Page 88 of Deviant Obsession

I approach her once the last student filters out, grateful for the absence of the usually ever-present Nat by her side. When she finally looks up, those beautiful eyes are wide with poorly concealed anxiety.

"Got a minute, Rhea? We need to, uh…we should talk about what happened."

The reminder of our last unfortunate encounter still makes her flinch slightly. "Professor, I..." She glances nervously around the empty lecture hall, no doubt picturing phantom ears lurking in every corner. A light sheen of sweat glistens on her forehead despite the air conditioning humming steadily overhead.

"Not here," I quickly reassure her. "My office would be more appropriate for this discussion, don't you think?"

Her teeth catch that bottom lip—a nervous tell I've grown far too fond of observing. After what feels like an eternity, she gives a tiny nod. “Sounds like a better idea.”

I allow my fingers to brush her back as I guide her toward the door, the slight contact meant to ground rather than to pressure. She doesn't pull away, which I count as a small victory. The moment we reach the corridor, I let my hand fall, though I crave the feel of her skin more than ever.

The walk to my office has never felt longer, each step leading us either towards a resolution or a definitive line in the sand. Not knowing which way it will go is no small torture. But I can be patient when the situation demands it. And this particular situation requires the utmost care if I hope to salvage anything from the wreckage of the past week.

I dig my rarely-used keys from my pocket to lock my door behind us, sealing us off from prying eyes. Rhea hovers uncertainly by the visitor chairs, her fingers twisting in the strap of her bag while she shifts from foot to foot. I can’t help noticing the vulnerability in her fidgeting as she waits for direction.

“Come here, sweet girl.” I round the desk and settle into my chair, opening my arms in invitation. “If you’d be comfortable, I’d like to hold you while we talk." The suggestion carries just enough guidance to make clear to her what I want but leaves room for her to decline if she needs to maintain distance.

To my relief, she doesn't hesitate. The bag slides from her shoulder to land with a soft thump as she almost leaps at me. When she curls into my lap, she feels impossibly fragile in a way that awakens every protective instinct I possess.

My fingers find their way into her hair of their own accord, stroking through the soft strands while she nuzzles against my chest. The gentle repetition seems to soothe her, each pass of my hand drawing some of the tension from her shoulders. I don’tspeak immediately, giving her time to settle into the comfort I’m offering.

"Thank you," I murmur against her temple. "For coming when I asked. I imagine these past couple weeks have been hard for you."

Rhea lets out a small hum, her fingers curling into my shirt as if seeking an anchor in rough seas. She doesn’t offer any more of a response as minutes tick by, but I make no move to shift her position or rush her through this release. Sometimes silence speaks louder than words, and right now Rhea needs the safety to just exist without having to answer for herself.

When her breathing finally slows to a calmer cadence, I press a gentle kiss to her crown. "Tell me what's troubling you most." The gentle command draws a shaky exhale from her lips, warm against my neck where she's tucked herself away.

"I don't know how to handle any of this," she finally whispers. "Everything felt so intense, so perfect with the twins. But I kept falling behind in classes, missing deadlines. I barely slept some weeks because they both wanted so much of my time."

My fingers continue their gentle combing of her hair while I process her admission. "And then I complicated things further."

She nods against my chest. "I wanted you too. Still want you. But... the way Dean looked at me when he realized..." A fresh tremor runs through her frame. "I've ruined everything."

"You haven't ruined anything," I assure her, tilting her chin up until those glistening eyes meet mine. "What you needed is structure. Proper boundaries. A dynamic that supports rather than overwhelms. And you weren’t getting it."

Confusion flickers across her features, chasing away some of the despair. "What do you mean?"

"Have you heard of high protocol? It’s something I think might interest you." When she shakes her head, I continue."It's a more formal power exchange. Every aspect carefully negotiated, every limit respected. It’s based in rules and routines—no surprises, no pushing boundaries without discussion first."

Her lips part slightly as I describe what I believe she’s truly been craving.

"That sounds..."

"Safe?" I offer. "Controlled?"

"Yes… But also, incredibly intense."

"It can be. But the structure ensures nobody gets lost in that intensity." My thumb traces her jawline, taking advantage of having her this close just in case it never happens again. "Your studies would be protected. Your rest prioritized. Every need attended to within a carefully maintained dynamic."

Hope blooms in those emerald depths, but uncertainty still lurks beneath. "I don't know if I'm capable of something so...formal."

"You're more than capable, if it’s what you want. You're a natural submissive, Rhea. You just need the right dominants to help you explore that safely."

She stills in my arms, processing the plural I've deliberately dropped into the conversation. "Dominants?"

"What if you didn't have to choose? What if there was a way to have everything you need, everything you crave, without sacrificing your wellbeing in the process?"

She gulps audibly as she absorbs the implication. "You mean...allthreeof you?"

---