Author's note: Hey there! Here I am with a new multi-chaptered fic haha but not that long this time.
So, the idea here is very simple: what if each moment in which they had tried to have sex on TO After Ross Says Rachel had actually worked out?
"So, look, um… while we're still in London, I mean, we can keep doing it, right?" That was a long shot but Monica was willing to try anything. They had just agreed that doing it again would be a risk to their friendship, that they shouldn't have let it happen in the first place – especially not seven times –, but deep down all Monica wanted was to blow off this wedding – that was already ruined by the groom anyway – so that she could get somewhere with Chandler and do it again.
"I don't see that we have a choice!", he emphatically agreed, "But, when we're back home, we don't do it."
"Only here." She confirmed, making sure they were in the same place.
"Y'know, I saw a wine cellar downstairs..."
Say no more. "I'll meet you there in two minutes."
"'K!" The way he threw his plate away – it had food on it! – in order to run to the wine cellar just confirmed that he wanted this as much as she did. Monica started checking herself out, getting ready to have some amazing sex with her friend again when she was intercepted by Rachel.
"Mon, honey, I gotta ask you something."
"Now?" She didn't mean to sound so impatient but her desire had taken control over her body by that point. What Rachel could possibly want from her, for Christ's sake?
Of course it had to do with Ross. Monica wanted to be supportive, she really did, but as she mindlessly spilled some self-help clichés, she took care of her breath and watched the door, calculating the way she would go to follow Chandler. Rachel seemed confused and decided to confront Ross, and, at that moment, the good friend in Monica spoke louder than the desperately horny one, and she had to pull Rachel back and put some reason into her little brain.
"Wait! Rachel, no. He's married. Married! If you don't realize that, I can't help you." She wished that would be enough.
"Okay, you're right. You're right. You can't help me." And Rachel left. Monica sighed in frustration but at least Rachel wasn't holding her back anymore and she could finally get to that damn wine cellar.
As she went downstairs, anxiety took over. Was she really going to a) have sex with her friend b) at a public place c) during her brother's wedding when d) her brother was actually going through what seemed to be the biggest crisis in his life and also e) an unreasonable Rachel was walking around the reception? It wasn't like her to leave her friends to their fate like that, but at that moment she couldn't afford to put them first. Something unbelievable had just happened in her life and she had to enjoy it right now because she knew that, once they were back home, it would be over.
When she got there, she took a deep breath. She could feel she was shaking – was it the excitement from what they were about to do? Was it fear? Was it regret? Maybe she was shaking from all of those things combined – either way, she wouldn't stop there. She pushed the already open door, revealing a startled Chandler who was leaning onto the wall, next to some barrels. He looked dreamy; Monica smiled despite herself while she closed the door.
"Hey," hands in pockets, he moved to her, his eyes scanning her whole body. Monica's shivering intensified at that.
"Hey," she responded, placing her little purse onto a barrel and getting closer to him too.
She felt like she was drowning in all the things she wanted to say. However, if she had the time to talk, Monica had no idea what they would talk about. Her mind was overflowing with ideas and yet she was speechless.
Every second it took for him to touch her made breathing an activity way too hard for Monica. When his fingers softly touched her cheek, she allowed herself to close her eyes and wait for the moment their lips would finally meet again. When they did, it felt amazing. It'd been less than 24 hours since the last time she had tasted his lips, but feeling that softness again only made her realize how much she already craved it. I'm screwed, she concluded, already dreading their return to a routine in which this would need to be avoided and forgotten.
His tongue parted her lips to force an entrance, an act that caused her to moan and wrap her arms around his neck. With their open mouths, the previously soft kiss became heated, energizing their limbs, which started moving around each other's bodies, looking for places to grope and caress. When Chandler pressed against her even harder, Monica could feel how stiff he already was, and she wanted to speed the process so that he could see how aroused she was too – the wetness she could feel between her legs informed her of that.
Not wasting any minute, her hands left their previous spot to unbutton his vest and start getting rid of his so many layers. At that, he broke the kiss to suck on her neck and leave pecks onto her shoulder (mindful of their surroundings, Monica was surprising herself by how little noise she was making – she wouldn't risk the present opportunity by getting caught).
