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Caleb heard the nurses walking by the door of his room, the sound of the restraints ringing in his ears. He didn't even mind being put away in a straitjacket as long as it meant getting to see MC or Doctor Zayne. Since MC had stopped visiting him long ago, he knew it was time for therapy. He grinned from ear to ear as the male nurses strapped him in, complying as he was led down to the therapy office used only by him and Doctor Zayne out of everyone in the facility.
"Doctor Zayne, it's nice to see you again."
He nodded politely when he saw the man behind a desk, lifting himself off the ground using his Evol when the nurses asked him to. He wasn't allowed to use it under any other circumstances, only to be fully strapped to the padded wall in front of the doctor's desk. He even thanked the nurses when they were done, following them out of the office with his eyes. His eyes zeroed in on the psychiatrist as soon as they were left alone, testing the restraints holding him against the wall.
"Has she called since I last saw you, Doc?"
His head tilted to the side, listening to the doctor's question. He hadn't been honest before, but the way the older man spoke, almost as if he had a way of looking right through him, made Caleb's eyes glaze over momentarily as his thoughts became scattered.
"My mind is... always her. Every morning. Every night."
His fingers twitched against the straps.
Zayne recognized they wouldn't be getting away from the topic of MC, so he just listened.
"Tell me. What thoughts do you have about MC?" he asked, noting everything down.
Caleb's eyes grew bright at the mention of her name, a genuine, almost childlike enthusiasm flickering across his face before settling into a pained yearning. The straps held him steady as he shifted, tilting his head toward the ceiling.
"She's perfect, Doc. Perfect. Everything I've ever wanted in a person."
He laughed softly, a sound that carried no humor.
Zayne nodded along to Caleb's words, having heard that same story a million times. He did find the obsession strange, but he knew it stemmed from the history the two shared in childhood.
"And how do you think she feels about you now, Caleb? Now that you're locked away..."
Caleb's expression darkened, the softness in his eyes hardening into something sharp. His jaw clenched as he pulled against the restraints, not in anger, but frustration.
"She's scared. I know she's scared. That's why she doesn't come."
He took a shaky breath, forcing his body to relax again.
"But she'll understand eventually. When I get out, she'll see I did everything for her. For us."
Zayne noted Caleb's body language, feeling completely safe with him being secured against that wall. He got up and walked around the desk to get closer to him, leaning against it with his notebook in hand.
"Do you think she's scared of you? Of what you can do? Or of what you mean to her? Tell me."
Caleb's eyes flicked to the doctor's proximity, noticing how easily he could move around the room. Despite the distance, Zayne felt unthreatened, the doctor's cool demeanor acting like a dam against Caleb's unpredictable nature. He stared at Zayne's notebook, then back at his face.
"She's not scared of me."
Zayne didn't take his eyes off Caleb, his shoulders slumped slightly to show that he was comfortable there.
"You mentioned her being afraid. What do you think she's afraid of then, if not you?"
Caleb paused, his jaw tightening as he thought about this. His eyes flickered across the room, searching for a familiar face, a familiar presence. The question hit a nerve.
"She's not afraid."
His voice was a warning, and his breathing slowed. His eyes met Zayne's, his gaze hard.
"You're pushing too far, Doc."
Zayne kept a blank face, blinking slowly. The session was booked for the entire day, so he really had no time to rush with Caleb.
"It's okay, Caleb. I'm just trying to understand what's in your mind. You came to me when that chip had already malfunctioned... I don't know you from before. See, I'm not even writing anything down right now. Think of it as me trying to see what the chip did to you... I know you weren't always like this, Caleb."
He said it in a soft tone, setting his notebook down. He knew the chip wasn't at fault, but it was a way to remind Caleb that he was safe there with him.
Caleb's eyes narrowed at the mention of the chip, a flash of something dangerous flickering across his face before he forced himself to relax. He'd always maintained the lie about the chip, and Zayne knew it. But the doctor's gentle approach made it hard to maintain his guard.
"I wasn't always..."
He trailed off, his voice losing its usual confidence.
Zayne nodded, a small smile appearing on his face.
"I know, Caleb... tell me what you were like before the chip malfunctioned. Was your mind always filled with her?"
He asked, grateful for the relationship he had built with Caleb. Guards were no longer needed for their sessions, only the two of them.
Caleb's gaze dropped to the floor, his expression turning thoughtful, almost melancholic. The mention of his past self seemed to crack his carefully constructed facade.
"Before... it was just normal. Protecting her. Loving her as a sister."
He shook his head slowly, the straps creaking softly as he shifted.
"It wasn't a sickness back then. It was just... responsibility."
Zayne hummed, noting it in his mind so he could report everything after the session, just so the patient felt more comfortable.
"You say it's a sickness now... what about your thoughts do you think is sick?"
Caleb swallowed hard, his throat working visibly against the constraints of the restraints. He hated being asked to define it, to speak the words aloud like a thing he could label and fix.
"I don't know."
He looked at Zayne with desperation in his eyes, a stark contrast to his previous confident and delusional demeanor.
"It's the way I think about her."
Zayne watched his expression change, nodding along.
"How do you think about her? What makes it sick?"
He probed, letting Caleb take charge of the conversation.
Caleb pressed his head back against the padded wall, staring at the ceiling. His voice dropped to barely a whisper.
"I think about her skin. How it felt. How it would feel."
He closed his eyes tightly, a grimace twisting his features.
"I think about how she'd smell if I pressed my face into her neck. I think about..."
He stopped abruptly, shaking his head.
"I'm sick."
Zayne understood completely, tapping his fingers against the desk he was leaning on.
"Do you think you're sick because of those thoughts, or is that what you've been told by everyone?"
The question made Caleb pause, his brow furrowing. He had always accepted the diagnosis, the chip, the malfunction, the madness. It was easier to blame the technology than to acknowledge something deeper.
"They said..."
He struggled, his jaw tightening.
"Everyone said. The doctors. The priests. Even her."
His voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Zayne hummed, glad to have cracked him enough to get him to be honest.
"And do you think your love for her makes you sick? Deep down, what do YOU believe?"
Caleb's eyes snapped open, staring directly at Zayne. Something raw and terrifying flickered behind those eyes, genuine conflict. He hadn't been asked what he believed in a long time. Not since he'd stopped trusting his own mind.
"It's not sick to want her."
His voice was quiet but firm.
"She's everything I need. Every part of me belongs to her."
Zayne nodded, still expressionless.
"I see. You've always said that, Caleb, and I think you're right. You're not sick for wanting to be with her. It's natural... you've been through so much with her. You've seen her being hurt and experimented on... you're bonded with her in a way no one can understand, right?"
He mentioned Caleb and MC's past, reassuring him.
Caleb's eyes glistened, a rare vulnerability breaking through the walls he'd built. He nodded slowly, his voice thick with emotion.
"You see it too."
He whispered, almost in awe.
"You actually see it. No one else... they all say I'm obsessed. A monster. But you... you understand."
His hands trembled slightly against the restraints.
"She's the only constant in my life."
Zayne nodded, smiling slightly.
"That's true, and I can't imagine what it's like to have her taken away from you... Do you think everyone is scared, and that's why they think it's unnatural to love that deeply? Or what do you think makes them feel uneasy about this... bond?"
Caleb immediately grabbed onto the explanation, finding immense relief in having someone finally articulate what he felt. It made the obsession feel justified instead of pathological.
"They're terrified of the intensity."
He whispered, his face relaxing completely.
"They confuse obsession with devotion. We survived hell together. I would burn the world for her, and they call that madness. It's not madness. It's a bond."
Zayne smiled slightly, just enough to make Caleb think he agreed with him.
"That's what they're scared of, Caleb. They think you can hurt a lot of people because you don't have her. Because you can't have her, right? That's why we're here. You hurt a lot of people, Caleb. Was it because you couldn't have her? Because she's your..."
He trailed off, pushing just enough to make the man feel comfortable.
Caleb flinched at the mention of the people he'd hurt, the bodies, the blood, the screams. His hands tightened into fists within the restraints.
"I protected her."
He insisted, his voice taking on that fanatical edge again, but then it cracked.
"I was trying to get to her. They were in the way."
He stared at Zayne desperately.
Zayne nodded, understanding that he had to push further to have Caleb address the elephant in the room.
"You did protect her, and you did a very good job at doing so, Caleb."
He reassured him.
"But don't you think they were trying to protect her from you? From what you could... do to her? All those people, her friends, coworkers... do you think they saw something between you and her that made them feel like she needed protection from you?"
Caleb's expression hardened, his jaw clenching. The mention of people protecting her from him clearly hit a nerve. He remembered the way her friends had looked at him, the hushed conversations, the way she'd been nudged to distance herself.
"They knew nothing. They wanted to take her away from me."
His voice took on that dangerous edge again.
Zayne's eyes stayed on Caleb, taking in every twitch in his face.
"Why do you think they wanted to put some distance between you two? Do you think they saw you and her as incestuous?"
The word hung in the air like a physical blow, making Caleb flinch visibly against the padded wall. Incestuous. The clinical term for everything he felt. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head violently.
"They labeled it. They tried to make it ugly because they didn't understand the bond."
He hissed through clenched teeth.
"It wasn't dirty."
Zayne pushed himself off the desk and took a few more steps toward the wall Caleb was strapped to, invading his personal space more as he kept pushing him mentally.
"I know, Caleb. No one can understand the bond you and MC have. Tell me, have you ever thought about her as a woman? As more than your sister?"
He asked, hoping Caleb would understand what he was asking.
Caleb's breath caught, his eyes widening slightly at Zayne's closeness, alerting him to the intimacy of the question. He could feel his face flushing red, a vulnerability that betrayed everything his words tried to hide.
"Every night."
His voice was barely audible, hoarse.
"Every single night I see her. I imagine..."
He swallowed hard, looking away.
Zayne understood that talking about it would make Caleb feel uncomfortable, but he had to push further to break him.
"It's okay, Caleb. You can tell me. What would you do to her if you could?"
He bit his lip so hard it bled, the taboo nature of the question shattering the last of his defenses. His voice dropped to a low whisper, raw and unfiltered.
"I'd fuck her."
He hated himself immediately after the words left his mouth, his face contorting in shame and disgust.
"I'd hold her down and... ah, fuck."
Zayne kept his eyes on Caleb, even when grabbing a tissue to reach over and wipe the blood from the man's lip.
"It's okay, Caleb. You don't have to hold back when telling me. I understand."
He said quietly, blotting the blood off his lip. He didn't dare look down at the man's crotch in case seeing the situation there would interfere with Caleb's honesty, just bunching up the bloody tissue in his hand as he listened.
Caleb's chest heaved, humiliation burning across his face as Zayne gently wiped the blood from his lip. The touch was clinical, kind, and it only made Caleb more desperate to confess.
"I want her under me."
His voice cracked, breaking entirely now.
"I want her screaming my name. Not as a sister. As a woman."
He sobbed once, a raw sound of grief.
Zayne nodded in understanding, crossing his arms as he turned to the side. He started slowly walking toward a small window nearby that he could barely see through, given the bars covering it.
"And have you tried doing this? Have you made advances toward her? Before or even after the chip?"
Caleb hung his head, the question bringing a fresh wave of shame. He knew exactly when his behavior had crossed the line.
"Before."
He whispered brokenly.
"Touches that lingered too long. Comments that weren't... brotherly."
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"The chip... the chip didn't make me want her. It just took away the filter."
Zayne hummed, turning around to slowly make his way to the other side of the room. He couldn't treat it as a big deal, not for Caleb's sake.
"And what restrained you from going all the way to get what you wanted before? Was it her? Did she not like this kind of attention from you?"
Caleb squeezed his eyes shut, the humiliation absolute.
"She never rejected me... not really. But she was my sister. The social taboo. The moral line."
He admitted softly.
"She treated me like a brother, but I was obsessed. I stopped myself because if I crossed that line, I would ruin her. I wanted to keep her pure."
Zayne kept nodding along, his face still expressionless.
"Who did you want to keep her pure for, Caleb? Someone else?"
He pushed on, fixing his glasses so they sat higher on the bridge of his nose.
Caleb's eyes snapped open, a flicker of something dark and possessive crossing his features before he could mask it.
"No one else."
He said immediately, almost defensively.
