Chapter Text
“Fuuuuck,” Nina whistles, “that is the sexiest Santa that I’ve ever seen.”
Alina doesn’t look away from her computer, determinedly focusing on her work and not on what her boss looks like dressed as Santa for a visit to the children’s ward at the town’s hospital.
This would never have happened if she still worked in the city, at her soulless, corporate office and with a boss who refused to wear anything that wasn’t an ill-fitting grey suit.
Instead, she’s pursuing her dream of being an artist in the country’s most picturesque small town, and working at the mayor’s office to support herself until her commissions increase.
Mayor Aleksander Morozov is a man of great wealth and power. Unlike her old boss, he’s also surprisingly down-to-earth and always happy to play Santa to make sick children smile.
It’s difficult enough to avoid constantly daydreaming about him, without adding x-rated Christmas-themed fantasies to her mind.
“Saints, I would absolutely sit on that man’s lap,” Genya sighs.
“Gen!” Alina nudges her friend, “you’re married.”
“Yeah, but not dead,” the redhead laughs, “I adore David, but I’m not blind.”
Alina remains resolute, though, refusing to look up as Aleksander leaves for the hospital.
Ten minutes later, Nina comes rushing up, “they forgot one of the bags of presents. You need to take it to the hospital.”
“Why does it have to be me?” she asks suspiciously.
“We’re all very busy,” Genya pipes up.
Alina goes to protest, but the two of them shove the bag of presents into her arms and push her towards the door, and it isn’t like she can let the children down by refusing to go.
At the hospital, she finds Ivan, dressed as the North Pole’s grumpiest elf (she takes a sneaky photo for blackmail purposes and because Fedyor will love it) and he points her towards the small office Aleksander is using as a dressing room.
He’s in the suit when she enters, a Santa Claus with the sort of physique usually only seen in sexy Santa movies. He hasn’t finished getting ready yet, though, so it’s his own dark hair and beard.
“Thank you, Alina,” he smiles as she puts the bag of presents down, “how do I look?”
“Like a Santa whose lap all the moms are going to be rushing to sit on,” she blurts out before she thinks better of it.
Aleksander only laughs and then winks, “what about you, Alina? Do you want to sit on Santa’s lap?”
She knows he’s teasing, but in a fit of madness she strides over and perches herself on his knee.
His eyes widen in shock, but then his mouth curves into a sinful smirk, “few people manage to surprise me, Alina.”
She goes to stand up, cheeks flushed and shy, but his arm wraps around her waist, holding her still.
“Well, Alina,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of her ear, “have you been naughty or nice?”
She blushes pink, her mind suddenly full of the daydreams she’s had where he’s wearing a lot less than this.
His smirk widens, as if he can read her mind, “don’t worry, Alina. I think I know the perfect gift for you … if you’re free this evening for me to pick you up at seven?”
Alina grins, smiling in anticipation, “I think I can make time.”