Deviant Obsession

Chapter 12

Ethan

I make my way back up to the office rather than bothering to chase Rhea out the door. Dean will follow me soon enough. He’s going to want answers.

And demand how I could be such a damn hypocrite.

Climbing the back stairs, I trace my thumb absently over my lips. The taste of her lingers. She’s impossibly sweet, the kind of flavor a weaker man would be in danger of getting addicted to.

I tell myself I’m not weak. Although today I guess I had a funny way of showing it.

The satisfaction I usually feel after a great scene sits heavy in my gut now, curdling into something sickly as I replay Dean's face. The raw fury in his eyes when he heard what I’d done. The way his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

I fucked her before he could.

Loosening my collar, I pace the length of the office. Each step winds the tension tighter in my shoulders, my mind caught in an endless loop of Rhea’s soft moans, Dean's rage, her yielding body, and his betrayed expression.

Soon enough, the door crashes open hard enough to rattle the windows. Dean fills the frame, chest heaving. The defeat etched into his features tells me everything before he speaks.

"She's gone." The quiet admission carries an edge I've rarely heard in our twenty-two years of shared existence. The kind of edge that draws blood.

I force myself to stay still as he stalks into the room, every muscle in my body tensing more in the presence of this predator wearing my face. His fingers flex at his sides, and I wonder if he's imagining them around my throat.

"You didn’t ask me. We always agree before we share." Dean’s demeanor balances on a knife’s edge—that narrow spot between violent and wounded that I know so well. It’s as if there’s always a war raging behind his eyes between those two pains, each one winning out as many times as the other.

"That’s my bad. It was a spur of the moment thing. I didn't know you’d be so possessive. And I definitely didn’t think I was entering into some race to fuck her first." Even to my own ears, the defense sounds weak.

Dean scoffs bitterly. "Didn’t think I’d be possessive of the sub I've talked about all week? The one who's been consuming my every fucking thought?"

Regret hits me like a physical blow as the pieces click into place. Every word he says is true. I've never seen him like this over anyone, and I’ve stepped where I shouldn’t have.

"Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was her. She came up to me in the coffee shop and I acted impulsively. I obviously didn’t think to ask her name. I wouldn't have touched her if I'd known you’d care so much."

My brother is the one pacing the office like a caged animal now, that internal battle as clear as if it were playing out like a movie above his head. " Fuck, Ethan. I know you wouldn’t have. I just can’t believe you stuck your dick in her before I got to. It’s sending me all kinds of crazy."

“Not much I can do about it now. She wanted it… bad .”

His fist connects with the wall beside my head. I don't flinch. We both know if I wanted to put him down, he’d be on the floor in a second. "That submission wasn't meant for you,” he hisses, his nose hovering an inch from mine.

"Since when do you stake exclusive claims?" I keep my voice carefully neutral, even as memories of Rhea's desperate pleas echo in my ears. "We've always shared."

"This is different." Dean steps back again and rakes his fingers through his hair, looking more frantic by the minute. It’s almost unnerving. "She's different."

My hands clench at my sides as I remember how beautifully Rhea surrendered to everything I gave her. How perfectly she yielded to the pain, to pleasing me. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve never had a sub who was completely fresh, so eager to push herself. "I guess she is… something we haven’t had before. But still, what happened tonight doesn’t have to mean the game is up."

"This isn't a fucking game!" The words explode from him with unexpected force. If I wasn’t so accustomed to his outbursts, I might feel the need to start yelling back.

Instead, I stay silent, letting him pace some more, letting him work through the fury. Every few steps he glances at the door, as if he’s still thinking about running after her. Even when she’s long gone.

"The things I could teach her..." He mutters, almost to himself. "The ways I could corrupt that pristine exterior, draw out every twisted desire she's too afraid to name."

"She's not pristine," I say quietly. "I saw it in her eyes when she begged for more. Felt it in the way she pushed through the pain. That girl’s got damage, Dean. She’s not the fragile little doll you think she is."

Dean goes still, and for a moment I think I've pushed too far. But when he looks at me again, there's something different in his expression. Something calculating.

"You think you have her sussed so soon, bro? Alright, tell me everything. Every detail. Every response. Every sound she made." It's not a request. He plants himself in the nearest chair, sprawling like a king waiting for his jester to entertain him.

I weigh my next words carefully, knowing they could either salvage this situation or shatter it beyond repair. "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"If I’m gonna get her back, I need to know exactly what I'm dealing with." His jaw clenches. "I need to know how far you pushed her and how much more she craves."

The possessiveness in his tone should worry me, but instead it sparks something in me. Something that recognizes the potential in this situation if I play my cards right. Because if Dean is this obsessed already, and I'm still tasting her surrender on my tongue...

Maybe there's a way we both get what we want.

I meet his gaze steadily, acting for all the world like I don’t really give a damn. "Alright. I'll tell you exactly how your perfect little submissive bloomed as I hurt her."

