Introducing my 70th story on (crowd goes wild). I know, it's kinda crazy, it makes me realize I have no life hehe. But who needs a life, right?...right?

Anyway, this is my 70th story, and I was going to do something big for it, like with my 60th (where I spent a week and a half writing it) but this ended up taking around a day of thought and 20 minutes of writing, so not that special. But still, Chanoey slash is always special in my books, especially when it's over the top fluffy like this story. So, I hope ya'all enjoy! The name Wild Horses is from a song by...I think the Rolling Stones? I have the version by The Sundays, which I totally recommend, it's beautiful. So please read and review and I love ya'all.

I do not own friends/actors/characters/bla bla bla...

Chandler snuggled closer with a contented sigh, loving the slight tickle of Joey's fingers on his own much more than he cared to admit.

Okay, he easily admitted it. Regularly – so much so that he wondered if Joey had become annoyed with it.

But no, would Joey Tribbiani ever get annoyed with pleasing a lover – especially with something as simple as a hand touch.

Not the Joey that Chandler knew and Chandler knew a different Joey to everyone else.

Joey was different behind closed doors and while Chandler loved public Joey, he loved private Joey.

Private Joey only had eyes and ears for him and Chandler knew that it was selfish of him to wish that Joey be that was always, but did he care?

Nope.

Not when Joey's slightly calloused fingers danced upon Chandler's smooth ones. Not when he heard rather than felt Joey inhale, taking in the scent of Chandler's hair with a low hum.

Chandler felt like purring. Instead, he repositioned himself on Joey's lap – Joey's lap, for God sakes, it didn't get better than this – and let out a small yawn.

"You're not falling asleep, are you?"

"No, I'm just running low on air."

"I take your breath away, do I?"

Chandler rolled his eyes. "How did you ever get dates with lines like that?"

"I got you, didn't I?"

Chandler couldn't argue with that, instead falling silent, watching their hands intertwine, Joey's thumb rubbing his palm gently.

God, did he love private Joey and Chandler knew that wild horses couldn't drag him away from this chair.

From Joey's lap.

From Joey.

His Joey.

Female population of New York – 0.

Chandler Bing – 1.

For Jennie. Happy birthday! (for the 5th!)