Page 41 of Deviant Obsession

"You want that, don't you?" Dean's voice is pure temptation. "To let go completely. To put yourself in our hands and just...feel."

I shake my head, but it's a weak protest at best. "You’re wrong," I whisper, though I'm not sure who I'm trying to convince.

"Am I?" Dean's hot breath fans across my skin.

My free hand clenches into a fist at my side, nails biting into my palm as I fight against the desire to lean back into him. "Yes!Everything about this is wrong. You were a total asshole to me, and he?—"

"Hehas a name. And he is also very interested in making you fall apart," Ethan cuts in, the rumble of his equally sinful voice thrumming through my hand.

Another whimper falls from my lips at his words, at the images they conjure. Both of them, their hands on me, their bodies pressing me between them just like this but without the barriers of clothing, without the pretense of resistance.

It’s a fantasy I’ve never even considered.

And one I wouldn’t dare utter out loud.

“I-I can’t… I don’t want…"

"Stop lying for a second." Ethan's sharp command cuts through the haze of desire Dean's words have woven. He releases my wrist abruptly, only to catch my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Be honest, Rhea. Be honest like you were with me in that scene. It wasn’t just about sex for you, was it?"

The sudden shift throws me off balance. His eyes bore into mine with that same penetrating intensity from the playroom, like he's reading every secret written on my soul. I can’t help but be reminded of Professor Shaw, of that uncanny ability to look right at me and reallysee.

"I saw what happened today," he says gently, thumb stroking along my jawline. "When I pushed you. When I hurt you. It wasn't just arousal I saw in your eyes."

I seem to have forgotten how to breathe. Behind me, Dean has gone perfectly still too, waiting.

"You needed it," Ethan goes on. "The pain did something for you, didn't it? I watched the tension leave your body. Watched you sink into it like coming home. Hell, for all your fear, I’d say the cane was your favorite part."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I try to turn away, but his grip holds firm.

"The way you yielded to it," he presses, tender but relentless. "That wasn't just submission. That was relief. Release. Like finally scratching an itch you couldn't reach."

"Stop," I whisper, but there's no force behind it. My chest feels too tight, like he's reaching in and squeezing my heart.

"You're carrying something heavy," he murmurs. "Something that weighs on you, and keeps you rigid with control. But when I hurt you..." His thumb slides down to press against my throat, just firmly enough to make me gasp. "When I took that control away, you found a moment of peace. Didn't you?"

A single tear escapes, sliding down my burning cheek. His other hand comes up to catch it, instinctively soothing me just like he did the first time he made me cry.

"We can give you that again," Ethan promises. "Not just the physical release, but the emotional one. The mental one. Pain can be cleansing, little one. It can wash away everything else until there's nothing left but sensation. Nothing left but now."

Once again, I can’t seem to find the words to answer him. I feel as if I’m treading water, terrified that if I let myself relax for a second, I’ll drown. Dean's hands settle on my hips, steadying me, and I'm suddenly grateful for the support.

"You don't have to carry it alone," Ethan goes on, his steady cadence verging on hypnotic. "Whatever it is that haunts you, whatever drives you to need this—let us help you channel it. Let us give you a safe way to let it out."

Another tear falls. This time he catches it with his thumb, then brings it to my lips, making me taste my own vulnerability.

"We'll catch you. When you fall apart, when you break, when you finally let go of whatever you're holding onto so tightly, we'll be there to put you back together."

My breaths come in shaky gasps now. He sees too much, knows too much, even though we only met today. Or maybe that's exactly why he can see it so clearly. He's not blinded by familiarity or the masks I've learned to wear. He did earlier exactly what he’s promising now. He brought me to that place where I could let go.

Where I could just feel.

"Trust us, Rhea," he whispers, leaning closer. "Let us give you what you need. All of it—the pain, the pleasure, the release. Let us take care of you."

Maybe it’s all just pretty words, but there’s some part of me that’s so desperate to believe them. And I’m losing the fightagainst it. I close my eyes, feeling another tear slip free, and give the smallest of nods.

That tiny gesture seems to shift something in the air around us. Ethan's hands drop from my face, and I immediately miss his caress. But before I can mourn it, Dean's grip on my hips tightens.

"Last chance to say no," Dean hums against my ear, even as his hands slide slowly up my arms and leave goosebumps in their wake.

---