Long Time No See (part 3)
Well, part 2 was finished in a surprise burst of productivity, so I figured I'd do part 3 too. Still from Rach's POV, the characters still aren't mine (although if someone wants to buy Courteney for me, that'd be great). This continues straight from the last part. It's pretty steamy, so if anything more sexual than "bellybutton" offends you, you might wanna skip the last couple of pages. If anyone thinks its too much for an R rating, tell me and I'll remove it. Dedicated to all the Exintarias for refusing to let me forget about this fic amidst all my uni work.
We sat still and quiet for a long time, just holding hands. She looked at me steadily the whole time, her blue eyes felt like they were looking right into me. Eventually she sat up, and gently pulled me to sit next to her. I sat as close to her as she had sat next to me last night. Instead of being uncomfortable with it, Monica seemed totally at ease and after only a few seconds, rested her head on my shoulder.
"Mon?" I said after a while.
"Mmm hmm?"
"How much time do you think you're gonna need?"
"You getting impatient?" she lifted her head and chuckled, stroking my arm gently.
"Maybe just a little," I admitted.
"I'm sorry Rach, I just don't know."
"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound like I was pressuring you or anything."
"I know," she smiled. "And anyway, its nice to feel wanted."
"Who wouldn't want you?" I asked, genuinely shocked. She winced. "Mon? Are you ok?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"Don't be sorry. What's the matter sweetie?" I asked, concerned.
"Nothing, its stupid," she said insitently. She drew away from me and stared intently at her chewed fingernails.
"It can't be nothing if its upset you."
"Its just… Chandler said that to me in London."
"What? Oh God Monica, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I didn't know!"
"Don't worry about it." She paused, but she seemed to have more to say, so I was quiet until she spoke again. "You remember our fight in London?" she asked. I nodded. How could I forget? "You remember what it was about?"
"You thought I wasn't attracted to you anymore because I wouldn't sneak away from the party to have sex," I said. It sounded almost funny, and yet it still hurt, even now, to think that something so stupid had caused me to lose the woman I loved.
"Rachel, I'm sorry," she said softly. I took her hand.
"It doesn't matter now anyway."
"No, it does!" she insisted. "Everything we had changed because I was so fucking insecure and my mom had managed to drag my self-esteem down so low that rock bottom would've been an improvement. And I was drunk, and I was worried you were jealous of Emily. It just all got too much. I needed to feel loved."
I pulled her close to me again and hugged her hard. "You ARE loved," I told her firmly. "You always have been."
"I'm sorry I screwed things up for us."
"No, sweetie, you didn't. Hell, if I would've just picked up on how bad you were feeling and gone along with what you wanted, we never would've broken up." There. I'd finally told her what had been bothering me for the last six years.
"Maybe we're both to blame," Monica suggested quietly, but she was smiling slightly.
"Or neither of us," I suggested, also smiling, "I mean, we could blame my boss for introducing us to Emily, we could blame Ross for being stupid enough to marry a woman he's only known 6 weeks and make us all fly out to England to watch him do it, we could blame your Mom for being the biggest bitch on the planet, we could blame whoever invented alcohol, we could blame Chandler for-"
"It wasn't Chandler's fault," she said defensively.
"No, I know," I conceeded. A small part of me had always wanted to blame him, but I realised Monica couldn't blame a man she'd been happy with for five years for what brought them together in the first place.
"Anyway, I was upset, so I wandered off, you'd disappeared."
"I went upstairs to our room in case you changed your mind, I was feeling guilty for saying no," I told her. Monica looked at me, surprised. I shrugged and she squeezed my hand.
"Good job we went to his room then," she tried to joke. "When Chandler found me, I was even more drunk than when you saw me, some guy had just assumed I was Ross's MOTHER, I was all bummed out, and Chandler said that to me." She smiled. "You know, when we were together, if I had a moment of being insecure, he would say it again." Seeing Monica smile at the memory made me feel a little uncomfortable, and guilty for feeling like that at all. "And you know the rest," she concluded, a little embarrased.
I swallowed hard. "Chandler was a lucky bastard and he knew it." Monica smiled wryly.
"Are you jealous?" she asked suddenly. I sighed.
