Page 31 of Reinventing Cato
“Kissing?”
“In a place like this.”
Vigge pressed his lips firmly against Cato’s and swallowed Cato’s low moan.
I really like him.Cato unfastened the buttons on Vigge’s coat and slid his cold hands inside and around Vigge’s back, muscles rippling under his fingers. The tip of Vigge’s tongue slid between Cato’s lips, traced the edge of his teeth, then he fucked Cato’s mouth while Cato clutched at Vigge’s shirt, and the world fell away.
Vigge growled into Cato’s mouth, his hold almost too tight, his mouth hard and forceful as their tongues pushed together. Cato’s fingers were inside the waistband of Vigge’s jeans, stroking bare skin, scratching with his nails, tugging on his arse to keep him close, while desire coiled treacherously like an overwound spring inside him. They shook in each other’s arms as control slid on both sides. Vigge still held Cato’s head, circling his thumbs on the delicate skin of his throat as he deepened the kiss. Cato rocked into him, feeling the hard length of Vigge’s cock even through their clothes.
This guy can kiss! Oh fuck, can he kiss!They only broke apart to grab air. Vigge used his tongue to tease, invade, and finally possess Cato’s mouth. Cato writhed against him and Vigge’s groan vibrated through him. Fast and hard kissing shifted to slow and gentle, then back again, time after time. Cato moved his hands to Vigge’s head and they threaded cold fingers in each other’s snow-wet hair and kissed and kissed and kissed.
“Cato.” One whispered word as they broke for air and Cato thought he was going to come in his trousers.
He felt like a teenager again, as if his stoppered-up desire had finally burst free. As if he’d been holding part of himself back all these years waiting for this moment. He was burning up, unable to think straight, desire making him want to do something stupid like freeze to death having sex outdoors on a picnic table.Do it!He was tempted. But then Vigge was kissing him again. Mouths open, mouths closed, they consumed each other with a bruising intensity, then eased off to tease with whisper-soft touches.
Not out here. If we got caught… If Vigge got caught…Cato made himself pull back. It was difficult. More than difficult. Vigge looked as dazed as Cato felt.
“O…kay.” Cato panted.
“Only okay? Bit more than okay, surely?”
Cato laughed. A flake of snow landed on Vigge’s nose and Cato smiled. “Perfect.”
Vigge pretended to check his watch. “Eleven minutes. Excellent timing.”
He took hold of Cato’s hand and pulled him back towards the motel.
“There’s another nice-looking patch of snow there,” Cato said.
Vigge hesitated, then dragged him over to where Cato was pointing and kissed him again. Just a quick kiss, a slide of his tongue under Cato’s, and the breath caught in Cato’s throat.
By the time they reached the doors of the motel, they’d stopped twice more and were both plastered with snow. Cato brushed it off Vigge’s hair and shoulders, then threaded their fingers together. As they walked inside, Vigge pulled free of his hold and Cato swallowed his disappointment. They’d come back through the wardrobe door, then? Who knew them here? Was Vigge so far back in the closet that he lived in that snowy fantasy land of C.S. Lewis?
But it was Vigge who kissed him the moment they reached their floor. Vigge who took his hand again and urged him to move more quickly. Vigge who slammed the door of their room and yanked off their coats. Footwear was off before they reached the bed and they fell together, arms wrapped around each other, Vigge kissing his neck, licking his ears, mouthing at his Adam’s apple before returning to his lips.
“Fuck, you make me so desperate,” Vigge gasped. “But please lose the priest’s outfit because it’s messing with my head.”
Cato peeled it off, wincing at how wet it was at the hem, then dropped onto his back. He had muscles, but they were nothing compared to the ones Vigge revealed when he took off his shirt and settled beside him.
“Wow. You work out?” Cato asked.
“Some.”
“Somemy arse. What? Like three times a day, every day, even weekends?” Cato ran his fingers over Vigge’s abs. “We should…”
“We should what?” Vigge came up on his elbow and leaned over Cato, their mouths a hair’s breadth apart. Maybe Cato should have tried harder not to melt. Maybe he should have played a little hard to get. Maybe he should have tried harder to remember what he’d been going to say. But the moment Vigge’s lips touched his, Cato forgot how to breathe. All he could think about was getting naked, being underneath Vigge, feeling Vigge moving inside him. Then the other way around.If I’m lucky.
He was hardly aware of the rest of their clothing being removed, just that it happened. Fingers fumbled with zips, hands caught and pulled, feet kicked jeans and trousers off the bottom of the bed, and finally, finally—oh thank God finally—hot, naked skin touched equally hot, naked skin.
Cato gasped against Vigge’s mouth as their hands explored.Thiswas a problem with a one-night stand with a guy he was so into. Cato wanted to do everything, all at once, and there was no way he could. When he wrapped his hand around the base of Vigge’s cock, he gulped and froze, then looked down at what he held.
Vigge stared at him. “What?”
“You’re big.”
Vigge laughed. “Is that a complaint? You’re not little.”
Cato frowned. “You know there are ways of sayingyou don’t have a little cockthat would sound much better.”
