Remixed is about fairy tales rewritten as boyxboy stories. Now I'm going to say something and I'm only going to say it once:

If you don't like boyxboy then leave this story and keep your comments to yourself.

Okay, now that that's done. There will be sexual scenes in this story (which is why I rated it Red). Now I know that some people are more mature than others who are older than them, but I don't trust the people who aren't as mature as you to read my story and leave inappropriate or insipid comments that will just agitate and anger me.

So, thank you for reading my (crappy as hell) synopsis and...enjoy ; )


7. Beau

    My reaction to Ethan’s kiss surprises and scares me a little because it reminds me a lot of how Mark would kiss me.  I’m glad that Ethan is confident in telling me on when enough is enough though he scares me with the hyperventilating scene.  But when he explains it to me, I can’t help but laugh because that is so cute.
    And Oh.  My.  God.
    Sex with Ethan is amazing.  Like mind-blowing amazing.  He doesn’t hide any of his reactions; he’s completely open and honest with what he wants in bed.  He shocks me to my core when he tells me he’s a virgin because he was completely amazing with everything before that.  But I get absolutely pissed when he tells me what his job is—until he talks about the ‘no contact’ rule.  Then I calm down exponentially.
     When I have to take over the thrusting, I thrust for so long that my hips are tired when I collapse on top of Ethan whose voice is probably gone from all the screaming he’d been doing.  I play with his hair while he sleeps until I get to thinking about the things he does at work.  So I ask.
    “What is the maximum punishment where you work?”  I ask.
    “Basically, I tie the client up to a pole and whip, paddle, and beat them with everything I have.  I make them wear a cock ring then I make them come until they can’t anymore.  I humiliate them, I degrade them.  I make them act anyway they ask me to.  One client asked me to make them act like a baby; another asked me to make them like a dog.  Things like that.  Why?” he asks, still tired from the workout from earlier.  I shrug and continue to play with his hair then ask another question.
    “Will you do that to me?”  I ask.  He pulls himself off of me and just gapes up at me.  He studies me for a moment then asks me a question.
    “Why would you want me to do that?” he asks.  I think about what to tell him then decide for the truth.
    “Mark used to do something similar and it never was pleasurable.  I was wondering if you could make it pleasurable,” I mutter.  Ethan straddles my lap and cups my face in his hands, making me look at him.
    “Baby, listen to me.  I’m not doing those things to you because a) I do those things at work where dirty people ask me to do dirty things to them and b) Mark doesn’t have the power to hurt you anymore unless you let him.  Now I’ll do something different.  I’ll torture you, but I’ll torture you with ecstasy.  How about that?” he asks.  Looking in his eyes, I believe him so I nod my head.  He smiles and gets off the bed then almost collapses.  I catch him before he hits the floor and I lay him on the bed.
    “Can we take a hot bath and relax before the torture?” he asks, leaning his head against my neck.  I chuckle and nod my head, carrying him to the bathroom.  I carry him to the claw foot tub I was admiring earlier, and sit on the edge with Ethan on my thighs as I fiddle with the water temperatures.  When I get it just right, I step into the tub and carefully lower Ethan into my lap.  He sighs as he leans back against me, turning his head into my neck.  I grab a washcloth and put soap on it then carefully wash him.  He whimpers when I reach his groin so I try to be as fast as possible and clean him at the same time.  He brings his legs up one at a time so I can wash them then leans forward against his raised knees so I can wash his back.  His head rests against his folded arms on his knees as I get lower and lower on his back.  I have him stand up so I can wash his butt and in his crack, making him whimper again.  I pull him down so I can wash his hair.  Rubbing the shampoo all in his hair, I raise my knees on either side of his body so he can rest his arms on them—which he does.
    I help him rinse his hair then get interrupted when I try to wash myself.  Ethan turns around and takes the washcloth from me, soaping it up and washing my body.  He washes me exactly like I washed him—quickly, gently, and thoroughly.  He helps me with my hair and when we’re all done, we help each other dry off.  He stumbles ahead of me to the living room and plops down on the couch, motioning for me to sit next to him.  I do and he rests his head on my shoulder.  I don’t want him to get a crick in his neck so I lay down, pulling him to lay down on top of me.  He’s squished between me and the back of the couch, but I think he likes it because he just rests his head on my chest and his palm over my heart.  I control the TV and click through channels until Ethan sees a commercial he wants to watch.
     “I want to go there so bad.  It looks amazing,” he sighs, watching the commercial for the newest club in town.  It’s special because your admittance is a mask; you can buy one from there or bring your own.  I’ve wanted to go there too so I get up and call the phone number to order our masks.
     “Whatcha doing?”  Ethan asks, watching me intently from the couch.
     “What color mask do you want?”  I whisper to him.  His face lights up and he jumps up to straddle my lap when I sit down.