She was almost done with his white shirt, the last goddamn layer covering his soft skin, when his hands wandered around her back, getting down until finding on her buttocks a place to rest. He squeezed them as Monica took off his shirt, and they were back to some passionate kissing. When they broke apart again, flushed and apparently ready to go, as if in tune, they started looking around, seeing if they could find something to lean on or maybe sit onto. They seemed ready to do it up against the wall there should be no other choice, but Monica found a chair. With no warning at all, she started pushing him – he walked backwards, for some reason trusting her judgment even though she hadn't asked him to. When the back of his legs reached the chair, she gave him a little push, making him fall into a sitting position.
With no further ado, she kneeled in front of him, tugging his pants down, not really bothering to take them off completely but making sure they weren't covering his genitalia anymore. For a second, she just stared at his penis, memories from the previous night flashing behind her eyes – she could swear she felt like she was hungry, mouth full of saliva and everything. She only wanted to do one thing, so she went for it, grabbing his member and shoving it into her mouth.
Chandler's head was hanging in pleasure, and when Monica looked up, she could see his strained neck and pale, soft, bare torso, which made her moan around him, which also made him groan in return. She couldn't get enough of his taste – he just tasted so damn good. His texture felt great against her tongue, and he was girthy and lengthy enough to excite her but not really hurt her. She wanted him as deep as possible; she forced him against the back of her throat, getting more and more aroused by the minute at every sound that he made. She had been sucking him off with closed eyes, enjoying his delicious taste with every fiber of her soul, so she was surprised when she felt his hand clutching her hair. When she opened her eyes and looked at him, he was watching her with a face that almost said "I can't believe this is happening", and, truth be told, she couldn't believe it either. Monica had somehow expected things to be a little more difficult, but there she was, giving him a blowjob at someone else's house and soon enough having him inside her.
Monica stopped her activity and stood up again. Chandler pulled her; she stood between his open legs as his hands roamed her still clothed body. He reached the zipper on her back and fumbled with it a little before getting his way around it and pulling it open, revealing her skin – she wasn't wearing a bra and he moaned just by looking at her breasts out in the open. Her nipples were very hard – he just went for them, sucking, licking, and biting them while his hands continued his job of taking her dress off. When he finally did it, he wasted no time pushing her panties down too, leaving her only on heels. His mouth was still playing with her breasts when his hands started two different jobs – one going for her back, alternating between tracing her crack and squeezing her ass and another one going for her front, fingers spreading her labia and penetrating her while his thumb rubbed her clitoris.
She was going crazy – that felt so good, she could probably stay in that position forever, taking advantage of his tongue, his lips and his fingers for all eternity. Actually, no. She couldn't do that forever because more than ever she needed that man inside her. Monica stopped him – he looked like a child having his toy mercilessly taken away from him –, leaning down to kiss him softly before setting herself onto his lap, straddling him. One arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other one going behind her to grab on his penis and position it against her entrance. A swift movement later, he was inside her again, and she felt complete. For a moment, they just stared at each other – the realization of what they were doing suddenly sinking in. They weren't drunk anymore. It wasn't a dream or a fantasy. It was real life. She had Chandler inside her. She had his face inches apart from hers and his body pressed against hers. And, the most surreal part was that somehow it all felt way too good. She could swear he was having similar thoughts as his blue eyes showed her a mix of fear and excitement, probably in equal amounts. She could relate to that, and he probably could see a mirror of his feelings on her expression. They could also make it all less overwhelming and more enjoyable by kissing each other and finally moving – as if they had just realized that together, they did it. Monica's hips easily went up and down as they kissed between moans. There was a steady pace and, as it got faster, their kisses got sloppier and they both seemed to be close to a climax.
She came first, moaning against his neck, and soon after she felt him tense up as he came too. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, and her head hid in the crook of his neck. Chandler's arms, on the other hand, wrapped around her middle, flat hands against her back. They remained in that position for a long time, although she couldn't tell how long. Monica was profoundly afraid of letting him go and, as a result, losing… this. Losing whatever she'd managed to acquire in that hotel room the previous night. When he suddenly started kissing her shoulders she honestly felt like crying on the spot.
"Y'know…" He said, and she prepared herself for whatever he was about to say. "Maybe we should consider going on wine tours when we're back in New York."