SUMMARY: There’s a reason Cordelia won’t wear the nice clothes Angel buys her.
POSTED: 14 Apr 2007
WARNINGS: Explicit Sexual Content
1) Excuse me if this is pants, but I’ve literally written it in less than an hour.
STATUS: Complete

Every once in a while, Angel liked to do something nice for her, and now that he was a CEO, he could afford to decently spoil her. Sometimes it would be breakfast in bed, sometimes it was treating her to a nice restaurant, sometimes it was a weekend away, and sometimes he would buy her an outfit or a ridiculously expensive pair of shoes or equally expensive outfit.

If it was shoes or clothes, he wouldn’t give them to her personally, considering the scenario a few years ago. Instead he would hide them away in the closet so she’d think they had always been there. The reason for subterfuge was she truly hated it when he spent stupid amounts of money on her. He had no idea why she hated it so much, not when he could comfortably afford it.

If he couldn’t spend it on his best girl, then who or what could he spent it on? Plus, it struck him as strange how the woman who adored gifts didn’t want him to get her any, but whatever.

It was one of those nights when he’d innocently walking past a quaint little boutique opposite the Wolfram and Hart building when he innocently happened to notice a beautiful dress that would look lovely on her. Thin straps, a slim skirt, and a dark green belt at the waist. From what he understood, thick belts were all the rage in the fashion world. It hadn’t taken much for him to innocently enter the store and innocently purchase the dress.

Which was how he now came to be stood in front of her wardrobe, frowning at the contents. All the pretty clothes he’d bought her over the last year or so were in there and completely untouched. Half of them still had the tags.

Angel blinked and began to slide the hangers to the right, making room for the latest piece of yum. The more clothes he moved, the bigger his frown got until it quite frankly turned into a spectacular pout. Not one single blouse, skirt, dress, pair of pants or top had been worn.

Why, he wondered, as he closed the door, every intention focused on finding her and extracting the answer, by whatever means necessary.

He found her in the top right corner of his penthouse, sitting in the overstuffed, comfortable arm chair she bought, needle and thread in hand. Bronze eyes honed in on the fact she was sowing a button onto an old, worn shirt.

Why would she do that when she had plenty of new clothes to choose from?

“Hey,” she never glanced his way. “You’re home late. Another boring meeting, I presume?”

Angel didn’t reply. Didn’t think she deserved a reply when he wasn’t getting one of his own. “What are you doing?”

She finally looked up when she paused before casting off. “Just fixing some of my stuff. I won’t be long. I was thinking you could spoil me a bit tonight and join me in the hot tub with champagne and strawberries.” Man, did that ever sound good.

“That depends on whether or not you’re going to drink it.”

“Of course I’m going to drink it,” she half scoffed. “Wasting a bottle of Dom is the eighth deadly sin.”

“And wasting isn’t something you do.”

The sarcastic bite to his tone had her ignoring the next broken garment in favour of staring at him in confusion. “I’m not following.”

He gave a casual that was anything but casual. “Nothing,” Angel struggled to keep from sounding childish. Maybe she just liked her old clothes. No harm in that, he supposed. His favourite pair of slippers were a good five or six years.

Still, they were slippers, not clothes. Clothes were a different matter. She had no reason to live in things she’d had since high school, and if he was honest, he was a little bit hurt by the fact she never wore any of what he bought her. Didn’t she like them?

Angel truly didn’t think that could possible. He knew her taste and knew if a piece got him a tad hot and bothered, then she’d love it. So that still left the question of why she never wore her new things.

“Why?” He asked eventually.

Cordelia blinked. He could be so confusing at times. “Why what?”

“Why don’t you ever wear what I buy you?” There. It was out in the open now and she had no choice but to give him his answer.

“Oh. That.”

Yeah, that. He waited for her to elaborate on what exactly her words meant. When she showed no signs of doing so, he treated her a scowl used for nasty demons. He got nothing except the irritating sight of more thread being put into the needle.

“Explain, please.” Angel’s tone brooked no argument and caused her to sigh.

Cordelia put her work to one side, gracing him with a smile that only served to frustrate him. “Honestly, I don’t see the point.”

Didn’t she know how many women would kill for the clothes he got for her, or was she secretly naïve when it came to pleasures of Valentino and Blahnik? Nah. That couldn’t be it. She definitely knew what those things meant.

“I buy them for a reason,” he said, unable to stop a bit of anger slipping out. “For you to wear them.”

“I know and I love that you buy me stuff, even if you ignore my telling you no.” She smiled indulgently at the slight shock on his handsome, frowning face. “Yes Angel, I do know you’ve been putting stuff into my closet.”

Really, how dense did he think she was? She shook her head. Men.

“Then why won’t you wear them?” It was his way of taking care of her, providing for his woman and all that macho crap. What did it mean if she didn’t take them? The one answer he had didn’t bare thinking about.

