Unfamiliar Feelings
Pairing: Dmitry x Lane.
Content Warning (18+): This work contains mature themes, including explicit sexual content. It is intended for adult audiences only. Reader discretion is advised. By proceeding, you confirm that you are 18 years of age or older.
Summary: A restless night at the abandoned station turns into a passionate one as a worried Lane finds herself in Dmitry's room in the middle of the night, tending to his wounds.
Sometimes, silence and the quietness of the night are a blessing. After a long, noisy, and busy day, it feels like you've been running at full speed, waiting eagerly to reach the finish line. You welcome the calm with open arms, surrendering to it, allowing it to carry you away from the problems of this corrupted world, if only for a few hours.
But sometimes, that same calm and quiet become your worst nightmare. You'd rather be surrounded by crowds and noise than alone inside your own head. Alone with your thoughts—the thoughts which never shut up. The harder you try to silence them, the worse they become. It feels like your mind has become a prison, and you're trapped inside it. There’s no prison worse than your own mind, no one knows better how to torture you more than yourself. After all, your mind knows your deepest fears and weaknesses. It’s where your demons hide.
The quietness of the night was never easy on me. My nights at the base usually ended with my pillow soaked wet in tears, memories of home leaving me painfully homesick. I never thought I'd miss home. My childhood wasn't easy at home but my days at the base taught me that there are always worse days.
And I was right. Because this night beats every single night spent at the base. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so many emotions at once. It’s overwhelming, and I feel like I can’t breathe. Ever since I regained some of my memories and emotions, I’ve been struggling to control them. It’s like my feelings have intensified, and I don’t know how to deal with them anymore. Especially after being numb for so long. The numbness and emptiness weren’t easy, but it was certainly easier to deal with than this.
When did I start caring so much about losing someone? When did I start worrying about someone else not being able to fall sleep? When did I start worrying about him? Why am I thinking about him at four am in the early morning? Why am I so afraid of losing him? When did I get attached?
Was it when he gave up his last breath to save me under the icy water? Or was it when we were stranded in that lost base, relying on each other to survive? Or was it when he threw himself between me and the infected, taking the bite to protect me?
I don’t know when it happened. But what I do know is that I’m awake again tonight, completely deprived of sleep because I’m terrified of waking up to my worst nightmare—staring into monstrous, empty eyes instead of his icy blue ones. The thought chills me to the bone. And suddenly, I feel so cold.
Your hand is cold, I hear his voice inside my head.
Anna and Kira slept soundly beside me, their breathing steady and rhythmic. I envied their peace, their ability to find solace even in this twisted world. I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in days, and the exhaustion was starting to creep into my bones, making my limbs heavy and my mind foggy. But I couldn’t let myself rest, not fully. Not when the fear was so palpable, so close.
Then I heard it—a soft, almost imperceptible sound coming from the room down the hall. My body tensed, my senses sharpening. It wasn’t loud enough to wake Anna or Kira, but it was enough to rouse me from my restless thoughts. Slowly, I slipped out of bed, careful not to make a sound. I crept to the door, my heart pounding in my chest, and peeked into the dark hallway.
The sound came again, a low grunt, followed by a faint rustling. Something wasn’t right. My first thought was that something happened to Dmitry, and without hesitating, I moved toward the source, my bare feet padding silently across the cold floor.
I reached the room where Dmitry had been staying since his recovery began. The door was slightly ajar, and as I approached, I hesitated. What if it wasn’t safe? What if something had gone wrong with Dmitry’s recovery? The thought made my heart skip a beat, but I pushed it aside. Dmitry was strong, stronger than anyone I knew. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Taking a deep breath, I gently pushed the door open and stepped inside.
My eyes found him immediately. Dmitry stood by the bed, his back to me. He was shirtless, his broad, scarred shoulders and back illuminated by the candlelight as he fumbled with something in his hands. As my gaze traveled down, I noticed the gauze wrapped around his arms and torso, stained with dark, dried blood.
I gasped softly, the sound slipping out before I could stop it. Dmitry’s head snapped up, and he turned to face me, his expression a mix of surprise and something unreadable. I immediately averted my eyes, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.
“I’m sorry, I—” I stammered, stepping back toward the door. “I didn’t mean to intrude…”
“Lane” Dmitry said, his voice low and calm, but I could hear the tension beneath it. “It's alright.”.
I paused, my hand on the doorframe, my heart racing. But then I remembered the blood, and concern overrode my embarrassment. I turned back to face him, my eyes darting to the gauze. “You’re bleeding,” I said, my voice soft but filled with worry. “Are you… okay?”
Dmitry looked down at himself, then back at me, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m fine,” he said, though the weariness in his voice suggested otherwise. “Just need to change the gauze. Usually, Anna helps, but she hasn’t been sleeping well because of me, so…” He shrugged as if it were no big deal, but I could see the strain in his movements, the exhaustion that mirrored my own.
“I can help,” I offered quickly, stepping further into the room. My voice was steady, but inside, I was anything but. The idea of touching him, of being so close, sent my heart into a wild, erratic rhythm, but I couldn’t ignore the need to help him. “If you want,” I added, my tone softer, more tentative.
