Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
The treatment room was filled with the scent of fresh linen and a whisper of eucalyptus. Two tables sat side-by-side, each draped with a crisp white towel folded into a perfect square.
Towels. Thank fuck.
Ethan exhaled, a shaky puff of relief, realizing he’d forgotten to bring one. The thought of lying bare without that thin shield had been gnawing at him since the lobby.
The receptionist hovered at the door, her posture almost as starched as her uniform. “If you’d like to get undressed, Devon and Yvette will be with you shortly.”
“Thanks, Joanne,” Logan said, peeling his gray T-shirt over his head in one fluid move. The fabric ruffled his dark hair, and he tossed it onto a chair, all casual confidence, like stripping naked was as routine as field-stripping a rifle.
Joanne’s gaze lingered probably longer than it should, her professional veneer cracking just slightly as her eyes traced the contours of Logan’s torso. Her attention flitted over the defined ridges of his abs and the broad expanse of his chest with barely disguised interest before she caught herself and quickly pasted her smile back into place.
Logan noticed. Of course he noticed. He always noticed when someone was looking at him—when they wanted him. His lips curved into a smile that was equal parts charm and mischief. A subtle flex rippled through his arms as he shifted just enough to draw even more attention to himself.
Ethan’s stomach twisted with something hot and possessive that he couldn’t tamper down and he coughed—loudly—to break the moment.
Joanne’s eyes flicked toward him before she excused herself and slipped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.
Logan’s knowing smirk said it all. Joanne had been checking him out. And so had Ethan. He’d clocked that, too. But there was something different in his eyes when they landed on Ethan—a flash of heat that hadn’t been there when he’d acknowledged Joanne’s attention.
“You planning on getting undressed,” he drawled with that same teasing lilt that it always did when he was amused by Ethan’s discomfort. “Or are you just gonna stand there staring at me all day?” His voice dropped slightly on the last words, the invitation in them barely disguised.
“Uh… yeah, I was just getting to it,” Ethan muttered, heat climbing his neck like an invading force. His usual composure was nowhere to be found under Logan’s gaze, and his hands hovered indecisively at the hem of his shirt before he finally settled on pulling it off first.
He folded it with an absurd precision—anything to keep his hands busy—and set it carefully on the chair next to Logan’s discarded pile.
The ceiling fan whirred softly above them, its gentle breeze skimming across his bare chest like a ghostly touch. He shivered involuntarily as goosebumps rose along his skin, and even his nipples betrayed him, tightening against the cool air.
He turned away, desperate for something else to focus on—anything but Logan sprawled out on the table like some kind of Greek god lounging on Mount Olympus. He was naked— completely naked —and utterly unabashed about it. His arms tucked casually behind his head, biceps flexing just enough to draw attention without it seeming intentional.
Logan’s eyes tracked Ethan’s movement, his own breath visibly catching before he quickly recovered, shifting his position on the table as though suddenly uncomfortable.
Ethan could feel those piercing eyes watching him. It was unnerving—and infuriating—and yet… something thrummed deep inside him under that scrutiny.
Christ, this is psychological warfare.
Ethan’s hands trembled as he unbuttoned his jeans, each pop of fabric against metal sounding louder than it had any right to in the quiet room.
The denim shushed against his legs as he shoved them down and his calf gave a faint twinge, a leftover ache from training. It was nothing compared to the knot tightening low in his stomach.
“Still sore?” Logan asked, his tone surprisingly gentle. There was genuine concern beneath the teasing lilt, a momentary crack in his usual cavalier facade.
The room felt like a furnace, the air almost too thick to breathe. Ethan stood still, white boxers his last tactical line of defense, when the door swung open.
A man entered first—a towering wall of muscle and easy confidence, his sun-kissed skin glowing as if he’d stepped straight from a California beach. His tank top barely clung to his broad shoulders, the fabric stretched taut over biceps that seemed sculpted from stone.
He carried himself with the kind of ease that came either from a lifetime of being adored or simply not giving a damn. His flip-flops smacked against the floor with an unbothered rhythm as his sharp blue gaze scanned the room.
“Logan, brah!” His voice boomed, his wide grin infectious.
He crossed the room in three long strides and delivered a loud, resounding slap to Logan’s bare ass.
Logan didn’t flinch—instead, he sat up with a lazy smirk, extending a fist to meet Devon’s in a casual bump. “Devon,” he said, his tone smooth and warm. “Been a minute.”
“A hot minute,” Devon replied, that smile never wavering as he towered over Logan’s reclined form. His gaze darted briefly to Ethan, sizing him up with the subtlety of a hawk circling prey. “And this is…?”
“Ethan,” Logan said, gesturing to his side. “He’s wound tighter than a drum, so I figured you could work some of your magic on him. Maybe one of your specials?” The words dripped with playful provocation.
