Page 79 of Reinventing Cato
“Not frightened of anything?”
Plenty.But he shrugged.
“When was the last time you were scared?” Cato asked.
“When I thought you might not forgive me.”
“Hottest guyandthe sweetest? When were you last really scared?”
“When I had a gun fired at me.”
Cato’s jaw dropped. “What the…? When was that?”
“Just before Christmas.”
“Do you have a bullet hole somewhere?”
“He missed.”
Cato snuggled against him. “I’m going to worry about you now. God, as if I don’t have enough to fret about. For fuck’s sake don’t get shot.” He took the empty bottle from Vigge’s hand, put both bottles on the nearest table, then threaded his fingers with Vigge’s before tugging him around the edge of the room to a staircase.
Upstairs, it was quieter, darker. Fewer people, more places to sit. Lots of couples were entwined. As Vigge glanced around, he spotted someone choking on a dick. The bearded man getting sucked had his fingers around the back of the kneeling guy’s head. Vigge looked away, and Cato caught his gaze.
“That fearless?” Cato asked.
Vigge sighed. “I can’t afford to get caught doing that.”Or watching someone doing that.
“Is it against the law?”
“Theoretically, someone watching could claim it was outraging public decency, though that’s not likely to happen. Assuming the club ensures there’s no one underage in here. The police have better things to do than pursue gay guys having fun in clubs. But a picture taken of me, then used for blackmail? Even if I was out, doing something so blatant is against standards of professional behaviour. I have to be careful.”
Cato still held his hand and pulled him across the room and into a corridor with curtained-off rooms on either side. At the end of the corridor there was a bathroom. Vigge’s heart thumped hard.
Cato stopped outside the door. “Brave enough to go in here?”
Vigge hesitated. “Does ‘bathroom’ mean ‘bathroom’ and not BDSM dungeon or fisting exhibition?”
Cato chuckled, came up on his toes and kissed him. “Yes.”
“There was more in that ‘yes’ than a simple yes.”
“Do you want star number four?”
Vigge pushed open the door and braced himself, but there didn’t seem to be anyone in there. The door closed and the sound of the club faded to a muffled repetitive thump beneath their feet. Cato pulled him over to the end stall, pushed him inside and locked the door. He kicked the lid down on the toilet and pressed Vigge against the wall.
“We can’t wait until we get back to your place?” Vigge whispered.
“No.”
Cato trailed his fingers down the edges of the straps that ran over Vigge’s shoulders, then detoured to caress his nipples before sliding his hands to his waist. Cato smiled at him and Vigge’s stomach fluttered.
“We’re going for firsts tonight. First time in a gay club. First time messing around in a bathroom stall.” Cato dragged his mouth from Vigge’s lips, over his jaw, down his neck to his Adam’s apple and sucked.
“No marks.” Vigge caught hold of his shoulders.
“You could say it was a flea bite.”
Vigge laughed. “And a room full of detectives would believe me?”
