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It was still night when Shane drifted into consciousness, moonlight filtering in through the windows. He was wrapped into their blanket, stretched out on his back. Ilya's arm was lightly draped over his waist. Shane turned his head to look at him, watched his curls bathed in moonlight, his face looking almost angelic in the stark contrasts, lips slightly parted to let out little puffs of air. Shane loved seeing him so relaxed, free of worry. He turned on his side and brushed a stray lock of hair out of Ilya's forehead and kissed the warm, soft skin beneath it before snuggling closer, tucking his face into the crook of Ilya's neck. Ilya made a sleepy noise, but didn't otherwise stir.
Good, he needed the rest.
Shane nuzzled Ilya, feeling the slight scrape of the edge of the collar he was still wearing against the sensitive skin of his neck. It was such a good reminder of the week they'd had.
Every year since the first time, they'd spent at least a portion of their summer at the cottage. And ever since the year after they'd gotten married, the first week of their stay was what they called their Play Week. Their phones were turned off, and Shane's parents were asked to stay away for a week to let them unwind in private. In return for promising them privacy, they got to spoil Anya for a week while they dogsat her. After that, they often met up for family dinners or days spent lounging by the lake, spending precious quality time with them.
But that first week was all theirs, and no one got to know what they were doing. It was no one's business. It was only theirs to know that for one week a year, they got to dive completely into their own world.
When they entered the cottage for the summer, they spent an hour just snuggling on the couch, leaving the last of the past season behind them, breathing and soaking in being close to each other and alone together. Then they would have lunch together, usually holding hands as they ate, talking about nothing in particular between sweet kisses.
And then, Shane would hand over his phone to Ilya to turn off and put away for the week, and would go to the bedroom to undress. He never needed clothes during Play Week, if he got cold, there were always blankets and Ilya's warm hugs. Once naked, he'd return to the livingroom and find the soft, fluffy bathmat Ilya had put down while he was undressing. He'd kneel down, and Ilya would be there, soft leather collar already in hand and crouching down to fasten it around Shane's neck. The collar was the only thing Shane was allowed to wear during Play Week, and he loved it.
For one, blessed week a year, he got to be just Shane, and his only task was to submit to Ilya, obey him and be a good boy for him. He'd gone down enough kink research rabbit holes that he knew that what they were doing was called total power exchange, but he didn't really like to think about it like that. It sounded clinical, and mean, and not like the sacred, love-filled, amazing week he got to spend with Ilya every year.
And Ilya was the best – he would be mean, and then soft, and he would challenge Shane to go to his limits, and he'd pamper him, he'd bruise him and make sure he would be sore for days, he'd curl up with him on the couch and watch a movie while murmuring soft words of love into his hair.
And Shane always loved being Ilya's, loved being nothing but a vessel for Ilya's pleasure, a dumb slut and a most precious pet at once, loved not having to think, not having to worry. Loved indulging the side of Ilya that needed to provide and take care, take charge, while simultaneously silencing the overthinking rollercoaster loops in his brain. He loved not having to worry, not having to think about anything than what made Ilya happy. He loved it when all he did was either because Ilya ordered him to or he had thought of something he could do to serve Ilya better. Ilya, who had to make all decisions all week long and take care of them both, only ever deserved the best, so Shane loved being the best he could for him. He loved sliding off the sofa in the evenings and kneel by Ilya's feet to massage them. He loved going into the kitchen to assemble a snack plate purely made of Ilya's favourites. He loved building a fire and fetching blankets so they could stay outside for longer when it got cool in the evenings and Ilya didn't feel like going inside yet. He loved kissing all over Ilya's body and worshipping him, massaging his sore spots with lotion after Ilya had spent time and energy fucking Shane into whatever surface he had wanted to. He loved kneeling before Ilya and hold his already aching jaw open, letting Ilya's cock rest there, kept warm and safe, while Ilya unwound with some video games.
Shane loved belonging to Ilya. There was nothing better than being owned by him.
This time, Ilya had made him sleep on the floor for two nights, curled up in a blanket nest at the foot of their bed, and he'd only been allowed to crawl in in the mornings to wake Ilya up with a blowjob. Ilya had made him swallow every time, too. Shane now felt stiff all over, but he'd loved it. Ilya had praised him so much in the mornings, kissing him and massaging the worst of the tension out of his neck and shoulders. He'd told him how good he was, and had made them Shane's favourite for their breakfast. And instead of having to sit and eat at the table, he'd gotten to kneel beside Ilya and just take the bites he was being fed while his head was feeling nice and floaty from the praise and Ilya's assurances that he was a good boy.
The feeling of completely belonging to Ilya, of being owned so thoroughly that not even his own thoughts belonged to him, it was ecstatic every time. No one could care for him as well as Ilya did, give him everything he needed, keep him safe and challenge him at the same time. Spending the week in a submissive haze was more relaxing to him that he could put into words, the feeling of constantly floating on cotton clouds, all his thoughts and desires revolving around Ilya, thinking of Ilya's pleasure and needs first before his own ever even came to mind, it was a heady feeling.
And yet, predictably, at the end of a week, he would drift out of the feeling, and his muscles would be too sore, his knees and neck too stiff, the lack of agency too stifling to continue.