Dmitry looked at me for a long moment, his dark eyes searching mine as if trying to gauge something. Finally, he nodded. “Alright” he said quietly, turning his back to me again.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my nerves as I approached him. I picked up the fresh gauze from the table, my fingers trembling slightly. As I reached out to unwind the old bandages, my eyes were drawn to the scars that marred his back—deep, ragged lines that told stories I didn’t want to imagine. I hesitated, my fingers hovering just above his skin, afraid of causing him pain.
But Dmitry didn’t flinch or pull away. “They don’t hurt,” he said, his voice soft but firm, as if he could read my thoughts. “Not anymore.”
My breath caught in my throat as I carefully touched the scars, my fingers barely brushing against his skin. The contact was light, almost reverent, as if I was afraid of breaking something fragile. But I didn’t pull away. Instead, I began to gently unwrap the old gauze, my movements slow and deliberate.
As I worked, Dmitry remained silent, his breathing steady but deep, almost as if he were holding back something. The room felt charged, every slight movement, every brush of fingers against skin, seemed to echo in the silence between us. His piercing blue eyes watching me closely whenever I found myself infront of him, causing my fingers to shake, making me feel even more nervous.
When the old bandages were finally removed, I couldn’t help but pause, my gaze tracing the fresh wounds beneath. They weren’t as bad as I’d feared, but they were still raw, a stark reminder of how close I’d come to losing him.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and reached for the new gauze. As I began to wrap it around his torso, my fingers brushed against his skin again, and this time, I didn’t pull away as quickly. Dmitry’s body was warm beneath my touch, his muscles tense but unyielding. There was a quiet strength in him, even now, and it made my heart ache.
I found myself focusing on the rhythm of my movements, the methodical wrapping of the gauze, anything to keep my mind from spiraling. But it was impossible to ignore the intimacy of the moment, the way my fingers seemed to memorize the feel of him—each scar, each line of muscle beneath his skin.
Finally, when the gauze was secure, I allowed my hands to linger for just a moment longer, my fingers lightly tracing one of the scars on his back. The gesture was almost instinctual, an unconscious need to soothe, to comfort. But as soon as I realized what I was doing, I froze, my heart hammering in my chest.
Dmitry stiffens, and I freeze. I’ve crossed a line. But then, he turns to face me. His eyes, usually so guarded, are dark now, unreadable. I try to step back, but I bump into the closet behind me. Before I can lose my balance, his arm snakes around my waist, catching me.
The world stills. His grip tightens, pulling me closer, pressing me against the warmth of his chest. My breath catches as our eyes lock. The air between us is charged, pulsing with a tension that has been building for so long. Too long.
His smoldering eyes drop to my lips “Lane,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, rough with restraint.
My pulse races, my heart pounding as I lean in, drawn to him like gravity. His gaze darkens, and for a second, time seems to stop.
Then, as if we’ve both reached our breaking point, we collide.
His lips crash against mine with a force that sends sparks through me. The kiss is hungry, desperate, fueled by everything we’ve been holding back. His hand sliding up my back, pulling me impossibly closer. My hands tangle in his hair, gripping tightly, as if letting go would mean losing him forever.
Dmitry growls low in his throat, deepening the kiss, his lips moving with an urgency that sends my mind spinning. I can feel the raw intensity in every touch, the unspoken emotions finally breaking free, pouring into the space between us. It’s a kiss filled with all the things we haven’t said—all the fear, the need, the longing.
I lose myself in it, in him, as his hands roam my body, as if trying to memorize every curve, every inch. His mouth leaves mine, trailing down my jaw, my neck, hot and breathless. He groans taking in my scent, before returning to claim my lips again.
His commanding possessive hands and body push me backwards as his kisses intensify, he slams me against the closet, causing a loud creak to echo throughout the whole building. We abruptly stop and stare into each other's eyes breathless as the realization of what just happened weighs in.
I swallow hard as I stare into his dark, hungry and feral eyes pining me against the closet with their intensity. And I suddenly feel like a prey trapped between his large muscular arms. The warmth of his skin and the smell of his scent making me dizzy and lightheaded. My heart is beating so fast that I hear it ringing in my ears, and heat rushes to my cheeks as his eyes filled with unspoken longing and need drop down to my lips again.
No man has ever stared at me like that. No man has ever wanted me like that. And no one has ever made me feel so wanted, so craved, like this before. My whole life, I always felt unwanted. It all started with my mother, followed by a long chain of failed relationships. Now this chain is broken by Dmitry as he stares at me in a way that sends chills and delicious sensations through my body. I don't know how to handle this - being wanted. But I love these unfamiliar overwhelming feelings this time.
I swallow hard and barely manage to say "I should probably go" staring deeply into his intense blue eyes "You should..." He says, moving closer again and catching my lips in a deep slow kiss, savoring me, one last time. Then, with visible effort, he pulls himself away from me.
"Go... Before I kiss you again...".