Do You Wanna Build A Snowman? - Viktor Nikiforov x Reader

Who knows? (Omake) - Viktor Nikiforov x Reader

Work Text:

"I meant it when I said that I didnt touch you anywhere last night." Viktor suddenly spoke up from where he was blissfully eating his breakfast whilst watching the morning news from where he sat cross-legged on the beige carpeted floors.

It featured the results and most memorable video clips from this season's Grand Prix.

The girl rose a brow, dismissing the blush threatening to creep up her cheeks, "And what makes you think I would take your word on that?" Stuffing her mouth with pancakes and downing her stale cocoa in one gulp.

The (H/C) teen wished she had done so later because Viktor's smoldering gaze was back on hers and she resorted on pathetically hiding behind an empty mug pretending to drink nonexistent cocoa, "How could I when you had my hands tied the entire night?" He rubbed his wrists in effect, his tone not the bit less suggestive even when he opted to place innocence on his face as he looked up at her.

There's still that smirk and the half-lidded gaze on his perfect face,  not so innocent then. She corrected herself.

(Y/N) found herself openly gawking right now, floored hell deep beyond comprehension, "I what? Why did you even allow me to do so in the first place?!"

Forking the last of his pancakes, he elegantly took his time to chew before rising from his seat.

Settling on his place beside her on the couch with his mug of cocoa held majestically in his left hand, he leaned in, "Because," and swept her fringe to the side, "-contrary to all those guys wanting to be on top stereotypes, I for one, find being manhandled, quite...arousing." He finished it off with a quick peck on the tip of her nose as he abruptly pulled away before she could even rise a hand to swat him off.

"Cocoa?" He spontaneously offered the mug to her as if he didn't just seduce her. Light blue hues now fixed in inspecting one of the red envelopes with his other hand.

The (your nationality) skater rose a brow at this, "I already finished mine."

Viktor sniggered, "As I thought," his eyes were teasing when it met her (E/C) ones, "-you were drinking air then. Either that or you're hiding behind an empty cup."

(Y/N)'s face fumed in both embarrassment and well-placed anger, "Stop turning the tables on me, Viktor!"

"As for your statement earlier, you were drunk too, you kinky airhead!" The girl fumed a little too indignantly, curling her hands into fists at her sides to keep herself from hitting the guy she loves.

"I assure you, we Russians have strong tolerance when it comes to alcohol." He leaned back and turned to offer his mug at her one more time, (Y/N) shook her head, "No more cocoas for you then,"

The older skater lifted the rim of the ceramic to his lips as he carefully sipped the contents while tipping his head back a little too indiscreetly, the pinkish red marks on his neck standing out from his fair snow white complexion.

"You should've at least worn something to cover those up." The girl muttered, narrowly keeping herself from touching the blemished skin.

Viktor blinked and flinched in sudden surprise at the touch of cold fingers against the warm patches of his skin, "Unfortunately, this is all I've got in my suitcase at the moment, along with some suits. You cannot make me wear a suit this early in the morning." He chuckled and went to gently grasp her wondering hand to place loving kisses on her knuckles.

"You just did a horrible job packing." She pointed out, a blush now full-on covering her cheeks, as Viktor intertwined their hands.

The silver haired skater hummed contentedly, "Fair enough." As he wrapped his arms around her lithe form and settled him on his lap. Chin resting on the younger skater's shoulder as he read over the contents of pink specialty paper.

The reporter was now talking about the publicly announced Gala for the Grand Prix participants, their coaches, sponsors and fans, that would take place later on tonight.

(Y/N)'s gaze curiously turned to the red envelopes Viktor had placed on the table infront of them to the paper the man had on his hands, "What's that?"

His head moved a bit to look at her, strands of his hair falling over to cover his eyes, "What that?" He asked cutely before noticing her (E/C) hues that were glued on the item in his hands, "Oh, they're invitations for the Gala. I found them under the door."

(Y/N) rose a brow in mild confusion, "Two of them? Or did you get yours when you went out?"

Viktor shook his head, "Mine still wasn't there when I went over to get some medicine."

"When did you find them?"

The older skater was genuinely transfixed now, he rose his head a bit so that it was his cheek resting against her shoulder this time around, "Sometime after that young boy... What's his name?"

"Who?"

"Your fanboy." Viktor teased and pinched the younger girl's cheek.

(Y/N) quickly shook his hand off, "Elijah."

Light blue eyes blinked in remembrance, "Yeah him,"

"You think he brought them?" She began relaxing when Viktor started tracing shapes on her arms. (Y/N) would never openly admit it but she had always loved how the fabric of Viktor's clothes felt against her skin.

She light-heartedly curses how the man's got impeccable tastes when it comes to clothes. That's mainly one of the many reasons why she'd always want to sleep on them, you really couldn't blame her.

Said man shakes his head once more before burying his face on the patch of skin where his overlarge shirt had slipped off one of her shoulders, and mumbled a muffled 'no'. Lifting his head a bit, his lips lightly brushed the sensitive skin on her back as he asked, "I don't know why it had to matter though."

(Y/N) barely had the strength to hold back a moan as she shivered underneath his tightening embrace, "It would matter because whoever it was that dropped the invitations knows you're here!"

"So what?" Viktor drawled, clearly not the least bothered by the fact that someone knew he was sleeping inside a girl's room.

The girl heaved a resigned sigh before leaning further back the sturdy chest underneath her and attempting to at least calm her racing heartbeats.

Viktor shifted a bit so she could find a more comfortable position from where she is and took one of her hands in his, "If it helps," he started playing with their fingers, "I think I know just who it was that was keen enough to drop my invitation at your doorstep."

It was the (E/C) eyed skater's turn to speak lazily, "Who?"

"Mila," the Russian skater chuckled at the apprehensive look that threatened to eat the girl up, "Don't worry. She won't spill unless we give her any reason to." He winked.

(Y/N) sighed once more, "I won't hold any hopes for secrecy then. You're bound to give her all the reasons to spill every ten minutes."

"Might as well make a public announcement soon then..."

"Idiot."

"I love you too, dorogaya."

"Right back at you, you sappy Russian."

-----FIN
Notes:

Dorogaya means darling in Russian.