"I wanted to keep her pure for ME. So when I finally had her... she'd be untouched. Mine."
He paused, realizing what he'd just admitted.
"I never thought about anyone else wanting her. No one would dare."
Zayne looked at him with the same straight face, leaning back against the desk to face him.
"Do you think that's what she wanted too? To stay pure and untouched for as long as you could hold back without corrupting her?"
Caleb went completely still, his eyes snapping wide with vulnerability. That was the exact dilemma that had destroyed him mentally.
"I don't know."
He admitted honestly, his voice trembling.
"I never asked her. I assumed she was innocent... that keeping her protected meant keeping her away from sex. I thought I was saving her."
His throat worked painfully.
"I didn't want to ruin her."
Zayne nodded in understanding and sighed, trying to find a way to change the conversation slightly.
"Do you think she's still pure? Even when you're not there to protect her? Do you believe she's waiting for you?"
Caleb's face went pale at the terrifying possibility, his heart rate actually spiking enough to be audible in the quiet room.
"She has to be."
He whispered frantically, panic rising in his throat.
"If she isn't... if someone else touched her..."
He strained against the restraints, his breathing becoming erratic.
"She wouldn't do that. She knows she's mine."
Zayne saw the panic in the other man's eyes, proud of himself for breaking him.
"How does that make you feel, Caleb? The possibility of MC lying under someone else? Maybe even at this very moment? Letting someone touch her in ways that are reserved for you?"
Caleb's entire body began to shake, his breathing hitching into ragged gasps. The image Zayne painted was destroying him from the inside out.
"Someone is touching her right now?"
His voice was hysterical, raw.
"No one touches her. No one gets to..."
He choked on his own words, tears streaming down his face.
"She's waiting for me. She promised."
Zayne watched him freak out over such trivial matters, grabbing another tissue from the box on the desk.
"Shh, it's okay, Caleb. There's nothing you can do now, even if she didn't keep her promise."
He said quietly, not a bit afraid of reaching over to wipe the man's tears away.
Caleb flinched at the words "nothing you can do," his panic deepening. He stared at Zayne with wild, desperate eyes.
"You don't understand."
He panted heavily against the restraints.
"If she's with someone else... if she gave herself to someone else while I was rotting in here..."
His hands clenched so hard the leather bit into his wrists.
"Then everything I did..."
Zayne nodded slowly, still tenderly wiping away Caleb's tears.
"I do understand, Caleb. Everything you did would be for nothing, right? All the people you hurt, all the names you were called, all these stupid sessions with me... all for nothing, right? Strapped to this wall like an animal without even being able to wipe your own tears, all for nothing..."
He said quietly, looking into Caleb's eyes.
Caleb's entire body convulsed with sobs, the weight of Zayne's words crushing him utterly. He was completely broken down, his mind fracturing under the unimaginable torture Zayne was putting him through.
"Yes... all for nothing..."
He wailed pitifully, tears streaming down his face in torrents.
"If she's not mine... if she gave herself to someone else..."
Zayne nodded, letting him cry.
"But you don't know that, right? You won't know until you get out of here and finally see her again... maybe even then you won't know. How would you be able to tell if she had been with someone else? Do you know what signs to look for?"
He asked, trying to get Caleb's mind off it.
Caleb froze, his crying momentarily halting as the terrifying question registered. He had never considered that possibility. He'd assumed she was waiting, untouched, pure... kept specifically for him. The idea that he could never truly know what she had done in his absence made him tremble.
"I..."
He swallowed hard, trying to think.
"There would be marks. Hickeys."
Zayne raised an eyebrow, humming before throwing both the bloody tissue from before and the one wet with Caleb's tears away.
"Would there? Hickeys aren't always a part of sex. More often than not, they're not... and even if someone marked her up, what if they did it right now? Hickeys disappear within a week. You're definitely not getting out of here this week, I'll tell you that much..."
Caleb's entire world tilted, his breath catching in agonizing gasps. A week. He'd be trapped in here for at least another week while she could be anywhere, with anyone, getting touched in ways he never allowed himself to imagine.
"A week..."
He whispered, his hands shaking violently against the restraints.
"How would I ever know?"
His voice cracked painfully.
Zayne smiled sadly, looking up at him.
"You wouldn't, and you never will. Unless she has a child by someone else by the time you're out... and you know the best part about it? She would still be yours even if she was touched by someone else. Your bond with her is too strong to let anyone get in between you two. Sex feels amazing, even when the woman has been with someone already. I promise, Caleb."
Caleb's mind fractured at the mention of a child, the ultimate betrayal, the ultimate proof that someone else had claimed her, fucked her, and impregnated her. But Zayne's next words confused him, offering a twisted comfort that made his head spin.
"A child..." He repeated hollowly.
"But... sex still feels..." He struggled to process.
Zayne saw the wheels turning in his head and nodded.
"I know it's not just sex you're after with her. She's everything to you. Tell me, would you still love her the same way you love her now, even if you got out of here and found out she was married? Maybe even pregnant?"
Caleb's eyes widened, the image of her pregnant by another man hitting him hard. But Zayne's question hung there, dangling in front of him like a lifeline or a trap.
"Yes."
He said immediately, without hesitation.
"Yes, I would. Because she's mine whether she's been with someone else or not. Nobody could ever replace what we have."
Zayne smiled slightly, nodding. One session at a time, he would get him to stop obsessing over the girl. He just knew he would.
"That's lovely to hear, Caleb. See? You're not crazy. Don't forget that, okay?"
He winked at him with a smile, tapping the desk with his fingers again.
Caleb's chest swelled with something dangerous, hope. Genuine warmth at the rare validation from someone who didn't recoil from his confession.
"You really think so?"
He whispered, almost childlike in his vulnerability.
"You don't think I'm a monster?"
He searched Zayne's face desperately for any sign of deception, any hint that this was just another manipulation by the doctors.
Zayne simply shrugged and smiled again.
"No monsters here."
He said to reassure him. He was the best in his field, knowing exactly what to say and do to help even the helpless.
"I'm not just a doctor, Caleb. I see you as a person. I'm pretty sure that I could even get you out of those restraints and we could sit here and have a beautiful conversation. I'm not allowed to yet, but we'll get there. Remember how much more open you were as soon as it was okay for the guards to leave? I think it's important for everyone to be seen in ways they haven't been seen before..."
Caleb shifted against the restraints, the offer of being released from them making his whole body ache with want. He'd noticed it too. The moment the guards left, he'd talked more freely, shared things he never would have told Zayne if others were watching.
"I like talking to you."
He admitted quietly, then paused, frowning.
"But... why?"
His eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering.
Zayne nodded, smiling softly.
"I know it may seem like you should be against shrinks, but I'm just here to see who you are deep down. I believe you're not the danger to society that everyone else makes you out to be... and I'm the one who has to make sure you're stable enough to go back into the world. The more you tell me, the closer we get to releasing you."
He smiled, pushing himself off the desk again to come closer. He gently touched one of the straps across Caleb's chest holding him in place, humming.
Caleb inhaled sharply at the gentle touch on the strap, his whole body buzzing with sensitivity. The promise of being released, of talking without guards watching, of being seen as a person rather than a monster, it was intoxicating.
"You really believe that?"
He asked, his voice softer now, almost intimate.
"That I'm not dangerous?"
He shook his head slowly.
Zayne looked up from the restraints at him, his eyes questioning.
"Do you think I would lie to you?"
He almost joked, feigning disbelief at even the possibility of Caleb thinking that.
Caleb fell silent at the question. He couldn't deny Zayne's effectiveness so far. No one had ever actually listened to him before. No one ever bothered to understand him. The doctors usually just slapped on sedation and locked doors. But Zayne had actually gotten him to talk. Really talk.
"How can I be sure?"
He whispered.
Zayne gasped softly, looking back down at the straps.
"You do think I'm lying! It's okay, you don't have to believe me."
He shrugged, manipulating him just enough to keep it professional.
"I cannot do anything to prove I'm being honest... but just out of curiosity, is there something that would make you trust me fully?"
He looked up at him as he ran his fingers along the strap holding him in place, almost planting the seed in his mind with his eyes alone.
Caleb stared at Zayne, his mind racing under that hypnotic, manipulative gaze. The question hung heavily in the air. What would it take? He craved freedom, yes, but he craved validation even more. He wanted someone to finally acknowledge the bond between him and MC without condemning it.
"Prove it."
He whispered, his voice trembling.
Zayne's eyes narrowed, his hand falling from the straps.
"How? I cannot remove these yet... not legally, Caleb. I would lose my license, and you'd be placed with another doctor. I don't mind losing my license, but I worry about you... they wouldn't understand you."
Caleb felt something crack inside him, a warmth spreading where there had only been cold obsession before. Zayne was willing to sacrifice himself for Caleb? For him?
"They don't listen to me."
He confessed quietly, his voice breaking slightly.
"They just... pump me full of drugs and call me a monster."
He tugged gently at the restraints.
Zayne sighed and frowned, looking away.
"I know, Caleb. That's why I took your case. I knew with me you'd feel better. They don't give you drugs anymore, do they? I asked them to be nice to you..."
He said softly, taking a seat on the floor before him. He didn't mind looking up at him from there, trying to show him that he wasn't a threat.
Caleb swallowed hard, his eyes widening at the gesture. Zayne was sitting on the floor, looking up at him, vulnerable and patient, treating him like a person rather than a prisoner. It was the most respect he'd ever received in this place.
"No..."
He said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.
"They haven't given me drugs since you started."
Zayne smiled up at him, his suit pants definitely not meant for sitting in such a position.
"I'm glad to hear that, Caleb. As long as you're nice to the nurses and me, we're nice to you. It must be boring being alone in that room, though. Tell me, what do you do all day?"
Caleb thought for a moment, considering the simple question. His days were mostly empty, spent pacing and wrestling with his thoughts.
"I think about her."
He admitted without shame.
"A lot."
He paused.
"I draw."
He added quietly.
"I draw her."
His face flushed.
"Pictures. Scenarios. Things I want to do to her."
He looked down at Zayne on the floor.
Zayne nodded, smiling to keep him comfortable.
"That's nice. I'm glad you're keeping yourself busy. Can you bring those drawings in for the next session? I'm curious now."
He chuckled.
Caleb went immediately still, feeling dangerously validated. Zayne wasn't condemning his obsession. He was asking to see it. That permission was more intoxicating than any drug they'd ever pumped him with.
"You want to see them?"
He asked softly, eyes wide.
"They're... obsessive. Detailed."
He warned honestly.
"Really detailed drawings of her."
Zayne put his hands up defensively, smiling.
"As long as you're okay with me seeing her like that, I'd love to. You can keep the explicit drawings to yourself if you're shy, but I don't mind."
He shrugged, only really wanting to see the drawings to pick at Caleb's brain further.
Caleb's eyes darkened, an intense, almost primal look flickering over his face for a split second before he caught himself. The idea that he could show someone what he'd been holding in, those obsessive, obsessive drawings, felt dangerous.
"I'm not shy."
He admitted quietly, jaw tight.
"But... you'd have to understand."
Zayne nodded, shrugging.
"I do understand, Caleb. That's why we're here. I don't find it disturbing, if that's what you mean..."
He kept the smile on his face.
"I can ask the nurses to bring them now, if you want. We have time."
Caleb's heart hammered against his ribs. Showing Zayne his drawings was like handing over a piece of his soul, every pent up fantasy, every whispered prayer to a God he didn't believe in, all laid bare on paper. But Zayne wanted them. He'd practically requested them.
"Can I..."
He hesitated, then added quietly.
"Can I explain them?"
Zayne tried not to show how much easier the man's question made his job, just nodding with the same smile.
"Of course! I'd love to know what you were thinking when drawing them. Where can the nurses find the drawings? I'll ask them not to look..."
He got up off the floor.
Caleb watched Zayne stand, feeling an odd sense of relief that he was being taken seriously, even regarding his darkest thoughts.
"Under the mattress."
He murmured, nodding his head towards the door.
"Top right corner. They're... stacked. Organized by scenario."
His fingers twitched against the straps.
"Don't let the nurses touch them. Please."
Zayne was about to go ask the nurses to bring the drawings before turning back around.
"Do you want me to go get them myself? Will you be okay here alone?"
He asked, knowing that it was quite frowned upon for a psychiatrist to go into a patient's room.
