Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
Ethan slammed his helmet onto the floor with a force that seemed to shake the very foundations. The metallic clang reverberated off the locker room walls, the sound carrying the weight of his frustration.
“Fuck!” The word tore from his throat, raw and guttural. It wasn’t just anger, it was defeat, humiliation, and something deeper.
He followed it up with a sharp punch to the cage frame, his palm colliding hard with the unforgiving steel. The impact sent a jolt of pain up his arm, but he welcomed it—hell, it was better than the storm raging inside his chest.
Pulling himself back from the brink of losing control, he dragged his trembling hands through his sweat-soaked hair and took a shuddering breath as he sank down onto the bench.
His calf throbbed, a biting ache that seemed to mock him every time he moved. He hissed as his fingers instinctively pressed the muscle, an attempt to knead away the pain.
Ethan wasn’t wired to express emotions like that. If he had been someone who cried, this might have been the moment to let them fall, but instead, the emotion knotted in his throat, choking off the words he wouldn’t have said aloud anyway.
“What the fuck?” The deep Texan voice boomed across the room before the heavy thud of boots announced him entering. There was no mistaking Brick’s presence, the man moved with the grace and power of a tank rolling through enemy lines.
“What the hell was Logan thinkin’?” His helmet ricocheted off the back of his cage before he appeared in front of Ethan’s door, his broad frame filling it entirely as he crossed his arms over his chest in a way that screamed both authority and concern.
Ethan didn’t answer, avoiding Brick’s gaze as he massaged his throbbing calf.
But Brick wasn’t one to be ignored. He sighed heavily, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he took in Ethan’s defeated posture. “Dude, you alright?” he tried again, softer this time.
It took a moment before Ethan lifted his head and gave a slow nod—though it felt more like going through the motions than any real assurance. “Yeah,” he croaked, his tone unconvincing. “I’m fine.”
Brick still wasn’t buying it and his lips pressed into a thin line as he exhaled through his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said firmly, but genuine. “Logan was way outta line. Hell, I don’t know what crawled up his ass today, but you certainly didn’t deserve that shit.”
“It’s fine,” Ethan muttered without looking up. “Don’t worry about me, it’s not your fault.” A sharp grimace twisted his features as another twinge shot through his calf.
Brick opened his mouth to say something when another voice cut across the room. “How’s it going?” Eddie strolled in, Tank and Gunner trailing behind him, their gear clattering as they peeled off gloves and helmets.
Eddie’s tone was casual, but it faltered when he caught sight of Brick’s expression.
“What the fuck was that about? Logan’s lost it. Pushin’ the kid like that in this heat?” Brick rounded on Eddie. “What did he think he was gonna prove?”
Eddie raised both hands in a placating gesture, though confusion flickered across his face. “Whoa, easy there,” he said quickly. “I don’t know what the deal is today. Maybe he woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something. I’ll talk to him.”
“You better,” Brick shot back sharply, nodding toward the door as Logan entered.
Logan didn’t so much walk into the locker room as claim it. His silence spoke volumes, and yanking off his T-shirt he tossed it into his cage without sparing anyone so much as a glance.
The room stilled, and five pairs of eyes turned to him with varying degrees of disbelief.
Logan stopped mid-step and looked up from where he’d been unbuckling his belt. “What?” His tone was already defensive.
“What?” Brick echoed incredulously before letting out a bitter laugh that lacked humor. He stepped forward again until there were only inches between them. “You’re kiddin’ me,” he continued when Logan didn’t respond. “What the fuck was that out there? You could’ve killed him running drills like that in this heat!”
Logan smirked—a dismissive twist of his lips, as though Brick’s words barely registered. “Yeah,” he said flatly after a beat. “I pushed him hard… so what?”
That answer was gasoline on an already roaring fire and Brick took the bait without hesitation.
“So what?” he repeated, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Are you for real? You’re supposed to be leadin’ us, not grindin’ us into dust just cause you feel like it. I don’t know what your problem is,” he snapped heatedly, “but ridin’ him like that isn’t trainin’—it’s bullshit.”
