Chapter Text
The Swiss Alps were draped in a blanket of snow, each peak towering majestically under the shimmering light of the moon. In the quiet, untouched winter landscape, nestled between towering pines and surrounded by the purest white snow, stood a luxurious ski chateau. It was the kind of place where the world felt far away, and the chaos of everyday life couldn’t reach you. For Sasha and Bruce, it was the perfect escape.
The chateau was warm, the flickering fire casting a golden glow over the grand fireplace. The scent of pine and cinnamon filled the air, and twinkling lights lined the beams above. A Christmas tree stood proudly in the corner, its ornaments glistening like diamonds in the soft light.
But beyond the decorations and the cozy setting, there was only one thing that mattered this Christmas: each other.
-
It had been a full day of skiing, with the crisp mountain air stinging their faces as they careened down the slopes. Bruce, surprisingly agile on the snow, had been in his element, but it was Sasha who had outdone him, darting through the snowy paths with the grace of someone born to the mountain. She always did surprise him, even now, after all these years.
As the day turned to night, the chateau came alive with warmth. They shed their ski gear by the door, Bruce’s strong hands pulling off his boots, his coat, and his gloves. Sasha, already looking like a vision in a simple white cashmere sweater, smirked at him from across the room. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and her eyes sparkled in a way that made his heart race.
“Well, you certainly know how to keep up with me,” she teased, her voice smooth like velvet.
Bruce, his lips curling into a slow smile, pulled his jacket from his shoulders. “I had to. You’re impossible to catch otherwise.”
Sasha moved closer, her gaze never leaving his, a playful challenge lingering in her expression. Without a word, she stepped up to him, her hands sliding over his chest, pushing him back just enough so she could stand on her tiptoes and kiss him. The touch of her lips was soft at first, a brush of sweetness that turned quickly into something deeper, hotter. He responded immediately, pulling her closer as his fingers tangled in her hair.
She gasped when he deepened the kiss, his body pressing against hers, the firelight casting shadows over their faces. The heat between them was palpable—every touch, every movement ignited something inside her. Sasha broke the kiss, her breath quick and shallow. “We don’t have to be anywhere tonight…”
Bruce’s voice was low, full of promise. “No. We don’t.”
-
The sun rose slowly the next morning, casting a warm glow over the white peaks. The soft sound of wind rattling the windows was the only noise to greet them as they lay tangled in the sheets, Sasha’s head resting on Bruce’s chest, his fingers gently caressing her back. The sheets were warm, the world outside cold and still, and the only heat between them was the fire of their bodies entwined.
“Good morning,” Bruce murmured, his voice husky from sleep. His hand slid down her back, pulling her closer as he kissed the top of her head.
Sasha smiled, her eyes still closed. “Good morning… though I think we’ve already had our Christmas presents.”
Bruce chuckled softly. “You’re a gift I don’t plan on returning.”
She looked up at him then, her eyes full of warmth and something deeper. She leaned in to kiss him, but as their lips brushed, she suddenly pulled back. “Wait,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I think I hear something.”
Bruce furrowed his brow. “What?”
“Mistletoe,” she said with a sly smile, pointing above them.
Bruce looked up. Sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe hung above their bed. He groaned, rolling his eyes. “We’re not that couple.”
Sasha laughed, tugging at his shoulders. “Come on, it’s tradition.”
With a smirk, Bruce pulled her back toward him, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but traditional. It was slow, deliberate, a kiss that had layers of meaning behind it—years of longing, of desire, of finally being able to share moments like this.
Sasha’s hands slid down his chest, fingertips grazing the edges of his shirt as she climbed on top of him. The temperature in the room seemed to rise with every touch, every movement. She kissed him harder now, more urgently, and Bruce responded with equal passion. She had missed him—missed the warmth, the fire, the way he made her feel alive in a way nothing else ever had.
-
Later, with snow falling outside in delicate flakes, the fire crackling, and the smell of spiced wine filling the air, they found themselves in the chateau’s spa. The warmth of the hot tub enveloped them, steam rising around them like mist as they sank into the soothing waters.
Bruce leaned back, his eyes on her as she joined him, her skin glowing in the warm light. “You know, I think you’re trying to kill me,” he said with a playful smile.
Sasha raised an eyebrow, her gaze never leaving his. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
She slid closer to him, her body just inches from his. He could feel the heat from her skin, the delicate touch of her hand on his chest. The water rippled with their movements, a soft current between them that made everything feel more intimate.
“You’ve been torturing me all day,” Bruce said, his voice low and teasing.
Sasha smirked, her hand moving from his chest to his neck, her fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “Maybe I like torturing you,” she whispered.
Before he could respond, she kissed him again, more intensely than before, her body pressing into his as the heat of the water seemed to mirror the heat between them. The soft splash of the water, the sound of their breath, the soft crackle of the fire outside the spa—it was all just background noise to the world they had created for themselves, a world where they were the only two who mattered.
-
As the evening fell, they returned to the chateau, the fire crackling merrily in the grand living room. Sasha and Bruce, both wearing nothing but the remnants of their day’s laughter, curled up under a thick blanket by the fire. There was nothing to say, no need for words. The peace between them was enough.
But Sasha couldn’t help herself—she had to ask. “Do you ever regret it? Leaving everything behind?”
Bruce’s hand slid over hers, intertwining their fingers. “No,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “Not when I’m with you.”
They stayed there, by the fire, the world outside a blur of snow and stillness. It was a Christmas neither of them would forget—a time of peace, of love, of rediscovery. They had each other, and that was all they ever needed.
For the first time in their lives, they were truly home.