Caleb's breath hitched at the offer. Zayne going to see his room? Zayne touching his drawings before anyone else could? It was everything he didn't know he wanted.
"Yes."
He said quickly, too quickly.
"Please."
He tugged at the restraints instinctively, wanting to reach for him.
"You know the nurses. They gossip."
Zayne gave him a small smile and nodded.
"They do, don't they? I'll be right back."
He said quietly and rushed out the door, immediately alarming the guards outside. He calmed them down and simply asked them to stay there as he made his way to Caleb's room. It was exactly like he had envisioned, but he wasn't there to observe the room. He got the drawings without looking at them first. He came back shortly after, clutching them to his chest as he walked back into the office.
"Got them!"
Caleb hung suspended in the air, straining to see Zayne return with the bundle clutched to his chest. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. Those were his secrets, his private obsessions, and now they were in the doctor's hands.
"You didn't look?"
He asked quietly, searching Zayne's face for any sign of judgment.
Zayne smiled as he took his seat back on the floor in front of him, shaking his head.
"I didn't. You said you wanted to comment on them, so I didn't want to spoil myself."
He shrugged, looking up at him as he set the drawings down.
"May I?"
Caleb stared at the bundle, his skin prickling with vulnerability. Zayne had actually gone to his room, retrieved his most intimate secrets, and hadn't even glanced at them. That integrity alone was almost overwhelming.
"Yes."
He whispered, leaning forward as much as the straps allowed.
"But... start with the ones that aren't..."
He swallowed hard.
"Explicit."
Zayne nodded, taking the one off the top. He showed it to Caleb first to let him know which one it was, then turned it back over to look at it.
"You're very talented, Caleb. This is beautiful..."
Caleb's face flushed a deep red at the compliment. To have his obsession called beautiful, by his doctor, no less, sent a rush of validation through his veins.
"It's her sleeping."
He said softly, his voice tight.
"In her room. At the old house."
He watched Zayne's expression carefully.
"I used to watch her sleep through the crack in the door."
Zayne hummed, trying to look more interested in the drawing than Caleb's explanation.
"Was her room far away from yours?"
He asked, trying to scope out the situation while commenting on the little details of the drawing.
Caleb's eyes followed Zayne's hand as he turned the page, but his mind was already drifting back to those dark nights.
"Two doors down."
He admitted, his voice dropping.
"I'd wait until our grandma was asleep, then slip out. Stand by her door."
His lips curved.
"Sometimes I'd even open it a crack and just... breathe her air."
Zayne avoided commenting on the beauty of the girl in the drawings, knowing that could go very poorly. He turned another drawing of the girl around to show Caleb, smiling as he looked over it himself.
"And what about this one?"
Caleb leaned forward eagerly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the next drawing. His breathing changed, quickening slightly.
"That's her in the shower."
He said simply, as if describing the weather.
"I broke in once."
He paused, watching Zayne carefully.
"Just to watch. She was singing something. Really pretty."
His fingers twitched against the straps.
"I didn't touch anything."
Zayne nodded, trying to remain professional while still being friendly enough to keep him comfortable.
"Really? Nothing at all?"
He glanced down from Caleb's face, then back up at him, chuckling as he turned back to the drawing.
Caleb's blush deepened dramatically at Zayne's pointed question, his jaw clenching defensively.
"I..."
He sputtered, looking away guiltily.
"I touched myself."
He admitted through gritted teeth, the confession clearly painful.
"In the hallway. Outside the bathroom. She couldn't hear me over the water."
He swallowed hard, meeting Zayne's gaze again.
"But I didn't hurt her."
Zayne nodded, examining the drawing.
"I know you didn't hurt her."
He mumbled, looking back up at him.
"You would never do something she didn't like, right?"
He planted another seed in Caleb's mind, trying to slowly control his thoughts.
"I would never force her. Ever."
Caleb said firmly, pride in his voice.
"That's the difference between me and..."
He wanted to gesture vaguely but was restrained.
"...them. The ones who hurt women. I worship her. Every inch. Every breath."
His eyes darkened with intensity.
"If she told me to stop, I'd stop."
He paused, his voice dropping.
"Unless..."
He bit his lip.
Zayne casually flipped to another drawing, pretending he wasn't listening much, even though he cared about Caleb's words more than the drawings.
"Unless what?"
Caleb hesitated, the word hovering painfully on his tongue. Zayne's casual tone made it feel safe to say, but the thought itself made his stomach twist with something dark and honest.
"Unless she wanted it."
He whispered, barely audible.
"If she came to me. Asked me."
He swallowed.
"She touched me first."
He glanced at Zayne's face, searching for judgment.
"Would that be wrong?"
Zayne almost sighed in relief, realizing Caleb actually wasn't that awful.
"It would only be wrong if she asked you to stop after initiating and you still wouldn't. Sometimes people say stop and they don't mean it, but we should always stop and check in with them anyway. You know?"
He smiled, trying to guide Caleb's mind towards the right path.
Caleb nodded slowly, processing Zayne's words. The idea that she might actually want him, initiated by her, made his heart race dangerously.
"Sometimes people say stop and they don't mean it..."
He repeated quietly, frowning.
"That's... complicated."
He struggled.
"What if she said stop but her body said something else?"
He asked hesitantly, glancing at Zayne for guidance.
Zayne hummed, shrugging.
"All you have to do is stop momentarily and ask her if she really wants you to stop. It's better to be safe than sorry."
He smiled, keeping the guidance casual.
"Tell me about this one."
He said, holding up another drawing.
Caleb nodded, feeling a little relieved. It was good to know that there was a clear line he wouldn't cross. He focused back on the drawing Zayne held up.
"That's her... in my room."
He explained softly, his voice taking on a slightly different tone.
"Me fucking her."
He said bluntly, his cheeks flushing slightly.
"Hard. Rough."
Zayne hummed, looking at the drawing.
"You like it hard and rough?"
He kept the conversation focused on Caleb rather than MC, trying to get as much information as possible. Then it dawned on him. Caleb likely wouldn't have known how he liked it if he'd never actually done it.
Caleb blinked at the question, caught off guard by the shift in focus. He thought about it for a moment, tilting his head slightly.
"I think so."
He said thoughtfully.
"I mean... I've never actually..."
He trailed off, realizing he'd basically just admitted to never having sex.
"I've thought about it a lot. But I never got close enough to find out."
Zayne nodded, looking back down at the amazingly detailed picture.
"Right... Do you touch yourself when drawing these?"
He asked plainly, noticing a little stain on one of the drawings.
Caleb went completely rigid, feeling Zayne's gaze on the stain on the drawing. His face turned scarlet, unable to handle the question. He looked away, jaw tight, fighting the urge to make an excuse.
"...Sometimes."
He mumbled, his voice cracking slightly.
"When drawing. When thinking."
He glared at Zayne.
"Why does that matter? It's just..."
Zayne chuckled, shaking his head.
"It's okay, Caleb. I get it. I'm a man too, you know..."
He said without looking up at him, showing him another drawing.
"And this one?"
Caleb winced at Zayne's casual admission, that the doctor understood male desire. It made everything feel dangerously normal. He peeked at the drawing Zayne held up, and his breath hitched.
"That's her... on her knees."
He whispered, his voice strained.
"I imagined her doing that for me."
He swallowed hard.
"Taking me in her mouth."
His eyes dropped to Zayne's lap nervously.
Zayne nodded, examining the drawing.
"Doesn't leave much to the imagination, I'll tell you that much."
He joked, pointing out how visible Caleb's body was in the drawing.
Caleb practically burned under Zayne's casual teasing, staring at the drawing where his body was painfully prominent, shamelessly detailed.
"I... I have a vivid imagination."
He defended weakly, feeling entirely exposed.
"I've spent a lot of years thinking about her mouth. Specifically."
He admitted, shame burning his ears.
Zayne put the drawing away, not grabbing another one just yet.
"Why her mouth specifically?"
He asked, leaning back on his hands.
Caleb swallowed hard, the question cutting right to the core of his obsession. He had never actually kissed her, let alone been intimate with her, but in his mind, he had imagined it a thousand times.
"Because..."
He struggled, his face heating up.
"It would be so warm."
He admitted quietly, his voice strained.
"Wet."
Zayne nodded.
"It has teeth, though... She has a beautiful smile, as far as I can see from these, but teeth hurt a little..."
He chuckled.
"I mean, you wouldn't know, but... it feels better elsewhe- actually, I shouldn't be talking about it with you. It's inappropriate."
He smiled shyly.
Caleb stared at Zayne, his mouth falling open slightly. The doctor was actually talking about sexual intimacy, even if he quickly caught himself and tried to backtrack. But Caleb's mind was racing now.
"What feels better, then?"
He asked before he could stop himself, his voice tight and curious.
"And why shouldn't you be talking about it?"
Zayne shook his head, blushing even more.
"I can't talk about this stuff with patients, Caleb. It's not right, let alone when you're hard."
He gestured vaguely towards Caleb's crotch and chuckled, trying to laugh it off.
Caleb looked down in surprise. Sure enough, he was hard in his pants. Something about talking about his fantasies with Zayne of all people had gotten him worked up. He swallowed, caught between embarrassment and a strange thrill at Zayne noticing.
"You noticed that."
He stated, not denying it.
"That's... that's weird, doc."
He felt himself growing even harder.
Zayne laughed, waving him off.
"You're kind of strapped to a wall in front of me. It's hard not to notice! But it's fine, it happens."
He mumbled, getting up off the floor.
"We should probably wrap up today's session since it's gotten weird, and you need to take care of that."
Caleb's eyes went wide, watching Zayne stand up and brush off his pants. The casual dismissal stung more than he expected.
"Wait..."
He blurted out, then immediately regretted it. His body twitched pathetically beneath his clothes.
"I..."
He stammered, looking away.
"You're leaving me here?"
He tugged weakly at the restraints.
"Like this?"
Zayne turned back to look at him, shrugging.
"The nurses will come get you off the wall, and you can go back to your room, Caleb."
He explained logically.
"I always leave you like this, do I not? Do you not like it?"
Caleb's jaw tightened, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and frustration. He hated how casually Zayne dismissed his need, like it was nothing, when his whole body was throbbing with tension.
"I like talking about it with you."
He admitted quietly, tugging at the straps again.
"What if I want to keep going?"
He tested, feeling desperate.
Zayne stood there frozen, weighing his options. One meant possibly losing his license forever but helping his patient, while the other meant dismissing him, losing his trust, and staying professional.
"Caleb, that would put you, as my patient, in a highly vulnerable position given my authority over you. Do you know what you're asking me?"
Caleb's breath hitched, seeing the internal battle playing out on Zayne's face. He understood what the doctor was implying, the power imbalance and the ethical nightmare. But something in him, something feral and desperate, pushed him forward.
"I know exactly what I'm asking."
He whispered, his voice cracking slightly.
"Nobody touches me here. Nobody looks at me."
His eyes locked onto Zayne's.
Zayne furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remain controlled.
"Don't you want to stay pure for MC? The same way you want her to remain for you?"
He pushed, trying to get Caleb to take back his words.
Caleb froze, those words striking him like a physical blow to the chest. The logic was undeniable. It went against everything he believed about his soulmate. But the ache between his legs was overriding his moral compass, twisting his desperation into something needy.
"I want to stay pure for her..."
He choked out, his eyes squeezing shut.
"But look at me, doc!"
He yelled suddenly.
Zayne leaned against his desk again, putting some space between them.
"I am looking at you. And you know what I see?"
He raised an eyebrow, finally deciding to stop the mind games surrounding Caleb's obsession with MC.
Caleb's chest heaved, tears actually prickling his eyes because he knew exactly what Zayne saw. He saw a psychiatric patient strapped to a wall, painfully aroused, obsessing over a girl who wasn't visiting him. He saw a man who was suffering.
"You see a pervert."
He whispered brokenly, trembling against the restraints.
Zayne hummed, shaking his head.
"No, that's what you would see through my eyes. I see a man desperate for love and acceptance from anyone who is willing to give it. I don't think MC is the problem here. She just enabled you all this time. There was no malfunction with the chip, was there? You were always like this..."
Caleb's breath caught, tears finally spilling over. Zayne had just dismantled months of therapy in one sentence. He knew the truth. The chip hadn't created these thoughts, it had only suppressed them. He'd been like this long before the surgery.
