Sennoy, still catching his breath, bit his lip with predatory hunger as he slowly pushed his softening cock into the waiting mouth. The sight of his own cum in someone else's mouth, the swollen, reddened lips from the repetitive motions, and the submissive gaze fixed on him clearly aroused him. Daniel tried to blank his mind at these moments, but he couldn't help but notice how Sennoy was gradually changing. Initially, Sennoy's expression during blowjobs had only slightly softened from his usual stern demeanor, as if carved from stone, but lately, he deliberately prolonged the act, finding pleasure not just in the physical sensations but also in the visual aspect. This altered version of Sennoy, with his greedy, wide eyes, heavy breathing, and beastly demeanor, disgusted Daniel beyond measure.

"From tomorrow, hit a hundred push-ups each morning," Sennoy ordered, adjusting himself as he tucked his cock away. He chuckled at Daniel's surprised blink as he wiped his lips with his sleeve—a hundred? He'd be lucky to do thirty. "All right, just start with as many as you can manage and work your way up. You've bulked up a bit, not as scrawny as before, so it's time to pack on some muscle."

"To get healthier?" Daniel shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment, relieved to be in another phase of their relationship, the human one. "I've got enough exercise as it is, my body aches in the evenings."

"Gotta toughen up. Anyone can floor you with one punch," Sennoy said casually, lighting a cigarette. "First, build up your muscles, then we'll work on your punching. I'll teach you the ropes."

"And how's learning to throw a punch gonna help me if I'm swarmed by a several people?" Daniel smirked skeptically. "Sure, I might land one, but it'll just them piss off. Besides, I can't afford to throw hands; they'd rip me apart for it."

"You can't touch men, but you can hit a rooster," Sennoy blew a smoke ring and quickly dissipated it. "And besides... As long as you're my mashka, no one's gonna lay a finger on you, but what if something goes south for me?"

"Could something happen?" Daniel asked, his throat tight with anxiety as he swallowed nervously.

"Shit can go down anytime," Sennoy mused philosophically. "From a rock busting your skull in plain sight to Bright flashing a shank. Wake the hell up, accidents happen even out there, but in here? It's a whole different ball game. Whether or not I am here, it's about time you toughened up. I saw your scuffle with Palka, even a hood chick scraps better than you."

"Violence has never been high on the list of my priorities," Daniel said with a wry chuckle. "I've never been much of a fighter either. Had a few fights back in school and college, but nothing serious. We'd usually stop once first blood was drawn. And well, here-"

"This ain't no fancy joint," Senenny remarked with a grin. "In here, if you show any softness, you'll be fish food. Lucky for you, Palka fights like a chick- just like you; otherwise, you'd be leaking for weeks. I ain't got the stomach to break up you and other roosters. Your beef, your problem. Just do the push-ups and keep your yap shut."

"Fine, I'll start doing push-ups," Daniel muttered reluctantly, recalling the senseless scuffle from not long ago that had left a nasty gash on his cheekbone. Palka wasn't exactly a heavyweight in the punching department. "It's not like I'm not fit. I've done marathons, sprints, trekking..."

"And where do you plan to run off to if they come at you?" Sennoy remarked with a hint of practicality, his grin carrying a friendly edge.

Talking to Sennoy was a breeze now, especially when they were by themselves. Sennoy dropped the icy demeanor typical of public spots, chatting like a pal on the same level, steering clear of the degrading nickname without resorting to Daniel's real name either. Whether it was genuine appreciation or just getting used to each other over time, Sennoy saw Daniel as someone worth chatting with. There could be a ton of reasons, or maybe just one. Sennoy, true to form, kept his motives to himself, and Daniel didn't bother prying.

"Man, Mironich's training sessions were something else," Sennoy exclaimed with enthusiasm. "He ran our boxing club like a drill sergeant. A hundred knuckle push-ups, two hundred squats, no less, right after a brutal jog carrying weights. Only then did he give me a shot in the ring."

"Knuckles?" Daniel inquired, casting a respectful glance at Sennoy's hand, casually resting on his knee—unremarkable in size, yet ruggedly impressive. Daniel had witnessed Sennoy's efficient handling of Bright during their brief encounter. It was a far cry from their absurd brawl with Palka. Bright, towering over Sennoy with broader shoulders, unleashed a ferocious onslaught, bellowing like a beast as he lunged at the seemingly unflappable Sennoy. Yet not a single blow found its mark on Sennoy. However, after a barrage of lightning-fast strikes, Bright lay sprawled on the ground, his right leg twitching uncontrollably. Sennoy didn't even break a sweat - no surprise there, given his background as a former champion of the Russian youth boxing team and a veteran of the military special forces in the second Chechen war. Dealing with the likes of Bright was child's play for him. To Daniel, he was like Mount Everest.

"I think I'll stick to regular push-ups," he decided.

