Tank and Bull (A Gay Erotica Romance)

By Habu

Tank Sullivan, defensive tackle for the Virginia Hornets semipro football team, is a talented athlete who could go far if he could just keep the plays from the playbook clear in his mind. Tank has a dogged belief in himself, though. By whimsy, he teams up with a lame pit bull, Bull, who hasn’t had an easy life to this point. The two drive haphazardly off in the car Tank has stolen from his long-suffering housemate and lover, Craig, on an odyssey of adventure and discovery toward Tank’s dream of a “piece of cake” tryout with the Tennessee Titans in Nashville.

Along the route, Tank, with the help of his canine companion, discovers what’s really important in life and how one should relate to others.

This is an expanded erotica edition of the book with the title Tank ’n Bull.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BarbarianSpy
• Release date: Sep 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781925190144

Habu

Habu is one of the pen names of a former supersonic spy jet pilot, intelligence agent, male model, movie actor, and diplomat. A wild youth in South East Asia was spent enjoying whatever sexual opportunities came his way, and much of his gay male writing is about recalling incidents from those days and inventing ones he’d perhaps have liked to experience. He now leads a very quiet and ordinary life.Check out our blog and get free stories. Feedback and reviews are always appreciated.

Book preview

Chapter One: Just Not Getting It

Tank, Yo, Tank. What am I going to do with you?

Hey, look, Craig. I got to the third level. And I zapped the Black Orc.

Focus, Tank. I asked, what am I going to do with you?

Uh, is this a trick question, Craig? You said you’d come home and give me a massage, then I’d give you sex, and then I’d go for a run in the park and you’d go over to the stadium and stock up the physio room for Saturday’s game.

Brilliant. That you can remember, but what I asked you to do while I was gone, you can’t remember.

Good thing I didn’t forget the sex part, huh, Craig? You’ve always said that’s your best part.

I’m trying to be serious here, Tank. What did I ask you to do while I did the grocery shopping?

Huh, let’s see. Gather the trash, put a load of laundry in, and start lunch.

V-e-r-r-y good. And you did that, right?

Yeah, sure. Oh, look, the Red Lord of the Castle. If I can get him under my spell, I—

TANK! We were talking about getting things done around here without screwing up. Trash, laundry, lunch started, right?

Yeah, right, so?

So, I find the laundry in the kitchen wastebasket and two Lean Cuisines in the washer. What’s with that?

You said we both needed to get a little more fat off, didn’t you? Training camp is starting and I need to drop a few pounds—and you said you’d match me pound for pound. You’re the one who bought the diet meals, aren’t you?

In the washer, Tank? Why in the washer? That’s the question.

Huh. You’re the one who bought ’em, didn’t you?

Oh, for the love of Pete, Craig burst out. I’ll get lunch, but we’ve got to talk during lunch.

Pete? Who’s Pete? You told me you’d quit cattin’ around if I moved in with you.

I . . . will . . . see . . . you at the dinner table over lunch. I will let you know when it’s ready, Your Majesty.

And then Craig was gone, into the kitchen to start putting matters right, while Tank shrugged his shoulders and turned back to his game. Oh crap, the Red Lord’s disappeared again.

Craig was afraid it was going to go like this when he asked Tank to move in with him. But Tank was so lovable and meant well. And Craig had thought he could do something for the young man, could get through to him and get his mind regulated and able to do what it needed to do for Tank to get to the next level.

Tank was a defensive tackle for the Virginia Hornets, a Richmond, Virginia-based semipro team in the Big North East League. And he was a damn fine athlete too—at least in physicality and natural position player ability. But he was a little slow—no, Craig had to call it what it was—Tank was a lot slow. He was just a big baby. A big, sexy baby with an ability to give Craig what he wanted in bed, but a perpetual adolescent nonetheless. He had the attention span of dragonfly and he had trouble remembering and focusing. And he was completely self-centered. As lovable and gentle inside as he was, he was completely lacking in discerning the needs of anyone else and of satisfying them beyond the sexual satisfaction he could provide with his virility and the oversized endowments his genes had gifted him with.

Craig knew that he should have just let Tank take care of him in bed and face his wilting future in football by himself until he just dropped off the roster one day. But the kid had exceptional natural athletic talent, and once Craig had gotten him into bed, he lost all interest in Tank disappearing off the Hornets’ roster. But something had to give. Enjoying him in bed didn’t mean Tank had to live here. Maybe it was time to change that, if it wasn’t working out—before they turned off to each other altogether.

They’d known each other for a complete season before Craig saw in Tank anything more than just another big bear with a pleasant disposition and some pretty dopey responses who the Hornets had on their squad. Craig was the semipro Richmond team’s physical trainer. And Tank, a walk-on player who had only barely finished high school and who, after kicking around for a couple of years doing nothing but playing at football and other things he took a fancy to had lucked onto the first string of a semipro team by a miracle. All the other guys vying for that position had fallen by the wayside with injuries in the preseason.

By the time the season opened, the organization’s scant budget had been spent, and there was little to be done about Tank’s problem of having trouble picking the relevant signals and play patterns out when he got to the line of scrimmage. To some extent, his "I’m not