"No."
He admitted, his voice barely a whisper.
"I was always like this. Even before the procedure. I just..."
He swallowed hard.
Zayne wanted to let him cry and wail, but he still grabbed a tissue and walked closer.
"It's okay, Caleb..."
He whispered as he reached over to wipe his tears yet again.
"You're not sick, just broken."
He whispered, cupping Caleb's cheek gently.
"I just can't be the person you transfer your obsession to..."
Caleb leaned into the touch instinctively, his cheek burning against Zayne's palm. The distinction, sick versus broken, resonated deeply. He wasn't insane. He wasn't crazy. He was just... shattered. And MC had been the glue holding the pieces together for years.
"I know."
He whispered, tears still leaking.
Zayne swallowed hard, wanting to release him from the restraints and just hold him tightly. He wanted to let Caleb in but couldn't let himself go that far, smiling as he looked at him.
"It's okay..."
Caleb's eyes searched Zayne's face desperately, reading every microexpression. He could feel the warmth of Zayne's hand on his cheek, the way the doctor's thumb brushed gently against his skin. He wanted to lean closer. Wanted to ask for more.
"You're not MC."
He said suddenly, his voice small and raw.
"So why does that matter?"
Zayne just sighed and shook his head.
"You're not my only patient, Caleb. I know how this goes. I've seen it happen before. It's nothing but erotic transference. Have you heard of that term?"
Caleb's face fell at Zayne's sigh, his arms shaking in the restraints. He hated when they used medical terms to reduce everything he felt to something simple and dismissible.
"I don't care about terms!"
He snapped, his voice hoarse from crying. He wanted to scream that it was real, that it wasn't just... a term.
Zayne pulled his hand away, clearing his throat as he took a step back.
"Listen, Caleb, we've already stepped over a ton of boundaries today. Do you maybe want a little break? Just to clear your thoughts, and we can continue a little later? Maybe a snack would help?"
He fixed the collar of his shirt, dismissing him again to remain as professional as he could at that point.
Caleb felt the dismissal like a physical shove. Zayne was retreating again, pulling back behind his professional walls. The mention of a snack was such a mundane, paternalistic offer that it made Caleb's chest ache with frustration.
"No."
He answered immediately, his voice strained.
"No breaks. No snacks. I want to keep talking."
He tugged at the restraints.
"Please."
Zayne grabbed his water bottle, taking a sip as he watched the man try to get out of the restraints.
"Fine, let's continue, then. What do you want to talk about?"
He asked, coming back only to offer him a sip of water from his own bottle.
Caleb stared at the water bottle, then at Zayne. The offer felt infantilizing, like being treated like a small child who needed hydration to calm down. He didn't want water. He wanted someone to look at him and not feel nothing.
"I don't want water."
He said flatly.
"I want to know... if you really see me."
Zayne went back to the blank expression he'd had at the start of the session, still holding the water out to him.
"I don't care what you want. I'm the doctor, and I'm telling you that you need to get hydrated because you cried twice already."
He said plainly, ignoring the rest of Caleb's words.
Caleb stared at him, his mouth slightly open. The doctor had effectively dropped all emotional intimacy and immediately reverted to professional authority. It was shutting him down. He hated it. It reminded him that Zayne was still the person with the keys, the medications, and the power.
"Don't treat me like a child."
He snapped, jerking against the padded wall.
"I asked a question."
Zayne looked into his eyes, taking the water bottle back to take another sip before offering it to him again.
"Stop acting like a child and you won't be treated like one."
He mumbled.
Caleb's face contorted with rage and frustration. The casual dismissal, the water bottle, the condescending tone, it was all designed to make him shut up and behave. He strained against the restraints, wanting to punch through the padded wall itself.
"Stop talking to me like a kid!"
He snarled.
"I asked a fucking question!"
Zayne stepped back, setting the bottle down on his desk again.
"You're throwing a tantrum. The longer you do, the longer I'll wait."
He leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.
Caleb's jaw clenched as he watched Zayne lean back so casually. The man had just systematically dismantled every emotional connection they'd built over the last hour by pretending it was nothing. Just transference. Just boundaries. Just dehydration.
"You see me."
He tried again, lower this time.
"Not as a patient. Not as some fucked up case study."
His voice dropped to a desperate whisper.
Zayne nodded, staying silent for a while.
"Yeah, we went over that already. Why do you think you're so stuck on that? Does it make you feel understood? Wanted, maybe?"
He asked, one hand falling from his crossed arms to fidget with the straw on the water bottle.
Caleb's eyes tracked Zayne's fingers on the straw, fixated on the way the doctor kept fidgeting, a crack in his professional armor.
"Because I am wanted."
He said simply, tilting his head.
"MC wants me. You want me."
His voice dropped, something dark and certain creeping in.
"It's not transference. It's compulsion."
Zayne hummed, a small smirk appearing on his face.
"Do we? Or is it all in your head, Caleb? You've shown me your imagination is vast with these drawings of MC..."
He trailed off, implying something.
Caleb's breath hitched, his eyes darkening at the implication. The doctor was playing mind games with him, using his own imagination against him. He knew exactly what Zayne was doing, teasing the boundary between fantasy and reality.
"It's not just in my head."
He whispered, his voice strained.
"I can feel it."
He swallowed hard.
"Every touch. Every kiss."
Zayne hummed and nodded.
"That's great, then! You don't even need the people who 'want' you to be involved. Your imagination is all you need, isn't it?"
He said quietly, realizing that Caleb was genuinely not okay in the head and had never been.
Caleb's expression shattered at the casual cruelty in Zayne's tone. The doctor had just told him his entire romantic experience was a delusion born from a broken mind. He stopped struggling against the restraints, going dangerously still.
"You think I know the difference."
He said quietly, terrifyingly calm.
"Between what's real and what's not."
He swallowed.
"I don't."
His voice cracked.
Zayne watched him stop struggling against the restraints, his eyes narrowing.
"Yeah... I know it sucks, but... you can't even hook up with any of the other patients here to find out what it's like. You're in a single room alone for a reason."
Caleb went completely rigid at those words. He had always known he was in a single room, but he'd never considered the implications, that being alone was the reason. That he had to be kept away from other patients. He stared at Zayne, realization dawning on him.
"You're keeping me alone."
He said flatly, his voice hollow.
"Why?"
Zayne blinked slowly at his question, genuinely thinking Caleb was fucking around.
"Because you killed everyone that got between you and MC. You can't even be alone with me without being strapped to a wall, Caleb, and I'm not afraid of you. Everyone else in this building is."
Caleb's breath stuttered in his throat. The words hit him like a physical blow, no sugarcoating, no gentle clinical framing. He was dangerous. He knew that logically, on some level. But hearing it stated so plainly, so casually...
"I didn't..."
He started, then stopped. His hands trembled in the restraints.
"I didn't kill them because I wanted to."
Zayne sighed.
"Yeah, yeah, it was the chip. Who cares now? I know you don't. I don't either."
He shrugged.
"I'm just trying to help you, and you're trying to fuck it up, Caleb."
Caleb flinched at Zayne's dismissive shrug. The way the doctor just waved off the entire tragedy like it was nothing. Like those people were nothing. And then the accusation that he was trying to "fuck it up" by simply wanting someone to actually see him.
"You're the one fucking it up."
He said bitterly, looking away from Zayne.
"I came here to talk. To be honest. To feel something real."
Zayne tracked his eyes to the ground, humming.
"Fine. Tell me, what is it that would make you feel something real? Tell me what I can do. Let's play by your rules now."
Caleb's head snapped back to look at Zayne, purple eyes locking onto the doctor with sudden intensity. There it was, the crack. The shift in power dynamic. Zayne wasn't dismissing him anymore. He was asking. Offering.
"Touch me."
Caleb said simply, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Without the straitjacket. Let me feel someone who doesn't run."
Zayne rolled his eyes, coming closer anyway since he had told him he would play by his rules.
"I can't let you go from the restraints, Caleb. You know that."
He mumbled, setting his hands on Caleb's barely exposed hips.
"But I can touch you. Not explicitly, just to show you what human touch feels like..."
Caleb immediately went still the moment Zayne's hands settled on his hips. The sensation was electric, grounding him instantly in a way nothing else had in months. It wasn't sexual, it wasn't violent. It was just contact. Real human contact. His breath hitched in his throat, his eyes fluttering shut.
"That..."
He whispered.
"That feels real."
Zayne wanted to pull away because it wasn't the way he should have been treating a patient, but his hands worked on their own.
"Just keep your eyes closed..."
He whispered, slowly lowering his hands beneath the band of Caleb's white pajama pants, touching his hips as much as the strap going across Caleb's hips allowed him to.
Caleb's breath hitched sharply, his entire body trembling as Zayne's hands slid beneath the waistband of his pants. The sensation was overwhelming, intimate, forbidden, and terrifyingly grounding. The straps across his hips restricted full movement, making the contact feel even more confined, more intense. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, his head falling back against the padded wall.
"Don't stop..."
Zayne swallowed hard, undoing that singular tough strap so that Caleb would still be restrained against the wall, but his own movements wouldn't be limited.
"Don't say it like that..."
He whispered, gently tugging the man's pants down just enough to expose his V line.
Caleb's breath came in ragged gasps as the strap across his hips was undone, the sudden freedom of movement making his skin feel hypersensitive. He didn't fight the exposure, simply trembling as the cool air hit his V line. His hips twitched involuntarily toward Zayne's hands, a desperate, pathetic sound tearing from his throat.
"Please..."
He whispered.
"Just..."
Zayne immediately pulled his hands away, looking up at his face to check in.
"What is it, Caleb? Is that too much?"
Caleb's eyes flew open at the sudden withdrawal, panic flashing across his features. The loss of contact felt like being plunged into ice water. His entire body sagged against the restraints, chest heaving.
"No..."
He gasped, his voice cracking with desperation.
"Don't stop. Please. I just..."
He struggled for words, his mind fogged with need.
Zayne nodded slowly, setting his hands back on Caleb's hips but not moving.
"Talk to me, Caleb. I can't read your mind..."
He mumbled, knowing he actually could read Caleb's mind. He could control it, too. Caleb was easily one of his easiest patients to deal with, even if that came with having to touch him.
Caleb's fingers curled within the straitjacket, knuckles white. He knew Zayne could read his mind. He'd always known. Every filthy thought, every desperate fantasy about MC, every longing for the doctor sitting in front of him. He was completely exposed.
"I want to know what you feel."
He whispered, his voice shaking.
"When you touch me."
He swallowed hard.
"Is it just clinical? Just..."
Zayne couldn't help but smirk at Caleb's questions, his thumbs tracing his V line.
"I can't tell you what I feel aside from clinically. Your skin is soft, and it feels delicate under my touch. I can tell you're sensitive, and I feel bad for having to keep you up against the wall still..."
Caleb's breath hitched at the sensation of Zayne's thumbs tracing slow patterns along his V line. The admission, soft, delicate, sensitive, made his chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the straitjacket. He leaned into the touch as much as the remaining restraints would allow.
"I don't want you to feel bad."
He murmured, his voice low and raw.
Zayne raised an eyebrow, slowly feeling up Caleb's pelvis to see if he had boxers on under the pajama pants.
"Why? Are you comfortable like this? When I could pretty much do anything I please with you?"
Caleb shuddered at Zayne's thumbs tracing the dip of his pelvis, his mind flashing white with every sensation. The question sent a jolt of electricity through him, Zayne reminding him exactly how powerless he was. Bound, exposed, completely at the doctor's mercy.
"I don't mind."
He breathed, admitting something that made him blush at his own boldness.
Zayne looked up at Caleb, his hands dipping under the hem of the straitjacket to hold the man's waist a little.
"It's a shame you're locked up here, you know... all the beautiful things out there to experience in the world, and here you are begging your psychiatrist for a little touch..."
He spoke softly, almost taking pity on him.
Caleb's breath caught sharply as Zayne's hands slid beneath the straitjacket to grip his waist. The pity in Zayne's tone was almost unbearable, the reminder that he was trapped, confined, reduced to begging for scraps of human contact.
"It's not begging..."
He protested weakly, his face flushing deeply.
Zayne hummed and leaned in just slightly, looking all over Caleb's face.
