Many people think that figure skaters sleep around because what else would they do between, or even during, competitions? Well, this is at least partially true. Chris does because he is who he is (and Viktor knows all about it since Chris has zero shame and loves to overshare), and there have been rumors about Seung-gil Lee, of all people. Still waters run deep, indeed.
Viktor doesn’t sleep around. For him, sex isn’t about orgasms or having fun; it’s about intimacy and connection.
“You’re awfully old-fashioned, mein Schatz,” Chris says. “You need to decompress.”
What he means is “You need to get laid.”
What he means is “I’m at your service.”
“I decompress all the time,” Viktor retorts.
What he means is “I masturbate just enough, thank you very much, and the rest is none of your business.”
What he means is “I would skate myself to death if I could because I’m fucking afraid to die alone, surrounded by gold medals and pet poodles.”
Chris snorts and does not dignify Viktor with a response.
“Come on, we’re going to be late for the banquet,” Viktor says, although he’d rather stay in his hotel room and brood.
Maybe he is awfully old-fashioned. Maybe if he drinks enough champagne he’ll change his mind, and things will become so much easier.
“Maybe we could divide it in two,” Viktor hums a song from his teenage years, and Chris looks at him like he’s crazy.
Maybe he is.