Title: Gene Claus
Fandom: Ashes to Ashes
Characters/Pairings: Gene/Alex
Rating: 18/M/NC-17 – naughty.
Warnings: Contains scenes of a sexual nature. If this offends you please don't read.

Summary: After overhearing a drunken conversation between Alex and Shaz, Gene decides to take action to make Alex's fantasy a reality. Galex.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ashes to Ashes. If I did, we'd have had a different ending! The franchise and its characters belong to Kudos and BBC and I am not making any money from writing this.

Author's Note: I know Christmas was months ago now but this little ficlet was inspired by a picture doing the rounds on Tumblr of Gene as Father Christmas. I slightly *interesting* discussion followed about sitting on his lap and so on and this was born.

Now I've never written smut before, so I apologise if this is really bad. There's not much naughtiness in this first chapter; it's just alluded to, but the second chapter will be much naughtier. So please do not read it you're under age – I don't want to be responsible for perverting the youth of today!

Thanks to GenesGirl13 for beta-ing!

Chapter 1

I was at the bar in Luigi's when I heard it. Both Bolly and Shaz were pissed, so I suppose I could just pass it off as drunken babbling, but an idea had formed and I couldn't leave it alone. They'd both put away a hell of a lot more alcohol between them that night than they were used to. I suppose it was because of the nature of the case; those involving kiddie fiddlers seem to have a more profound effect on women. A local paedo posing as Father Christmas to prey on innocent kids. Still, thanks to Drake's psychiatry and my good old copper's nous the scum bag was in now behind bars, leaving us to celebrate Christmas in the only way us police officers know how; getting pissed. Anyway I digress. Let me get back to the point I was making. I'd been to the bathroom and on my return noticed that Bolly wasn't at our table, where I'd left her. Looking around I found her stood at the bar, engaged in giggly conversation with Shaz. I approached them quietly; not wanting to be spotted – call me curious but I wanted to know what was making Bollyknickers giggle and blush like a naughty schoolgirl.

"Father Christmas? Really Ma'am?" I heard Shaz ask disbelievingly. Alex nodded, coyly.

"It's just...I can't believe I'm telling you this!" she cried, embarrassed.

"No, go on!" urged Shaz.

"It's just the thought of sitting on his knee, him asking me if I been a naughty girl and asking me to..." she paused, trying to compose herself as giggles threatened to overtake her, " ...to suck on his candy cane...it just does things to me."

"Give's a whole new meaning to the phrase, 'Santa Clause is coming to town." Shaz countered and they collapsed into hysterics on the bar.

I was a bit slow on the uptake; the alcohol numbing my brain, but realisation soon dawned and I stopped dead. Bolly, my posh, captain of the upper fifth Lady Bolls, had a kinky fantasy about Father Christmas. I quickly became aware that I was just standing there, in the middle of the restaurant and that Alex could spot me at any moment. Something told me she'd be absolutely horrified at having been overheard, especially by me. We may have been having a secret relationship for the last couple of months, but she's still a very private person; we both are. So private that we've not even talked about how we actually feel...we've just kind of come to a mutual understanding that we're together. Neither of us is seeing anyone else; we simply don't have the time (we spend most of our free time together). Not that I'd want to; why would I want anyone else when I've got a sexy woman like Alex Drake waiting in bed for me. Not wanting to risk losing my all-access pass to Drake's body, I shuffle back to the table; my head spinning and my trousers tightening as the implication of Bolly's words finally reach my groin, and that was when the idea began to form. Yes, it was time to have a little fun with Detective Inspector Alex Drake. If she wants to play around with Father Christmas...then who am I to deny her?

I woke up in an empty bed with a pounding headache; just how much had I had to drink last night? I wracked my brain trying to remember the events of the evening. We'd gone to Luigi's after work like normal; feeling particularly elated at having solved our last case. It had been tough week; child abuse cases were never easy; so I'd been particularly keen to drink away the memories and forget. I remember some drunken dancing, some discreet (or maybe not) flirting with Gene and...oh God! An incredibly embarrassing conversation with Shaz. It came flooding back to me now in vivid clarity. I'd told her about my secret fantasy of sleeping with Father Christmas! I hope to God she doesn't remember; there's actually a good chance she won't – she was just as drunk as me, if not more so. And even if she did, she wouldn't tell anyone, would she? I turn slowly to reach for the phone and dial Shaz's number.

"Hello?" she answers groggily. She's sounds as rough as I feel.

"Shaz it's Alex. How are you feeling?"

"I've been better Ma'am," she admitted.

"Me too. Listen Shaz, just how much of last night to you remember?"

"A little. It's coming back in bits. Dancing? Drinking? Something about Father Christm-" I cringed; Shaz obviously remembered our conversation.

"Can I ask you to please forget that conversation ever happened?"

"I'll try, but it might be a difficult image to erase. I won't tell anyone though Ma'am. You have my word."

"Thank you Shaz. I'll let you go and nurse your hangover. See you at work on Monday."

"Yeh, see you Monday. Hope you feel better soon." As I put the phone down I spot a note from Gene on the bedside cabinet. I lift it up and try to get my eyes to focus on his familiar scrawl.

Morning. How's the head?
Had a few errands to run.
Didn't want to wake you – figured you'd need your sleep.
G x

I catch myself smiling at his words; I've really got it bad! Despite this our relationship is still very much in its infancy and we've not said 'I love you' yet. Come to think of it; we've not really said much about our feelings. We've just been enjoying the sex. Gene is an amazing lover. What is it he calls it again? Oh yeh, legendary prowess. Well he wasn't joking. He is very talented. Just thinking about it makes me weak at the knees. Despite the thudding in my head, I find myself getting hot and bothered at the thought of his hands...his mouth...touching...kissing...licking...

