I could die right now…I'm just so happy. I've never felt that before. I'm just exactly where I want to be.
I feel lips press against my neck and smile. Chandler's arm tightens around me, his hand spreading across my stomach. I let out a sigh and cuddle into him, realizing that my arm is stuck under his head again. He kisses my chin and lets out a sigh of his own. "Good morning," he mumbles.
I crack one eye open, glancing toward the windows. The room is still dim, gray light filtering in around the curtains. "Hardly," I answer, stretching a little.
He shifts his foot, his toes tickling my calf, and I smile to myself. Without seeing them, I can tell that our legs are woven together like a strange braid. His right leg is on the bed with my left leg tossed over it. His left leg is strewn over both of those and my right leg is on top of that. We sleep very strangely, but it seems to work for us.
I feel him pick his head up for a couple of moments before it settles beside mine on the pillow once more. "You're right," he answers. "It's barely five." He kisses my neck again, his lips lingering a little longer this time. "You know, Katie'll be asleep for a while still…"
I chuckle quietly, tilting my head away from him a little to give him better access. "Yeah, but your mother is just in Joey's room."
He pauses for a second before he continues, his fingers spreading out to brush the underside of my breast. "She'll never know. I can be quiet."
"But the question is, can I?" He stretches his head up, smiling at me as he captures my lips with his, kissing me slowly. He's too good at this; I feel my resolve starting to slip. "Honey," I say as I turn my head a little. "Maybe not this morning?"
He sighs and nuzzles my neck again. "How about a little fooling around?"
"I could be open to that," I answer, moving my arm from its prone position across the pillows.
He kisses slowly down to my chest, suckling at my clavicle for a few moments. He kisses my shoulder, his fingers gently moving the strap of my tank top out of the way. He moves down to the top of my breast and a shudder works its way through my body, my mind going hazy. He props himself up a little, watching me with heavy-lidded, lust-filled eyes. His fingertips gently trace across the top of my shirt, ticking my sensitive skin ever so slightly. Slowly, so slowly, he pulls the edge of my shirt down, exposing my flesh bit by bit, until my nipple springs free, perky and traitorously aroused. His eyes flick up to me as he moves his tongue over it, watching my reaction.
My eyes roll back as I moan quietly, my back arching.
In short, I don't disappoint.
He hums a little in the back of his throat, suckling at me, and one of my hands comes up to thread through his hair.
His touch remains mostly gentle, too, teasing and tantalizing, and I already know that I'm going to give in. He probably knows it, too, but he's being a gentleman and playing along.
He lifts his head, his hand moving to my tank top's other strap, gently moving it off my shoulder. His fingers slide over my skin there, too, and I see goosebumps pop out all over me. He grips the edge of the shirt, giving that side the same slow, torturous treatment before he frees that one, too.
"You have the world's most beautiful breasts," he whispers to me, draping himself partly across my body to reach the newly exposed skin. "They're so perfect."
"They're just boobs," I tell him in a strangled voice, something I've had to repeat often since we first became intimate.
He runs his tongue over that nipple, too, and I can see my flesh puckering in response. "Nothing on you is 'just' anything, Monica. You're perfect." His tongue flicks out and I inhale sharply. "And you're so wonderful." His teeth drag across me delicately, making my hips jerk in response. "And completely exquisite." His hand slides down my stomach and under my panties, stroking me so very carefully. "And I love you so much."
I tighten my grip on his hair and pull him up to me, fusing our lips together. "I want you," I manage to gasp.
"You sure?" He pulls back from me a fraction, studying my face. "Because you know I'm just always horny."
"And I always want you." I tug him back to me and he settles himself against me, his body still only partially over mine. His fingers continue their tender assault, sending shudders up and down my spine. I whimper for a few moments before I maneuver my hand down his shorts. He gasps into my mouth as I wrap my fingers around him, pressing his forehead to mine. He grows harder almost instantly, and I swear that I can feel the blood pulsating through his flesh.
He rolls off me for a moment, breaking the connection, and rips off his t-shirt, flinging it somewhere over his shoulder. Before I can move he has the hem of my tank top in his hands, dragging it over my head. He gathers me in his arms and buries his face against my chest. I bend my legs and push at his shorts with my toes, managing to get them over his hips and down his legs. I can feel his erection twitching against me insistently, and all I want is him, right here, right now.