"Man, boys are softer than tissue paper nowadays," Sennoy waved his hand nonchalantly. "You'll kick off with some push-ups, then I'll set you up with a routine, and you'll stick to it. It's important, not just in here, but out there too. Oh, by the way, any word on the appeal?"

"Yesterday, I didn't want to share," Daniel grimaced, shifting his gaze to the window. Outside, the snow fell, a festive contrast to the perpetually gloomy surroundings. "Rejected."

"Figured. Don't count on a win. When you're dealing with the likes of the Bystritskys, you'll be in for as long as they see fit," Sennoy remarked bluntly. "Best to clock that reality sooner rather than later."

"But you said you'd try to get me out of here, so there's a chance," Daniel exclaimed, turning around in surprise.

"Trying ain't the same as achieving," Sennoy corrected. "If my blade hits their rock, it might just warp. Let's pray it doesn't."

"OK, let's," Daniel said with a tinge of longing. This hope felt too fleeting to bank on. And he wasn't keen on dwelling on failure. "I've been meaning to ask you why you became a shot caller, especially when you only got a year and a half. Having connections could've helped you serve your time smoothly, so why go the extra mile?"

"It's about principle," Sennoy said, lowering his voice and stretching leisurely. "I've never been one to settle for second place, whether in sports or life. Sure, it was a bit rough around the edges in the army because of that at first, but I adapted, climbed the ladder - strong leaders are respected anywhere. Remember when I told you about my time with the crew?" Daniel nodded, settling himself comfortably on the floor, enjoying Sennoy's tales despite their gritty details. He appreciated the equal footing in their conversations, the openness. In moments like these, he didn't feel like a rooster. It was like watching a raw, brutal slash movie Hollywood would never touch.

"Well, with them, it was all about holding your ground, not backing down. Once you flinch, you're done for, marked forever. It's all primitive, cutthroat stuff," Sennoy clenched his fist tightly and swung it sharply.

"Kinda reminds me of this place, so I knew right away where I stood. Paying respect to some shot caller for a year and a half and doing his bidding? Fuck no. All I had to do was pull some strings, flex a bit of muscle, crack a few skulls, and bingo, I'm a shot caller myself. Speaking of nicknames," Sennoy grinned mischievously. "Some jerk tried to tag me with 'Singer' at first. You don't know this, but there was a singer with the same last name as mine - Senchukova. So, one of them made some crack about it."

"And what happened to him?" Daniel inquired with a curious grin.

"What happened to him? He's down to one eye scanning the yard 'cause he couldn't figure out how to use both to recognize who's who and who's got the juice," Sennoy remarked coolly, causing Daniel's smile to fade. "He lucked out with the guards, or he'd be history. He's out now, you haven't crossed paths with him. What's the matter? That's how it goes when someone steps up. One show and a couple of encores were all it took to make everyone think twice before speaking up around me."

"I suppose," Daniel muttered, squirming uncomfortably, not wanting to picture Sennoy gouging out that guys's eye. "I could never pull that off, no matter how many push-ups I do."

"You ain't like that, you're different," Sennoy smiled, a rare tenderness flickering across his face, a sentiment utterly foreign and unwelcome between them. Daniel, feeling awkward, quickly averted his gaze to the tin can, smoke swirling out in wisps of gray.

"Some folks just ain't cut out for the game of life," Sennoy continued, his tone retaining that unsettling softness. "Naive, innocent, soft. Had a buddy like that once - smart, tough, yet fragile 'cause of his soft heart. If you were born a woman, life might've been easier for you."

"Uh, thanks," Daniel mumbled as he stood up from the floor. "Should I go?"

"Hold up," Sennoy said, eyeing him up and down with a slow, intense gaze, his voice low and ominous. "I'll have another go. Strip down."

Daniel rose to his feet, shifting his weight and adjusting himself. The sudden shift from normal conversation to unwelcome physical contact, reducing him to nothing more than a hole, always caught him off guard for the first few moments. It was tough to shake off the discomfort and detach himself from the situation. Sennoy stood up, leisurely closing in, his breath hot against Daniel's skin. Restlessly, he stomped once, jolting Daniel out of his daze. Daniel unzipped his pants, revealing the Norwegian thermal underwear he now wore, before pulling them down along with his underwear. He retrieved some lubricant from his jacket pocket and hurriedly stretched himself, his gaze fixed stupidly on the dimple on Sennoy's shaved chin. He no longer hesitated - he slipped into the right mindset: I'm not really here.

Sennoy could speak to him with genuine emotion, opening up in a way he couldn't with anyone else, while simultaneously treating him as nothing more than an object, continuing to meticulously use a towel to avoid being contacted. Seeing someone as both a human being, valuing his intellect, yet treating him like an animal, avoiding physical contact, was a paradox Daniel couldn't quite comprehend.