BRRRIIIIINNNNNG!

I curse as the sound of the phone pulls me out of my hangover-induced fantasy and I reach out to answer it.

"Hello."

"Good mornin' sunshine," Gene greets loudly.

"Is it?" I rasp, "Could you please talk a bit quieter?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Yer got an' 'eadache?" he asks, feigning innocence.

"Just a little," I admitted, earning a low chuckle from him. "Did you ring for any particular reason or just to annoy me?"

"Well, I were goin' ter ask yer out ter dinner tonight, but if yer goin' ter be like that I might change my mind."

"I'm sorry. I'd love to have dinner with you, if the offer's still open?"

"I suppose so," he replies nonchalantly. "I also wanted ter talk ter yer about your plans fer Christmas. I were wonderin' if yer fancied spendin' it tergether like? At my place? Unless yer want ter stay home and wait fer Santa ter come and tell yer wether yer've been naughty or nice?" Thoughts of my drunken conversation with Shaz rush into my brain and I blush profusely. Not that there's really any reason to be embarrassed. It's not like Gene knows anything about; it was just an innocent remark. But the seed has been planted in my brain and the fantasy begins to build in my head. That, on top of the direction my thoughts had been heading in before he rang, renders me unable to speak. Gene senses my hesitation,

"What's the matter Bolls. Already got plans?"

"N-no, I think I'd like to spend it with you." I manage to tell him with a remarkable amount of composure for someone who is about to spontaneously combust.

"Good. Right. That's that sorted then. I'll pick yer up fer dinner at seven?"

"Sounds great!"

"Oh and Bolls...wear something slutty." He hangs up without even saying good bye and I head for a cold shower.

By half five my headache has gone and I'm feeling much brighter so I begin to get ready. I've chosen an outfit that really should grab Gene's attention; well he did ask for slutty. Never let it be said that I don't follow orders sometimes. My top is a black spandex tube top. My skirt is black chiffon; flaring out just enough to swing when I walk and to draw attention to my arse. It ends just above the knee so, I've also chosen to pair it with sheer black thigh high stockings (complete with garter) and some sexy satin slingback pumps with four inch stiletto heels. I'm also wearing my new red lace thong that I bought last weekend. I've forgone the bra; the tightness of this top held my breasts firmly in place.

I curl my hair slightly, giving it a tousled look, and I apply minimal make-up, finished off with what I happen to know is Gene's favourite perfume. After the thoughts that have been swimming round my head today; I am determined tonight to seduce Gene and let him have his wicked way with me.

This Santa suit is hot and stuffy... I'm likely to pass out if I have to wear it for very long. I stand in front of a full-length mirror in my bedroom fastening the braces onto the pants to hold them up. It may be a stifling suit but its good quality; quite thick with an authentic beard and moustache. I thought I was going to be out of luck when the third fancy dress shop I rang told me that they were out of stock and asked did I really suspect anything else less than a week before Christmas. But then I remembered we pulled in an owner of one of the shops less than 6 months ago for fencing stolen gear, but we dropped the charges as he was so helpful with our investigation. So I called in and told him that unless he found me a nice Santa suit within the hour, I would make those charges reappear. I must've been convincing cos low and behold 45 minutes later he'd found me one. I begin to slip into the heavy coat, and immediately the sweat begins pouring off me. I groan in frustration and rip the coat off... the last thing I want to do is begin reeking of man stink, even though I know it moistens Alex's gusset more than she lets on. What to do...With resignation, I strip off the baggy red pants and take off the jeans I had put on underneath. After a moment of indecision, I also strip off my boxers and t-shirt, leaving myself completely naked under the suit, hoping that she doesn't take this the wrong way and throw me out on my arse! I look in the mirror and chuckle to myself,

"Ho, Ho, Ho Bolly. Here I come."

I leave the Quattro a few streets away and walk to her flat. It's too conspicuous a vehicle; I'd be recognised straight away despite the suit if anyone from CID was around, and that is not a conversation I wish to have with any of my department. If I walk, granted I might look like a bit of a ponce, but no one will be able to tell it's me. But surprisingly no one bats an eyelid at Father Christmas walking the streets of Fenchurch. When I reach her door, I stand just to the left of the peephole so she can't see me and I knock once and yell,

"Bolly! Open up!" I hear her muffled greeting before the sound of her tapping heels get closer to the door. I can feel that familiar tightening in my groin area at the image of Bolly in heels... maybe three inch... maybe four...? No time to ponder it; the door is opening. It opens but there's no one stood there and it takes me a moment to realise that she's not even looked at me; she opened the door and turned straight back around and headed back to her room.

"I won't be a minute Gene. Make yourself comfortable," she instructs. I drop my overnight bag by the door and do as she says, stretching out full length on the couch. She's soon heading back into the living room, looking incredible. "Sorry about that Gene, I'm ready n...Oh God!" She's spotted me and she gives her head a little shake, not quite believing what's she's seeing. I can hear the wheels turning in her pretty little head as she tries to process what's happening. I swallow a chuckle, trying to concentrate on my Santa act.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" I growl, low and thick. "Santa thought he'd pop by an' see yer after overhearin' yer tell yer friend what yer'd like ter do ter 'im!" I watch her carefully, gauging her reaction; the implication behind my words. Her face pales, her eyes go round and large with shock and she drops her clutch bag to the floor and just stands there. I rise slowly from couch, and move to stand in front of her, taking her hand. I lean in close to her ear, "Tell me, 'ave you been a naughty girl this year?"