Title: Aloha Friday
Author: meagan <nutmeg@serv.net>
Summary: Cordelia doesn't like Xander's clothes.
Distribution: Please ask.
Spoiler: This takes place in an imaginary fourth season that follows an imaginary third season that splits off from canon after "Dead Man's Party" (arbitrary they-were-still-happy ep). No spoilers, though.
Rating: Hard R to NC-17. I'm not quite sure where the line gets drawn.
Disclaimer: Of *course* they belong to someone else. I could never come up with characters like this. Specifically, they belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, WB, and anyone else I forgot.
Feedback: Please. This is my first attempt at non-slash smut. Should I go back to just playing with the guys?
Notes: This has been sitting in my postponed-messges file for quite a while. Months. I finally dusted it off and finished it. Inspired by a conversation I had one Friday with a coworker. It went a little something like this:
Coworker: "Do you listen to Built to Spill?"
Me (thinking this was actually relevant to music, one of my favorite subjects): "No, but a lot of my friends do. Why?"
Coworker: "Because only Built to Spill fans wear --" He tugged at my sleeve -- "tacky Hawaiian shirts."
Also, it became a bit of a highly usual occurrance over the summer for everyone to wear Hawaiian shirts on Fridays (Fridays are causal days for the rest of the company, but for our group, *every* day is casual day, so we have to take things a step further). A Hawaiian coworker has embraced this and dubbed Fridays "Aloha Fridays." These two things (the conversation and the tradition) collided to inspire this thing. Oh, and the article in _Cosmo_ mentioned is real.

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"That is the ugliest shirt I have ever seen."

Xander sighed. "It's Aloha Friday. Time to relax and have a little fun. Could you just lay off the fashion commentary for once? Besides, festive Hawaiian shirts happen to be very in style right now."

She shook her head. "That's a hideous shirt." Now she smiled. "Take it off."

"Cor --"

"Just do it." Her voice made it clear the matter was not open for debate. Finally, he complied. She leaned back against the pillows at the head of her bed, debating whether he was visually acceptable yet. "I don't like those shoes, either. And I'll bet your socks don't match. Off with them." Now she turned her attention to his remaining garments. "Is that belt real leather? Hand it over."

He had no choice. Once she got in fashion critic mode, all he could do was go along with her directives. "Cor, I'm practically naked here. Do you mind?"

She carefully studied him for a moment. "You're right. But that doesn't excuse the fact that those pants are ugly, too. Off."

Standing at the foot of her bed, clothing piled on the floor, he waited for her to finish her critique of his personal style. "Can I put my shirt back on? It's cold in here."

She smirked. "I noticed. What are those things on your boxers? Lobsters? Those are tacky, too. You know what to do."

"Is this your way of controlling me and totally humiliating me in the privacy of your own home? Because it's working." He grumbled, but, finally, he was naked.

"Not quite. It's definitely a control thing." She picked up a magazine from beside her bed. "And it's also definitely something that requires privacy." She slowly paged through the magazine. "But humiliation? Not quite."

Now he blinked. The realization of just what she meant suddenly hit him. Her games were of the sort that everyone won. And so he stood perfectly silent and still, growing harder with every passing second. Watching her pretend to be unaware of the effect this whole thing was having on him.

Finally, she put the magazine down on the bed beside her and turned her attention to him, still standing naked at the foot of her bed. "Good boy." She moved from her resting place down the bed, scooting to the end of the bed. "Now let's see what else I can do to you." He lifted his hands to her hair, but she batted them away. "If you want me to do this the right way, you can't move. Hands at your side. Or I could tie them behind your back. Just get them out of the way." Smiling to himself, he continued to tangle his fingers through the silky strands. "Okay, that's it." She picked the belt up from the bed and secured his hands behind his back.

"Don't you want to gag me, too?"

She leaned back, arms propping her up, considering the suggestion while contemplating his body and running one soft foot up his leg. "Nah. I want to hear you." Her thoughtful look dissolved into a grin when his groin lunged at her. "Anxious?"

"A little." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to erase the image of her, on the bed in front of him, licking smiling lips. If he wasn't careful, this would be over before it even began.

"Open your eyes."

He shook his head, losing his balance and grinning when Cordelia grabbed his hips to steady him. "Not yet."

Her hands remained on his hips, shifting so her thumbs could stroke skin normally hidden by even the briefest of swimming suits. "How about now?"

"No."

Now she gently licked the weeping head, smiling when he hissed. "Now?"

"Uh-uh."

Carefully, she used her thumb and forefinger to trace along the side and bottom of his erection. "Now?"

He grinned at her voice, barely a whisper. "Not yet."

Now he frowned. Her hands were gone. "How about now?"

A pause, and then his eyes shot open. Gazing down, he found Cordelia with his cock in her mouth -- and her hair wrapped around the portion of his shaft between her lips and his body.

She pulled her mouth away from him long enough to comment, "Made you look."

And that was what did it. Cordelia, with her perfect hair wrapped around his dick. Using it not to entice someone but merely to give him pleasure. Of course, her mouth wasn't too horrible, either, but the fact that she was mussing her hair for one reason and one reason only made things more... interesting. And interesting was just one word to describe the feeling of her hair, strands rolling and shifting each other, creating an endless tunnel of silky massage for his erection. "Cor..."

She ignored his warning and continued moving her hair with one hand while she removed the belt wrapped around his wrists with the other. One of his hands moved to her shoulder, steadying him while his orgasm jerked through his body. Carefully, Cordelia unwound her hair from his cock.

He collapsed on the bed. It was all he *could* do for a long moment. After he finally caught his breath, he asked the question he wasn't sure he wanted answered. "So where did you learn that thing with your hair?"

She stretched out on the bed beside him, picked up the magazine she had been reading when it had all started, and pointed to a paragraph next to several men dressed only in white boxer briefs gathered around a woman in a tank top and panties. "_Cosmo_, August issue."

"Ah. Remind me to renew your subscription." He took this pause in the coversation as an opportunity to run his fingers down her spine. "You know, I've never been too fond of that shirt you're wearing."

She gazed at him, eyes sparkling. "What, you think it's your turn to play fashion critic now?"

"Yeah."

She smiled and stood next to the bed. As she dropped her shirt to the floor, she murmured, "Now you're getting the idea."

~~~ the end ~~~