Page 29 of Reinventing Cato
This time, Cato’s gape was genuine. “You’ve drunk it?”
Vigge nodded.
“Wow. Maybe I should look for a job as a policeman.”
“I didn’t say I’d bought it. I don’t usually…”
“Start sentences without finishing them? Don’t usually eat fish and chips? Don’t usually drink expensive champagne?”
When Vigge didn’t speak, Cato kept going. He wasn’t going to make it easy for him. “Don’t usually wash behind your ears? Don’t usually pick up a hitchhiker dressed as a priest and end up in bed with them.”
“We’re on, not in.”
“A matter of time.”
“Hmm.”
Cato smiled. “So it only happens when there’s a K in the month? Or only when it’s snowed on and off for twenty-four hours? And when there’s a crescent moon?”
“Exactly. Very rare.”
Cato was surprised how much he wanted that to be the truth, that Vigge didn’t sleep around.Even if I do… Did. I want this to be more.
Vigge’s smile was boyish and sweet and Cato wasn’t sure how long he could wait to kiss him. He didn’t want Vigge to lose that smile, so he kept what he could have said to himself. That on a fairly regular basis, either side of his relationship with Mr and Mrs Not-Perfect, Catodidpick guys up, and women, and mess around with them. But he was careful and he got tested regularly. And he was trying to be different. His New Year’s resolution was tobedifferent, to reinvent himself. Except it appeared that faced with temptation, he’d lost his budding angel wings inside a day. He was about to fall hard and fast.
Though even as he lusted, even as he told himself this night would be like the others and not the start of something different, he made himself ask, “You’re definitely not married or in a relationship?”
“I’m not married. I’m not in a relationship. Would it matter if I was?”
“Once upon a time, possibly not. But I’ve grown a conscience. This bloody cassock. Who’d have guessed? I might have to pray before I go to sleep.”
Cato put the plate aside and reached for the pudding. “Only one dessert?”
“All for you.”
Vigge finished eating and moved the plates and the debris to the side table before he came back to the bed, then lay on his side watching Cato.
“Mmm,” Cato moaned as he sucked the spoon. “This is so good. Yum. Not sure there’s anything better in the entire world than sticky toffee pudding.” He paused. “There’s a lot of topping. Did you ask for extra sticky toffee?”
“Yes.”
Cato melted. Had anyone ever done that for him before? Not even his mother when he was a kid. “I suppose you told them you were entertaining a priest in your room who was going to give you a blow job that would knock your socks off if you came back with lots of sticky topping on the sticky toffee pudding. God, that was a mouthful. The pudding, I mean.”
Vigge lifted one of his bare feet. “Do I need to put them back on?”
“No.” Cato scooped up a spoonful of sponge and offered it to Vigge.
He shook his head. “Hurry up.”
“Don’t you take your time over tasty things?” Cato made sure he looked shocked and only when Vigge rolled his eyes did he get to his feet and put the bowl aside. “You’re going to be cross with me now.” Cato turned to face him. “I want to go out into the snow.”
Vigge looked shocked more than cross. “Why?”
Cato glanced around the room. “I want you. I want what we’re going to do. Unless you’re into pain or pissing on me or breath play, and then I don’t want it. I can be kinky, but not that kinky.” He looked around the room again. He’d never had this thought go through his head before—ever—but it was leaping about in there now, shouting at him. And it didn’t make sense because Cato knew this was a one off, that there would be no looking back after ten years and remembering this first kiss as the start of everything because this started and ended tonight.
Probably.
Possibly.