He sits up on his knees, panting as he stares down at me. Three months of amazing sex—raunchy, tender, sweet, rough, dirty, kinky, gentle, and everything else in between—has caused me to completely lose any trace of self-consciousness under his gaze. He can't ever hide how much he wants me, and I feel nothing but unbelievably sexy when he watches me. His hands slide down to my hips, his fingers hooking in my panties before he quickly pulls them down my legs. He grabs the backs of my knees and I my breath hitches, knowing what he's about to do.
He drops down between my legs and starts attacking me with his mouth. I grab one of the pillows and shove it over my face as I try to muffle the low, keening wail that escapes me. My hips start to roll against him, quickly, my body humming with high voltage. He's so good at this part that it's ridiculous. I don't know how I have a shred of sanity left.
My thighs try to clench around him, my knees nearly crushing his skull, but he just pushes them down to the bed. I can barely thrust against him like this. It makes me dizzy, it feels so good. His tongue flicks over me quickly and my body shakes and jerks, not prepared for the onslaught this early in the day.
I'm surprised he hasn't gotten tired of going down on me, honestly. I've been with guys who do it occasionally, out of some sense of obligation or if they think they'll get a blow job in return. I've been with guys who did it early on, interested in getting me to orgasm at the onset of the relationship, but with no real concern about it once they were getting laid regularly. Chandler, though, seems to find great pleasure in it, doing it to me nearly every chance he gets. I guess it's part of the whole experience for him, and he swears that he likes it. He always looks pretty happy while doing it, so I suppose he means that. Hell, he's even willing to do it in place of having full-on sex, if the situation calls for it. Like, sometimes before he gets up for work but we don't have time for everything, he'll do this. When he'll let me, and when I have my faculties about me, I'm happy to return the favor, it usually being pretty quick on his end after all that. But I don't even know how many mornings I've woken up to his face between my legs, sucking at me gently in the world's most incredible wake-up call.
Just as quickly, his mouth is gone and he pulls the pillow from my face as he crawls up my body, lying on top of me. He kisses me furiously, his hips pushing against mine. I give him a shove and roll us over so that we're side by side, arms and legs tangled around each other.
"We have to be fast," I whisper against his lips. "And quiet." This is insane. His mother is really only maybe a hundred yards away from us.
Why does that fact make this feel all the more exciting?
"Okay," he agrees as he wraps his arm over the back of my thigh, his fingers finding me again, stroking less delicately now.
Everything inside of me clenches and I push myself against his erection, pleasure surging through me strong enough to take my breath away. I feel the tip of him at my entrance and his hips still, his lips pulling away from mine as we gasp at each other.
"Are you wearing your diaphragm?"
I shake my head. "No, not right now."
A shudder works through his body. "I don't know that I could pull out in time."
"It's not exactly the most effective method of contraception," I agree, pushing the hair away from his eyes. I take a few deep breaths and unravel my arm from around him. I twist halfway around and grab the box of condoms out of the nightstand, tearing one off the strip with shaking hands. I barely manage to hold onto the packet as he rips off the top, pulling out the flimsy little prophylactic. Refusing to pull apart much farther, we maneuver our hands in between our bodies, working together to smooth it over him. I swallow heavily before I put him in position once more, pushing myself down on him.
God, there it is again. We stare at each other for a few moments, our bodies shaking. Every time we make love, I get that same feeling of completion as I did the first time. It's intense and scary and perfect, and it always feels like the earth has shifted off its axis just a little bit.
I wrap my arm around him, my other hand sliding to the back of his neck, and we push our foreheads together as we start to move.
"Ohhhhhh," I whisper before biting my lip. He kisses me for a few moments before grabbing the back of my thigh, pulling my leg up until my knee is practically in his armpit. "Oh, God!" I dig my nails into his back as I feel him stroking against what has to be my g-spot.
"Shhhh," he teases, thrusting into me quickly, his strokes short and powerful, making my head swim.
My head falls back as I gasp, my arms shaking as I hold onto him. He latches onto my throat, his breath hot against my skin. His fingers spread out across the back of my leg before digging in, pulling me against him faster.
"Chandler," I whimper. My back arches and I gyrate wildly for just a few seconds before I fall back into our rhythm, pushing against each other quickly. "Ohhhhhhhhh, yes." That probably came out louder than it should have.