Logan ran a hand through his damp hair before locking eyes with Brick again. His expression hardened, but there was something else there: resolve. “If he wants to run with Alfa,” he said, gesturing toward Ethan without breaking eye contact with Brick. “If he wants to be one of us… He has to earn it.” He crossed his arms over his chest, as if daring anyone to challenge him.
Before things could escalate, Eddie stepped between them—a barrier of calm against clashing tempers. “Enough!” he barked, commanding attention from both men. “If you pair need to keep swinging your dicks around, take it outside.”
“You saw how he chewed Ethan out. What the hell was that, man?” Brick snapped, then he too, crossed his arms over his broad chest, the muscles tensing with frustration. The fluorescent lights in the locker room cast harsh shadows on his face, emphasizing the tight line of his jaw.
Eddie glanced at Logan, his expression caught somewhere between unease and disappointment. “Gotta say…” he began carefully, “you were pretty damn harsh on him, brother.”
Logan stepped out of his cage, shoulders squared. “Harsh?” he repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm. “So what? Did he come crying to you? That it?”
“No!” Brick shot back, his voice rising with indignation as he took a step closer. His eyes flared with heat, and his hands gestured wildly as he spoke. “I’m just sayin’—it weren’t right! You don’t have to tear someone down to prove a point.”
Logan sidestepped Eddie with a brusque shove to his shoulder and stormed toward Ethan’s cage.
Planting himself firmly between the frame, he loomed there, a towering figure of sweat-slicked intensity. His chest rose and fell with controlled breaths, but his eyes burned with something volatile. “Are they right?” he asked, his voice cutting through the room like a whip crack. “I pushed you too hard? Is that what you told them?”
Ethan sat, head bowed, fingers digging into the muscle of his calf as if grounding himself against the weight of Logan’s words. The room suddenly felt suffocating, and he didn’t look up when he answered. “No,” he said simply, the word dropping like a stone into the silence. “I never said that.” His hands stilled for a moment before resuming their anxious ministrations on his leg. “Everything’s fine.”
Logan spun back to face Brick and Eddie with a triumphant grin that was equal parts smug and mocking. “See?” he declared, spreading his arms wide as if presenting evidence in court. “You heard him, he said it himself. Everything’s fine.”
A short, humorless laugh punctuated his statement, but behind Logan’s theatrics, Ethan lifted his head, and in that moment, time seemed to slow. His eyes locked onto Logan’s imposing form: shirtless, glistening with sweat under the stark lighting, every muscle defined and rippling as if carved from stone, and something twisted painfully in his chest. It was a messy tangle of admiration and hurt, swirling together in an emotional storm he couldn’t quite contain.
Logan—the man who commanded respect simply by entering a room, the man Ethan idolized with every fiber of his being. The man whose approval meant everything. And yet today… today that man had torn him apart. He’d yelled at him until his ears rang, pushed him up and down that hill relentlessly until every muscle in his legs screamed for mercy.
It wasn’t just physical, it was personal. The wound cut deeper than the ache in his calves or the burn in his lungs—it lodged itself in his pride.
Logan must have sensed it in Ethan’s lingering gaze because he turned back abruptly, and for a fleeting second, something softened in his expression. A flicker of regret? Or guilt, perhaps? Whatever it was, it passed quickly and Ethan wondered if he’d imagined it altogether.
“You just gonna sit there feeling sorry for yourself?” Logan’s voice broke through again, sharp and unyielding.
Ethan sucked in a breath, gritting his teeth, willing himself not to break. Every nerve in his body screamed to lash out—fire back with some cutting retort, and shove Logan’s words right down his throat where they belonged.
“I need a shower.” He pushed up from the bench, wincing as pain shot through his overworked muscles.
But before he could take another step, Logan stuck out a hand. “Sit your ass down,” he ordered brusquely.
Ethan stared at the floor, jaw clenched tight enough to make it ache as he tried at all costs to avoid Logan’s gaze.
“Leave me alone,” he said more firmly this time. “I need to take a shower, then I’m going home.”
The words were a challenge, and judging by Logan’s reaction, one he wasn’t about to back down from.