Ethan’s stomach dropped like an elevator in free-fall as he shot Logan a glare. “Hey,” he said awkwardly, extending a hand and forcing what he hoped was a passable smile. “Nice to meet you.”
Devon gave him an approving nod before clasping Ethan’s hand in a grip that was firm but not overbearing, and Ethan was instantly reminded how utterly outclassed he felt in terms of raw physical presence.
“Yvette’s got you covered,” Devon said, jerking his thumb toward the stunning brunette who had followed him into the room. “I’ll handle this one—give that ass a proper workout.” His lips quirked into a grin that was equal parts teasing and predatory.
Logan dropped down on the massage table like a king settling into his throne. “I’d like to see you try,” he fired back effortlessly.
Devon arched a brow, clearly enjoying the banter. “If I remember right…” he leaned in closer as if sharing a secret meant only for them, “you cried last time.”
The corner of Logan’s mouth twitched, but there was no denial forthcoming.
Ethan stood beside his own massage table, every muscle in his body locked in place as though awaiting orders from a superior officer. Yvette approached with the calm assurance of someone who had seen it all before. Her smile was warm but professional as she gestured toward him. “You’ll want to take off your shorts before we get started.” It was a tone that brooked no argument but remained gentle.
Ethan blinked, his brain scrambling for an excuse—any excuse—to avoid peeling off another layer of clothing in front of these strangers.
“Uh… I thought maybe I could just… keep them on?” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, betraying his nerves.
Yvette tilted her head, her expression softening. “Trust me, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Ethan exhaled shakily, feeling every pair of eyes in the room boring into him. Fuck it, he thought, and with one swift motion, tugged his briefs past his hips, trying not to wince as cool air hit bare skin.
Of course, his cock betrayed him immediately—springing free and standing defiantly at attention like it hadn’t gotten the memo about keeping things discreet.
Please God, let nobody have seen that.
Heat flooded his face as if someone had lit a fire under his skin and scrambling onto the table, he yanked the towel over his ass then buried his face in the headrest.
From the corner of his eye, Ethan caught Logan’s expression—pupils dilating and lips parting slightly before he quickly recovered and looked away. It was so quick Ethan almost thought he’d imagined it.
Yvette said nothing and simply began kneading the tension out of his shoulders with practiced ease. Her hands moved in smooth, deliberate motions that sent waves of relief cascading down his spine. He exhaled slowly, focusing on her touch and willing himself to calm down.
But then came the tactical error that would haunt him for hours: he opened his eyes and glanced sideways.
Logan was sprawled on his table, every inch of his sun-bronzed skin glistening under Devon’s oiled hands as he worked with expert precision, kneading slow circles into Logan’s chest before sliding down to trace each ridge of his abdominal muscles. And there it was… unavoidable and utterly brazen: Logan’s cock standing thick and proud between his legs.
Ethan’s breath hitched audibly as every coherent thought evacuated his brain like soldiers abandoning a sinking ship.
“Didn’t take long for you to relax, huh?” Devon teased lightly, as though commenting on nothing more scandalous than the weather.
Logan stretched lazily under his touch, releasing a low rumble. His eyes found Ethan’s and held them deliberately, as though making sure Ethan was watching. “You’re too damn good at this,” he drawled with satisfaction.
“Wait ’til I hit those ass muscles,” Devon shot back with an easy laugh.
Ethan slammed his eyes shut, but it was too late.
The image had seared into his brain: Logan’s lithe body glistening under the dimmed lights, muscles rippling beneath skilled hands… and that cock … that cock standing unapologetically erect.
Yvette’s hands slid lower down Ethan’s back, her thumbs digging gently but firmly into knots along his spine. It was too much. Heat pooled low in his abdomen and flared dangerously close to ignition.
He shifted awkwardly on the table, trying to relieve some pressure without drawing attention to himself.
“You okay?” Yvette asked as she paused. “Need a second to adjust?”
Ethan wanted nothing more than for some divine intervention, a fire alarm or sudden blackout, to extract him from this mortifying situation. But none came. Instead, he nodded stiffly against the headrest. “Yeah,” he croaked, “please.”
“Take your time,” Logan called over, his voice surprisingly soft and without its usual edge of mockery. “First massage is always intense.”
Yvette turned away respectfully while Ethan shifted, lifting just enough from the table to reposition the unbearable ache pressed beneath him.
He collapsed back down with all the grace of someone trying not to combust.
Yvette resumed her work without further comment, but any hope Ethan had of regaining composure evaporated the moment Logan groaned. It was a deep guttural sound, so charged it sent shockwaves straight through his core.
“Time to flip,” Devon announced moments later.
