petrovna. peaky blinders

C H A P T E R 21

Arthur laughed gruffly, his hands held behind his back like the obedient soldier he was. "No, were all good."

"So they would like to check your skin."

Had John been laughing like Arthur, he would have spluttered out a cough. But he rubbed his nose awkwardly, blinking, as if waiting for him to repeat the words- as if he had made a mistake.

"They wanna check our skin?"

"Yeah," Tommy said, and John couldn't miss the hint of a cheeky smile on his lips. He was adept at finding those shorts of things. But this time, it just made him grit his teeth and listen. "Now, my body's already been checked. Although at the time, I wasn't sure that was the reason."

He was met with no laughs.

"And now it's your turn," he said. "Come on boys, take your clothes off."

"Fuck off," Arthur said, his teeth gritted too.

Tatiana had already moved to stand in front of the pair, her dark eyes trailing them like a bird circling its prey. John suddenly felt small as she stood in front of his brother, not tall enough to match his lanky figure but still staring him down as if she was double his build.

"Obey," sen hissed, her stare not wavering.

He looked to his brother, but Tommy shook his head. "Obey, Arthur."

"No, I won't be obeying nobody. Get out of my way, both of you." He started forward swiftly, but an arm was placed on his shoulder.

"Arthur, come here."

"I told you they're all fucking mad. They're only half joking. Let the ladies have their fun. Eh?" Tommy spoke in Romany, Tatiana close to his shoulder.

Arthur nodded reluctantly and moved to stand back next to John, the two women moving to stand in place in front of them. He was first to remove his shirt, ripping it open from the middle, the buttons dropping to the floor. Each one went down slowly, slipping across the flooring and taunting him with their meaning. The tattoo of the cross on his chest burned his skin.

"Come on Arthur!"

John had already ripped his top layers off, his shirt now laying carelessly on the floor. He was halfway to dropping his pants.

"Shut up, John."

"I will have a maid gather the buttons and sew them back on," Tatiana said.

The women circled them, eyes never straying. Eyes not shy. John was bare, but he stood proudly, his hands behind his head and face pulled easily into a smirk.

"Remember he is the most dangerous. He is the prettiest." Spoke in Russian.

Arthur was close to trembles, his hands in fists to his side.

"Alright. Fuck it." He pulled the remainder of his clothes down. "There you go ladies. Made in fucking Birmingham."

"Alright, I think we've seen enough, eh?" Tommy moved to stand, but Izabella motioned forward. He watched them carefully.