Summary:

“C’mon, it’s Christmas.” “I did not know Christmas was for doing stupid things.” “Christmas,” Shane starts, crawling on all fours to get up and tower over Ilya, a new set of determination over his sleepy eyes, “is about being more indulgent.” His face dips down until their noses greet one another as softly as butterfly wings, breaths in sync, and chests brushing. The urge to kiss him is stronger than last night’s storm. Or, Ilya and Shane spend Christmas together.