about the dark on your own, you great, smelly fuckstick. I hope you stub your toe.”
Dominic snorted. “Gaspar be nice, the peasant will be joining us for dinner.”
“Fuckstick?” Adrian blinked, too impressed to be offended. That was a creative curse. He’d have to remember that.
The candlestick frowned—as well as candlesticks could frown, and his flame flickered as its shaft bent forward. “Yes Master. I will go tell the kitchen to prepare.” With that, he clicked off at a hop down the hall.
Adrian frowned at the beast before him. “I don’t think I agreed to anything with you.”
“Come now, peasant—“
“My name is Adrian, you asshole.”
“Peasant,” Dominic insisted. “You’ve not asked me my name, and I’ve not asked yours.”
Adrian frowned. “What name could a beast carry?”
For some reason, that smarted. No matter how beautiful this peasant was before him, he would still only see a beast, not the beautiful prince he once was. Hell, this boy was so young, he may not even remember Dominic—he was already a man of twenty three before he was turned, and it was doubtful this boy was more than two decades old.
“How old are you, boy?” Dominic asked.
“I’m no boy. I’m twenty-four. And why do you want to know?” Adrian frowned.
“ A man then. And do you have a wife?” Dominic’s word slipped out before he caught himself. Dammit, now the little thing would get all defensive and rebellious and ask something entirely uncomfortable like--
“What? Why the hell do you want to know that?” Adrian frowned, crossing his arms.
And there it was. Dominic sighed, best to make a quick exit and hang on to what little air of mystery and intrigue he had left at this point. “Get dressed and follow Beaucoux to the dining area. I expect you in half an hour.” He said, turning and sweeping down the hallway.
Adrian was left staring at the Beast’s retreating figure and frowned, turning back into the room and slamming the door.
“Fuckstick.”
~*~*~*~

“Shut up, Maré,” Dominic growled menacingly.
“I think it went well, Your Highness. You were….charming.”
Dominic couldn’t see her face but he knew if she had one, it’d be wearing a shit eating grin right about now.
“You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me, Your Grace. I’m a talking wine decanter. I can’t get work anywhere—and how will I explain it when some fine gentleman’s pouring me into a glass and the pretty one breaks the curse and that poor gent ends up with a handful of my good stuff? Though he might enjoy it, and heavens know I need to get a handful of someone,” Maré rambled amicably. The bitch was just happy to get her way…again.
“Good stuff? You mean old stuff. It’ll most likely smell of fermented grapes and the pine water Sara uses to clean the dishes,” Dominic snorted. “And don’t you dare utter another syllable about your sexual barrenness to me, Maré. I don’t want to hear about your dusty old flue.”
“Well, I say!” Maré exclaimed, offended. “It sure is a blessing you don’t prefer women, we’d be cursed for all eternity.”
For not the first time, Dominic thought about strangling her to death—but since that was impossible, he looked about for a cork, or lid, or flaming rag.
Silence for a bit, then—“You should get dressed up for the occasion. I’m sure he’d like to see you all dapper and dashing.”
“Maré, when we’re human I will do the world a most benevolent favor, and personally murder you myself.”
- 7
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- 9
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My Beautiful Beast