Monica pulled at the sheet, so that she could stare at Rachel's naked body in full light. Overwhelmed by how many things she wanted to do, she trailed her finger down the sexy line of definition in the middle of Rachel's stomach, bemused by it. Her hand continued, and Rachel moved closer to her, tugging at the panties she had previously worn with one hand, pulling at the stretchy fabric of the camisole, both came down the same way, and she knelt as she descended, pausing to kiss Monica's belly button. Elegantly, Monica stepped out of the clothes, fully naked, and they stood, just staring.
'Come on… let's mess up your sheets…' said Monica, taking Rachel's hand.
'Wait,' Rachel replied, slinking over to the door and twisting the lock. 'There. No more interruptions.'
Monica grinned, and they headed for the bedroom once again. Slowly now, their fresh lust spent, replaced by a softer, deeper need, they sank down to the bed. Rachel suddenly remembered something, from years and years ago, that Monica had said whilst they were watching a vampire movie. Her whole body burning, she gently bit Monica's neck, and a stifled moan and fingernails in her ass met the action. Excited, Rachel bit again, a little harder, and Monica's nails slid up her back. She felt the trail of intense heat and sharp pain, and sank her teeth, a little lower, at the curve where neck met shoulder. Monica moaned; the expression laced simultaneously with pain and pleasure.
'You vampire…' she whispered.
-two days later-
Monica stood in front of the mirror, completely naked, staring at the slightly faded bite marks that covered her body. Her neck, covered on both sides with colliding circles, purple and red. Her shoulders, her arms, covered. A very light single bite mark on each of her breasts. Her thighs, random bite marks everywhere. And her stomach sank, as she thought about how Rachel had gone out the next morning and simply not returned since. She didn't dare call. She remembered the sharp sensation of each bite, intensifying her pleasure as she had touched herself. She didn't know who would be feeling worse about it, her or Rachel, who she was sure would resemble a Lioness' victim.
She sighed, and pulled yet another polar neck sweater on with a pair of jeans. She didn't know how she was going to bear this any longer, in the height of summer, and she was being absolutely slaughtered by the rest of the group. But better that than questions about the obvious teeth marks all over her neck, especially since Joey and Chandler would know almost automatically. She told everyone Rachel had gone to stay with her parents for a couple of days, when in reality, she had no idea where Rachel was. But something huge in her longed for her to come back.
*****
'I don't –hic- seem gay to you at all, do I?' Rachel slurred, having finished yet another drink, sliding her hands up the man beside her at the bar's legs. 'Because I'll do ya, I'll do ya right now on this bar, because I am not gay, I am definitely not gay you know, at all, gay is for butch lesbians, and me and Monica only had sex twice that night, and technically it's not even sex, it's not real, right?'
'Uh…' the guy was extremely confused, by the way this woman was blatantly going to have sex with him, but wouldn't stop going on about lesbianism, which wasn't helping his erection.
'Have you got a rubber?' Rachel whispered loudly, every image her mind took of Monica's body flashing through her mind at a hundred miles per hour.
'Yeah I do…' he grinned. He was getting luckier by the minute.
'Then let's go!' she said, grabbing his hand.
'Wait, my apartment's way across town… I'm supposed to be staying at my sister's… I can't bring you back there…'
'That's okay, my apartment is only three blocks away!' Rachel exclaimed, and the guy kissed her. He tasted of cigarettes and beer, but he was tall, handsome and muscular, and male, and that was all she needed. He felt wrong against her lips, his tongue felt too big. His slight stubble scratched her skin, and the first few delicate kisses she had shared with Monica played out in her mind. She pushed them out, hard, and pressed herself against the man's body, hard, his hard on pressing into her stomach. She thought hard about his penis, his shoulders, the way he was a man, such a man.
They stumbled into the apartment, kissing. The lights were off, and Monica's bedroom door was shut.