I pour two fingers of scotch into crystal lowballs, buying time to organize my thoughts. "She looked terrified at first, just like you said. When I showed her the cane, she looked like she might pass out. But not one part of her looked like she was bracing to run either."

Dean's fingers flex around his glass as he takes it from me. "Go on."

"But once I got going, she melted completely." The memory sends an immediate heat through my veins. "It was like she'd been waiting her whole life for someone to take control. She was putty in my hands—or beneath my toys, I should say."

I watch the muscle in Dean's jaw work as he processes this. His anger at being beaten to the proverbial finish line hasn't fully dissipated, but something else burns in his eyes now. Something hungry.

“I saw that too… It’s like she had no idea she’d been craving submission before she let herself fall into it.”

I hum my agreement as I take a slow sip of scotch. "So fucking innocent. Like every touch was a revelation. I know the look… She didn’t know she’d enjoy the pain, and then all of a sudden, she craved it. She told me after that she found it ‘cathartic.’ Isn’t that textbook, no? And when I ate that sweet little pussy, she whimpered my name—your name—like a prayer."

"Did she beg?" His voice is rough, caught somewhere between jealousy and want.

"Of course." I lean back against the desk, letting a slight smirk tug at my lips. "I know you taught her to do that."

“Of course,” Dean mutters, staring fixedly into his glass. “At first, I just wanted to hear it from her. Have her admit that I had the power, like with any other girl. But when I heard it once, I needed to hear it again and again. I don’t know what it is about her, but she was the one with the real power in that room. My head’s been fucked all week.”

I finish my scotch as his confession lingers uncomfortably in the silence. I know only too well how he feels. Rhea has that innocent naivete about her that could drive any Dom wild. "The craziest part is, she genuinely doesn’t have a clue.” I eventually say out loud. “She’s only just learning all this about herself, let alone what she’s doing to us. The girl has depths, brother. Dark, delicious depths just waiting to be explored."

Dean sets his glass down beside me with deliberate care before looking up at me from beneath lowered brows. "And you think you've earned the right to explore them?"

"I think she's too perfect a canvas to waste on just one artist. Imagine what we could do with all that potential. Together . She needs my brand of dominance just as much as she needs yours."

I can see him considering it—the way we could shape her, mold her, and turn her into our perfect shared creation.

"I guess we could have… But she ran," he finally says.

"Of course she did. That was a shitty time and place for the truth to come out.” I push away from the desk and clap him on the shoulder. "But that doesn't mean she won't come back. Not when she's had a taste of what we can offer. Unless you're still planning to kill me for touching your toy."

Dean's lips twist into something almost like a smile. "I haven't decided yet."

But I can see it in his eyes. It’s the same dark excitement building that I feel. Because we both recognize what we've found in Rhea. Something rare. Something addictive .

Something worth sharing if it means we both get to keep it.

I pour us both another drink as he mulls over this unexpected turn of events. When my brother speaks again, I can hear the cogs whirring in his brain. He’s plotting how to get her back where we want her.

"So, you really think she was that into the pain? I didn’t take her for a hardcore masochist. Definitely not hardcore enough to meet your standards."

I remember with a slight grin the way she arched into each strike I gave her, how her breath caught as she braced for the next. "I wasn’t certain that she was, but I guess she proved us both wrong. She did so much better than I expected for a total newbie. I could have gone harder, but I figured I’d leave her wanting more."

"Clever." He nods slowly. “I should reach out to her tonight. Or go to her apartment so she can’t just ignore her phone. If I play it right, maybe I can convince her we’re not the worst guys on the planet. Maybe. ”

"You’re gonna say what, exactly? ‘Sorry my twin fucked you while you thought he was me, would you be down to keep playing with us both?’" I can't keep the sarcasm from my voice. My brother thinks he could talk his way out of Guantanamo if the need ever arose.

"Course not. We should tell her the truth. Part of it, anyway." His expression turns calculating. "That you’re sorry for lying to her, and that, if she’s interested—which we know she is—we both want to continue her training."

The word 'training' sends a familiar thrill through me. "You think she's ready for that level of commitment?"

"I think she's been ready since the first time she walked in here. Probably much longer than that." Dean leans forward, swirling his drink again as his eyes go distant. "The way she responds to authority, craves approval... She needs this. Whether she knows it or not. I’ll be damned if I wait for her to go find it elsewhere."

I keep my face carefully unmoved at that. But in truth, the idea of Rhea kneeling for some other random guy makes my blood boil.

Sue me, I’m a fucking hypocrite.

"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."

"Good cop, bad cop?" I smirk.

"More like the insatiable pleasure Dom and the evil sadist with a mysterious soft side, but you get the picture. We're going to ruin her. In all the best ways."

"To corruption, then." I raise my glass.

He mirrors the gesture. "To winning back our perfect little submissive."