He arches away from me, too, the only parts of us touching are our hips. "Shit!" he exclaims quietly, and my eyes fly open. He's staring at me again, his expression contorted in a mixture of agony and ecstasy. "Yes, Monica, yes yes yes."
I untangle my arm from around him, dragging my fingernails down his chest. He shivers beneath my touch, his muscles twitching and jumping, and he stops thrusting all together.
"What's wrong?" I breathe.
"Too fast," he whispers, breathing heavily. I can feel him tremble inside of me and my eyes slam shut as I try to compose myself.
I roll my hips against his carefully and he groans, clamping his lips shut to stifle himself. I roll my hips again and he responds in kind, keeping it gentle.
But he's still hitting that spot.
My hand scrabbles at him for a few seconds before I manage to grab onto his back again. My mouth falls open as he moves. I screw my eyes shut and hold my breath, trying to contain myself, the noises I want to be making echoing in my head.
"Breathe," he whispers to me and I let out a loud noise, drawing in big lungfuls of air. His hips move faster and I mold myself against him, burying my face in his neck before I moan.
He lets go of my leg and hooks my knee over his elbow. His hand slides in between us and he rubs his fingers against me. My eyes fly open and I bite his shoulder as we thrust against each other faster. He hisses in pain as my teeth nearly pierce his flesh but he doesn't stop his movements.
"Chandler," I gasp. "Oh, please, yes. Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop."
"Kiss me," he demands, his fingers moving faster.
"Ohhhhhhhh!" My voice is high-pitched and breathy. I dig my nails into his back, moving against him harder.
"Kiss me," he says again, and I manage to drag my head out of the crook of his neck, kissing him sloppily. He changes to long strokes suddenly, his motions still strong and powerful. "Oh, yeah. Oh-oh, yeeeeeah."
God, I love hearing him talk during sex. It's such a heady sensation, but I don't know why. I guess I just like to know that what I'm doing to him is good and causing him just as much pleasure as he's doing for me.
I shift my leg up higher and, in a move I'm sure I'll pay for later today, I manage to get the heel of my foot near his shoulder blade, just barely pressing the tips of my toes against the bed for leverage.
"Monica," he gasps against my mouth. "Oh, shit, Monica!"
I can't answer. I want to, but this is so intense, so fucking good that I can't form any sort of coherent thought. "Ahhhhh!"
"Shh," he gasps half-heartedly, both of us beyond caring right now.
"Harder," I beg, tightening myself around him. "Harder, harder, harder."
I feel his muscles tense all over his body, his fingers rubbing against me furiously, and I bury my face against his chest. I pull myself against him as hard and as fast as I can. I exhale into his skin. Almost sobbing each time.
He shifts his position just a little, bracing his leg differently somehow and my eyes fly open. My entire body locks up as I pull my head back to stare at him.
"You okay?" he asks breathlessly, too far gone to stop right now.
"Oh, God. That's it. Ohhhhhhhh, yes, that's it. Moremoremoremore."
He grits his teeth, grunting as he thrusts, his face turning red with the strain. He's beautiful. He's completely and utterly beautiful.
He's mine.
That's all I need to send myself spiraling out of control. I spasm wildly as I claw at his back, trying to contain myself just a little. His fingers rub against me a few more times before he moves his hand, wrapping it around my back to pull me against him faster.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh GOD!" That was loud. I couldn't help it. I bury my face against his chest again, stifling my next series of moans just a little before he yells into my ear.
"Monica!" His body trembles against mine as he pounds into me sloppily, his hips jerking wildly. He hits all the right spots in me to keep me orgasming, my toes curling as I tighten my grasp on him. I close my eyes even tighter, so tight that colors start to flash behind my eyelids. I reach down and grab his ass, holding him against me so that I can ride out my storm.
I hear him make a few strained noises as he holds me, fighting the urge to call out to me, to the heavens, to anyone that'll listen that we've had yet another unbelievable orgasm. I push against him a few more times before my body goes slack. I feel completely boneless and lethargic just like that.
He thrusts against me still, making strangled noises, his entire body hard as a rock. I weakly lean up and kiss just under his chin, trying to tighten my limbs around him for a few more seconds. He grabs my hip, digging his fingers into me so hard that he's going to leave marks and goes still for a few moments before he collapses, breathing heavily against my hair.
