The Locker Room CH. 4
Cade and Ethan report for their first official day as team betas
🚨Mature Readers 18+ ONLY 🚨
All characters are consenting adults.
Previously: | CH. 1 | CH. 2 | CH. 3 |
CHAPTER THREE
The recovery room was quiet. Still.
Low amber light spilled from sconces on the wall, and a faint scent of eucalyptus clung to the air. Cade and Ethan stood side by side, stripped out of their cropped jerseys and jocks, naked but for the flush still rising in their cheeks. Two massage tables waited in the center of the room like altars: crisp white sheets, soft music humming beneath the silence.
Their first official day as team betas.
Coach stood at the head of the room, arms crossed over his thick chest, a solid wall of muscle and authority. “Alright, boys. Let’s get you comfortable,” he said, voice low and gravel-worn.
They climbed onto the tables without protest. Every muscle still ached from the day before — the ropes, the hands, the stretching.
Ethan could still feel the shape of it in his body.
The door opened.
The rest of the team filed in. Bare feet padding softly across the tile, energy unusually muted. They weren’t rowdy here. Not in this space. Something about it demanded silence.
“Line up,” Coach barked, and the team obeyed without question.
He moved down the row slowly, eyeing each player like cuts of meat. When he reached the end, he slapped a hand against the thick shoulder of the largest player in line.
“Travis. You’re with Ethan.”
Of course.
Ethan didn’t lift his head, but he felt the presence behind him. Heavy, familiar.
Travis stepped into place beside his table. The same Travis who had bullied him freshman year, laughed in his face after practice, stuffed him into lockers, and then held him down and fucked him yesterday so hard he saw stars.
Wether he like it or not, his cock stirred.
Coach walked over to Cade’s table, unscrewed the cap on a warm glass bottle, and poured the oil into his palm. The scent hit immediately: sandalwood and cedar, rich and grounding, with a deeper musk underneath.
“Pay attention,” Coach said, rubbing the oil between his hands. “This isn’t just about relaxing muscles. This is aftercare. These boys took it rough yesterday. So now we take care of them.”
He pressed his palms into Cade’s shoulders, thumbs working deep into the tense lines of his upper back.
Beside him, Travis mimicked the motion on Ethan. The oil slicked his skin, hot and smooth. Travis wasn’t as skilled, but he was strong, and when his thumbs dug into Ethan’s shoulders, Ethan let out a shaky breath he hadn’t meant to.
Cade groaned, low and real. “Fuck. That’s good.”
Coach grunted. “Start at the shoulders. Deep pressure. Slow strokes. Don’t just touch — feel.”
They worked in tandem now: Coach on Cade, Travis on Ethan. The pressure dragged oil over their spines, long strokes melting tension from neck to waist.
Ethan felt his breath hitch with each pass. His thighs ached, but the warmth spreading across his back started to edge out the pain.
“Now don’t shy away from the ass,” Coach said, like it was the most normal instruction in the world.
Cade let out a low laugh that broke off in a gasp when Coach’s hands moved lower, spreading oil across the round swell of his glutes.
“Lot of tension gets stored here. Especially after getting used like they did. Spread the oil with flat palms. Deep pressure.”
Travis followed, his hands slick with oil as they found Ethan’s ass. The first press made Ethan flinch—from the flood of sensation that rushed up his spine. His muscles clenched, then eased. It was too much, too intimate, and he loved every second.
“Good,” Coach murmured. “Now: slide your fingers down the crease. Real slow. Loosen them up.”
Ethan felt Travis hesitate.
Coach didn’t.
His fingers slid between Cade’s cheeks with deliberate force.
Cade twitched, hissed, and then exhaled low as one thick finger pressed just inside him.
“Just like that. Don’t be afraid to go deeper. One finger. Ease it in.”
A quiet, breathy fuck escaped Cade’s mouth.
“Open up for Coach,” the man muttered gruffly, almost fondly.
