He patted the other side of Aleksandr's cheek, not so much a slap as an impertinent sting, just as a reminder.
If it came down to a physical contest between them, they both knew who would win.
It was not that Aleksandr Isaev was weak in any sense. He was tall, of a height with Cheslav. His shoulders were broad and his build healthy and athletic. He had the sort of frame that would take well to bodybuilding if he chose - Cheslav could picture him, vigorous and strapping, with another twenty pounds of muscle.
As it was, though, from the times that Cheslav had seen him in the banya or elsewhere, Aleksandr had fine, fit body and classically muscled physique. He undoubtedly followed a strict daily physical regimen and could probably physically overpower most men.
But Cheslav Oleksei was not most men. He had a sheer brutal physicality to him, layers upon layers of hard muscle built by wrestling live steer and hauling dead carcasses.
He was very nearly a monster of a man.
Cheslav let his hands drop and settled them on Aleksandr's shoulders.
"Now we can do this easy or we can do this hard. It's up to you."
His gaze dropped to the hauntingly familiar wool coat clutched in Aleksandr's hands, and he felt a faint twinge in his chest.
"Why don't you let me put this over there?" he murmured.
Cheslav settled a heavy hand gently over one of Aleksandr's taut fists.
no subject
"I am touching you, Shurik."
He patted the other side of Aleksandr's cheek, not so much a slap as an impertinent sting, just as a reminder.
If it came down to a physical contest between them, they both knew who would win.
It was not that Aleksandr Isaev was weak in any sense. He was tall, of a height with Cheslav. His shoulders were broad and his build healthy and athletic. He had the sort of frame that would take well to bodybuilding if he chose - Cheslav could picture him, vigorous and strapping, with another twenty pounds of muscle.
As it was, though, from the times that Cheslav had seen him in the banya or elsewhere, Aleksandr had fine, fit body and classically muscled physique. He undoubtedly followed a strict daily physical regimen and could probably physically overpower most men.
But Cheslav Oleksei was not most men. He had a sheer brutal physicality to him, layers upon layers of hard muscle built by wrestling live steer and hauling dead carcasses.
He was very nearly a monster of a man.
Cheslav let his hands drop and settled them on Aleksandr's shoulders.
"Now we can do this easy or we can do this hard. It's up to you."
His gaze dropped to the hauntingly familiar wool coat clutched in Aleksandr's hands, and he felt a faint twinge in his chest.
"Why don't you let me put this over there?" he murmured.
Cheslav settled a heavy hand gently over one of Aleksandr's taut fists.
"So it's safe."