I Don't WANT You [ 𝑀𝑀 ]

🩸 Chapter 7 🩸

Juan sleeps in a heavy, untroubled slumber, and I can't tear my eyes away from him. I watch him, the silence of the room thick around us. My fingers trail through his damp hair, the remnants of the shower still clinging to him. He collapsed into sleep the moment the stepped out of the water — exhausted, completely spent. My baby. I grin, the corners of my mouth curving with dark satisfaction. After everything that happened, it's no wonder.

He's so beautiful, so perfect. His skin, smooth and flawless, catches the dim light. His lips, full and soft, tempt me in ways I shouldn't allow. His eyes are closed now, but I know they hold a purity that makes my heart twist with hunger.

He smells so good. So right. Like a part of me, like something I've claimed, marked. He smells like mine, like everything I need, everything I crave.

He is mine. And no one — no one — will ever have him like I do.

Hours later, Juan stirs restlessly in his sleep, his body shifting and twitching beneath the covers. His muttered words are barely audible but the distress in his voice is clear.

"Juan", I whisper, my voice soft but laced with urgency.

I reach out, my fingers brushing his cheek — and it's wet. Wet with tears. He's crying in his sleep, torment lingering even in his unconscious state.

"Juan, wake up", I murmur, desperate now, my hand gently shaking him. "Please, baby"

"No. . .please, stop", he pleads, his voice tremulous, fearful, as if trying to push away something unseen.

I shake his arm harder and with a startled jerk, his eyes fly open. He stares at me, wide-eyed, chest heaving. Panic clings to him like a second skin.

"Juan, ¿Qué está pasando?"

His breath is ragged, his gaze unfocused as he tries to steady himself. "I'm fine", he gasps but the words are hollow, empty.

"No, no te va bien. ¿Qué tines? ¿Con qué soñaste?"

His eyes flicker, but he doesn't answer. And I know. Whatever haunts him in the dark, it's not over. Not yet.

His voice trembles as he speaks, the words barely escaping. "I was dreaming about my father. He—he was hitting me. I was so scared. . ."

The rawness in his voice cuts through me and I pull him closer, my hand brushing through his hair. "I'm so sorry, Juan. Everything's fine now. You're safe here. You'll always be safe with me"

He breathes unevenly, trying to regain some control, then nods silently. I pull him into my arms, holding him tightly as if to anchor him to the moment, to remind him that I'm here. His body trembles against mine and I press him even closer, my voice low and steady.