Page 99 of Reinventing Cato
“I looked up Danish food. I assume at least half of you is Danish. Though some sad people in this country also eat eel cake, apparently. To be honest, it looks more like bread than cake. I’ll be having pizza, though.”
“It’s making me feel sick remembering the time my grandmother cooked eel cake.”
“You ate it?” Cato gaped at him.
“She’d come to stay and made it as a special treat. What do you think?”
“That you sneakily stuffed it into your trousers.”
“I ate it.”
“Ew and I kissed you.”
They arrived back at the house laughing and out of breath from hurrying.
“Shush now.” Cato put his finger on Vigge’s lips.
They crept inside and Cato thought they’d made it upstairs without being heard, but he turned at the top to see Sam looking up at them.
“You were really good tonight,” Sam said.
“Thanks.”
“Think it’s too late for me to learn violin?”
“No.”
“Maybe you could give me lessons.”
“I don’t have time, sorry.”
Cato followed Vigge to his room and when they were inside, he locked the door. “He’s creepy, isn’t he? Not just me thinking that?”
Vigge shrugged. He took his violin from him, put it on the floor and dropped his coat on top.
“Don’t do a thing,” Vigge said. “Not even think.”
He stared into Cato’s eyes as he unbuttoned his coat, pulled it from his shoulders and dropped it on top of his own. The bowtie came off next, then the tux jacket.
“You looked so sexy in this,” Vigge whispered.
“Like a waiter?”
“Just like a waiter.”
Cato pouted. “Not James Bond?”
“James Bond dressed as a waiter.”
“That’s okay then.”
The bowtie and jacket were carefully draped over the chair, then Vigge worked on Cato’s shirt buttons. Cato found himself breathing heavily. Who’d have known this would be such a turn on? Each fingertip brush against his skin, and every one of Vigge’s exhalations made Cato feel as if he was being given a mild electric shock. Vigge dropped to his knees to take off Cato’s shoes and socks, then stayed there to unfasten his trousers while Cato twisted Vigge’s hair in his fingers.
Cato sucked in a breath as Vigge pulled his trousers down over his hips. When he leaned in, and mouthed his rigid cock through the silky tented material of his shorts, Cato’s breathing morphed to whimpered gulps and gasps. Before Cato could blink, his shorts were off and he stood there naked while Vigge was still in shirt, grey sweater and trousers.
Cato laughed. “That felt like the trick where the magician rips off the tablecloth and leaves everything in place. Is everything still in place? Do I still have both my balls?”
Vigge chuckled as he pushed to his feet, mouthing the head of Cato’s cock on the way, then pulled Cato into his arms and kissed him. Cato rubbed himself against him as the kiss deepened, and Vigge gripped Cato’s hips, groaning into his mouth as they grew drunk on each other. Cato had never played like this, him naked, the other person fully dressed, though he’d done it the other way round. The feel of Vigge’s belt buckle brushing against his stomach, Vigge’s trousers rubbing against his thighs and cock, filled Cato’s head with want.
