Hidden Sanctuary

Dave Tango sat across from Samantha? Mary? Myra? Hell, he couldn’t remember her name. Whoever this girl was that his mother insist he take out to dinner was talking nonstop. Tango relished in the momentary silence when she would take a bite and chew. He really hoped she didn’t want dessert. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.

His mom knew he was gay. Tango couldn’t understand why she was so insistent that he try to date girls anyway. It wasn’t like he was just going to up and change his mind and decide that, no, he definitely was not attracted to Steve. And no, he definitely did not have mind-blowing fantasies about the things they could do in the back of the tech van. This girl smelled like lilacs. Dave wrinkled his nose. He didn’t want freakin’ lilacs. He wanted the smell of nasty, cooped-up-in-the van-for-hours Steve sweat. He didn’t understand what was so difficult to comprehend about this for his parents.
An hour later, Dave was walking Jessica? Tabitha! no.. Melissa? to her front door. He said goodnight and made empty promises to call soon. Walking back to the car, hands shoved deep in his pockets, Tango considered his options for salvaging his evening. He pulled his keys out and drove to the TAPS office, letting himself in the back door.

The office was different at night. It was quiet and peaceful, yet still full of the warmth and love it held during the day. This was his sanctuary. He sat down in Steve’s chair, resting his head back, breathing in deep. This was where he could be in love with Steve and pretend he felt the same. He ran his hands along the plastic armrests. This was where the pranks turned to flirting, and the flirting to need, desire. Where every time Steve told him he looked good, he meant it in the way Tango wanted him to. Where every hotel room they stayed in was a new porn set.

Closing his eyes, Tango rifled through the filing cabinet of Steve fantasies in his mind. He pulled out a favorite. Waverly Hills Sanatorium in Kentucky. Slowly he started to run his hand up his shirt, gently brushing his abdomen with just his fingertips.

He was helping Steve string up electrical cords.

The hand trailed down the hairline to the waistband of his pants, going down, rubbing at the growing bulge.

The outlet was higher than either of them were tall. “Tango, I’ll boost you up if you plug that in,” Steve said. He nodded and felt his body go warm as Steve’s hands met his back.

He pulled his shirt off over his head and unzipped his pants. Tango ran a hand up behind his head, closing his eyes and massaging his neck slightly. He allowed his other hand to roughly rub down his chest and over his ever growing cock that threatened to escape from his boxers.

The higher Tango climbed on the wall, the lower Steve’s hands got, until he felt the outline of his hands pressed up firmly against his ass.

A low guttural moan escaped Tango’s lips. Slowly the hand from his neck came down, tracing his fingers along his collarbone, to his nipple. He flicked the bud, pulling on it gently.

As he climbed back down the wall, the hands never left his ass. Tango turned in the circle of Steve’s arms, looking shyly at the tattooed desire before him. Leaning forward, Steve captured his mouth with his own.

His breath was coming quicker; his heartbeat racing. Eyes still closed, Tango pulled his cock free from his shorts, rubbing this thumb over the head.

Breathless, he pulled away from Steve, pulling the TAPS tshirt off, exposing even more ink. In time, Tango knew he wanted to trace each tattoo with his tongue, memorize every pattern, every color. But not now, now was urgent. Steve pulled his shirt off of him. They knew they could be caught at any moment. There were six other people setting up equipment. It added to the excitement.

Tango adjusted himself in the chair, sitting down lower. Slowly, the hand around his cock started moving, twisting slightly as it would reach closer and closer to the head.

Steve pressed him against the wall, fingers fumbling at belts and zippers. Within moments, both men had their pants and boxers around their ankles. Tango wrapped his arms around Steve’s back and one leg around his waist. Their tongues dueled in hot mouths; heated breathes escaped between kiss-swollen lips.

The hand working his cock grew frantic. The need not even close to being satisfied, Tango began to meet the thrusts of his hand with his hips. Sweat began to bead on his chest. Fingers pinching and pulling desperately at nipples were sending his senses into overdrive.

Steve moaned into Tango’s sweat-slick neck. Their hips moved against each other. Their cocks trapped between their writhing bodies, the friction driving them closer and closer to the edge.

Tango cried out Steve’s name in a breathless moan as he came all over his hand and stomach. The fantasy was over as quickly as it started. He sighed and focused on the air coming in and out of his lungs, calming his heart. He walked to the bathroom, grabbing a wet paper towel to wipe himself down with. Taking another wet paper towel, he walked back to the office he shared with Steve, wiping his sweat off the leather chair. Tango put himself back together and left the TAPS office, making sure the door was locked behind him.

Walking to his car, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the first number he thought of. “Hey, Steve. What are you doing tonight?”

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