Page 98 of Deviant Obsession

"Nope." He presses a finger to my lips. "Consider it making up for lost time. You deserve to be thoroughly treated."

Ethan settles on my other side, methodically sorting through the light strands. "For once, I agree with my brother. Let us give you the Christmas you should have had all along."

Warmth spreads through my chest as I watch them work, their familiar banter washing over me while they argue about how to properly distribute the lights around the tree.

"Here." Dean dumps a particularly knotted strand in my lap. "Show us those clever fingers of yours. Bet you can untangle this faster than either of us.”

“Challenge accepted,” I giggle, planting a quick kiss on his lips before I get to work.

The fire cracklesin Professor Shaw's elegant living room, casting dancing shadows across the leather armchairs where he and Ethan sit reviewing a stack of notes. I lend an ear to their discussion, barely raising my head from where I’m curled against Dean's chest on the plush sofa.

"The Christmas Eve dinner will be strictly formal," Professor Shaw announces, his pen tapping thoughtfully against the protocol list. "Full dress code in effect. I’ll have something appropriate ordered for you, Rhea."

"Yes, sir." I nestle deeper into Dean's embrace as his fingers weave lazily through my hair.

"We'll maintain regular discipline throughout the holidays," Ethan adds, his pale eyes meeting mine across the room. "Though perhaps with seasonal adjustments to reward good behavior."

Dean's chest rumbles with quiet laughter beneath my cheek. "Already planning special presents for our good girl? I was worried all your rules would take the fun out of things."

"Focus," Master chides, though his lips quirk slightly. "We need to coordinate schedules. Christmas morning will be relaxed protocol, but evening festivities require structure."

I listen intently as they outline each day's expectations—which meals require formal attire, when I'm allowed to use first names versus titles, specific positions for kneeling beside the tree during gift exchanges. The detailed planning makes me feel impossibly cherished.

"Wine?" Master rises to pour glasses as they finish reviewing the schedule. He hands me a glass, fingers brushing mine deliberately. "Here, sweet girl."

"Thank you." I take a careful sip, hyper-aware of proper etiquette under his watchful gaze. Dean's arm tightens around my waist, a silent gesture of pride.

"I think Rhea deserves a reward for such good behavior this past week," Ethan suggests. "I have a few ideas of my own."

"Patience." Master chuckles as he settles back in his chair, swirling his wine thoughtfully. "We have all of break to explore festive discipline. For now, let our girl enjoy a quiet evening. It’s Dean’s night anyway, and he seems happy with just a snuggle for now."

I smile to myself as I nuzzle into Dean’s neck, surrounded by my three protectors while they playfully bicker about who rewards me the most. This is what safety feels like, I realize. This careful balance of structure and affection, discipline and care.

Later that night, Dean's arm drapes heavy and warm across my waist as I scroll through old photos on my phone. The soft glow illuminates his peaceful sleeping face beside me, and I can't resist brushing my nose over his, resisting the urge to kick my feet with pure, overwhelming happiness.

A picture from four Christmases ago catches my eye—my last holiday in Nebraska. The forced smiles and rigid postures tell a story my family never wanted to acknowledge. I swipe quickly toclose it, focusing instead on a recent snapshot of my new family at dinner last week.

My phone buzzes with a new message from my Master: "Schedule for December 22-26 attached. Review before breakfast tomorrow. Sleep well, sweet girl."

The detailed PDF outlines every moment of the holiday celebration—color-coded blocks for formal meals, protocol sessions, gift exchanges, and play time. Just seeing the attention to detail has butterflies soaring through my stomach. It feels like the entire celebration revolves around me as the honored guest.

Another message pops up from Ethan soon after: "Sleep well, little one. Looking forward to showing you our family traditions."

Dean stirs slightly at my quiet giggle, pulling me tighter against his chest without fully waking. His steady breathing reminds me that I'm exactly where I belong—safe, cherished, protected by all three of them in their own unique ways.

"What're you thinking about?" Dean's sleepy murmur breaks through my reflection. His lips brush my shoulder as he props himself up to peek at my phone screen.

"Just how different everything is now," I whisper back, setting the phone aside to turn in his arms. "How grateful I am to have found all of you."

"Mmm." He tucks my head under his chin. "We're the grateful ones, babygirl. Now stop overthinking and get some sleep, Dad's got a full day planned tomorrow."

I close my eyes, letting Dean's heartbeat lull me toward pleasant dreams. The old ache of lonely holidays fades with each rise and fall of his chest. This is what coming home really means. It’s not a place, but people who see you completely and love you for every part.

The last thing I register is Dean's sleepy kiss against my hair and his whispered "Love you, babygirl" before I drift off.

Epilogue

Rhea

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