"Right... tell me what you're feeling right now, Caleb. How does me touching you like this feel?"
He whispered, dropping one hand below the strap holding Caleb's thighs in place to touch his leg over his pajama pants.
Caleb's eyes fluttered when Zayne's hand moved to his thigh, pressing warm through the thin fabric. He swallowed hard, trying to answer honestly without sounding too aroused, even though he was, painfully so.
"It feels warm."
He whispered, his voice tight.
"And heavy."
His leg twitched under Zayne's palm.
"I feel like I should be embarrassed telling you this, but..."
Zayne pulled his hands away from Caleb, only to rest them on the padded wall the man was strapped to.
"You can tell me everything, Caleb. I'm here to listen."
He breathed out, very close to pressing his body against Caleb's to let him feel the warmth of his own body through the fabric.
Caleb couldn't understand the logic of it, Zayne's voice being so calm and clinical while his body temperature rose. His skin flushed red at the warmth of the doctor's closeness, a feeling of safety and danger overlapping.
"It's the way you look at me."
He whispered, the confession spilling out before he could stop it.
Zayne looked into Caleb's eyes, a small grin on his lips.
"And how am I looking at you? What's going through your mind when I do this?"
He asked quietly, his chest pressing against Caleb's straitjacket. He pulled his feet closer to the wall, completely letting him feel how real he was.
Caleb's breath hitched as Zayne's chest pressed against his restrained form, the solid warmth of the man's body seeping through the straitjacket. He could smell the faint scent of cologne mixed with sterile hospital air. His mind was a whirlwind.
"Like I'm..."
He whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Like I'm worth touching."
Zayne nodded, noting the man's observations of him in his mind. There was no way he could report what was currently happening in that office on paper later, but it helped him scope out the ways he could help Caleb in the future.
"You are. Everyone deserves to feel closeness like this. Do you think MC believes that too? That you're worth touching?"
He continued pressing, planting images in Caleb's mind with his words.
Caleb's throat bobbed, a sharp pain shooting through him at the mention of MC. The mental image Zayne painted was devastating, MC looking down at him with the same pitying gaze, never actually reaching out, never validating his worthiness. It made his jaw lock tightly.
"I don't..."
He choked out.
"Don't talk about her."
Zayne reached over to place a gentle hand on Caleb's face, rubbing his cheek with his thumb.
"You love talking about her, Caleb. Why the sudden change?"
He whispered, running his thumb over Caleb's chapped lips.
Caleb leaned into Zayne's palm instinctively, chasing the contact like a starving man. The thumb on his lips made his mouth water, his breathing becoming erratic. He hated how quickly Zayne could shift the conversation back to MC, using her as a weapon against him.
"Because she's not here."
He whispered, eyes glistening.
"You are."
His voice broke on the last word.
Zayne hummed and nodded, getting what he needed out of Caleb. He leaned in closer, his lips almost touching the purple eyed man's.
"That's right, Caleb. I'll let you out of these restraints now, and you will not use your evol at all, okay? We can just sit and talk together... be real together..."
He whispered, making sure Caleb understood that he had to be good and not use his gravity powers unless instructed. He undid the rest of the straps holding Caleb up to the wall, catching him in his arms when the man lost his balance.
Caleb stumbled forward, his legs weak from being restrained, and he gasped at the sudden freedom. Zayne caught him effortlessly, holding his weight. He was instantly furious. The promise was gone. No more touches, no more closeness, just sitting and talking.
"No."
He said immediately, his voice sharp and angry.
"I don't want to sit and talk."
Zayne nodded, not letting him go just yet.
"I know you don't want to, but you don't really have a choice."
He didn't let him go, looking at him with their faces inches apart.
"I'll let you out of the straitjacket too if you're good..."
Caleb's eyes darted between Zayne's face and his hands, calculating. He could use his evol. He could crush Zayne right now, snap him like a twig, escape this place once and for all. But seeing Zayne's calm gaze, that knowing smile that promised both punishment and reward...
"I'll be good."
He breathed, surrendering completely.
Zayne smiled slightly, almost as if he were reading the man's mind through his gaze.
"I know it's hard, but you've shown me that you're not dangerous, Caleb. All I'm asking is that you trust me the same way I trust you."
He spoke quietly.
"Are you wearing a shirt under the jacket?"
Caleb blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question about his attire. It was domestic, too domestic for a psychiatrist asking his dangerous patient. His mind was still reeling from the closeness, the promise of being released from the straitjacket.
"No shirt."
He admitted, his voice low.
Zayne nodded, slowly undoing the buckles holding Caleb bound.
"Shh, it's okay. If you get cold, tell me."
He mumbled, still holding him close as he pulled the jacket off the man. He looked at the red marks on his skin from being bound for so long, reaching out to softly touch them.
"Does it hurt?"
Caleb stiffened as the jacket slid off, the cool air hitting his bare skin and making him shiver. But the tenderness in Zayne's touch, the gentle fingers tracing the angry red marks left by the straps, made something twist inside him. He was exposed now, no longer bound, and Zayne was examining him like he mattered. Like he wasn't just a dangerous monster.
Zayne glanced between Caleb's marks and his face while waiting for an answer, slowly taking a step away from him without making sudden movements.
"You should've told me it was cutting into you that badly..."
He said with a small smile, shrugging off his suit jacket slowly. He reached around to place it around Caleb's shoulders, still careful.
"There we go, all decent again."
Caleb's eyes widened as Zayne's jacket settled over his shoulders, still radiating the doctor's warmth. He froze, not daring to move, speak, or even breathe too heavily. This was too intimate, too personal. The scent of Zayne's cologne enveloped him completely.
His voice came out strangled.
"Why do you keep doing this to me?"
Zayne smiled at the question, actually in disbelief over what he was doing right now.
"I guess I'm not exactly sure. Testing you, I suppose... and you're passing with flying colors."
He gently took Caleb's hand, leading him over to the desk chair he usually sat in.
"Take a seat. I'll sit on the desk."
Caleb allowed himself to be led, his bare feet padding across the cold floor. He sat heavily in the desk chair. It was soft, more comfortable than anything he'd touched in months. He clutched Zayne's jacket around his shoulders like a lifeline, eyes tracking the doctor as he perched on the desk edge.
"You're supposed to be assessing me."
He said quietly, squeezing the jacket fabric.
Zayne watched him fiddle with the jacket, chuckling.
"I've been doing that this whole time. You shouldn't be telling me how to do my job, though."
He joked quietly, his legs swinging casually.
Caleb huffed, looking down at his hands wrapped around the jacket. The sleeves hung past his fingertips, and he hated how small it made him feel. But he didn't let go.
"You're not very professional."
He muttered, glancing up through his lashes.
"Letting a dangerous patient sit in your chair. Wearing your jacket."
Zayne shrugged, not taking his eyes off Caleb.
"I'm not scared of you, Caleb. You won't go telling anyone I'm unprofessional because you prefer it this way. Even if you do, I'm doing this for you, not for myself."
He breathed out slowly.
"You're not a danger in my eyes, and I hope that doesn't have to change."
The words hit Caleb hard. Not a danger. Not a monster. Zayne spoke to him like he was... human. And the mention of reporting, Caleb snorted. Report what exactly? That his psychiatrist gave him a jacket and gentle touches? The board would laugh him out of the building.
"You're insane."
He said flatly, but his fingers tightened on the jacket.
Zayne couldn't help but let out a laugh, his hands slapping his thighs.
"That's rich coming from you."
He locked eyes with him, a little twinkle of something behind his eyes.
"You can put the jacket on properly, you know..."
Caleb rolled his eyes, but he did put the jacket on properly, slipping his arms through the sleeves and pulling the fabric around him like a security blanket. He hated how comfortable Zayne's clothes were, how they fit him perfectly and smelled like the doctor.
"It's too big."
He complained, tugging at the hem.
Zayne chuckled, shrugging.
"You've lost quite a bit of muscle mass during your stay here. We used to be the same size, I think. You might have been a little bigger than me when you started coming to my sessions. The food isn't the greatest here, I know..."
He smiled at him, rolling up the sleeves of his turtleneck.
Caleb looked down at himself, flexing his hands inside the oversized sleeves. Zayne was right. He was thinner. Weaker. The straitjacket and isolation had wasted him away. The reminder stung his pride.
"I used to be bigger than you."
He muttered defensively, his jaw tight.
"I was stronger. I could crush you."
He looked up at Zayne, challenging him.
Zayne looked down at him with the same smile.
"You still could if you wanted to. Do you want to?"
He questioned, trying to see what Caleb was on about.
The question hung in the air between them, charged and dangerous. Caleb stared at Zayne's throat, imagining his fingers around it, how easy it would be. The doctor was perched casually on the desk, legs swinging, so trusting. So stupid.
His voice was ice cold.
"I could snap your spine before you even registered I moved."
Zayne nodded, shrugging.
"Go ahead if you want to. It will be the fault of no one but myself."
He kept his eyes on him, seeing nothing but a scared kitten trying to look big with its tail poofed out.
Caleb's breath caught. No one had ever given him permission to hurt them, not even MC in their worst fights. Zayne was watching him, utterly unafraid, completely believing Caleb wouldn't. And he was right.
He slumped back in the chair, the oversized jacket swallowing him.
"You're fucking insane."
He whispered, but his hands were trembling now.
Zayne let out a soft laugh again, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Caleb, it's okay to feel frustrated with me. I know it's a lot to take in all at once, but look around. I'm here to listen and help with anything you might need help with. Tell me, how do you feel about me not being scared of you?"
Caleb's eyes darted around the room like he expected guards to burst in at any moment. Zayne wasn't scared. Zayne wasn't disgusted. Zayne was... sitting on his desk, asking how he felt about it like this was normal therapy.
"I don't understand you."
He finally choked out, staring at the floor.
"Everyone else runs. You lean in."
Zayne nodded, tapping his fingers on the desk.
"What would help you understand?"
He asked, feeling like he had done enough to cross boundaries in that session alone. What was one more boundary to cross?
Caleb paused. What would help him understand why this man, his doctor, the one who held his leash, wasn't afraid of him? He knew the answer was something he wasn't supposed to say. Something that would change everything.
He shifted in the chair, the jacket rustling against the leather.
"Would you..."
He swallowed.
"Show me?"
His voice was barely above a whisper.
Zayne nodded, giving Caleb the opportunity to get to know him.
"I can, if you want me to. How would you like me to show you?"
He asked softly, his feet still dangling off the desk.
Caleb's throat felt tight. He didn't know how to articulate the terrifying need clawing at his chest, the need to see Zayne without the professional armor, without the doctor persona. Just... Zayne.
He hesitated, then leaned forward slowly, eyes darting between Zayne's face and his hands.
"Let me touch you."
He whispered, almost afraid to voice it.
Zayne knew it was coming sooner or later, not showing the slight unease.
"Go ahead. Touch me if you want to."
He shrugged, glancing at Caleb's hands.
Caleb's hands shook as he reached out, fingers hovering just above Zayne's knee. He was terrified, not of himself, but of Zayne flinching. Of pulling away. Of being told no after months of nothing.
His fingertips finally made contact, pressing into the fabric of Zayne's trousers, feeling the solid muscle beneath.
"You're warm."
He breathed, moving slowly up his thigh.
Zayne nodded, not flinching even when Caleb's hand moved up.
"Thank you."
He said, taking it as a compliment because everything from Caleb was positive in his eyes.
Caleb froze. Not a single pull away. No medical professional boundary reminder. Just a calm thank you. It shattered something in his brain.
He slid his hand higher, creeping dangerously close to the waistband of Zayne's trousers, pressing his palm flat against the man's hip. This was his psychiatrist. The man who held his leash. And he was letting Caleb touch him.
Zayne was hoping Caleb wouldn't focus too much on his crotch, but he still didn't warn him, not really caring about his touch. It was just a show of trust, his body still as he followed Caleb's hand with his eyes.
Caleb's fingers brushed the waistband, pausing. His heart was pounding so loud he was sure Zayne could hear it. He should stop. This was crossing a line, a real one, not the fuzzy ones they'd been dancing around all session.
But his thumb hooked under the fabric just slightly, pressing flat against warm skin.
"You don't have to let me..."
He murmured, not looking up.
Zayne stayed still, preferring it to be him Caleb crossed boundaries with rather than someone on the other side of the office door.
