Deviant Obsession

Chapter 28

Professor Shaw

I watch Rhea's auburn hair streaming behind her like flames from a rocket as she flees across the quad, my fingers digging into Dean's bicep to keep him from pursuing. His ragged breaths match the quaking in his arm, pure rage vibrating beneath my grip.

"Let me go," he snarls, yanking against my hold.

My warning dies in my throat as his fist connects with the brick wall. The sharp crack of impact makes me wince, but Dean doesn't even blink. Blood wells from his split knuckles, staining the pale stone.

"That's enough, Dean. We're not doing this here. My house. Now ."

"Fuck you." Dean's refusal drips venom as he lets his injured hand fall slack by his side. "I'm going after her."

"No, you're not." I shift my grip to his shoulder, steering him forcefully toward the parking lot. "You're coming with me so we can handle this like adults, not hormone-driven teenagers."

He tries to wrench away again, but he can’t quite free himself from my iron grip. "I said fuck you! You don't get to act like you have any right to?—”

"I have every right. She's my student. You’re my son. My responsibility."

"Your responsibility?" Dean scoffs. “Fucking one of your students hardly makes you the most responsible person I could think of.”

“Keep your voice down,” I hiss, my fingers tightening almost painfully on his shoulder. "Car. Now."

While maintaining my hold on my furious stepson, I fish my phone from my pocket with my free hand. The text to Ethan is brief.

Me: Come to my house. Emergency.

Dean's resistance gradually lessens as we approach my car, though the tension radiating from him could power a small city. Blood drips steadily from his knuckles, dotting the pavement like breadcrumbs marking our escape.

I'll need to tend to that hand before we can have any rational discussion—if rational discussion is even possible after what just happened. But first, I need to get him somewhere private before he says something we'll all regret.

Once we reach my car, Dean slumps into the passenger seat, defeat momentarily overtaking anger in the slope of his shoulders. I circle to the driver's side, already mapping out the conversation to come in my mind. If my suspicions are correct, and Dean has been the cause of Rhea’s spiraling these past few weeks, it seems we both have some explaining to do.

The short drive stretches into an eternity of strained silence, broken only by Dean's harsh breaths beside me. If it were Ethan, I might be nervous about being in such an enclose space, but Dean’s fits of violence are usually short-lived. He’s always opted for words over fists when he’s got a battle to fight.

It’s not long before I feel compelled to break this suffocating quiet, even just for the sake of not letting him stew alone in his rage for another minute. "She came to my office hours..."

“I don’t want to hear it."

I grip the steering wheel tighter as we wind up into the hills, the temperature in the car somehow glacial despite the blinding sun. "You don't understand?—”

"What's to understand?" Dean turns those ice-blue eyes on me, identical to his brother's yet somehow burning. "That you took advantage of someone half your age? Someone who trusted you?"

The accusation strikes deeper than I care to admit. "It wasn't like that."

"No? Then tell me what it was like. Tell me how you justified fucking your student. My Rhea!"

"I had no idea the two of you were involved."

“Well, that hardly matters now, does it?” His bitter dismissal cuts the conversation short.

The city spreads out below us as we climb higher, a sprawling testament to all the lives intersecting in ways we never see coming. Dean stares out the window, his busted hand clenching and unclenching in his lap.

When he speaks again, the fury seems to be leeching out of him little by little, replaced by a defeated sort of acceptance that is somehow harder to swallow. "You taught us everything. About control. About responsibility. About never taking advantage."

"I did."

"So, what happened to all those lectures about ethics? About consent? About?—”

"She consented." I cut him off sharply. "She knew exactly what she was doing."

"Did she?" Dean's head snaps toward me. "Or did you just catch her when you knew she was at her most vulnerable?"

“We’ll discuss this inside,” I spit through a clenched jaw, my own anger threatening to get the better of me. “You need to take a breath and listen, rather than just throwing around baseless accusations.”

I’ve barely rolled the car to a stop before Dean's door slams hard enough to rattle the frame. Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I stride ahead of him and unlock the front door with steady hands that belie the turmoil in my chest. Years of being both a therapist and a dominant have given me an excellent poker face, but maintaining it now feels like holding back an avalanche with my bare hands.

"Ethan will be here soon." I step aside to let Dean enter first. “I asked him to come over. Figured he might be able to calm you down, if I can’t.”

Dean’s answering laugh holds no humor. “You have no idea the mess you’ve walked into.”

Looking at the raw hurt in his eyes, I'm inclined to agree. I can only guess what revelations wait for me behind this combative exterior.

"Sit down." I gesture to the living room while turning to retrieve the first aid kit from my study. "Let me look at that hand."

Dean ignores me, pacing the length of the room like a caged predator instead. Blood continues to drip steadily from his split knuckles, spattering a gory scene across my pristine floorboards.

It can’t have been more than a few minutes since we arrived when front door opens without a knock. Ethan's heavy footsteps echo through the foyer, his mildly confused expression as he steps into the room morphing into shock when his eyes lock onto Dean’s bloody hand.

"What the hell happened?"

"Ask him." Dean juts his chin in my direction, his own seething energy burning just as fiercely as before we left the university. "Ask our dear old Dad what he's been doing with Rhea."

A deep crease forms between Ethan’s brows as his gaze darts back and forth between us. It only takes one more glance at Dean’s split knuckles before the penny seems to drop. “Well fuck. That explains a lot.”

"Before you launch into a united attack, you should know that I had no idea Dean was seeing Rhea. And I certainly didn’t do anything without her consent.” Despite directing my words at Ethan, I lock eyes with Dean again as I reiterate the second point. Perhaps suggesting that Rhea could earn herself extra credit by kneeling for me was beyond the bounds of inappropriate… but I knew exactly what she wanted before I dared to say it out loud. What she needed.

