The first session

𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐀'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕♡︎

𝐈 sat in the waiting room with my legs crossed so tight they ached. My hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting in my lap. 

The walls around me were white, calm, professional, but my heart was racing like I was waiting to be called into hell.

I almost stood up to leave when the door opened.

“Alessia Cruz?”

My head jerked up.

And there he was.

Dr. Zayn Steele.

The picture online had not done him justice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with tattoos peeking out from under the cuffs of his rolled-up shirt. 

His hair was messy in that deliberate way that screamed trouble, and his lips - oh goodness - his lips were full, with a silver piercing glinting on the lower one.

I forgot how to breathe for a second.

“That’s me,” I croaked.

He gave me a small smile, but his eyes… his eyes were sharp. Piercing. Like they saw everything. “Come in.”

I followed him into his office, every step making my pulse quicken. His office was warm but not cozy. 

Sleek furniture, shelves lined with books, a faint scent of leather and something darker -like musk.

He gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Sit.”

I obeyed, sitting stiffly, my knees pressed together.

He sat opposite me, leaning back like he had all the time in the world. His gaze traveled over me once - quick, but I felt it everywhere. My skin prickled.

“So,” he said, voice low, deep, smooth. “Why are you here, Alessia?”

I swallowed hard. “I… I…” The words stuck in my throat.

His brow arched. “You’re nervous.”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said simply, making me blink. “That means you care about this. Now. Tell me. What brought you here?”

I fiddled with the hem of my skirt. “My… my boyfriend. Ex. He broke up with me.”

“Why?”

Heat crawled up my neck. I wished the ground would swallow me. “Because he said I was… boring. In bed.”

Silence.

Then a soft chuckle. “Interesting.”

I glared at him, cheeks burning. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s not.” His lips curved slightly, that piercing glinting as he spoke. “But the way you said it, like you actually believed it - that’s what I find interesting.”

I looked away, embarrassed. “Maybe he’s right.”

“Do you believe him?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know anymore.”

Zayn leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. “Tell me about your sex life, Alessia.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“Your sex life,” he repeated, calm, like he’d just asked about the weather. “What do you enjoy? What excites you? What turns you on?”

My cheeks burned hotter than fire. “I- I don’t know.”

“Don’t know?”

I shook my head quickly. “I mean… I’ve never really thought about it. I just… did what I thought was expected.”

“And?”

“And… I guess it wasn’t enough.”

He hummed, eyes locked on mine. “So you’ve never explored what you want. What you crave.”

“I guess not,” I whispered.

He leaned back again, his gaze heavy on me. “Then let’s start there. Tell me the last time you touched yourself.”

I nearly choked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” His voice was silk and steel at once. “When was the last time you touched yourself, Alessia?”

My mouth went dry. “I… I don’t-”

“You don’t?” His brow arched. “Or you won’t say?”

“I don’t!” I blurted out, heat rushing through me. “I never really… I mean, I’ve tried, but it felt… weird. I stopped.”

His smirk deepened, the piercing catching the light. “That explains a lot.”

I gawked at him. “You’re supposed to be a therapist. Aren’t you meant to be… professional?”

“I am being professional,” he said smoothly. “You came here because your ex called you boring. My job is to find out why you think that’s true. And right now, I see a woman who’s been too afraid to even touch herself. Tell me, Alessia - how can you expect to please anyone else when you don’t even know how to please yourself?”

My legs squeezed tighter. His words hit too close.

“I…” My voice cracked. “I don’t know how.”

“Good.” His eyes darkened. “That means we can work on it.”

The way he said it - we - sent a shiver racing down my spine.

I fidgeted in my chair, tugging at my skirt. His eyes followed the movement.

“You’re nervous again,” he murmured.

“I can’t help it. You’re - you’re-” I stopped, mortified.

His lips twitched. “Say it.”

“You’re intimidating.”

“Good.” He smirked, leaning back, stretching his broad shoulders like a predator at ease. “I should be.”

I stared at him, my heart hammering. His voice, his presence - it was overwhelming.

“Tell me,” he said suddenly. “When you imagine someone touching you, what do you see?”

