Page 16 of Spilled Coffee

His cheeks flushed at how easily Logan had unraveled him, but beneath the embarrassment lay something deeper. His head spun, and he felt weightless and vulnerable all at once, caught between wanting to give in completely and trying to hold himself together.

Arousal surged through him—sharp and insistent—and he realized with mounting desperation that he was already teetering on the edge.

His balls tightened, anticipation coiling inside him like a spring wound too tight.

Not yet. Not when he’s giving you what you want.

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head as if it might clear the haze clouding his thoughts. It was useless. How the hell could he think straight when Logan was right there in front of him, stripped bare in every sense of the word?

For weeks—hell, maybe longer—he’d fantasized about this moment.

And now it wasn’t just fantasy. It was real.

Logan noticed the shift in Ethan’s expression and tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes softening with something like concern—or maybe it was curiosity. “Hey,” he said quietly, brushing a strand of hair away from Ethan’s face with surprising gentleness given how commanding he’d been moments ago. “You still with me?”

Ethan blinked, startled by how tender Logan sounded. “Y-yeah,” he stammered, clearing his throat and trying again. “Yeah… I just—” He exhaled slowly, struggling to find words that didn’t make him sound wrecked already.

Logan’s lips quirked into a grin, not the cocky smirk of earlier but something softer. “Just what?” he prompted, leaning in until their foreheads touched.

“I’m just… trying not to lose it before we start,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

That earned another chuckle. “Relax,” Logan pulled back, eyes focused on Ethan’s face—jaw tight as every muscle strained to hold it together.

He knew Ethan was barely hanging on, and damn if that didn’t make it sweeter. “Lay down on your chest.”

“What?” Ethan looked up, confusion flashing across his face as though Logan had just spoken another language. “Lay down?”

Logan didn’t answer, not right away. He simply raised a brow and tilted his head toward the bench.

And just like that, Ethan obeyed.

He moved slowly at first, his body betraying the storm of nerves coursing through him as he stretched out on the wooden bench.

His cock throbbed painfully against the unforgiving slats, trapped awkwardly in a position that felt both unbearable and maddeningly good all at once. He shifted around, trying to find relief, but it only made things worse. The gaps weren’t wide enough to offer escape, and that left him achingly hard and utterly at their mercy.

A groan slipped out and his hips jerked involuntarily.

“You alright?” Logan’s voice was like a cool breeze in the heat.

“Yeah,” Ethan rasped, nodding fast. “Yeah, I’m good.” His body tensed as Logan’s hand smoothed over his back, trailing down his sides, then dipping to his stomach.

He repositioned Ethan—head down, ass high, vulnerable in so many ways.

The heat was oppressive, and sweat beaded on Ethan’s brow. He reminded himself he should have grabbed a bottle of water, but no way was he standing up to get it now.

“Put your dick in your hand,” Logan commanded.

Ethan swallowed. He felt ridiculous, and awkward, and yetso fucking turnedon he could barely think. He hesitated, then complied, his fingers trembling slightly at the heat of his own grip.

Logan’s hand guided him with slow, deliberate pressure. “You sure you still want to do this?” he checked. “No going back once we start. I need you to be sure.”

For a split second, doubt flickered—would Logan hold back like he’d warned, or would they go all the way?

Ethan wanted it, every rough, messy second of it.

“Yeah,” he choked out. “God, yeah, I want it so fucking much.” His entire body shook, pre-cum already slicking his palm as he fought to prove he could handle whatever Logan threw at him.

Logan’s expression turned predatory. One hand teased Ethan’s ass, fingers brushing his hole and sending a shiver up his spine. His other hand tightened around Ethan’s, forcing him to squeeze harder as they pumped their hands together—slow, tight, relentless.

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