Volgin struggled a bit more, the pants winding up dangling off the remaining booted foot and out of Volgin's way for the most part.

Now then.

Almost anticipating some other interruption, Volgin might have killed a bit of time to see if it will come (or bark, or fire, or explode, or...) with Ivan's balls, mouthing them, picking them up and letting them fall again. After only spurring on the other Russian's arrousal instead, Volgin decided he was not going to be stooping through this entire affair either.

Hm.

Raikov found that grip tighten around him, as his partner easily hauled him up in a quick motion. Soon enough, with a few long strides, his pretty little white head was grazing the ceiling, maybe cramped against it considering the other man's ridiculous height, with his back pinned precariously against the thin, square pillar next to the devastated dinning room table. Volgin, fond of risk, seemed quite satisfied with the shift.

Satisfied enough that finally Raikov felt those lips heartily kiss and suck along his shaft up to the glans. He might have heard Volgin purr.