The only crack in Ethan’s usual mask of indifference is the subtle tick in his jaw, revealing the violence simmering beneath. "How long?"

"It only happened once. In my office, last week."

"When exactly last week?"

"Monday."

The twins exchange a pointed look.

"That's why she ghosted us. Not because she needed space from us. Because she was feeling guilty about fucking you." Ethan's cold fury somehow feels more threatening than Dean's explosive rage.

“Us? You mean… both of you?” This just got a whole lot more complicated than I was prepared for. I invited Ethan here thinking he’d be the voice of reason to calm his brother down. Somehow, I’ve turned my own home into the lion’s den.

Ethan's lip curls. "I wouldn’t go getting all high and mighty on us right now. You’re the one who stuck your dick in a student. Couldn’t resist that sweet face, hm? Or was it her obvious trauma that called to your specific tastes?"

"That's not what happened."

"Then what?" Dean demands. "Because from where I'm standing, you took advantage of your position?—”

"The way you've both been taking advantage of her inexperience?" I can’t keep the bite out of my own accusation. All attempts to keep the conversation calm fly straight out the window when the big picture becomes clear to me—the one that involves both of my stepsons leading Rhea down a path that obviously overwhelmed her. "How long have you been sharing her? Trading her back and forth like a toy?"

Both twins bristle at the allegation, but I catch the flicker of guilt in their expressions. They can’t hide anything from my well-trained powers of observation.

"That's different," Dean protests. "We never?—”

"Never what?" I cut him off. "Never pushed her limits? Never used her desire to please for your own gain? I've seen her grades slipping, watched her stumble through lectures half-asleep. You think you haven’t completely derailed that girl’s life with your selfishness?"

Ethan takes menacing step forward, his stance defensive as if he’s just entered the ring. "You don't know anything about our dynamic."

"I know everything about your dynamic without having to ask another question. I know neither of you has the discipline to handle someone as vulnerable as Rhea. Someone with her past, her need for validation?—”

"So what?" Dean interrupts. "You think you can handle her better? Guide her through her daddy issues with your fucking PhD?"

"She needs structure." I meet his glare without flinching. "Boundaries. Someone who understands the difference between domination and exploitation."

"We would never exploit her." Ethan's hands curl into fists at his sides.

"Not intentionally, maybe." I soften my tone slightly, already tired of these barbs being exchanged in a monotonous circle. "But you've both obviously been too caught up in your own appetites to see what this has been doing to her. When was the last time either of you considered her limits? Really watched for them, not just waited for a safe word?"

They don’t need to answer that one. I watch the doubt creep into their expressions like a visible burn, eroding their certainty, their defensiveness.

"She never said anything," Ethan mumbles, a hint of defeat sagging his shoulders. "Always seemed eager for more."

"Of course she did. Rhea’s entire psychological makeup revolves around earning approval. She'd let herself burn out completely before admitting she needed limits."

“I didn’t see it until she was already running from us,” Ethan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. The resignation in that confession—the guilt—is enough to convince me that perhaps this mess wasn’t all fueled by selfishness alone.

"Because you're both too inexperienced to recognize the signs," I offer, choosing my next words carefully. The last thing I want is for this to turn into a lecture that sets them both back on the defensive. "Domination isn't just about physical control. It's about understanding your submissive's psychological needs, their vulnerabilities. That takes time, focus."

"And you understand hers better than we do?" There's less challenge in Ethan's questions now, more genuine inquiry.

"I understand the impact of her religious trauma, of conditional love. I understand how desperately she craves structure while simultaneously fearing it. Whatever knots she tied herself in trying to please you two, she was desperate to feel free of that pressure. That’s what I saw in her when she came to my office—she was drowning, and she needed a life raft."

"So, what do you suggest we do? If we haven’t already lost her for good…"

"I could help. Not just Rhea. The two of you as well." I gesture to Dean's bloody knuckles. "Starting with learning to control your emotions instead of letting them control you."

"Help how?" Dean scoffs, none of his twin’s acceptance relaxing his own aggressive stance. "By supervising our scenes? Playing mentor while we share your student? This whole discussion is a joke. Everything would have been fine if it had just been Rhea and me from the start."

“It’s a little late for that.” Ethan rolls his eyes. I can’t imagine how many times they’ve had this argument, but clearly Dean thinks he has some sort of prior claim. I’ll have to get to the bottom of that in time.

“Look.” I hold up a hand before Dean can throw back a retort that drags them both into childish bickering. “All I’m saying is that I could maybe bring some experience to a dynamic that's spinning out of control. Look at yourselves. Look at what this is already doing to you. What it’s done to Rhea."

“We might have already lost her for good, Dean,” Ethan sighs. “But… if she comes back, I know I’d do anything to make sure she never runs again.”

“I don’t need his interference. And I never needed yours either.” Dean is practically spitting now, furious to find himself suddenly outnumbered. "What's best for Rhea is keeping her away from both of you. Everything will be fine once she realizes she misses me too much to stay away. And I’ll be waiting."

The declaration carries a cold finality as he stalks toward the door.

"Who Rhea chooses to come back to—if she chooses to come back—is not your decision to make." My quiet reminder stops him in his tracks. "The question then is whether you'll be part of the solution or continue being part of the problem."

Dean's shoulders stiffen, but he doesn't turn around. The door slams behind him with enough force to rattle the windows, leaving Ethan and myself to contemplate the wreckage left behind…

And the mess that lies ahead if we can’t save Dean from himself.