My mouth fell open. “I - I don’t-”

“You do.” His tone was firm. “Close your eyes. Picture it.”

I froze. But my eyes fluttered shut before I could stop them.

“Where do his hands go first?” he asked softly, voice sinking into me.

I swallowed hard. “Um… my waist.”

“Lower,” he urged.

Heat rushed through me. “My thighs.”

“Does he grip them?”

I nodded, my breath shaky.

“Does he tease? Make you wait?”

My lips parted. “Yes.”

“Good.” His voice dropped even lower. “And what does he whisper in your ear while you’re trembling?”

I whimpered softly, the image in my head burning me alive. “I don’t know…”

“You do.” His voice was silk and sin. “Does he tell you you’re his? Does he tell you he won’t let anyone else have you?”

My body jolted at his words.

I snapped my eyes open, gasping. “Dr. Steele-”

He leaned closer, his sharp gaze locked on mine. The smirk was gone. His face was serious, intense.

“You blush so easily,” he murmured. “Your body betrays you. Every word I say, every question I ask- you feel it.”

“I don’t-”

“Yes, you do.” His eyes burned into me. “You feel it right now, don’t you? In your thighs. In your chest. Everywhere.”

My lips trembled, but no words came out.

He leaned in even closer, the piercing on his lip glinting under the light. His breath brushed against my cheek, making my skin tingle.

“If you keep staring at me like that, Alessia,” he whispered, his voice husky and dangerous, “I won’t be able to stay professional.”

I swallowed hard. “You’re not supposed to say things like that.”

He tilted his head, lips curving into a slow smirk. “Maybe. But you like hearing it.”

My stomach twisted. “I don’t-”

“You do.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for denial. “Your cheeks flush. Your breathing changes. You grip the arms of that chair like you’re holding on for dear life. You want me to keep talking, Alessia.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. God, he was right.

“I…” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe.”

“Good.” His eyes glinted. “Then let’s continue.”

He leaned back slightly, giving me just enough space to breathe, but his presence still filled the room. He rested his arm on the chair, tattoos flexing as his hand curled lazily.

“Close your eyes again.”

I hesitated. “Why?”

“Because I said so.” His tone was calm, controlled, but it sent a shiver through me.

I obeyed, my lashes fluttering shut.

“Now,” he murmured, “picture it again. Someone touching you. Start from the beginning. Where do his eyes go first?”

My lips parted. “My… chest.”

“Of course,” he drawled. “And how do you feel when his gaze lingers there?”

Heat flooded my body. “Exposed.”

“Do you like it?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

“Say it louder.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was silk. “Does he touch you there? Or does he make you wait?”

My thighs squeezed together. “Wait.”

“Smart,” Zayn said softly. “And when he finally does? Does he take his time, or is he greedy?”

My breath caught. “Greedy.”

“Hmm.” I heard the faint sound of his chair creaking as he leaned closer. His voice brushed my ear. “Does that excite you, Alessia? When he can’t control himself? When he can’t help but grab you like he owns you?”

A soft moan slipped past my lips before I could stop it.

My eyes flew open in horror. “Oh my goodness-”

But Zayn was smirking, lips curved in pure satisfaction. “There it is. The truth.”

I buried my face in my hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

“It’s not.” His tone softened, just slightly. “This is what you came here for, isn’t it? To learn. To stop hiding from yourself.”

“I didn’t come here to-”

“To what? To sit here and talk about the weather?” His gaze hardened again. “You came because your ex broke you down. Because he made you believe you were boring. But you’re not boring, Alessia. You’re just afraid of what you want. Afraid to admit it.”

My throat tightened. “And what if I don’t even know what I want?”

“Then I’ll help you find out,” he said simply, like it was a promise.

My heart skipped.

The air between us grew heavier, thicker, almost unbearable. He didn’t touch me, but his words, his eyes, his voice -  it felt like he already had.

I shifted again, thighs pressing together, desperate for relief. His gaze flic

ked down, then back up.

“You’re squirming.”

“I’m not-”

“You are.” His lips curved. “That’s your body reacting to me. Don’t deny it.”

“I…” My voice shook. “This isn’t… normal.”

“Maybe not,” he said with a dark smile. “But neither is desire.”