Panic seized Ethan’s chest like chains around him as he peeked sideways and caught Logan rolling smoothly onto his front like some goddamn Adonis reincarnated.
The afternoon light streamed through the blinds to kiss every ridge of Logan’s sculpted form and made his skin glow like polished bronze. Ethan swallowed, his gaze snagging on the sharp V of Logan’s hips and the taut lines of his abdomen.
Goddamn Adonis didn’t even begin to cover it.
“C’mon, don’t be shy.” Logan’s voice broke through the haze. “You heard her… they’ve seen it all before.” He turned his head, locking eyes with Ethan, a smirk tugging the corners of his lips. But beneath the smirk was something else—a silent challenge, a hunger that made his eyes darker than usual.
Ethan inhaled, then forced himself to move. His body felt stiff and uncooperative, as though every muscle was conspiring against him as he flipped over onto his back.
There was no hiding it now—his erection sprang to attention, defying every desperate command to calm down.
Logan’s gaze swept shamelessly over his exposed body before settling on the obvious. “So,” he drawled, “that’s what you’ve been hiding.” His voice had dropped an octave, rougher around the edges, his fingers gripping the edge of his own table with unexpected force.
A chuckle broke the tension and Devon leaned back, arms crossed over his broad chest as he surveyed both men with an amused glint in his eyes. “Damn… Looks like we’ve got our hands full today.”
Ethan wanted to sink into the table and disappear forever. His heart pounded, but then there was something else—something darker threading through the shame. It wasn’t just mortification, it was something raw, something that made him feel exposed in ways far beyond physical nudity.
Devon caught Yvette’s eye across the room and exchanged a knowing look. “Maybe it’s a woman doing it that’s throwing you off,” he suggested casually. “Why don’t we switch? You take Logan, and I’ll do Ethan.”
He moved closer to Ethan’s table, looming above him like some kind of guardian—or tormentor—with hands already slicked with oil.
Ethan opened his mouth ready to protest—about what exactly, he wasn’t sure—but all that came out was an awkward… “Do me?”
The room went silent for half a heartbeat before Devon let out a booming laugh. Even Logan snorted, clearly enjoying every second of Ethan’s misery.
“Careful what you ask for, rookie,” Logan murmured, but despite his teasing words, his eyes held something almost protective as they rested on Ethan’s flushed face.
“Your massage,” Devon clarified between chuckles, clapping Ethan lightly on the shoulder. “Relax, man! Just figured you might loosen up if you had a guy working those knots.”
“Uh... yeah,” Ethan muttered, feeling like he’d stepped on some conversational landmine. “Sure.”
He lay back down, muscles locked tight despite the supposed goal of relaxation.
Devon wasted no time getting to work, his large hands pressing firmly into Ethan’s chest muscles with precision and power that spoke of years of experience. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming, somewhere between pain and release, as knots Ethan hadn’t even known existed began to unravel.
“Jeez,” he hissed through clenched teeth as Devon worked lower over his ribcage and toward his stomach. His nipples peaked involuntarily, a reaction that didn’t go unnoticed.
“Sensitive there?” Devon asked casually, though there was a slight edge of amusement in his tone.
Ethan could only grunt, as his mind spun out of control. The pressure on his body sent jolts of electricity straight to places he desperately wished would calm down.
He closed his eyes against the onslaught of sensation but couldn’t block out the heat of Logan’s gaze, which burned into him even with his lids shut tight.
When he finally dared to open them, it was worse than he imagined. Logan was openly staring even as Yvette worked on his shoulders and arms. His breathing was visibly deeper than normal, and he didn’t even pretend to look away when caught staring. Instead, he held Ethan’s gaze with an intensity that seemed to communicate something beyond words.
Ethan barely noticed Yvette anymore as scenarios played out in his head. Detailed images of his own fingers tracing the carved planes of Logan’s abdomen, his palms sliding down those powerful thighs, and…
A sudden pressure on his calf brought Ethan crashing back to reality as Devon bent his leg to work deeper into the muscle there.
“Holy shit,” he groaned before he could stop himself. The sound was raw and unfiltered—half pain from the massage, but mostly from everything else going on in his mind.
Devon finished with a firm slap to Ethan’s thigh that startled him. “Time’s up,” he announced before gently pushing him back when he tried to sit up too quickly. “Whoa there! Let those muscles relax for a minute first.”
Logan stretched languidly on his table like a cat waking from a nap before sitting up fully and securing a towel around himself without hurry or modesty.
As he stood up, his hand brushed against Ethan’s arm—a touch that lingered just a fraction too long to be accidental.
“Still want that sauna?” Devon asked, grabbing a fresh towel from the shelf.
“Absolutely!” Logan grinned wickedly. “We want everything.” His eyes met Ethan’s, and the double meaning in his words was unmistakable.