I laugh weakly, gently stroking his sweaty back with my fingertips. "I should try to put up more of a fight next time, shouldn't I?"
He laughs breathlessly, wrapping his arms around me. "Yeah, you weren't that convincing."
"Seemed like a good idea at the time." Though, in my post-coital haze, I can't for the life of me remember why. Why wouldn't I want to feel this good as often as possible?
"My mom's more of a night owl than an early bird, so we're probably good."
I cringe—that's why. "God. If she heard any of that, I may have to kill myself."
He rubs my back soothingly, but it still sends little sparks through my body. "Hey, we're grownups. If we want to have sex in the morning, we can. It's not like this is her place. That'd be different."
"Yeah, but would you want my parents to hear us having sex?" He pauses, and I can practically hear him running that scenario through his head. "I mean, they like you and all, but they don't know that I spend more time here than I do anywhere else. They don't know that their little girl gets defiled on a regular basis, nor do they want to know that. If my dad were to overhear us…" I shudder. "He'd probably come after you with a baseball bat."
He chuckles as he kisses my forehead. "What if we were married?"
I use every ounce of self-control I have to keep my heart from beating even more wildly than it already is. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, if you were having sex with your husband, would that still be an issue for your dad? I mean, if it were legally permissible for you to do it?"
I shrug, still not really sure where he's going with this, other than I'm almost completely positive that he's not hinting at proposing right now. "Don't know. It's never come up. I don't imagine he'd be thrilled with it, but I suppose he'd find that marginally more acceptable. Let's hope that it's never an issue, though, all right?" I kiss his chest and work my way up his throat until he angles his head to kiss me.
Eventually, we come up for air, stretching our bodies as best as we can while still being wrapped around each other. He tilts his head, listening to the monitor, and shrugs. "Out like a light. You got another hour or so in you?"
"Of sleep?" I ask with a yawn. "Yeah, I think I could arrange that. You?"
He mumbles against my hair, smacking his lips, and I can't help but chuckle. I've been sleeping next to him for weeks now and I don't think I'll ever get over how he can close his eyes and just be asleep. I close my eyes, too, hoping sleep will take me quickly.
"No, wait," he says, sounding suddenly alert and I jerk in surprise, nearly smacking my head against his chin.
"What?" I groan. He can't possibly want to go another round, could he? I mean, I'd do it, but I don't know that my heart could take it.
"I love you."
Oh…that. I smile and press my lips somewhere over his heart. "I love you, too, Chandler."
He doesn't like going to sleep without telling me that he loves me. It's kind of great.
He tightens his arms around me and I sigh, letting everything about him engulf me as I drift off to sleep.
Until I hear a tapping at the door moments later.
*A/N…who doesn't want a little bit o' lovin' on a dreary Thursday? I meant to post this earlier, but work got in the way. Silly work.
It's possible my posting will be limited for the next week due to internet access issues, but that's not a certainty, so fear not. Just wanted to give you a head's up.
A couple of chapters ago, Isa mentioned that it was a little disappointing that Mondler wouldn't be able to do Mondler things with Nora around, and all I could was shake my head and think, "Oh, Isa." I wasn't sure about putting this in here initially, but, you know…dog's gotta hunt or some other strange cliché. If you have a tough time picturing these two in this *ahem* position, well, basically they're just all tangled up, limbs everywhere, all that good stuff.
I keep thinking that there's something I want to mention to you guys, but every time I go to write an A/N, it's gone. Ugh.
I will say that I recently finished writing a 10,000 word chapter, but I feel like I'll be breaking that down into smaller bits. Sometimes, I get myself in a tizzy wondering if a chapter is long enough, or worrying about breaking it into pieces before I ever start writing, and that's usually what blocks me, so I've been trying to just write and not worry about chapters and lengths and that sort of thing, or even writing it in order. It's been kind of freeing. I'm not crazy hyper-organized, but I do like to do things in a certain order and a certain way, but sometimes going against your own grain can help a whole lot.
And holy-moly—26 chapters already! I don't know how many chapters are left, either—I haven't bothered to try to count it all out. I'm not finished writing, either. I doubt I'll get to 200,000 words, but I think it'll come awfully close. Where does it all come from?