Page 18 of Spilled Coffee

“Fuck!” Ethan moaned, loudly. The fullness felt different from what he’d expected. It was a strange ache.

“Feels good, right?” Logan rubbed his back, soothing him as their eyes met.

Ethan nodded, a shy smile breaking through the haze. “Yeah… it does.”

Logan pulled him into his lap, kissing him fiercely, hands roaming his sweat-slicked chest then leaned back, propped on his elbows and groaned. “Not your first blowjob, is it?” His hand gripped Ethan’s curls, guiding him forward with a firm pull.

“Once,” he admitted, recalling the fuzzy memory. “Green-Team, with Adam. Drunk. He said I was great.”

“Show me,” Logan challenged.

Ethan pressed his lips against Logan’s erection, and heat seared inside him. The plug felt strange, a weighted sensation that sent a thrill through him. He took Logan deep, sucking with confidence.

Logan inhaled, hips bucking as Ethan worked him.

“Fuck—that’s good,” he moaned, grip tight, driving himself deeper until he exploded, hot and thick, down Ethan’s throat. “Damn,” he panted, cradling Ethan’s face, thumbs brushing his jaw. “Adam wasn’t wrong.”

Ethan wiped his chin and offered a grin as Logan caught his breath. His own cock twitched, already hardening. He was insatiable.

Logan laughed, a rough, warm sound. “Never seen anyone this eager.” He pulled Ethan back into his lap, teasing the ring on the plug enough to make him squirm. “Leave it in tonight but take it out before we spin up tomorrow.”

Ethan nodded, kissing him hard, tongues clashing. “What’s next?” he asked, still buzzing from the experience.

“We’ll pick up where we left off when we’re back,” Logan promised. “But this stays away from work. Cross that line, and it’s over. Understand?”

“I promise,” Ethan vowed, his hands tangled in Logan’s hair, pulling him closer. “I’d never jeopardize this. I’ve wanted it too long—even when you yelled at me in training.”

Logan’s expression softened before becoming serious again. “Tomorrow’s important—intel suggests it could be risky. We can’t lose focus out there. This…” He tugged the plug as a gentle reminder. “This is just between us. After tonight, we lock it down.”

“I understand,” Ethan replied, his expression serious. “I won’t let you down—not here, not out there.” He leaned in, kissing Logan more slowly this time, savoring his taste and the roughness of his stubble. “Just don’t end this. Please.”

Logan smirked, then gently bit Ethan’s lip. “Not planning to, just as long as you stick to the rules.” He glanced at his watch with a sigh. “Come on, we need to clean up. We’ve got to go.”

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—andevery 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.

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