Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
Ethan squirmed in the chair, a low groan slipping past his lips as he shifted from side to side.
The briefing room’s stale air pressed against him, the hum of fluorescent lights and the faint tang of gun oil lingering from their gear.
Even in just a light tactical vest, T-shirt, and combats, he felt like he was roasting—sweat slicking his forehead, his skin prickling under the fabric. He swiped at it with a shaky hand, the motion doing nothing to ease the restless heat coiling inside him.
Another fidget, another groan, the chair creaking beneath him.
He glanced up, eyes darting around the room, maps splayed across the table, radios crackling faintly in the corner, and realized he hadn’t absorbed a damn word of the mission brief. His focus was shot, hijacked by Logan standing at the front, commanding the space with effortless authority.
Ethan couldn’t peel his gaze away, the way Logan’s khaki tee hugged his broad chest, the powerful flex of his arms as he leaned over the map, his ass jutting out just enough to strain his pants. Every move screamed strength, control, and sex—and every glance sent his mind tumbling back to the sauna, Logan’s hands on him, promising more.
He winced, then shifted again. The position was torture—hell, every position was torture—and not just because of the hard plastic chair digging into his thighs.
The toy nestled inside him, a deliberate defiance of Logan’s orders, pressed against sensitive nerves with every move. A smile flickered as he remembered Logan sliding it in—those rough fingers, that wicked grin, the promise of what it was building toward.
The thrill quickly soured as guilt rose in his throat. He’d felt it this morning, prepping for work—showering, gearing up, staring at himself in the mirror as he wrestled with Logan’s rule: Take it out before the mission.
He’d sworn he’d keep the two worlds separate, but the temptation had been too much. He’d left it in, craving the constant reminder of their connection, the secret thrill it sent through him. Last night, he’d climbed to release without even touching himself, just lying in bed, hips rocking against the mattress as the toy shifted. But now, that choice felt like a live grenade ticking beneath his skin.
Logan’s warning echoed— break the rules, and we’re done —and Ethan’s stomach twisted.
He tugged at his BDUs, trying to loosen the fabric, but it was useless. Blood rushed south, bringing with it a dull, insistent ache.
What the hell was he thinking?
Logan paced, arms folded, barking orders with that gravelly edge, and it made it worse. His body responded traitorously, and he groaned again, louder than he meant. A soft “Mmm…” slipping free.
Oh God, too much.
He fumbled again with his pants, trying to ease the tightness without drawing attention, but the sound carried and Logan’s head snapped up, dark-blue eyes locking onto him with laser precision.
Heat flooded Ethan’s face. Shit. He tried to look away, but Logan’s stare pinned him in place.
“You got something to add to this plan, Parker?” Logan growled, his voice cutting through the room like a blade.
“Uh, no…” Ethan coughed, throat dry, panic clawing at his insides. “No. I...” He shook his head, forcing an apologetic smile.
Logan’s glare didn’t budge. That look contained more than irritation, it held recognition.
Logan wasn’t happy. Fuck, he might’ve guessed already.
“Hey, what the hell’s wrong with you today?” Brick chimed in as he leaned forward. “You’ve barely said a damn word all mornin’. And you’ve been fidgetin’ like a jackrabbit since we sat down. Got fire ants in your shorts or somethin’?” His brow furrowed, as every head in the room swiveled—Eddie, Tank, the whole team was now staring at Ethan. “Are you sick?”
“Brick’s right,” Logan said, stepping closer. “You sick?”
The color leached from Ethan’s face as their eyes bored into him. Sweat dripped from his temple, his pulse a frantic thud.
“Uh…” his voice cracked as a wave of dizziness washed over him. His arousal was insistent, a relentless sensation he couldn’t ignore. Logan had been right—he shouldn’t have done this, he shouldn’t have kept the toy in at work.
His balls ached, heavy and tight, and every shift of the plug dragged him back to that damn sauna. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying the feeling would fade, that he could shove it all down deep enough to function.
Brick squinted. “Gotta say, you’re lookin’ a little green around the gills there, buddy. Maybe you’re runnin’ a fever? Tank should give you a once over before we roll out.”
“Uh… no. No, I’m good.” Ethan stammered, words tripping over themselves. “Actually, now that you mention it, I might’ve eaten something bad. I’m just gonna hit the head.”
He forced a weak nod, avoiding Logan’s glare—that hard, sexy-as-hell glare that said I know what you did —and pushed to his feet.
Rookie mistake. The toy jolted, grinding deeper inside him, and his cock surged into a glaring bulge tenting the front of his khakis.
Fuck. Sweat broke out, slicking the back of his neck and he hunched slightly, trying to hide it. It was futile, the entire team was now staring at him.
“Tank, go with him,” Logan ordered, his frown deepening. “Make sure he’s alright.”
“No!” Ethan blurted, too loud and too fast, as his panic spiked. “No, I—I just need to use the bathroom. I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know if I need you.”
He made his escape, head down, walking quickly as he fled down the corridor.
The walk was a battle, each stride intensifying his discomfort, the toy shifting with merciless precision, his erection unrelenting.
“Holy shit,” he muttered.
That hall seemed to stretch on endlessly, bare concrete walls blurring past him, the faint echo of his boots the only sound beyond his raspy breaths.
He burst through the bathroom door, slammed it shut, and braced against the sink, knuckles white as he gripped it.
The toy pressed hard against his prostate and as he leaned forward, a fresh pang of pleasure shot through him. He groaned, low and desperate. His cock strained against his pants, the evidence of his arousal was impossible to hide, dampness spreading against the fabric.
His reflection in the mirror told the whole story—pale, flushed, eyes wild.
He’d fucked up—big time.
Logan’s rules hadn’t been just words, they were a line in the sand, and Ethan had stomped all over it. Driven by that stupid, reckless need to feel connected.
His hands moved to his fly, desperate to relieve the pressure, but he froze.
Not in here.
The thought of taking care of himself in the bathroom on the base—thinking about Logan, his commanding officer—hit like a punch, and shame warred with physical need.
Images from the sauna flashed back: Logan’s hands, his careful preparation…
His knees buckled, a whimper escaping as the toy sent waves of sensation through his body.
He’s gonna end this.
That fear sank in, cold and real. Cross me, and we’re done —those words rang loud and clear. Ethan’s chest tightened. He couldn’t lose this, not after Logan had cracked open the door. But how the hell was he supposed to face him, walk back into that room with this secret grinding inside him?
He splashed cold water onto his face. The shock barely registered against the flush of his skin, and he gripped the sink harder, staring himself down.
Get it to-fucking-gether. You promised control.
The toy was mocking his lack of discipline, and his cock was a visual reminder.
He had to fix this—hide it, bury it, then get through the briefing—because if Logan found out… Ethan wasn’t sure he’d survive the fallout.