So then, they'd find each other back on the couch, or in bed, and Ilya would take care of him, hold him and assure him that he was loved and cherished and adored, allowing Shane to choose the way they cuddled up so it was most comfortable for him. This time, he had spent a lot of the evening on top of Ilya, head pillowed on Ilya's chest and just drifting as he read aloud from a book of Russian children's stories, one hand holding up their e-reader and the other running soothingly through Shane's hair.
They'd taken a shower together too, later, where Ilya had lathered him up so carefully and washed him with such reverence. Shane had still felt unsteady on his legs and had just leaned against the wall as Ilya had been the one to slide to his knees and gently clean his husband.
Dinner had been one of Shane's safe foods, grilled salmon and vegetables, that they'd cooked together on the grill outside, Shane comfortably dressed in some of Ilya's soft sweatpants and an old t-shirt with a faded print on it and holding Ilya's hand, feeling safe and happy as he watched Ilya handle their food with his free hand, expertly removing each item from the grill and directly onto the plate.
Then they'd curled up together on the couch outside, looking over the lake while they ate, occasionally feeding each other bites from their plate. It felt so good to be holding a knife and fork again, and yet he loved the bits best that he ate directly from Ilya's fork, always followed by a kiss.
Shane never really talked much during that time, when he was slowly coming back up to reality, feeling both the most safe and the most vulnerable that he did during their playtime, and words always seemed like they were far away and out of reach. Ilya never minded though, happy to let them be silent or fill the silence himself with inconsequential stories about something or other he'd seen out on walks with Anya or some meme a teammate had sent. Even after dinner was finished, Ilya would simply put their plates aside and keep Shane in his arms, fingers running through his hair as he kept talking, switching between random topics and praising Shane for having been so good for him.
Eventually, when the evening grew late enough that they were both tired and sleepy, Ilya would always ask him if he wanted to take the collar off. Shane loved this particular collar. Ilya had picked it out for him, it was soft and supple, and it was the one he only wore during Play Week. They had other collars at their house in Ottawa, that they used to play with during the rest of the year, but this one always stayed at the cottage and only came out during this week.
Sometimes, Shane already wanted to take it off then, but tonight, he'd wanted to keep it on for a bit longer, wanted to feel that physical reminder of Ilya's love wrapped around his neck even as they went about their normal nighttime routine again and curled up together in bed, holding each other tightly. After a week of submitting and serving his Ilya, it always felt amazing to Shane to just crawl back into bed normally again, no permission needed, just him and his husband snuggling together, in love, kissing each other goodnight and holding on tight as they slipped into their dreams.
It wasn't unusal for him to drift awake in the night afterwards, when his subconcious was still working out the shift between the intense play and nothing but submission and the return to his usual state, still relaxed and on vacation, but more aware of himself again, with boundaries and opinions and slipping back into being a person.
He never really minded it though, it helped him feel more like himself again to just lie there in the darkness and watch his husband sleep. Once upon a time, he would have felt creepy, but by now, he loved doing it. Tracing his eyes over Ilya's relaxed face felt so precious and sacred, in a way. Shane wasn't really a religious person, but if there was anything in his life that was holy, it would be Ilya like this, relaxed and happy, still hugging Shane in his sleep like he couldn't bear to let go of him. The moonlight dancing across his face made him look like a saint that Shane could worship anytime.
He took Ilya's hand where it was lying across his chest and carefully brought it up to his lips to kiss it. One kiss at the back of his palm, and one kiss on the wedding ring on his ring finger. Sometimes, even now, years later, Shane couldn't believe that this ring meant that Ilya had chosen to spend his life with him, of all people. He was so lucky to have scored the best of all the men this world had to offer.
He brought his other hand up to cover Ilya's as well, marveling at their matching rings as he slotted their fingers together. He'd never really thought about wedding rings as something special before getting married himself, but now it still send a thrill through him to look at their matching rings, or to see Ilya's ring catch the light and sparkle when they were out and about, and to think that he put that ring there. In the end, Ilya belonged to him in the same way that he belonged to Ilya, after all.
" 's okay?"
Shane turned away from marveling at their rings sparkling in the moonlight and towards his husband blinking sleepily at him.
"Perfect", he whispered, leaning in to press another kiss to Ilya's forehead. "Just thinking about how much I love you. Go back to sleep."
Ilya hummed, arm tightening across Shane's torso. "Love you too", he mumbled, pulling Shane in close. And Shane, of course, went easily, snuggling up into Ilya's arms to let himself be held and hold his husband in return.
He felt Ilya's lips on his forehead and smiled to himself.
He couldn't wait for the rest of their summer. The day after tomorrow, his parents would come over, and the Pikes were scheduled to come in the next week, so Ilya could show off his new collection of waterguns to the girls, and then later Svetlana would come by to hang out with Ilya and discuss the trading news for the new season with Shane while they cooked some of Ilya and Svetlana's childhood favourites so they could share the memories with Shane. He was looking forward to the rest of their summer.
But for now, he was still here, cuddled up with his husband, in their own sacred little space, in their precious bubble, and he couldn't imagine to be anywhere better.
"Sleep, moya lyubov", he heard Ilya's slurred voice, then felt his lips on his forehead again. Shane closed his eyes, held on tighter, and let himself drift back to sleep. He already couldn't wait for the next time their Play Week came around.