"How could I not be?"
"I'm sorry."
"Its not your fault."
"I won't talk about him if it bothers you."
"Honey, if you wanna talk about him, its fine. I don't mind."
"But- you said-"
"I've been jealous ever since you two got together, a little more won't kill me," I was trying desperately to sound cheerful, but the words rang hollow. Monica looked at me sadly. "Don't worry about it," I told her, blushing. I supposed she thought I was pathetic, to have felt so strongly about her for so long, but I couldn't help it.
"I have to tell you something," she said. I looked at her curiously. "When Joey first fell for you, I was jealous. I always had to accept that you and Ross had a history, which was bad enough, but seeing Joey lusting after you… You know that whenever we were hanging out together, if you walked into the room, Joey would stare at you and he'd just look at you like you meant everything in the world to him and it was killing him not to tell you? It was like he was reminding me what I loved about you, how I had felt about you. You have no idea how many times Chandler and I fought because I was looking at you the same way Joey was."
"I…I had no idea," I said quietly.
"Well, I was with Chandler, we were married for God's sake! For me to have feelings for you again was… totally inappropriate!"
"What about now? Is it totally inappropriate now?" I asked stiffly.
She sighed. "I don't know anymore Rach. Being here with you, and talking to you like this, it makes me feel happier than I've felt since… happier than I've felt in eight months. And holding hands with you," she jiggled our joined hands for emphasise, "or holding you," her arms went around me, "or kissing you."
I was half expecting it, but when she kissed me I was surprised by the force behind it. One hand was in my hair, holding me firmly to her, the other was on my hip, and setting the small strip of bare skin between the tops of my jeans and the bottom of my shirt on fire. And then Monica's tongue was in my mouth. I forgot every word she'd said, all I knew was that she was kissing me with as much passion as I'd ever felt from her. She tasted so good, and I didn't want her to finish what she was saying, I just wanted her to keep kissing me like that.
I forced my hands to remain on her back, determind to keep my promise not to rush her. But I wasn't exactly complaining or resisting when her hand edged its way under my top. As she gently caressed my stomach I shivered and held her tighter. The tips of her fingers were just grazing the underside of my breast when she suddenly stopped. Stopped kissing me, stopped touching me, pulled away from me. I stared at her in shocked hurt. Monica looked aroused but confused. There was silence for several minutes while we both gathered our thoughts. "It feels wonderful," Monica said, carrying on exactly from where she'd left off, only now sounding slightly breathless. I nodded in heartfelt agreement, but I don't think she even saw. "Its afterwards that it feels bad. Well, not bad. But it makes me feel guilty. Like how can I enjoy being with you when my husband's dead?"
"So you think stayed celibate for the rest of your life would make you feel better?" I said sarcastically. I felt bad as soon as she looked at me, her eyes looked so full of hurt and sadness.
"I told you, I just need time."
"I know, I know," I said, unjustifiably irritaited with her.
"I'm sorry Rach," she said pleadingly.
"Forget it," I snapped, my pent up emotions lashing out, "I'm gonna take a shower."
When I came out of the bathroom, feeling a lot less angry, and a lot more guilty, Monica was gone. She hadn't left a note or anything, but I told myself she was a grown woman who was perfectly capable of looking after herself. A couple of hours later, I was sitting on the couch, listening to some soppy love songs on the stereo and eating double choc chip cookie dough when the phone rang. I was in no mood to talk to anyone, so I let the machine get it.
"Hi, this is Rachel Green, I can't come to the phone right now, but please leave a message after the tone, and if I like you I'll call you back," my own voice sounded from the answer machine.
