Pagophobia [Viktor x Reader]

Followed

"It's for you, my kitten," Chris called as he answered the knock on the door. Your vision spun as you sat up in bed, a lingering effect, no doubt, from the copious amount of alcohol last night.

"Give me a sec. I'll get dressed," you yelled back, finding some articles of clothing abandoned on the floor and put them on, as well as the stray pair of glasses you found, hoping they would make the world stop spinning. You slowly padded your way to the front door, your head groggy as you ran a hand through your messy hair. On your way past the kitchen, you swiped a glass that was half full of a clear liquid.

"Is this water or vodka?" you asked Chris, a frown on your face as you looked at it, being too early in the morning for you to function, let alone with the pounding of your head and the blurriness of the world through the glasses.

"It's vodka."

"How can you tell? You're blind," you frown.

"I'm not blind."

"Tell that to your glasses. They're making the world all woozy."

"It's called near-sighted, and I don't think the wooziness is from the glasses," he purred, taking the vodka from your hand and the glasses from your head as he stepped aside and went to the kitchen, leaving you to deal with the guest at the door.

"Hello?" you question as you made your way over to the door, finally looking up at the visitor.

"[Name]," the Russian said. He looked flushed, as if he'd just run here, his cheeks slowly turning red as he stared at you in shock. You stared at him blankly for a second before it clicked in your mind.

"What are you doing in Switzerland?" you question.

"I thought you said you were going to put some clothes on," Viktor said, ignoring your question.

"I did," you respond, looking down at what you were wearing. Your body was clad in a set of lacy black lingerie. They were the only things you could find in Chris' room at the short notice and the pounding in your head stopped you from being more self-conscious about it. You didn't realise that from his sober perspective, it was abundantly obvious that you and Chris had spent the night together. "Why are you in Switzerland?"

"To apologise."

"Hmmm? Well make it quick then," you say, in no mood to drag this out. Chris came back with aspirin and what you assumed would be a glass of water this time, silently handing you the water and pushing the tablet through your lips into your mouth with his index finger. You quickly take a mouthful of water and gulp it down, praying it would take effect soon.

"Viktor, don't just stand there, come in," Christophe said, inviting the Russian man into his apartment.

"Does he have to?" you ask.

"My apartment, my rules, my kitten." You huff, but step aside, letting Viktor in. He settled on the couch, but didn't stop looking between you and Chris. "If it's a threesome you're after, Viktor, we'll be more than happy to oblige."

"I never agreed to that," you mutter.

"You've never refused before."

"They were different."

"You're right. They could never live up to what it would be like with this Russian," Chris purred and you had to admit, he was right. While Viktor annoyed the hell out of you, you couldn't deny that you had thought about him in that way before – and honestly, who hadn't?

"Chris," you moaned in annoyance, as you take a seat opposite Viktor, "don't you have practice or something?" He glanced between the two of us, before settling his eyes on me, knowing in his eyes.