     “Hmm…I want…silver!” he says, wrapping his arms around my neck.  I look up at him and smile, loving how his eyes sparkle.
    “What color should I get?”  I ask him, waiting for someone to pick up on the other line.  Ethan thinks for a moment, studying my face.
     “I think you should get…something with gold and maybe dark red!  To bring out your lovely tanned skin,” he whispers, leaning forward to kiss me.  I’m so wrapped up in his tongue that it takes a second, “Hello?” from the person on the other side of the phone for me to pull away.
    “I’m so sorry.  I got a little…distracted,” I tell the woman who chuckles when she hears my labored breathing.
    “It’s no problem, sir, no problem at all.  How can I help you?”  She asks, pleasantly still chuckling a little.
    “This is Masquerading, right?”  I ask her, wanting more time to even my breathing.
    “Yes, sir.  What can I do to help you?”  She asks.
    “Can I purchase masks over the phone?”
    “No, but you can tell me what you’d like for the mask and I can put it aside until you come in to purchase it.”
    “That’s perfect.  I was wondering if you have a mask that has silver and another mask that has gold,” I ask.
    “And maybe dark red!”  Ethan pipes in.  I smile at him and caress his cheek.
    “I have a completely silver mask and another mask that has gold and dark red.  If I may ask, what do the people wearing the masks look like?”  Ethan leans over and talks into the phone.
    “The person wearing the gold and dark red has ebony hair, Hispanic-tan skin, and slate gray eyes,” he looks me in the eye as he talks.
    “And the person wearing the silver mask has golden blonde hair, pale skin, and dark blue eyes,” I look at him, curving my hand around his waist, pulling him to me so our faces are close together.
    “Aww, you are the most adorable sounding couple I have ever heard!”  The woman squeals.  Ethan and I break apart, red-faced and chuckling.
    “Thank you, Ms.…,” Ethan trails off.  We never got her name.
    “Oh, just call me Marnie.  When will you be here to pick the masks up?”  She asks.  I look at the television time.  6:00.
    “Will 7:00 be alright?”  I ask, raising my eyebrows at Ethan to see if he objects.  He nods his head in agreement.
    “Seven is great.  When you get here just ask for Marnie.  Who should I reserve the masks under?”  She asks.
    “Beau, B-E-A-U, and Ethan,” I tell her.  She copies my words.
    “Thank you, Beau and Ethan, and have a great day!”  She wishes us then hangs up.  Ethan stares at me then attacks me with a hug and rains kisses all over my face.  I start laughing and playfully fending him off.
    “What did I do to deserve all the love and attention?”  I cry as he kisses my neck.  He pulls back then kisses me on the mouth.  Before things get too heated and I can’t stop, I pull back.
    “Really, what’d I do?”  I ask, really wondering why.
    “I didn’t even ask to go and I’m assuming Mark never wanted to go because it was like you had the number memorized.  I’m glad that you did something for you,” he says, looking shy as he looks down at my chest.  I cup his cheeks in my hands and decide not to tell him that his wanting to go had influenced my decision.  I lean forward and plant a kiss on his forehead.
    “Since we only have an hour before we have to leave, what would you like to do?  Make love then get ready and go?  Or stay here and watch TV then get ready and go?”  I ask him, pulling him down so we’re laying down on our sides and are face to face.  Ethan thinks for a moment then pulls a sad face.
    “We better go with the second one cause with the first one we’ll probably be stumbling out of the house at 9:00 rather than 7:00.  And if we’re going with the second option we have to get some clothes on,” he explains, grabbing hold of my arm to pull himself up and over my body.  He lands nimbly on his feet while I lumber after him like Bigfoot after a gazelle.  I pull on my running shorts from this morning and run out to my car, getting the spare set of clothes in my trunk.  I run back into the house and go to the bedroom, watching as Ethan pulls on a pair of skinny jeans over tight boxer-briefs then pulls a graphic tee on with a flannel shirt over it.  Ethan turns around as soon as I start getting dressed watching me put on my clothes.  He sits on the bed as he watches me pull on dark straight leg jeans with a black long-sleeved T-shirt.  I put on my running shoes and Ethan puts on Converse, and we head out to the living room.
    “Hey, do you want me to teach you a self-defense trick?”  Ethan asks me as he walks backwards to the living room. 
    “Sure.  Why not?”  I tell him, nodding my head and watching as he grins and practically skips to the living room
    Once there, Ethan pushes the couch back a little so we can have some room.  Then he positions me at one end of the carpet in front of the TV and himself at the other.
    “Alright.  What I need you to do, is take a swing at me,” Ethan says.
    My mind is completely blank for a moment before I speak.  All I can get out is, “Huh?”
    Ethan smiles and straightens up from the fighting pose he was in.  “I need you to take a swing at me so I can demonstrate the self-defense maneuver to you.”
    I still can’t think right because it’s just not right to hit the person you’re in a relationship with.  I know we haven’t classified what type of relationship we’re in, but I know we’re in one.
    “Just hit me!”  Ethan shouts, exasperated.  I grit my teeth, pull my fist back, and punch him half-heartedly.  Then I watch in horror as Ethan drops to the floor, holding his face, after my fist makes contact with his face.

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