Chapter Text
The afternoon light found it’s way through the window of their home, making the living room table feel a lot more friendly than it felt for Shane at this point. His fingers trembled as he arranged the little pieces of paper and even smaller envelopes in front of him.
Soon they’d disappear into twenty-four tiny drawers of a wooden advent calender he found at the craft store. It seemed like good idea at the time. Now he just felt like an idiot. But Shane Hollander wasn’t a quitter. Even if he hadn’t stopped blushing for the past two hours. Perhaps Russians didn’t blush, this Canadian most certainly did.
He could feel the heat burning on his cheeks and up his neck. His ears were glowing. He was glad Ilya wasn’t around to see; Shane never would’ve been able to keep the secret. Day one. He’d rewritten the sentence seven times before finally putting the perfected version on the tiny peace of paper. Tonight, don’t start until I say please. And mean it.
He put the note into the tiny envelope and slit it into the first drawer. He felt like an absoute idiot. He’d probably back out before this gift ever made it to Ilya. All this work would’ve been for nothing. But as said before; Shane Hollander wasn’t a quitter. I mean, he even bought a wax seal kit to make every stupid little envelope into something pretty.
He reached for the second piece of paper and paused. The memory hit him without warning.
---
Two weeks ago, they’d been lying in bed after training for a nap. Well. You know. A nap. Ilya half-naked, sprawled across the sheet and Shane not being able to look anywhere else. He’d never tire of looking at that big sexy Russian with his ridiculous tattoos.
‘I know you have them.’ Ilya’s low voice caught him surprise.
‘Have what?’
‘Kinks.’ Ilya drew the word out and Shane felt the tips of his ears burn already. For fucks sake. They’d been fucking for ages now. Why did stuff like this still make him feel like a shy virgin?
‘Shut up,’ he muttered and try to turn away, but Ilya wrapped an arm around Shane’s waist and pulled him back as if he wasn’t a 200 pound muscled man.
‘Let go of me. I’m not hiding anything.’
‘Ah. Liar.’
‘Ilya.’
‘Shane.’ Ilya gripped him a little tighter, his mouth right next to Shane’s ear as he whispered. ‘I do not judge. I want to know. I want to give what you want. Tell me.’
Shane's throat tightened. He could have said it then. I want you to tie me up. I want you to make me beg. I want you to use me, break me, own me. I want more like that night in Vegas. The words sat on his tongue, right there. But they wouldn't come out. They never came out. The shame of wanting such things—shame he knew was irrational, because Ilya would never shame him—made the words refuse to come out.
Ilya sighed. He pressed a kiss to Shane's shoulder. "Someday, then. I wait.’
Well, at least he didn’t call Shane boring again. That was quite a staple in this household. But to be fair; even without kinks, their sex wasn’t boring. Never. It was good and hot and safe. So maybe … Maybe he should.
---
Shane blinked, shaking his head, and looked down at the second drawer in his hand. He'd already written the entire list of ideas two days ago, but now he read it over again and it still felt stupid. He flushed harder. His hands trembled as he folded the paper and sealed it into the drawer. Twenty-two more to go.
It was ridiculous to be this embarrassed about something he was gifting Ilya. The whole point was to finally confess. Every time Ilya asked, Shane deflected. Changed the subject. Ilya, surprisingly patient when it came to this, would let it drop, though his eyes always lingered on Shane with that quiet, knowing look. I see you. I'm waiting.
Shane reached for drawer three, four, five. Then his eyes drifted to his drawers in the dressing room. The door was open. Right there, bottom drawer that Ilya would never look at because, well, it only contained Shane’s boring stuff, now held anything but boring. It contained several boxes of several sizes, numbered to match the days. He couldn’t back out, could he. He spent way too much money on this stupid, stupid idea.
He looked at the array of drawers again; eight done, sixteen left. A full twenty-four days of confessions. Each one a step closer to handing Ilya the keys to every hidden corner of his mind.
He was terrified and yet he was more excited than he'd ever been. He’d giving Ilya a lot. Now he would give him everything. He picked up the pen again, and started writing the note for drawer five. Outside, the sun slid lower, casting the apartment in gold. Shane worked on, cheeks flushed, heart hammering, a small, secret smile tugging at his lips.
---
The day came faster than Shane hoped it would. He had been edgy all morning—picking at his breakfast, checking his phone too often, avoiding Ilya's eye across the kitchen table. Ilya noticed, of course.
‘What is wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ Stupid lie. ‘I just ... I have something for you.’
Ilya's eyebrows rose. ‘Now? Why? Did I miss celebration?’
‘No. I just ... Just wait.’ Shane was already on his feet, moving toward the closet where he'd hidden the calendar. His hands shook as he carried it over, holding it out like an offering. ‘It's an advent calendar.’
Ilya took it, turning it over. His expression was unreadable for a moment, then he snorted. ‘Boring, Hollander. So boring. You give me chocolate calendar? I am not a child.’
Shane's face was burning so hot he thought he might actually combust. ‘It's not chocolate.’
Ilya paused. ‘No?’
‘No.’ Shane's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. ‘Open it.’
Ilya stripped the paper off with deliberate slowness, watching Shane the whole time. The black wooden calendar was revealed: the twenty-four tiny drawers, each sealed with burgundy wax stamped with S.H..
‘What is this?’ His voice had lost its teasing edge. It was low now, curious.
Shane couldn't meet his eyes, could hardly find his voice. ‘Each drawer has a note. A prompt. A... a thing I want to do with you. In bed. One for every day until … Well. The last day.’
Ilya set the calendar down on the table, his movements careful. ‘Shane.’ His voice was soft, the way it got when he was trying to understand something delicate. ‘You are telling me you made me list of what you want in bed? For twenty-four days?’
‘Yes.’ The word came out strangled.
‘And you were hiding these from me all this time? The kinks you would not tell?’
Shane nodded. His cheeks burned. ‘I thought... if I wrote it down, you could open them one at a time. And we could do them together. And you wouldn't have to guess. And I wouldn't have to... say it out loud.’
He was rambling. But Ilya had picked up the calendar and was looking at the first drawer, his thumb brushing over the wax seal.
‘Twenty-four,’ Ilya murmured.
Shane's blush deepened impossibly, spreading down his neck. Ilya's jaw tightened. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he looked up at Shane, and his eyes were dark, hot, almost reverent. ‘Is it boring?’
‘My love.’ He set the calendar down, took a step forward, and cupped Shane's face in both hands. ‘This is...’ He shook his head, a slow, disbelieving motion. ‘This is biggest gift anyone has ever given me.’
‘Yeah?’ Shane's voice cracked.
‘Da.’ Ilya pressed a kiss to his forehead, then pulled back. He looked at the calendar again. His fingers ghosted over the first drawer, the second, the third. He let out a breath that was almost a growl.
‘I want to open all of them,’ he said, voice rough. ‘Right now. I want to know everything. Every secret. Every twisted little thing you hide.’
Shane's breath caught.
‘But.’ Ilya stepped back, took his hands off Shane's face, and forced himself to straighten. ‘That would be cheating. You made this for slow reveal. So we do it proper. One drawer per day.’
Shane let out a shaky laugh. ‘You're showing restraint?’
‘I am showing respect.’ Ilya's grin was wolfish, barely contained. ‘But when we start? I am not responsible for self-control.’
He picked up the calendar, turned it over in his hands, then looked at drawer one.
‘Tonight,’ he said, voice dropping to a murmur. ‘I open first drawer. I read your note. And then we do exactly what it says.’
The air between them thickened. The countdown had begun.