It was hard not to fall for that beautiful man. Incredibly hard. Volgin was trying to best not to melt at his touch; he had been very well conditioned to relax at his attentions when the pressure (the external stressful kind) approached his limits.

"You believe in an Afterlife?" the giant's voice was a distant drift. He rolled away the cigar's band and tossed it aside, tilting his head back. Raikov could feel his torso heave, on the cusp of hyperventilation; whatever was bothering him was bothering him.