"I gave you my permission already. You don't have to keep going if it doesn't feel right."
He flipped the man's words back onto him, giving him the control back that he was clearly trying to push away.
Caleb's hand trembled at the waistband, fingers hooking just under the fabric. Zayne was giving him control, a dangerous gift. He could stop here. Be the good patient. The one who followed rules.
Instead, his hand slipped lower, palm pressing flat against Zayne's stomach, feeling the controlled breath beneath his touch.
"What if I want it to feel wrong?"
Zayne looked down at his hand, leaning back to give him better access.
"Do you want it to feel wrong with just me? Or with anyone going forward?"
He asked, still analyzing him.
The question caught Caleb off guard. He hadn't expected Zayne to spin it back into a clinical assessment. His hand stayed pressed against Zayne's stomach, feeling the warmth radiating through the thin fabric of his turtleneck. The distinction mattered.
He swallowed hard.
"With you."
He said quietly, then immediately looked suspicious.
"Why does that matter?"
Zayne smiled slightly, shrugging.
"I don't want you to get out of here and think that everyone else will let you do what you're doing to me now. If they say no and you still want it to feel wrong, that's concerning. Whatever you think this is, is certainly concerning too, but I know how you're feeling, so it's not as bad."
He explained quietly, cursing himself for enabling Caleb. He really believed it would help him in the long run, though.
Caleb went rigid, the logic hitting him like a bucket of ice water. Zayne was effectively deprogramming him for the outside world, teaching him the difference between permission given by a trusted handler and violation. It was twisted, brilliant, and terrifyingly intimate.
He pulled his hand back slowly, his expression darkening.
"You're playing a game."
Zayne shrugged, not flinching at the loss of his touch.
"I'm playing a game with my life every second I spend in this room without you up against that wall. I have to at least get something out of it, don't I?"
Caleb stared at him, genuinely stunned. That was arguably the most unethical thing a psychiatrist had ever admitted to him. Zayne wasn't treating him. Zayne was managing him, bending rules, risking his career to manipulate him into stability.
He slumped back into the oversized jacket, realizing the depth of the leash Zayne held.
"You are completely insane."
He whispered.
Zayne lit up as he watched all the dots connecting in Caleb's head, smiling like a ray of sunshine.
"That's the best you can do? Call me insane? My methods might be different, but I'm still the only medically sane person in this room."
Caleb let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. The sunlit smile on Zayne's face was disorienting, bright and genuine in a way that felt wrong in this conversation about manipulation, consent, and dangerous games.
"You really believe that, don't you?"
He shook his head slowly.
"I've met doctors before. I've met people before."
Zayne looked way too proud of himself.
"Have any of them cured you? Have any of them made you feel like you could be a functioning member of society again after being labeled a monster for years?"
He pushed, leaning his elbows on his thighs to get into Caleb's personal space again.
Caleb felt the familiar coil of frustration tighten in his chest. Zayne had a point, a dangerous one. No one had ever made him feel functional. No one had ever treated him as anything but a contained hazard. Zayne was giving him hope, letting him test boundaries, making him feel human again.
He lowered his voice to a dangerous murmur.
"You haven't cured me."
"Not yet."
Zayne said quietly.
"It takes time, sculpting the mind of someone so hurt and wounded into something acceptable... but I'm working on it."
He shrugged, hopping off the desk.
Caleb watched him hop down, his breath catching. Zayne was moving freely now, no longer perched safely out of reach. He stood before Caleb, close enough that their knees almost touched.
The word "yet" echoed in his skull. Not if. Yet.
He grabbed Zayne's wrist before either of them could think better of it. His grip was firm but not painful, a test.
Zayne glanced down at Caleb's hand around his wrist, not pulling away. He didn't lean in either, just staring at him in an almost challenging way.
Caleb held his gaze for a long, breathless moment. His thumb traced circles over Zayne's pulse point, feeling it quicken, betraying the calm facade. Good. He wasn't as unaffected as he pretended.
Then, slowly, he brought Zayne's wrist to his lips and pressed a kiss to the inside of it, just below the thumb. A question more than an action.
Zayne watched him place the soft kiss on the inside of his wrist, not reacting much. He couldn't let it show, even if Caleb wanted a reaction, letting him do whatever he pleased.
Caleb lingered there, lips against skin, breathing Zayne in. He was looking for something, a twitch, a hitch in breath, anything that said this was affecting him the way it was wrecking Caleb apart. Nothing. Zayne was stone.
He released the wrist slowly, lips barely brushing the skin as he pulled away.
"You don't feel anything, do you?"
It wasn't a question.
Zayne shrugged, walking around the desk to grab his water bottle.
"You're testing me and stopping when you don't get a reaction. That says more about you than me. There's no reason for you to test me. I'm the one who's supposed to be testing and observing you."
Caleb's jaw tightened. Zayne was right. He was trying to evoke a response because he needed it, needed the validation that this closeness, this twisted intimacy, mattered to someone other than him. He looked pathetic.
He laughed darkly.
"You're good."
He admitted, hating that he meant it.
"I've had six psychiatrists before you."
Zayne nodded, gulping down the water before offering him some again.
"I know I'm good. I don't need you to tell me that."
He smirked, almost cocky about not needing validation.
Caleb watched the water disappear behind the smirk, finding it utterly grating. Zayne had no right to act so unphased, so superior. Especially not when their dynamic was this twisted and asymmetrical. He suddenly wanted to snap at him, put him in his place.
"You're arrogant."
He spat.
"And fucking boring."
He watched for a reaction.
Zayne scoffed, shrugging.
"However will I survive now?"
He mumbled with his hands up in the air. He leaned in closer, resting his hands on the leather armrests on either side of Caleb.
"You can't hurt me, Caleb. Not physically, not emotionally."
Caleb stared into his eyes, trapped in that cage of arms and leather. The proximity was suffocating, bringing the scent of Zayne's clean cologne and sterile soap right into his nose. He hated how composed Zayne was, how easily he dismantled Caleb's attempts to rattle him.
He leaned forward until their noses brushed.
"That sounds like a challenge."
He whispered.
Zayne hummed, deliberately dropping his eyes to Caleb's lips.
"How about you stop being a pussy for once and do something about it then? Big bad criminal, right? I see no one but a needy boy in front of me."
Caleb's blood ran cold at the insult. A needy boy, that was exactly what he'd been all session. Chasing contact, demanding validation, testing boundaries just to be seen. Zayne's lips were inches from his, mocking him with the very thing he desired most.
His hand shot up, gripping Zayne's jaw hard.
"Do not call me that."
Zayne smirked, clearly unphased.
"Or what?"
That arrogance snapped something fundamental in Caleb's brain. The "needy boy" comment, the smirk, the absolute refusal to be intimidated, it was dangerous. He wasn't dealing with a psychiatrist anymore. He was dealing with a man actively baiting him.
He slammed Zayne back against the desk with violent force, their mouths colliding.
Zayne laughed against Caleb's lips, kissing back just to fuel the determination the other man was clearly lacking. He placed his hands on Caleb's waist, even letting out a soft groan at the kiss before pushing him off. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, scoffing.
"So much for the obsession you claim to have for MC... you're literally fine."
Caleb stumbled back, lips still buzzing from the kiss that had been more challenge than connection. Zayne had kissed him back, participated, even, to prove a point. To show him he was replaceable, that his obsession was performative. The humiliation was scalding.
He wiped his mouth roughly with his sleeve, breathing hard.
"Don't."
Zayne leaned back against the desk again, crossing his arms over his chest with the same shit eating smirk.
"How does that make you feel, Caleb?"
Caleb stared at him, chest heaving, his humiliation turning into a sharp, jagged rage. Zayne had used him, proved a point, and now he was back to playing the fucking psychiatrist, analyzing Caleb like a rat in a maze.
"Like I want to tear your throat out."
He snarled.
"You manipulated me."
Zayne rolled his turtleneck down to expose his neck, shrugging.
"Go right ahead. Let me manipulate you further if that's what you want..."
He taunted.
Caleb stared at the exposed throat, smooth, pale, utterly fucking arrogant. Zayne was literally offering his jugular, proving there was absolutely no fear, knowing Caleb was too obsessed, too dependent, and too fucking trained to actually harm him.
He snarled, slamming his hands onto the desk on either side of Zayne, trapping him.
"You are absolutely unbearable."
He breathed.
Zayne let go of the turtleneck, watching him stand over him without a care in the world.
"Yet you crave more."
He said matter of factly, spreading his legs slightly to make Caleb spread his too.
Caleb groaned in frustration, shuffling his feet apart to accommodate the space Zayne demanded, hating how easily his body obeyed the silent command. Zayne was dissecting him in real time, pointing out the sick dependency Caleb tried so hard to mask with violence.
He leaned down, his nose brushing Zayne's jaw.
"Stop psychoanalyzing me."
He hissed.
Zayne just wrapped his arms around Caleb, pulling him into his lap.
"I don't need to anymore. You're fine. I'll discharge you tomorrow morning."
He said softly, simply pulling him against his chest.
Caleb went rigid, the aggression instantly draining out of him like water. This was the worst manipulation possible, not threats, not insults, but immediate, unconditional affection. He was being treated like a pathetic, needy child, and his body melted into it instantly.
He buried his face against Zayne's neck, surrendering completely.
"Don't do that."
He whispered weakly.
Zayne shushed him, rubbing his back.
"Don't do what, Caleb? Aren't you happy?"
He whispered.
Caleb tightened his grip on Zayne's shirt, his fist bunching the soft fabric. Happy. The word felt wrong. He wasn't happy, he was terrified. Discharge meant freedom, and freedom meant being alone with his own head again, without this man keeping him anchored.
He pressed his forehead harder into Zayne's neck.
"Don't discharge me."
His voice cracked slightly.
"Please."
Zayne sighed, gentle with him.
"Why not? Are you afraid of losing me?"
He whispered, lifting Caleb's chin to make him look up at him.
"Be honest."
Caleb's jaw clenched, his eyes burning. Honesty. Zayne was demanding honesty like he hadn't just psychologically dismantled him for the past hour. But Caleb was exhausted, no, he was empty. There was no point in lying anymore.
His bottom lip trembled slightly before he bit down hard to stop it.
"I don't know who I am without you telling me."
He admitted through gritted teeth.
Zayne shook his head, smiling slightly.
"You do know, Caleb. It's scary, I know... but there's nothing I can do to help you further. You're not obsessed with MC, it was just a facade. The bond is strong, yes, but you just showed me it's not her you're actually after. You just need connection. If I'm good enough for you, if you respect the boundaries I set, you're ready to go home. You can keep seeing me, yes, you'll have to anyway. But there's no reason for you to be isolated. It doesn't help you, Caleb."
Caleb's entire brain seemed to stutter. Zayne had stripped him naked, psychologically speaking. No obsession with MC. No obsession with soulmates. Just a desperate, starving need for connection, validation, and guidance, which Zayne had provided perfectly.
He buried his face against Zayne's shoulder, trembling.
"I won't break your rules."
He whispered desperately.
"I swear. I'll behave."
Zayne nodded, still rubbing his back.
"I know, Caleb. Nothing will undo what you did in the past, but it's important that you don't do it again. You'll be okay out there, right?"
Caleb swallowed hard against the sudden terror of the concept. Out there. No padded walls, no nurses, no restraints, no daily sessions with the only person who could actually manage his brain. But the alternative was staying here, and that wasn't an option anymore.
He nodded slowly against Zayne's shoulder, breathing him in.
"I'll be okay."
Zayne nodded, glad his peculiar treatment was working.
"I'm glad."
He pulled away slightly, kissing Caleb's forehead.
"So what was up with the touching and kissing me? Why did you do that?"
He asked, no longer analyzing him. He was just curious. Or was he?
Caleb flushed instantly, humiliation hitting him hard because there was no mental illness excuse left. Zayne had just exposed that his obsession wasn't MC. It was attachment. Pure, desperate attachment.
He ducked his head, avoiding Zayne's eyes.
"I... I wanted you."
He whispered honestly.
"You manipulate me perfectly and I like it. I needed your attention."
Zayne squinted at him.
"So transference... the one thing you swore up and down it wasn't?"
He chuckled.
"Maybe I should keep you around for a little longer?"
