Page 38 of Deviant Obsession

"She'll balk at anything too formal too fast." Dean goes on with his plotting as if he’s just thinking out loud, not waiting for any input from me. "We ease her in. Make her crave the dynamic before we impose anything too structured."

I fold my arms, studying my twin. "You've really thought this through."

"I've had a little time to plan." A smug smile plays at his lips. "Though I'll admit, sharing wasn't part of the original scenario."

"But you're considering it now."

He looks up, eyes focusing again. "I'm considering that two skilled Doms could take her further than one. Push her limits more thoroughly. If you’re right about the masochism, she’ll be looking for things that I have no interest in giving her.”

The possibilities run through my mind like a slideshow—Rhea suspended between us, never knowing which hands are touching her. One of us fucking her while the other forces her to beg. Teaching her to serve us both, in every way we desire.

"We'll need to be careful figuring out her boundaries," I say finally. "She's still very new to the whole scene, who knows how hard she’ll push herself just because she thinks we want her to. One step too far and we'll lose her."

"Then we don't make wrong moves." Dean's voice carries absolute certainty. "We plan every scene. Negotiate everything like we’re talking to a baby. No surprises, no confusion."

"Unless we want her confused." The idea forms as I speak it. "Use our similarity to our advantage. Keep her guessing sometimes, when she's earned a mindfuck."

A spark of appreciation lights Dean's eyes. "Now you're thinking like a proper sadist."

"You know me." I raise my glass in mock salute. "So, we're really doing this? Sharing a permanent sub?"

"If she agrees," he corrects. "We take it day by day, see how she handles us both."

"And if she exceeds expectations?"

Dean's smile turns almost feral. "Then we collar her properly. Make her ours completely."

I find myself nodding as if the deal is already done. I figure I’d rather live in the fantasy for as long as possible before considering the fact that Rhea could just tell us to go fuck ourselves. "We need ground rules. Between us, I mean. I’m not gonna have you throwing fists any time your ego gets bruised."

Dean straightens in his chair. We both know this is the part that matters. "You first."

"No solo scenes without informing the other." I tick off the first point decisively. "We plan together, we execute together—even if only one of us is physically present."

"Agreed… And no identity games without prior discussion. Tonight can't happen again."

My jaw tightens briefly at the reminder, the not-so-subtle accusation, but I nod. "Equal authority? Or do you want hierarchy since you had her first?"

"Equal." He doesn't hesitate. "We both know you don’t do well with following."

"Guilty… One more thing." I meet his gaze directly. "We need to be prepared for her to choose."

His eyebrows raise. "Choose?"

"Between us. If she decides she only wants one." The possibility churns in my stomach like bad Mexican food. "We need to agree now how we handle that."

Dean is quiet for a long moment, considering. "We respect her choice. Step back cleanly. No manipulation, no pressure."

"Even if it's me she chooses?" I push, needing to be certain.

His smile holds a sharp edge. "She won't. But yes, even then."

"Confident?"

"Realistic." He stands, moving to stare out the window. "She hates your guts right now, remember? But I’m sure I can talk her round. Make her see we each offer different aspects of what she needs."

"And what exactly do you think she needs?"

"Someone to push her past her own limitations, show her everything she’s been missing out on." His eyes meet mine in the glass. "But also, someone who can break her down completely. Strip away every defense until she's raw and desperate, and then put her back together."

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