"Hi, Rach, its me." Monica. I put down the cookie dough and sat forward, debating whether to pick up or not. "Are you there? Please pick up if you are." That was all I needed to make the decision, I leaned forward and started to pick up the reciever. "Actually, maybe you shouldn't, maybe its easier if I just talk to the machine," she changed her mind. I left the receiver where it was, but kept my hand on it. "I'm sorry I took off this morning. All we seem to do at the moment is talk, argue, one of us leaves, then we come back and make up. I know its hard for you to understand how confused I am about you and Chandler right now, but you have to know that just because I still have feelings for him, it doesn't mean I don't love you. Nothing could stop me loving you. When I was with Chandler, you were still my best friend, I still loved you, I hated it when you were mad at me and wouldn't talk to me properly. Please don't be mad now Rach. I'm sorry that I can't give you a date and say that's when I'll be ready for this. But I can tell you that I do want it, I want you. And that scares me, and it scares me more that I'm telling you like this so I can't see your face, but when I get back to the apartment later, I want us to start over, ok? No more being mean to each other, no more dwelling on the past, we just enjoy being there together, that sound ok? Anyway, I should go. I'm surprised the machine hasn't cut me off already actually. I'll be back in about an hour. I love you, ok?"
I stared at the phone. I listened to the message three times, on a loop. Everytime she said "I want you", I felt my heart clench with love for her. She sounded vulnerable, nervous, but I could hear the old Monica-determination in her voice as well, and knew she had probably had to psyche herself up to make the call.
I was sitting in the living room when she came in. Monica looked nervous, as if she wasn't sure whether she hoped I'd heard the message or hoped that I hadn't. With a feeble attempt at appearing casual, she walked to the fridge and got out a bottle of water.
"You want one?" she asked in a strange voice.
"I was smiling," I said.
"What?" she asked, putting her water on the table and looking at me hopefully.
"When I heard your message, I was smiling so big my cheeks hurt."
Monica looked visably relieved. "Are we ok?" she asked, but her face told me she already knew the answer and was just looking for confirmation. Beaming, I nodded.
"Sweetie, I'll wait as long as you want. I'll do whatever you want. I know you're scared and confused and everything else, but I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Not without you," I promised.
We were both grinning like idiots by then. I stood up from the couch and walked over to her, and hugged her tight. The desire to kiss her was still there; I don't think I could ever be in the same room as her without wanting to kiss her, but knowing that she wanted me too somehow made it easier to control my urge, and to just hold her.
We spent the rest of the day together, just hanging out. Most of the time, we held hands, or one of us would have an arm around the other, or she would rest her head on my shoulder, or my hand would be on her knee. It felt easy, safe, it felt right. And it set the pattern for the rest of the week. But the closeness of her was as frustrating as it was wonderful. Our touches were not much more intimate than those of close friends, only the expressions on our faces suggested they were anything more. I'm sure it was blatantly obvious that I always wanted more. I think she did too, she was just more scared than me. I didn't totally understand her fear; after all, it wasn't like she was new to this! But I figured it was more to do with her and Chandler than her and me, so I let her be and didn't press her when she stopped my hand moving to her thigh, or kissed my cheek instead of my lips.
Five days after the phone message, we'd shared a bottle of wine over dinner, which had relaxed Monica enough so that we ended up on the couch kissing. Gently at first, but it wasn't long before dozens of soft kisses merged into a long deep kiss, until it became impossible to control myself and I let my hands slid slowly around Monica's waist and up to stroke her breasts through her shirt. I felt her tense slightly, and broke the kiss for a moment.
"You have no idea how much I love you Monica," I whispered, stroking her tenderly. She sighed contentedly at my touch and kissed me again.
"Yes I do," she whispered back.
There were no words for a long time after that. A picture may tell a thousand words, but a kiss must tell a million. And most of those are: 'I love you' or 'I need you', over and over again, until you say them aloud and they somehow lose their magic.
It was a magical feeling to kiss her. It made me feel a million things at once. I loved her, I wanted to protect her from everything in the world that could hurt her, I never wanted to lose her, I wanted to lie in her arms forever. But at the same time I wanted so much more than just to kiss her. I wanted to feel her naked skin instead of touching her through her shirt, I wanted to run my hands and tongue all over her body, I wanted to make her moan my name, I wanted to slide my fingers in and out of her slick pussy, I wanted to taste her, I wanted to fuck her.
I hadn't masturbated since the night before I watched her sleep. I knew I'd only think of her while I did it, and I didn't want to do that, not when I was convinced she could read every thought in my head, especially the ones concerning her. I wondered if she did it though, and who she thought about when she did. I figured she must be relieving the tension somehow, or else she had more willpower than the rest of the world put together; if she was anywhere near as horny as I was, there was no way she'd be stopping my hands moving inside her shirt.
