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Summary
“Love” was far too affectionate of a word to be used to describe Feofan’s desire for his Doctor.
He did not believe he could ever be someone worthy of such a wonderful feeling, nor did his heart have the capacity to harbor it. His attachment to Zandik was too intense to be anything but a deranged obsession of a man who had never experienced care from another—a professional relationship shared between a Doctor and his Patient.
Nevertheless, Feofan couldn’t help the excitement after every injury he’d sustain in the Mafia, knowing he was due for another operation. He longed for the feeling of Zandik’s hands tending to his body, opening him up to feel his insides—each organ blessed with his touch. He always felt bare underneath that intelligent gaze, loved by the hands of his Doctor nursing him.