“Go home?” he repeated incredulously, as though Ethan had suggested abandoning ship mid-mission. His voice rose slightly before settling into something colder—anger simmering beneath the surface. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He raked a hand through his hair in frustration before crouching directly in front of Ethan so their eyes were level. “Do you know why I push you so hard?” Each word was weighted with meaning. “Because I see something in you.” His voice softened, not gentle, but earnest enough to catch Ethan off guard. “You’ve got potential—real potential—to be the best SEAL I’ve ever trained. But for that you need discipline and I need to know you won’t crack under pressure. That when you want something, you’ll fight for it.”
The air between them was filled with tension. Ethan’s heart pounded against his ribs as Logan’s words hit deep. Logan wasn’t just talking about being a SEAL, but something more, something Ethan barely dared to hope for.
His breath hitched audibly as his eyes searched Logan’s face for a hint of what lay beneath his speech.
Ethan parted his lips, but nothing came out. Was this a test? A challenge? Or worse… a way to expose him? To mock the feelings he’d tried so hard to bury? The glances he thought went unnoticed? The ache that twisted in his gut every time Logan was near him?
A silence stretched between them, but then something shifted and a spark of determination was ignited by Logan’s words.
This was Ethan’s chance to prove himself, not just as a trainee, but as someone worthy of the Team leader’s respect… and maybe something more.
“Yeah,” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper as he nodded. His gaze met Logan’s again. “I want it. I want it more than anything.” His tone steadied, each word rising from the pit of doubt. “But you don’t have to grind me down to prove it.” He swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks but pushing through, anyway. “I’ll run any hill, take any pain—do whatever it takes—just to be on your team.”
Logan’s stern expression softened ever so slightly, and a rare grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. There was genuine pride as he studied Ethan like he was seeing him in a whole new light.
“There we go,” he said with a small nod of approval before glancing at Brick and Eddie. “The kid gets it.” His tone was lighter, almost teasing, but it still held that undercurrent of authority that reminded everyone who was in charge.
“If you want to be on Alfa,” he said slowly, deliberately, “you gotta toughen up. You gotta show me you’re all in.”
“I will,” Ethan promised quickly, the words tumbling out before he could overthink them. A small smile broke through his nervous exterior as he straightened in his seat. “I’ll show you what Alfa means to me. What being part of your team means to me.”
Logan studied him for another beat before giving a curt nod. “Good.” Then, without missing a beat, he added with a smirk, “Now drop your pants.”
It caught Ethan off guard and he froze mid-breath, his jaw dropping open as nervous laughter bubbled up inside him. He quickly glanced around the locker room like someone might jump out and tell him this was some sort of elaborate prank. “What?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly. “Drop my pants?”
“Yeah,” Logan replied in a matter-of-fact tone that made Ethan question if he was the crazy one for hesitating. “Let me see that leg. You were limping back there—you think you pulled something?”
“No,” Ethan stammered quickly, heat crawling up his neck and settling on his cheeks as he shifted awkwardly. “It’s just a cramp.”
Logan raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. His stance alone said there would be no arguing with him. “I said drop ‘em,” he repeated firmly, his patience clearly wearing thin now. “C’mon, I wanna check.” Logan sighed, gesturing to Tank without taking his eyes off Ethan. “Move it.”
Ethan swallowed, then fumbled with his belt. Under Logan’s unwavering gaze, every movement felt magnified—the clink of the buckle echoing too loudly in the locker room, the slow slide of fabric as he reluctantly pushed his khakis down to his ankles.
Tank tossed Logan a tube of heat rub, then returned to sorting whatever gear he was sifting through in his bag.
Brick shook his head as if to say, this is why I don’t get involved in things , and headed toward the showers. “Catch you at the bar,” he muttered over his shoulder as Eddie followed behind him. “I need a damn drink.”
“We won’t be along until later,” Logan quipped without looking up. His smirk deepened as he added, “We’ve got a sports massage booked, and it could take a while.”
Eddie raised one eyebrow skeptically, but didn’t press further before following Brick out of the room.
Ethan stood there wearing nothing but tight white boxers that clung far too snugly for comfort—or modesty—while Logan crouched beside him.
Squeezing some of the cream onto his fingers, he then got to work on Ethan’s calf, rubbing with firm skilled hands.