She sighed again, scratched her forehead, and got out of the cosy chair. There was only one thing for it. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

Angel blinked. They were in the middle of a serious conversation and she was leaving to take a shower? His eyes found themselves following the soft sway of her hips as she walked past him, and his cheek felt the softer touch of her palm.

He nigh on whimpered when her thumb stroked over his bottom lip. A quick, little brush that lasted long enough to put ideas into his head. Thinking on it, the conversation was about clothes. Not serious at all, really, not in the grand scheme of things.

Then her touch was gone and so was she. He stood listening to her footsteps get ever quieter, waiting a tad longer until he could hear them no more, and trailed after her. So what if he resembled a lost lamb?

She was going in the shower, and he dared any man to ignore such a thing. The only thing with bigger odds was an invasion of six eyed mice from Mars.

Angel got as far as their bedroom when his attention was drawn to a pair of itty bitty panties on the floor. They were a gorgeous shade of blue and he knew from memory exactly how transparent those particular panties were. Images of running fingers through those neat, dark curls of hers ran through his head, going low enough to find her all hot and wet and wide open.

Shirt and pants gone in the space of a second, and in another, he was in the bathroom and his lips on the back of her neck. She could never resist being kissed there. It always made her shiver.

The shirt she had on was just as old as the one she was fixing and it simply had to go. “You want it, baby?” Angel murmured, blunt teeth nipping at flimsy, sensitive skin, and smirking when she gasped in a breath.

“I won’t say no.” Cordelia’s own smirk went unseen as her arms went up and round his neck, her nails tickling his jugular. She was going to have sex and prove a point. Talk about two birds and one stone, definitely a personal best on her part.

His hands went from her tummy to her breasts and grabbed tight hold of the shirt collar. One swift tug and it was torn clean down the middle, leaving her breasts exposed and ready for groping, which he did without wasting more time.

Angel never used to be a breast man. It was always a good pair of legs and a firm ass. Then he’d been introduced to Cordy Land and the wonders a pair of full, rounded boobs could do. Hers were especially nice. Sweet, juicy nipples that were a pale pink in colour and when they were hardened, God, his mouth quite literally watered.

It’d been embarrassing when he’d first drooled considering they were in Bella Pasta, having a late dinner with their family. Cordelia had been running behind thanks to traffic, and so she’d met them there.

That had been the one and only time she’d worn something he’d bought for her. A dark royal blue dress made from a form of velvet that did nothing to hide the figure wearing it. She’d had her hair pinned up by clips containing matching the dress, her nails were painted a dark blue, and her eyes were lined in a blue.

The whole effect had been stunning, but her chest was the main event of the evening. Sure, Angel had his moments where he tripped over his own feet, but he was generally not an overly clumsy person. Except on this one occasion where he made a fool of himself and almost burned down the restaurant.

Chaos, he now called the dress, for there was no other word for it and he only had himself to blame. Two things weren’t thought of, and one of them had been the plunging V neckline which went right down between her breasts, and the other thing had been her chest as a whole.

He’d never bought another dress like it for the simple fact it was solely down to him to protect the population from the deliciously evil ways of her breasts. Okay, so maybe he was saving himself, but it wasn’t like he could be blamed. Not when all he seemed to do when she wore stuff like that was bump into waiters carrying dangerous things, like cakes on fire or candles.

“Oh yesss,” Cordelia hissed and knocked him out of his thoughts.

She was bent over the bathroom sink now, ass tight against his body, and hot little cunt scraping pleasurably over his cock. It wasn’t long before she started to tense as orgasm rapidly approached, and the begging began.

He loved many things about her, and her ability to make him cum by begging alone was definitely one of them. His hands went all over her body, ass to breasts, stomach to face, hair to hair. That softer than soft skin was all smooth and damp with sweat, her ass was red from the occasional spanks she got, and her neck had a tiny ache from where he pulled her head back by fistfuls of hair.

Then she was stiffening and tension and riding out her climax, chanting his name all the while. He wasn’t far behind her and he watched in the mirror as Cordelia felt thick, cool cum fill her right up. Filled too much if the feel of trickles down her thighs was anything to go by.

Five maybe ten seconds passed and there they were, breathing hard and clinging to the sink to prevent slipping. Angel glanced down at the shirt pooled at her feet and remembered what happened to her dress.

It got torn to shreds, the surviving pieces now in a special drawer in his main office. Come to think of it, he had a few articles of destroyed clothing in special drawers. Panties housed in the main office, in a desk, in an office right next door to Wesley. A top or two in his limo, a bra in a Porsche glove compartment. A cum coated thong kept hidden his underwear drawer in their bedroom.

Huh. All items were all destroyed by the same means. Torn, either down the middle or anywhere he could put his hands. Right there on the floor was the answer he sought an hour ago.

He started to slowly chuckle as his eyes met a pretty set of lusty hazel ones in the mirror. Those chuckles increased to the point where the vibrations rushed through core and tickled her pink.

Cordelia offered a simple smile. “I’m gonna need more thread.”





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