Page 102 of Reinventing Cato
“Christ! Don’t do that. Not yet anyway.”
“Think of eel cake.”
“Oh God.”
Neither of them spoke or moved.
“You okay?” Vigge asked finally.
“Have you finished?”
Vigge chuckled and rocked his hips, leaning over to rub his chest against Cato’s back, before he pulled his cock almost all the way out, then drove it back in hard.
“Fuck,” Cato gasped. He clenched his hands into fists. “Repeat as many times as you can. I hope you can manage five or I’ll be disappointed.”
“Are you going to count?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Try!”
Vigge wrapped his fingers around Cato’s hips and thrust into him with such driving force, he shunted Cato up the bed and Cato had to brace himself against the headboard before he ended up faceplanting into it. Vigge moved his hands from Cato’s hips to his shoulders, holding him steady as he shunted in and out of his body, the urgent friction so overwhelming that Cato was caught in its thrall, lust roaring back. Then Vigge changed the angle slightly, so that each drive brushed his prostate and sparks skittered down his spine.
“Oh fuck, yeah, there.” Cato tightened his hold on his cock.Do not come yet.He could hardly believe he could come again this soon.
Each thrust seemed harder, firmer, stronger, faster than the one before, Vigge’s cock surging though nerve-rich tissue as the room filled with their cries of pleasure. There was a heated frenzy to Vigge’s rhythmic thrusts and Cato’s head cleared of everything but Vigge and what they were doing. He wanted Vigge so far inside him that they became one organism.
Vigge exploded with a ragged cry, gasping with every wrenching spurt that flew from his cock, and Cato wished, for the very first time in his life, that there’d been no need to use a condom.
Vigge half-collapsed on top of him. “Fuck,” he whispered.
“Yes, that’s exactly what it was. Brilliant detective work. The answer is 142.”
“What?”
“Approximately 142 pelvic thrusts. We’ll start a running total.”
He felt Vigge shake as he laughed. He moved to get rid of the condom, then settled back to face Cato, and gently stroked his cheek. Cato closed his eyes and licked Vigge’s fingers as they drifted across his mouth.
“Still strangling your cock?”
“Yep. I can’t look. I suspect it might have come off.” Cato rolled over. “Tell me it’s still attached.”
“Hanging by a thread.”
“Ahhh.”
Vigge had slid down the bed to wrap his lips around Cato’s cock. A couple of hard sucks and orgasm lurched into life somewhere behind Cato’s eyes, a sharp spike that morphed into pleasure as it shot through his body, liquid fire burning a path down his torso, centring on his groin, igniting his balls, and Cato came, still marvelling at the wonder of it. Vigge crawled back up the bed to rest his head next to Cato’s on the pillow.
When Cato could speak again, he said, “Did you know, the finger-sized Northern clingfish has one of the best suction cups in the world. A small disk on its belly can attach to wet, rough, slimy surfaces and hold up to 230 times its own body weight.” Cato opened his eyes and smiled.
“Is that right?” Vigge chuckled. “Is this what life is going to be like? I’m going to get compared to all sorts of creatures from the animal kingdom?”
“Possibly.”
“Tell me a bedtime story while we both recover.” Vigge pulled Cato into his arms, and pressed his mouth against the back of Cato’s neck.
Cato shivered at the sensation. “Once upon a time there was a little ghost who was born in the heart of the sun. He had centillions of brothers and sisters who were all as tiny and elusive as he was and they all had an amazing superpower, the ability to stream through things without interacting with them. Mostly. Know what they’re called?”