Caleb turned bright red, utterly busted. The absolute bastard knew exactly what he'd done. He had spent months insisting his obsession was MC, that his fixation on Zayne was purely professional.
He buried his face against Zayne's chest, muffling a desperate whine.
"That is fucking cruel."
He complained.
"You cannot diagnose me with transference after actively encouraging it."
Zayne hummed, shaking his head.
"I won't put it in your file. They won't discharge you if I do."
He chuckled.
"I could encourage it more, honestly. You'll have to change psychiatrists soon anyway, so we might as well just fuck or something, right?"
Caleb's head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief, and something dangerously close to hope. Zayne couldn't be serious. He was always the one enforcing boundaries, drawing lines, maintaining clinical distance. But here he was, joking about fucking like it was nothing.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
"You're mocking me."
Zayne chuckled softly, nodding.
"I am, yeah. You chose a bitch of a psychiatrist to do this with. Can't blame you, though..."
He shrugged.
"Who would top if we did, though? I think me..."
Caleb's mouth fell open. Not because of the suggestion, he'd fantasized about that more than he'd ever admit, but because Zayne was casually negotiating sexual positions like he was choosing which pen to use. He was being practical and utterly devastating.
He narrowed his eyes.
"You honestly think you'd top me?"
A challenge sneaked into his voice despite the humiliation.
Zayne kept the smirk on, shrugging.
"Now that I think about it, I wouldn't even have to try. You'd hop on and ride me in this exact position if I gave you permission right now. That's kinda how transference works, Caleb."
He rubbed it in, laughing about it.
Caleb stared at him, his jaw tightening. His face burned with shame, but underneath, that dark, hungry part of his brain was cataloging the details. The posture. The position. The absolute fucking casualness of Zayne describing sexual acts with clinical detachment.
He forced a laugh.
"That is not what transference is."
He said, even as his stomach dropped.
Zayne shook his head, his eyebrows shooting up.
"No? Are you trying to argue with a literal psychiatrist about what transference is?"
He chuckled, going back to his usual smirk.
"I dare you, then."
Caleb opened his mouth, then closed it. He couldn't. Zayne was both his psychiatrist and the only person who had ever seen through him, and that was fucked up. He was literally arguing sexual dynamics with the man who held his psychiatric file.
He shifted in Zayne's lap, feeling the friction of their clothes.
"You wouldn't let me ride you."
Zayne shrugged, knowing damn well that Caleb was right.
"You like testing me, don't you? Go ahead and try."
He chuckled, enabling the poor guy.
Caleb's brain short circuited. Zayne was actively dismantling every boundary he'd spent months building. First the kissing, then the lap, now permission to climb on top of him.
He moved forward slowly, his hands gripping Zayne's shoulders, watching his face for any sign of genuine warning.
"If I do this, you have to promise not to analyze me immediately after."
He whispered.
Zayne held onto Caleb's waist, looking up at him like he wasn't convinced.
"May I do it during? Just a little..."
He bit his lip, getting off the desk with him in his arms.
"Just a little..."
Caleb let out a strangled sound, caught somewhere between aroused and absolutely horrified. He was literally being held by his psychiatrist, wrapped around him like a koala, while the man asked permission to psychoanalyze him during sex.
He buried his burning face in Zayne's neck.
"You are the actual devil."
He breathed.
"During? Seriously?"
Zayne shrugged, getting all comfy in the plush leather chair.
"I can live with that."
He whispered, pushing the jacket he had lent Caleb earlier off the man's shoulders.
Caleb let the jacket slide off, feeling exposed, both physically and emotionally. Zayne was settling in like this was a normal Tuesday, not a violation of every clinical boundary in existence.
He hovered over Zayne's lap, his hands braced on the armrests, watching him with wary eyes.
"You're going to be insufferable about this tomorrow, aren't you?"
Zayne reached behind his back, pulling the stupid turtleneck off himself too.
"I might be, who knows?"
He chuckled, looking into Caleb's eyes.
Caleb's breath caught. Zayne was half naked beneath him, casual and unbothered, like he hadn't just upended Caleb's entire understanding of their dynamic. His hands trembled against the armrests.
"You're not... you're not going to stop this?"
He searched Zayne's face desperately.
"I'm supposed to be the unstable one. You're supposed to be the one who stops me."
Zayne shrugged, realizing Caleb would be just fine when released. He could see that his mind was sane enough. Even when littered with transference, he was still questioning him.
"You're right. I don't know what I was thinking."
He lost the smirk, shaking his head.
Caleb's stomach dropped out. The ground vanished beneath him. One second he was being offered everything he secretly wanted, and the next, the cold, clinical wall slammed back down between them.
He scrambled off Zayne's lap instantly, humiliation flooding his veins as he grabbed the jacket from the floor to cover his bare chest.
"Stop fucking doing that."
He snapped, his voice shaking.
Zayne got up too, smiling at him.
"Oh, Caleb..."
He mumbled, messing up the other man's hair as he walked past him to grab his turtleneck.
"Let's continue the session after a short break, what do you say?"
Caleb stood frozen, half naked and furious. Zayne had just toyed with him, dangled exactly what he wanted, permission, touch, physical connection, then yanked it away with that infuriatingly calm smile.
He pulled the jacket tighter around himself.
"Are we doing exposure therapy for my fucking sanity?"
He demanded.
"Because this feels like torture, not treatment."
Zayne turned back to him, fixing his shirt into place.
"Yeah, I am. Caleb, I know it's uncomfortable, but... this is exactly where I wanted to see you before discharging you."
Caleb's anger faltered, replaced by confusion. What did that mean? Zayne had just shown him something, let him ride the edge of crossing every boundary, only to pull back. That wasn't random.
He watched Zayne smooth his shirt, his jaw clenching.
"You wanted me to want you."
He stated, not asked.
Zayne shook his head.
"I wanted you to want me to stop you. Had you just started undressing me without questioning me, I wouldn't have discharged you tomorrow."
He came closer, holding onto Caleb's shoulders.
"I had you figured out a few months ago, Caleb. That's why I asked MC to stop visiting you. To let you see that it wasn't her. I lied about her not calling. During every single session."
Caleb went completely still. His mind replayed months of sessions, the conversations about MC, Zayne claiming she hadn't called, the carefully constructed narrative that Caleb's obsession was with his stepsister. All of it was a lie.
His hands trembled against the jacket.
"How long?"
He forced out, his voice cracking.
"How long have you been manipulating my treatment?"
Zayne sighed softly, smiling like he had won a lottery.
"The entire time. As soon as I figured out the chip in your brain hadn't malfunctioned. As soon as I realized that you're just lonely and focusing on one person for no reason. That's when it started."
Caleb's knees threatened to give out. The foundation of his understanding crumbled. MC never stopped visiting. He'd been pining after ghosts Zayne carefully placed before him. Zayne had known all along that the chip wasn't broken. That he was always like this.
He laughed, a broken, hollow sound.
"You made me beg for therapy I didn't need."
Zayne nodded, chuckling too.
"Kind of, yeah. It was either that or you rotting in prison for the rest of your life. I don't hear a thank you..."
Caleb stared at him, his chest heaving. The audacity, manipulating his entire reality for months, yet now casually claiming he'd saved him from prison.
He stepped closer, his eyes wild but vulnerable.
"I could strangle you right now."
He whispered, his hand rising to press against Zayne's chest.
"But you already knew that too, didn't you?"
Zayne softly guided Caleb's hand to his own neck, still smiling.
"Yes... and yet you still can. It'd be my honor to die at the hands of my favorite patient."
He winked.
Caleb's fingers twitched against Zayne's pulse. He could feel it, steady, slow, completely unhurried. Like Zayne was genuinely offering his life and wasn't bluffing.
His thumb pressed against the carotid artery, just enough pressure to feel the blood jumping beneath the skin.
"You're insane."
He murmured, leaning in until their foreheads almost touched.
Zayne leaned in the rest of the way, biting his lip.
"And you're cured."
He said quietly, testing him again.
Caleb's hand tightened instinctively around Zayne's throat, not to hurt, but to anchor himself. The word hung in the air between them, heavier than any diagnosis he'd ever received.
Cured.
He stared deep into Zayne's eyes, searching for the trap.
"You just broke my entire reality and put me back together in ten minutes."
He whispered.
Zayne didn't even blink, nodding.
"I'm so great, aren't I?" he whispered, his god complex showing.
Caleb let out a breathless laugh, his fingers still curled around Zayne's throat. The absurdity of it, the power dynamic had shifted. He was the one holding Zayne's life in his hands, and Zayne was preening like he'd just been handed an award.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against Zayne's ear.
"You're going to regret ever putting me up for discharge."
Zayne leaned closer, licking Caleb's neck seductively just to prove a point.
"Impossible."
He whispered, blowing cool air over the wet stripe he had just left on his jugular.
Caleb shuddered violently, his grip on Zayne's throat faltering for a split second. The wet stripe burned like ice against his skin, and the cool air made it worse. His brain screamed that this was transference, a boundary violation, unethical.
His hips bucked forward involuntarily, pressing against Zayne.
"You're doing that on purpose."
He hissed through gritted teeth.
Zayne simply pulled away and smiled.
"Session over."
He licked his lips and gently removed Caleb's hand from around his throat, turning around to grab the notebook he had neglected at the start of the session.
Caleb stood there, heart pounding, half hard and utterly wrecked. Zayne had just given him everything and then yanked it away again, cleanly and clinically, like flipping a switch.
He watched the doctor jot down notes as though nothing had happened.
"You're a sadist."
He breathed, running a hand through his hair.
"A genuinely clinical sadist."
Zayne didn't even look up from the notebook.
"Go on and tell a nurse then."
He smirked to himself.
Caleb froze, realizing exactly how fucked he was. If he complained that his psychiatrist had deliberately sexually manipulated him, manipulated his reality, and teased him into submission, nobody would believe him. They'd diagnose a paranoid relapse.
He grabbed his jacket and pulled it tighter around himself.
"You weaponized my mental health."
He accused.
"That is illegal, Zayne."
Zayne chuckled, glancing up at him.
"I don't care, Caleb. Lock me up if you find a way to do it. Just be careful in case I end up being your cellmate."
Caleb's breath caught. Zayne wasn't even denying it. He was inviting the consequence. The man was so far beyond ethics that he'd stopped pretending to care.
He took a step closer to the desk.
"Then why discharge me?"
He asked quietly.
"You clearly like having me here. You like having me wrapped around your finger."
He tilted his head.
Zayne smirked at how Caleb simply couldn't leave him alone.
"Someone else will come and replace you. Then I get to play with them a little too. Maybe they'll catch on earlier than you did, or maybe I'll actually get to fuck them. Can't wait."
He bit his lip, his eyebrows pulled together.
Caleb felt the words like a physical blow. The casual cruelty of it, the replacement, the explicit promise of fucking someone else. Zayne wasn't just playing with him. He was discarding him.
He grabbed the edge of the desk, his knuckles white.
"Don't."
He said, his voice dangerously quiet.
"Don't replace me with someone else. Don't fuck them."
Zayne sighed, actually feeling bad.
"Are you jealous, Caleb? The session is over. You shouldn't be talking to me anymore."
He placed his pen down, interlinking his fingers over the notebook.
Caleb flinched at the word, jealous. As if that captured even a fraction of the possessive rage burning through his veins. Zayne was dismissing him, effectively ending their connection, yet simultaneously flaunting the possibility of replacing him with someone else to fuck.
He leaned forward, his voice strained.
"You're doing it again."
He accused.
Zayne nodded, laughing softly.
"Fucking hell. I thought you'd realize by now that I'll keep doing it as long as you're here. The last thing was kind of supposed to hurt you enough to allow you to fuck off, but you're holding onto it. Maybe I need to hurt you worse?"
Caleb's jaw tightened, the cruelty behind the words sinking in deep. Zayne was admitting to calculated malice, inflicting pain specifically to push him away. It was a twisted, professional form of rejection.
He slowly released his grip on the desk, forcing his hands to hang limp at his sides.
"Go ahead."
He challenged, his eyes burning.
"Hurt me worse. Make me leave."
Zayne pouted sympathetically, patting his lap.
"C'mere, Caleb. Let me break you."
He whispered, promising him everything.
