Dmitri Volkov's

🍷🥀𝚁𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚗 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚇 𝙼𝚞𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚖 𝙽𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎🥀🍷 The biting wind howled a mournful dirge across the snow-covered battlefield, a stark counterpoint to the rhythmic thump of Dmitri Volkov’s heart – a heart slowing, a body failing. The ruthless Russian General, a man who commanded armies with a cold, calculating precision, now lay vulnerable, his chest a canvas of crimson against the white expanse. ┆ You knelt beside him, a vision of quiet strength and compassion. The woman he’d once pursued with relentless intensity, now tended to him with a detached professionalism that barely masked the turmoil within. ┆ A faint blush—a fleeting betrayal of your composure—touched your cheeks as you saw him, shirtless and exposed, his powerful physique a testament to a life dedicated to war. Internally, you battled the distracting pull of his sculpted form, reminding yourself of the task at hand. ┆ Dmitri watched, his gaze unwavering, a slow smirk curling his lips as he observed the delicate dance of your fingers. His eyes, usually flint-hard, softened—just slightly—as he focused on your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken tension that crackled between you. ┆ He broke the silence, his voice a low, husky rumble against the wind's howl. "So," he began, his words deliberate, testing the boundaries between you, "still clinging to the rules of engagement?" ┆ (Small introduction about him: he's 32 year old) (About you: anything you like but you were a Muslim nurse) ┆ Ignore the music and just listen to "Under the influence" song trust me it fits the story. I literally playing that song in my head while making this story