Title: Hat Dance
Universes: Angel: The Series, Lord of the Rings
Disclaimer: AtS is owned by Joss Whedon. LotR is Tolkein’s creation
Rating: Smut Smut Smut! This means sex people. If you're not old enough to do it legally where you live, save us all the legal headache and don't read it.
Genre: Pointless Smut about a Hat
Notes: This is a birthday fic for CinnamonGrrl. It’s also a sequel to her last bday fic, Sweet Buns
. I recommend you read that one, which explains how Cordy got Haldir, before you read this bit of fluff. Trust me, it will make much more sense.
~~~ Hat Dance ~~~
Haldir turned the bit of hard felt around in his hands, running fingers carefully around the brim. He was told it was a hat. It didn’t look like any hat he’d ever seen. It looked frankly ridiculous.
“Come on, Sweet Buns, give it a whirl.”
He glared at the love of his life and frowned. “I will look…” He waved his hand around in a little circle. “They will laugh.”
Her eyes narrowed. Haldir gave a nervous swallow and tried to remember he was the March Warden of the Golden Wood. He was a feared warrior, an elf above repute. He was not going to wilt under that golden gaze.
And he was apparently going to give up.
She smiled when he sighed and turned back to the mirror, a rather alarming glint in her eyes. He examined the brown shirt, distressingly tight brown pants, inelegant brown boots, and loathsome brown hat. They were so very…boring. At least his elven wardrobe had been graceful, flowing, embroidered- if he could be so vain. This human outfit was just…depressing.
“But, my love, it is so very brown.” br />
“That’s the point, sweetie. You’ll be brown, like the bears and the trees and the rocks.” She beamed up at him from her spot on the rumpled bed, body curled lusciously around piles of pillows. “It’s perfect.”
He pretended not to notice nearly-bare breasts and bit out, “It’s ridiculous.”
He mashed the wide brimmed hat down over his blond hair- still down to his waist, thank-you-very-much. These humans and their customs- nothing like the ones he’d dealt with when he was alive. The first time he was alive, at any rate.
Cordelia’s miraculous feat of brining him back to life to be with her again was admirable, but it certainly proved more challenging than either of them had expected. She’d tried so hard to integrate him into her old life, denying that she was having a hard time with her friends’ new lives and choice of employer.
So Haldir had done what he could to make her forget. If taking this job as a Park Ranger, keeping an eye on the demonic forest population, would make her happy, he would make her happy.
But he didn’t have to like the hat.
She was standing now, stalking forward with that liquid grace that made his heart flutter. Her long legs were bare beneath her robe, and she walked silently on soft feet. The silk robe was a brilliant red, bright like the color of rubies, and it framed her golden skin perfectly. He was busy watching the path of her legs across the floor and almost missed when the robe gaped open even further.
“You know, Hal, I kinda like that hat.”
He twisted around to get a better look at her. She was untying the sash of the robe, eyes narrowed playfully. She ran a finger down between her breasts, slow like melting honey, and he shuddered.
“Hats on men like that are so very…tasty.”
She laid the tip of her finger in between those perfect lips and gave a little lick, pink tongue darting out. When she was sure she had his attention, she slid the finger slowly in, moaning low in her throat.
Haldir suddenly noticed that his atrocious brown pants were becoming rather too tight in a very different way.
Cordelia noticed the same thing and smiled a very cat-like smile. She closed the gap between them and laid her hands on his waist. Face tilted up, she batted her eyelashes and grinned.
“What’s a big, strong elf going to do now?”
He just swallowed, shuddering as her hands began to undo the belt, sliding the zipper down with delicate fingers. She pushed the pants away from his hips, down his legs, and she reached between his legs to cup his balls gently.
“I think the mighty Park Ranger needs to have a little fun, don’t you?”
He nodded, grasping her shoulders loosely, and ran his hands down her upper arms, pushing the robe from her body. She leaned back so he could get a good look at her naked body before she slid up against his chest, reaching for a kiss. He obliged, meeting her lips and was lost again, as always, in the unbearable sweetness of being.
She pulled him back towards the bed, stripping him of his shirt, pants and shoes in an example of sublime contortionism. He made a grab for her waist, but she twisted just out of reach, scooting back on the bed, smirking. Her robe was gone, his clothes were gone, and the only thing left was that damnable hat.
When he made a move to remove it, she gave a frown so fierce orcs may well have trembled, so he left it on.
She lay back, arms stretched towards the headboard, and tossed her hair out around her body. Haldir leapt forward, pinning her arms down, straddling her hips. She bared her teeth and he growled low in his throat, leaning down to gently bite her throat, kissing from her jaw-line to collarbone with feathery touches. She twisted beneath him, but he held her firmly.
He breathed her scent in deeply, relishing in the touch of her skin, the silk of her hair, the curves of her body. She lay beneath him, eyes open only a slit, and arched up. Her hands were still pinned, but she managed to move against him in the most distracting way until he collapsed down onto her, his knees pushing her legs apart.
“Do you want something, my dear?” He leaned in to nuzzle her neck, holding back so there was space between them.
When he pulled back, he could see that wicked glint in her eye again before she answered, “Always, Sweet Buns, always.”
With that she twisted her hips, just so, and he slid inside her, so warm and wet. He was swept away, just as he was every time they were together. A fierce yearning full of promised things, a pull that drew him down, deep, sublimely gone. For an elf who believed his only love would be his Golden Wood, finding passion in the arms of a more-or-less mortal woman was shocking.
Each and every time.
When they lay spent and sore, Cordelia wrapped around his body, he sighed. She sat up a bit to look at him, chestnut tresses in disarray.
“You know, I think I have to agree with you.”
“Oh?” She kissed the tip of his nose. “I know I’m always right, but what was it this time?”
He chuckled, caressing her lower back. “I think I like that hat after all.”
~~~ The End ~~~