'Mmph… this way,' Rachel guided him towards her room. They got in, and her sheets were new ones, her bed tightly made. Her heart wrenched, and she pictured Monica making her bed, and she pictured Monica naked. Stop it, stop it, stop it, she repeated to herself, as the guy (she never got his name) tugged at her shirt, pulling it over her head roughly before scrabbling to find the zip on her skirt, so anxious and eager to get her out of her clothes. He paused to pull his shirt over his head, unbuttoning his pants frantically before throwing her down to the bed. They kissed, and Rachel knew Monica was in the other room, she knew she would have heard by now. This was perfect. She had to prove she was straight, she had to. He lay on top of her, already thrusting, kissing her deeply, and her body was responding just fine, but her mind was elsewhere. Monica, Monica, Monica, her mind repeated, and she remembered the gentleness of her touch, the softness of her skin. She was so drunk. She didn't know where her bra had gone, but it was gone, and both his huge hands were squeezing her breasts, squeezing and releasing over and over. She knew what was next, and she wanted it, no, she needed it. Proof. This is better, she told herself, this is who I am. This is what I need. He tugged at her panties, and they stuck a little as he tried hurriedly to pull them off. He was out of his boxers in a flash, and she couldn't deny that he was impressive as she watched him roll the rubber down. He pushed her legs apart and then he was inside her, deep, and she cried out in shock at the sheer size of him.
Monica's eyes opened then. She'd assumed Rachel had just finally come home, and was rustling around in her room. She'd nearly gone out when she'd heard the door… and thank god she hadn't know, as a deep, male voice grunted, 'oh yeah'. She felt like her whole body was being ripped apart, she felt so betrayed, she could almost be sick. She sat up quickly, tears gathering in her eyes as she realised what she was feeling and why, and how completely pathetic it was of her. She had no right to feel that way whatsoever. Of course Rachel had brought a guy back, of course she had. They both did that sometimes, it never bothered her usually. Rachel moaned loudly, and the tears began to fall. She knew it wasn't the same moan, it sounded so different to the moans that had escaped her lips two nights before. She despised the man already, grunting like some sort of animal in there.
She felt it, but she didn't feel it. It was so mechanical to her now, in, out, in, out. She pictured Monica's face, her eyes, her nose, her lips, the curve between her neck and shoulder. She moaned out loudly, growing a little closer with these images in her mind. She couldn't stop it. Monica's breasts, her skin, so pale white, her navel, that, neat, little, triangle. She moaned even louder, imagining Monica's tongue all over her, everywhere.
Why was she moaning like that? She never moaned like that, at least she'd never heard it before their night together. It irked her.
The guy stopped, already spent, grunting into her ear, yelling 'oh fuck yeah' loudly, his stubble scratching her cheek. She was nowhere near done. He withdrew himself, grinning from ear to ear, and she suddenly felt so unbearably dirty.
'You have to leave,' said Rachel, as he was about to relax beside her.
'What!?' the guy exclaimed, his eyes wide.
'You have to leave right now, come on, get dressed,' she jumped up, frantically gathering his clothes and bundling them up before thrusting them into his arms.
'I thought I was staying!'
'Well you're not, okay? So get the hell out!' she snapped, and he pulled his clothes on silently. She jumped up, pulling a dressing gown on and opening her bedroom door before running to the front door to open it for him. 'Go, go!' she exclaimed, and he walked out the door.
'Fucking crazy lesbian,' he muttered as he passed her, and her stomach lurched, because for the first time in two days, she was going to have to admit to herself that it was true. She shut the door and locked it, and then she burst into tears, sliding down the door, her head in her hands. What had she done? Why? Why would she do that? She jumped up, sprinting towards Monica's room, and she threw the door open, tears streaming down her face.
'I'm so, I'm so sorry, Mon, please, I'm so-'
'Get out,' said the small raised part of the duvet that Rachel could make out. She could see a mass of silky black hair, a small amount of that beautiful neck, and nothing else.
'Monica please, please, I just, I had to do it,' Rachel began, and she placed one knee on the bed. She wanted to crawl in, to be in Monica's arms, to taste her sweet breath again.
'GET OUT!' Monica yelled, so terrified that Rachel would see her tears if she stayed any longer. She didn't want her to see that she'd cried over this. She didn't want to face that this was more than just sex. Silently, Rachel left, closing the door softly. Shortly after, Monica heard the sound of the shower running. It didn't stop for a long time.