What followed tested every ounce of Ethan’s restraint, not just because of the discomfort where Logan pressed too hard, but because—God help him—those hands were rough and strong and entirely too good at what they were doing.
Logan’s fingers dug into his muscles, firm and unrelenting. Ethan clenched his jaw, trying to focus on the ache rather than the heat pooling low in his stomach. It was almost impossible. Every knead, every purposeful drag of Logan’s palms against his skin sent a shiver rippling through him, awakening sensations he had no business feeling right now.
A familiar ache stirred deep within him, and he shifted awkwardly, his hand moving to cover it. His fingers curled into his palm as if physically restraining himself could somehow quell the traitorous response of his body.
Not now. Not here. He prayed Logan wouldn’t notice, but the more those hands worked their magic, the harder it became to ignore the growing pressure straining against his boxers.
His cock suddenly seemed to have a mind of its own, springing to life despite his desperate mental protests.
“It’s fine,” Ethan rasped, his voice a mixture of tension and mortification. He reached out, grabbing Logan’s wrist to stop him before things spiraled completely out of control. “Really, I’m fine.”
Logan glanced up, his brow furrowing as if considering whether to believe him. He grinned—a lopsided, easy grin that made Ethan’s stomach flip for entirely different reasons—and shook his head. “Nah,” he replied with a maddening confidence, his tone light but utterly oblivious (or maybe not?) to Ethan’s plight. “It still feels tight to me.”
Without waiting for further protest, he shifted his grip and pressed deeper into the muscle with deliberate precision.
Ethan bit back a groan—though whether from pain or something far less appropriate, he couldn’t say.
Logan’s thumb dug in a little too hard, sending a sharp jolt through his leg that danced dangerously close to pleasure. “What’d I say about discipline? If you keep tensing up like that, you’re gonna make things worse.” His tone was suddenly much more commanding.
Ethan nodded, quickly swallowing the lump in his throat. It wasn’t tension that was making him squirm, it was everything else. But how could he possibly explain that without humiliating himself? “Got it,” he mumbled, biting his lip so hard he almost drew blood.
Logan started kneading the back of his thigh. The sensation was maddening. His touch was firm, every movement calculated to find knots and work them out with an expertise that suggested years of practice.
Ethan gasped softly to himself when Logan’s hand roamed higher than expected, skimming dangerously close to areas that did not need attention right now.
Heat flooded his cheeks, flushing them a deep crimson, and for one whole agonizing moment, their eyes met.
Logan’s expression shifted, there was something in the curve of his smirk and the way his eyes lingered just a little too long that made Ethan wonder if…
“Alright,” Logan pulled back and handed Ethan the small tube of ointment. “That’ll do for now. If it gives you more trouble, go see Remi in the med room.”
Logan stood up and stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders in a way that made every muscle in his torso stand out. It was unfair how effortlessly perfect he looked, and the sight of him was almost too much.
“Yeah… sure,” Ethan croaked, clutching the tube tightly. His movements were stiff and awkward, and as he reached for his clothes, he was hyper-aware of every brush of fabric against his overly sensitive skin.
Logan turned back and their eyes met again—this time longer—and there was no mistaking the slow curve of his smile. “Well, what’re you waiting for?”
Ethan’s pulse raced, and he blinked rapidly, forcing himself to focus on anything other than the fantasies flashing through his mind—ones of which involved pressing his chest against Logan’s or running his hands along those abs, and that…
“I said get dressed, Ethan!” Logan gestured to the pants on the floor before glancing at his watch. “We need to go.”
“Go?” Ethan scrambled for his clothes so fast he almost fell over. His cheeks burned hot as he fumbled with zippers and buttons like someone who’d never dressed himself before. “Oh, sure… I’m coming.”
As he finished tugging on his shirt, Logan leaned in just enough for their shoulders to brush. “I certainly hope so.”
It took Ethan a few seconds to register the double meaning, but when he did, his head shot up and he stared after Logan for several more seconds before managing to shake himself out of it.
Keep it together , he told himself as heat continued to coil low in his belly. Today had been a lot, but if nothing else… it proved restraint wasn’t just about holding back physically, it was about fighting every damn urge clawing at you emotionally, too.
And God help him... around Logan… that might just be damn near impossible.