He realized he still had the coat he'd grabbed from Aleksandr, now trapped and crushed between them. Something about that made him flinch inwardly, as if it were some grotesque parody.
Cheslav drew away at once.
He turned, leaving Aleksandr in the shower, shaking water out of the coat as he went. It was damp but not fully soaked. He knew his own coat had borne the brunt of the spray and now lay heavily on his shoulders and back.
"No, no, it's not ruined," he said. "It just needs to dry out."
He stood there with his back to Aleksandr, staring down at the coat in his hands.
Even in its dampened state, it still looked sleek and fine, like the pelt of a well-kept beast.
He felt the impulse to lift it to his face and check if her scent still lingered. At the same time, that seemed vulgar. Wrong in the face of another man's grief.
Then again, he supposed it was no worse than sharing that other man's wife.
Cheslav bent his head slightly and breathed in.
There was the particular smell of wet wool, then he caught the more delicate aroma of Avdotia's perfume, some expensive scent Aleksandr had acquired for her from France. It evoked her presence for Cheslav, more than just scent, but her eyes and dazzling smile and the remarkable softness of her skin.
"Da, it's still - "
Cheslav felt a raspy itch lodge in his chest, and had to swallow abruptly.
He reached to hang the coat up on a hook near the door. Belatedly, he recognized another scent crushed into the fabric, muskier, and masculine.
He swallowed and turned back to the shower.
Aleksandr leaned back against the shower wall, as if it was the only thing keeping him standing. He watched Cheslav with eyes like winter.
Wordlessly, Cheslav strode forward, back into the shower, blinking as the spray hit his face. He reached out to wrap an arm around Aleksandr and pull his head against Cheslav's thick shoulder.
"Oh Shurik," he whispered, but he could manage nothing more.
no subject
He realized he still had the coat he'd grabbed from Aleksandr, now trapped and crushed between them. Something about that made him flinch inwardly, as if it were some grotesque parody.
Cheslav drew away at once.
He turned, leaving Aleksandr in the shower, shaking water out of the coat as he went. It was damp but not fully soaked. He knew his own coat had borne the brunt of the spray and now lay heavily on his shoulders and back.
"No, no, it's not ruined," he said. "It just needs to dry out."
He stood there with his back to Aleksandr, staring down at the coat in his hands.
Even in its dampened state, it still looked sleek and fine, like the pelt of a well-kept beast.
He felt the impulse to lift it to his face and check if her scent still lingered. At the same time, that seemed vulgar. Wrong in the face of another man's grief.
Then again, he supposed it was no worse than sharing that other man's wife.
Cheslav bent his head slightly and breathed in.
There was the particular smell of wet wool, then he caught the more delicate aroma of Avdotia's perfume, some expensive scent Aleksandr had acquired for her from France. It evoked her presence for Cheslav, more than just scent, but her eyes and dazzling smile and the remarkable softness of her skin.
"Da, it's still - "
Cheslav felt a raspy itch lodge in his chest, and had to swallow abruptly.
He reached to hang the coat up on a hook near the door. Belatedly, he recognized another scent crushed into the fabric, muskier, and masculine.
He swallowed and turned back to the shower.
Aleksandr leaned back against the shower wall, as if it was the only thing keeping him standing. He watched Cheslav with eyes like winter.
Wordlessly, Cheslav strode forward, back into the shower, blinking as the spray hit his face. He reached out to wrap an arm around Aleksandr and pull his head against Cheslav's thick shoulder.
"Oh Shurik," he whispered, but he could manage nothing more.