Page 66 of Deviant Obsession

Dean wants me to believe that he can move past it, that he won’t make me choose, but the tender way he’s holding me right now is not enough to convince me that’s true. Not when my heart feels like it's being torn in two different directions. How do I tell him that Ineedthem both? That Ethan's calculated sadism complements Dean's passionate torture in ways I never knew I craved? That choosing between them would be like choosing which lung to keep breathing with?

My thumb traces a restless path over the cuff marks on my wrist as I search for the right words. The shallow welts will fade too soon, unlike the permanent claim Ethan left on my flesh. "Dean, I, um..."

He waits patiently while I struggle, his hand still moving in soothing strokes up and down my back. I’m almost tempted to just let the silence fall over us again, so that I can enjoy a little more of this gentle calm. But I think I may have a way of making him feel just a little better. Even if he says no, I have to try.

Finally, I gather my courage, clinging to the hope that this suggestion won’t horrify him. "Would you...would you want to mark me too? On my other thigh. So I'd have both..."

His hand stills, his whole body going tense where it’s wrapped around mine. I hold my breath, waiting for his answer, praying he'll understand what I'm really asking for.

"No." His response is firm, no room for argument. The single syllable falls like a heavy stone into the stillness. "I don't want to cut you."

"But—”

"Sadism is Ethan's thing, not mine." There's an edge to his tone that makes me nervous again, a hint of the fury that exploded earlier when he first saw his brother's mark. "I'm not going to raise a knife to you just to even the playing field."

I twist in his arms to look up at him, needing to see his expression, needing him to see the sincerity in mine. His jaw is tight with the conflict, eyes stormy with emotions I know he's trying to keep locked down. "What if... what if Ethan did it? For you?"

His eyebrows jump a little, and I can see the war playing out in his mind as if his expression were a window—his urge to claim me battling with his aversion to hurting me like that. The muscle in his cheek twitches as he grinds his teeth. I press on before he can refuse outright again, desperate to make him understand.

"Please, listen for a moment. I want to wear both your marks. To show that I—” I catch myself, heart hammering as I nearly reveal too much. I have to suck in an unsteady breath before trying again. "That both of you own a part of me."

Dean's phone is in his hand before I can finish the sentence. "Room seven," he says curtly. "Now."

He ends the call without waiting for a response, the decisive tap of his finger on the screen like a full stop on the conversation. When he looks down at me again, I can’t quite get a read on him. It’s as if I can see desire, possession, pain, uncertainty all swirling together behind that window that’s suddenly become hazy to me.

"Are you sure about this? Once it's done, there's no taking it back."

I think about the matching scars I'll wear, permanent proof of my bond with both twins. Maybe it will help ease the jealousy between them. Maybe it will help them understand that I can't choose, and that asking me to pick one over the other would destroy something precious before it has a chance to fully bloom.

"I'm sure."

Dean's arms wrap tighter around me, pulling me close as we wait for his brother to arrive. When he buries his nose in my hair, I have to fight back tears all over again, praying that our fragile little bubble isn’t about to implode. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to go back to life without them both, if I had to pretend like they hadn’t altered my entire existence for good.

The door opens with a soft click, and Ethan fills the frame, his expression shifting from neutral to concerned as he takes in my tear-stained face. Even in the dim light, I can see the moment his usual mask of control starts to slip. His eyes dart from me to Dean, presumably reading something on his brother’s face that tips him off on how this evening has gone so far.

"Shit," he exhales, stepping into the room and quickly sealing us off from the world outside. "I should have told you about the mark, Dean. Before she had to."

Dean's body goes rigid against my back again. "Yeah, you fucking should have. Instead of letting me find out by seeing it carved into her flesh. I can’t believe you’d pull some bullshit like that, after we agreed to discuss our scenes with each other!”

I place my palm against Dean’s chest as he shifts beneath me, all his muscles coiling like a spring about to release. The tension in the room thickens until it's hard to breathe. Every slight movement feels like it could trigger an explosion.

"It was my decision too," I cut in, but neither twin seems to hear me over the testosterone rushing around the room. The way they're looking at each other—it's like I've disappeared entirely from the equation.

"I didn’t plan it beforehand, so I couldn’t have discussed it with you. I just got caught up in the moment." Ethan’s face hardens back into its usual stoic mask. A vein pulses in his temple, the only tell that he’s raging beneath the calm. “I didn’t do anything without her consent. Rhea practically begged for it. Came apart while I did it. Fuckingthankedme for it after!”

"Don't." Dean's warning growl makes me shiver. His fingers now dig into my hips where he holds me. "Don't you dare throw that in my face."

"What? The truth?" Ethan takes a step forward, his hands flexing at his sides. The movement is subtle but threatening nonetheless. "That she wanted my mark? That she?—”

"The truth is you shouldn’t have done it!" Dean's shout makes me flinch, so close to my ear that I recoil. "We’ve always shared everything, always agreed. But you went behind my back andclaimedher with your initial. Like some kind of fucking territory grab."

"Dean, please," I press my palm harder against his chest, feeling his heart thundering beneath my touch as he pitches forward like he’s ready to leap off the bed. "Calm down for a second?—”

"Relax, little one," Ethan cuts in, his voice ice-cold. He shifts his weight slightly, and something about his stance screams danger. "If he tries anything stupid, I can have him on the floor in half a second. We both know who'd win that fight."

The casual warning sends panic shooting through me. Images flash through my mind—the twins trading blows, blood spilled, bonds broken. "You're not helping!" I snap at Ethan, surprising myself with the force of my own anger. "This isn't a competition. It's not about who can beat who or who got to me first. If you two can't figure out how to handle this calmly, everything falls apart. Is that what you want?"

My outburst seems to catch them both off guard. Dean's hands loosen slightly on my hips, while Ethan's eyebrows lift in surprise, as if I’ve managed to cut through the furious haze and remind them that we could all be about to lose everything.

---