"You need to relax," was the wet, hot mumble. "It's not good for you... to get so worked up like this."

As Volgin, easily restraining the smaller man, slowly released the thinner wrists, sliding a gloved hand down his arm groinwards while another was slithering up Raikov's shirt, if he had reasonably easy access.

Or not, perhaps.

Well, the Nexus could provide whatever casualties to Ivan's wardrobe that would occur.