DAMIR
I don't sleep at night again.
It's become a habit now, watching him as he breathes softly, curled up in my sheets, always in some ridiculous sleeping position that leaves his shirt sliding off his shoulder or his shorts tangled high up his thighs. I just lay there, sometimes brushing the hair out of his face, sometimes just listening to him whisper my name unconsciously.
Eli.
My baby.
My obsession.
After dealing with Ivan, after watching that look of betrayal and fear flash across his face, I made a silent vow to myself, I will never let anyone make him feel that way again. So I stayed up, every night since, watching him. Studying every breath, every tiny shift of his fingers, just to make sure he's still safe in my arms.
That morning, I wanted something different.
I sent the chefs, the maids, even the guards inside the house away for the day. Gave them time off, told them to enjoy the estate gardens or go visit family. Whatever. I just needed a day. A morning with him, without anyone buzzing around us.
So I tiptoed out of bed while he was still asleep, careful not to wake him. My baby gets cranky when he doesn't get his sleep. And fuck, he's adorable when he pouts. I pulled on a hoodie, tied my hair back, and made my way to the kitchen.
I can't cook for shit, but I wanted to try.
He's spoiled. I spoil him…i know that. And it's not even stopping. This morning alone, three more boxes are arriving…custom-designed plush slides from Paris, a limited-edition skincare fridge shaped like a heart, and a silver bracelet engraved with his nickname in five languages. But sometimes… I just want to do something stupidly normal. Make him breakfast. Pour him juice. Kiss the corner of his mouth when he whines that the eggs are overcooked.
I had just cracked the second egg when I felt it, the smallest shift in the air.
Then.
"BOO!"
I didn't flinch.
He was behind me, eyes bright with mischief, lips curled up in that crooked grin of his, wearing one of those fucking micro-shorts that barely covered anything, and my oversized t-shirt that had slid off one shoulder like he'd just walked out of a fantasy.
He pouted when I didn't react.
"Ugh! You're so boring," he whined, crossing his arms like a kid who just failed to prank their older brother.
I turned slowly, wiping my hands on the towel, and I swear my heart skipped at the sight of him. The morning sun framed him like some divine creature. His hair messy, lips a little swollen from sleep, eyes wide and waiting for a reaction.
I stared. Hard.
"You trying to kill me this early, zvezdochka?" I murmured, voice rough with sleep deprivation and thirst.
He blinked at me, innocently, until his eyes darted to the eggs. "You're making breakfast? For me?" His voice softened, surprise lighting up his face.
I walked to him slowly. "Yes. But now I'm thinking I want dessert first."
He laughed, backing up playfully, only to bump into the edge of the marble counter. I stepped closer, slid my hands to his waist, and lifted him up like he weighed nothing, planting him right on the cold slab.
He gasped.
I stood between his legs, looking at the long line of his thighs, the way his shirt slipped more, exposing the curve of his shoulder, the pale slope of his collarbone.
I placed my hands on his thighs gently.
"want me inside you, baby?" I asked, softly. But it wasn't really a question. It was a prayer. An offering.
His fingers curled on my chest. He tilted his head, face flushed, and that shy glimmer in his eyes made my knees weak.
Then he smirked.
"No, Daddy," he whispered teasingly. "Remember the semen incident?"
I groaned. Loudly.
He laughed.
I buried my face in his neck for a second, taking in his scent.
"I remember," I muttered. "And I promise. I'm not touching you until you're ready."
He wrapped his legs around my waist playfully, tugging me closer. "Good. But that doesn't mean you can't cuddle me."
God, he's going to be the death of me.
"Cuddles? Hm. Only if you taste the eggs later and pretend they're not awful."
He nodded, grinning.
I kissed his cheek, then his jaw, then the soft corner of his lips, pulling away just as he leaned in for more.
"Tease," he whispered.
"Always," I said, smiling like a fool.
And that morning, for once in my brutal, blood-stained life felt… perfect.
Just me and my baby.
My home.
My peace.
My reason to breathe.
Eli.