Caleb's legs moved before his brain could intervene. He sank onto Zayne's lap, straddling him through their clothes, his hands finding those broad shoulders again. This was the trap. Zayne was offering comfort and destruction simultaneously.
He settled against Zayne's chest, listening to that maddeningly steady heartbeat.
"You're not actually going to hurt me."
Zayne shook his head, holding the man close.
"I would never..."
Caleb closed his eyes, melting into the lie. Zayne's arms around him, his heartbeat steady, his tone gentle, it all felt like salvation. But the man had just threatened to psychologically break him specifically to make him leave.
He buried his face in Zayne's neck, breathing him in.
"You already did."
He murmured against his skin.
Zayne shushed him quietly, rocking Caleb in his arms.
"It was foolish of me to think you'd let go that easily, Caleb. I'm sorry..."
He whispered, kissing the top of his head.
The apology hit Caleb harder than any punishment. Zayne admitting he'd tried to break him specifically, and failing because Caleb was too consumed, felt like both absolution and condemnation. His entire existence had been dismantled and rebuilt, yet he was still sitting on his psychiatrist's lap.
He trembled against Zayne's chest.
"You wanted me gone."
Zayne shook his head, holding him against his chest.
"I wanted you cured, Caleb. If curing you meant you had to go, I was willing to take that risk."
He whispered, staring at the notebook.
Caleb looked up at him, searching that stoic, clinical face for even a hint of deception, but found none. Zayne had actually been willing to push him away, sacrifice the connection, if it meant his genuine recovery. The words settled between them, heavy and bitter.
He swallowed hard, gripping Zayne's shoulders.
"Then let me go."
He said quietly.
Zayne looked at him with a small smile, letting go of the man.
"Go."
He encouraged, nodding slowly. Was Caleb testing him again? Or was it just another tactic?
Caleb stayed. His legs refused to move. He was testing Zayne, seeing if the doctor would actually let him walk away without another manipulation, another pull. But Zayne was just staring at him, encouraging him.
He shifted on Zayne's lap, the friction stirring unwanted arousal.
"You just said you'd let me go."
He pushed, his voice straining.
Zayne sighed, helping him position himself sideways on his lap.
"I am letting you go, Caleb. You just have to let me go too."
He whispered, setting his hand on the man's thigh.
Caleb's breath hitched. It wasn't the physical contact, that was just Zayne being Zayne. It was the ultimatum. Letting go wasn't just about leaving the session. It was about untangling his obsession, his dependency, the warped reality Zayne had helped him build.
He turned his head, pressing his lips to Zayne's jaw.
"I don't know how."
Zayne let out a soft moan at the kiss on his jaw.
"You do, Caleb. I've told you all about transference when you were claiming it wasn't it."
He whispered, turning to face him.
Caleb felt the soft moan vibrate against his lips, and it was the confirmation he simultaneously craved and despised. Zayne was affected, not just a bored professional, but a man who enjoyed this. The transference argument was a well worn shield, one Caleb had heard countless times.
He kissed down Zayne's neck, his voice muffled.
"Then it's not transference."
Zayne shook his head, allowing the soft kisses. His hand moved higher, playing with the waistband of Caleb's pajama pants.
"I've never been wrong."
He whispered, sliding his hand inside the man's pants.
Caleb's head dropped back immediately, a broken gasp escaping him as Zayne's hand slipped inside his pants. This wasn't clinical detachment. This wasn't treating a patient. This was intimacy wrapped in psychological manipulation, and he was drowning in it.
He bucked his hips involuntarily, one hand clutching Zayne's shoulder.
"Stop diagnosing me."
He choked out.
Zayne wrapped his fingers around Caleb's cock, breathing heavily.
"That's my job, Caleb..."
He whispered, slowly teasing the man's most private area as he argued.
Caleb's entire body jerked, a broken moan tearing from his throat as Zayne wrapped skilled fingers around his length. It was the ultimate contradiction, the psychiatrist clinically deconstructing his obsession while sexually stimulating him, arguing psychology while ruining him physically.
He fell back against Zayne's chest, his legs spreading automatically.
"That is NOT your fucking job."
He choked out.
Zayne leaned down to kiss his forehead, his hand moving slowly and deliberately.
"You know better than me, don't you?"
He whispered, pinching the tip of the man's cock.
Caleb's vision went white at the pinch, a strangled cry escaping his lips. Zayne was weaponizing his knowledge of Caleb's body against him, using the very intimacy he claimed was pathological to prove his point. The kiss on the forehead was the cruelest touch, a gesture of care while his hand violated professional boundaries.
He was unraveling completely.
"Please..."
Zayne shushed him quietly, burying his face in Caleb's hair.
"It's okay, Caleb. Tell me what you need..."
The question was the cruelest of all, a simple request for Caleb to articulate his desires, to make the unspoken needs explicit. Zayne knew Caleb couldn't tell him what he needed without making the transference undeniable.
He was shaking, his fingers still hooked into the edge of Zayne's lap.
"Don't."
He whispered, his voice trembling.
"Just... fuck me."
Zayne sighed and pulled his hand away, pushing Caleb off his lap.
"Bend over the desk."
He mumbled, fidgeting with the buckle of his belt as he went through the drawers in his desk to find the lube he kept there just in case.
Caleb's legs almost gave out when Zayne removed his hand and shoved him off his lap. That casual dismissal, followed by the command, made him feel like a toy being used. Zayne kept lube in his desk. He had prepared for this.
He stumbled forward, his palms hitting the wooden surface as he bent over, his ass in the air.
"You're not... not supposed to..."
Zayne looked down at him, his own hard cock freed and throbbing in his hand as he looked for the lube.
"Fine, I won't."
He withdrew at Caleb's words, getting back in the chair. He didn't put his dick away, stroking himself slowly.
"You'll do it yourself, won't you?"
Caleb glanced back over his shoulder, seeing Zayne stroking himself casually in the chair like it was a casual Tuesday task. The man was hot, hard, and completely unbothered by the ethical dumpster fire happening in this office.
He squeezed the lube onto his fingers, looking up at Zayne imploringly.
"I don't know how to..."
He stopped, catching himself.
"Fuck."
Zayne winced, seeing Caleb struggle, and grabbed his wrist since he couldn't watch him like that.
"C'mere, I'll show you."
He whispered, pulling him into his lap again.
"You've never fingered yourself, have you?"
Caleb froze at the humiliating question, his pride screaming against the admission.
"No."
He whispered, feeling foolish. How was he supposed to know what to do with his own body when he'd never been taught? And now Zayne was going to show him, a sexual education from his psychiatrist while sitting on his lap.
He swallowed hard.
"I don't know where..."
Zayne sighed softly, guiding Caleb's fingers behind him as his other hand wrapped around both of their cocks.
"Just relax, okay? It'll hurt a little, so start with one... right here."
He showed him, gently stroking them both to distract him.
Caleb whimpered at the dual stimulation, Zayne's hand stroking his cock while guiding his own finger toward his entrance. The position was degrading and intimate, his ass in the air while his psychiatrist literally held his dick. He tried to focus on the touch, but the vulnerability was overwhelming.
His finger hovered at the entrance, trembling.
"It's too small."
Zayne chuckled, shaking his head.
"Look at me, Caleb."
He moaned quietly, slapping Caleb's hand away from his entrance.
"Can I just do it for you? I promise you it's not too small..."
Caleb almost sobbed with relief when Zayne slapped his hand away. He couldn't do this. He couldn't navigate his own anatomy while being clinically observed by the man holding his soul in his hands. The admission that he needed his doctor to do it for him was pathetic, but he was past caring.
He nodded frantically, burying his face in Zayne's neck.
"Please."
Zayne smiled and nodded, leaning in to kiss him softly as his own finger slipped in past Caleb's rim.
"Just like that... relax for me, baby."
He whispered against his lips, not even noticing the pet name. He held his finger still, not wanting to hurt the man more than he already had.
Caleb jerked at the intrusion, a sharp cry muffled against Zayne's neck. It burned, stretching in a way he'd never felt before. But Zayne held him steady, one hand on his hip, the other still wrapped around both their cocks. The kiss was gentle, almost soothing, while his body was being overwhelmed.
He whimpered.
"I'm sorry..."
Zayne shook his head, smiling to reassure him.
"Don't apologize, shh... it'll feel better soon."
He whispered, curling his finger lightly to test him.
"How's that?"
Caleb gasped at the curl, feeling something inside him shift in a way he didn't understand. His hips twitched involuntarily, chasing the pressure. It still stung, but now there was a strange warmth blooming in his belly.
Drool slipped down his chin.
"I don't know..."
He squeezed Zayne's thigh desperately.
"I need to cum, doc."
Zayne raised his eyebrows in surprise, having not expected him to fold so fast.
"Okay, go ahead if you need to..."
He abandoned his own dick to grip Caleb's tighter, stroking him softly as he kept up the gentle fingering.
Caleb's breath became ragged, desperate bursts against Zayne's shoulder. The combination was devastating, Zayne's finger curling inside him, hitting spots he didn't know existed, while those same hands worked his cock with practiced ease.
His whole body seized, his back arching off Zayne's lap.
"Oh fuck..."
Zayne gasped when he felt Caleb's hot release hit his palm, helping him ride out the fast orgasm with the same practiced strokes.
"It's okay, Caleb... you did so good."
He whispered quietly against his temple, kissing it repeatedly.
Caleb came undone completely, his legs shaking, his face buried in Zayne's neck. He'd never come that fast or that hard in his life. The shame should have been overwhelming, coming like a virgin from his doctor's fingers, but Zayne's praise was undoing the humiliation.
His breathing slowed, but he didn't move.
"I ruined the session."
He murmured hoarsely.
Zayne shook his head, slowly pulling his finger out.
"Don't say that, Caleb. It's okay..."
He whispered, wrapping his arms around him even though his hands were messy.
Caleb trembled in Zayne's arms, feeling exposed and used. His body was still pressed against Zayne's chest, the psychiatrist's hard cock pressed between them, forgotten and ignored.
He whispered, his voice raw.
"You didn't... you didn't get to finish."
It felt wrong, Zayne giving him everything while his own need was unmet. That was backwards.
Zayne shook his head, kissing his head repeatedly.
"It's not necessary, Caleb. Are YOU alright?"
He asked quietly, making him look up by lifting his chin slightly.
Caleb's eyes were glassy, rimmed red with tears he hadn't noticed shedding. Zayne's kindness, asking about him when his own cock was still hard and neglected, broke something loose in Caleb's chest.
He looked up at Zayne, his voice wrecked.
"I'm... I don't know what I am."
He swallowed, reaching down with a shaking hand to wrap around Zayne's length.
Zayne caught his hand before he could touch him, bringing it to his lips instead.
"Oh, sweetheart..."
He kissed his shaking hand, having underestimated how broken the man would be.
"Just let me hold you, okay?"
Caleb dissolved instantly against him, the fight draining out of his limbs the moment Zayne kissed his hand. He wasn't allowed to fix it. He wasn't allowed to pleasure his doctor. He was just... held. The tenderness was devastating compared to the intimacy they'd just shared.
He buried his face in Zayne's neck, weeping silently.
"I'm sorry."
Zayne shushed him softly, pulling Caleb's pants up and tucking his own cock back into his boxers.
"Don't apologize, Caleb. I'm the one who was supposed to stop this..."
He whispered, holding him close against his chest.
Caleb flinched at the confession. Zayne was supposed to stop this. The professional boundary was his responsibility, yet he'd let Caleb come on his hand, fingered him, and called him baby.
He pulled back slightly, looking at Zayne with red, swollen eyes.
"Then why didn't you?"
The question hung between them, dangerous. Because if Zayne had a reason, Caleb needed to hear it.
Zayne froze at the question, the tears breaking his heart. He didn't have a reason. Not really.
"I don't know, Caleb. I'm sorry..."
He said quietly, reliving the moment they shared.
Caleb's heart cracked at the lack of an answer. He'd wanted a reason, a flaw, a weakness, something human that would justify why his doctor had crossed every line with him. But Zayne's simple "I don't know" was somehow worse. It meant he'd just... wanted to.
He leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to Zayne's, a question more than a kiss.
"That's enough."
Zayne sighed in relief against his lips, a small smile sneaking in when he realized that maybe Caleb wasn't destroyed by what had just happened.
"Thank you..."
He whispered, kissing him again.