When I went to bed that night, I knew I wouldn't be able to wait anymore. Oh, I'd wait for her, I'd do anything for her. But I couldn't not masturbate any more. Making out with Monica so fiercely and for so long had left me trembling, my cunt throbbing, every part of me was calling out for her touch. Unfortunately, I'd have to make do with my own, but when I was naked under the covers, it didn't take much imagination to pretend my fingers were Monica's.
A knock at the door distracted me, but I ignored it, I was nearly there, just a minute or two more… But the knocking persisted and grew louder, until I couldn't ignore it anymore. Groaning in frustration, I scrambled out of bed and pulled on a dressing gown then opened the door. I don't know why I was so surprised to see Monica there, I mean, who else could it have been? She had a cheaky grin on her face, and I blushed in the dim light, knowing she was fully aware what I'd been doing.
"Hey," I said in a would-be casual voice.
"I got lonely on the couch," she explained. "I wondered if you'd mind cuddling tonight?" She grinned at me again, "unless you're busy of course."
"No, no, come on in," I said. My orgasm would have to wait, I'd rather have Monica. She smiled at me and went around to the other side of the bed. As I watched her snuggle down under the covers I realised she was wearing shorts and a vest top, which she was obviously intending to sleep in. I, on the other hand, was naked except for my dressing gown which would be awkward to sleep in, and I knew she'd have to comment on it if I did anyway. "I'll just go get changed," I mumbled, grabbing a huge t-shirt from the floor.
"Why?" she asked, feinging ignorance. I chose not to answer her and hurried out of the bedroom, leaving her chuckling after me.
It was only once I got to the bathroom that I realised I had no panties to put on. Figuring she'd only tease me more if I went back to get some, and that the t-shirt was long enough to allow me some modesty, I decided it'd have to do. When I went back to the bedroom, I quickly joined Monica under the covers, trying not to let my t-shirt slid up too far. It was typically ironic, of course, that tonight Monica was friskier than I'd seen her since we'd been together. Almost straight away, she started kissing me, then she was stroking my breasts and stomach through the thin fabric of my t-shirt. It was too much for my over-sensitised self to cope with, and my own hands were underneath her vest, toying with her hard nipples until she moaned, and started to try and lift up my t-shirt to get to my naked breasts. I could tell she was frustrated when I stopped her, still afraid of her knowing I had no panties on. Monica rolled on top of me, her left leg between mine, her thigh pressing against me. Without needing to think, I moved my own leg up to press against her through her shorts, and suddenly wondered if she wore panties underneath them. Neither of us shifted in any serious attempt to fully enjoy our position, but one of Monica's hands were stroking my breasts through the thin material of my t-shirt, the other was making its way up my thigh, until she was sliding her hand under the hem of the t-shirt. And didn't stop her, I couldn't stop her. So she continued on up my thigh until she moved off me, leaving her hand where her thigh had been pressed against me. I felt myself blushing in the dark as her familiar fingers discovered how turned on I was. I think I held my breath, unsure what exactly she was going to do next.
"I love you," she whispered, before kissing me passionately while her fingers began to move so slowly I would have screamed in frustration if my mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied. All I could do was cling to her as she sped up, until I was throwing myself up at her and kissing her as though I would never get to kiss anyone ever again. We never stopped kissing, even when my orgasm tore through me so all I could do was shake and gasp for air, she was planting kisses all over my face and neck, her fingers still gently rubbing me until I lay still.
"I love you too," I assured her when I felt I could speak again. I rolled onto my side, so we were face to face, and kissed her lovingly. Monica stroked my cheek tenderly, and my face was close enough to hers that I could feel her smile. She looped her arms around my neck. My hands went back underneath her vest, gently stroking her, making her kiss me harder. Relucatantly, she released her arms from around me, allowing me to gently push her onto her back. She stopped me stripping her vest off her, but allowed me to push it up to reveal her gorgeous stomach. I traced circles around her belly button, with touches so light she was almost giggling into our kisses because I was tickling her. My hand moved slowly lower, until I reached the waistband of her shorts. I felt her tense, and moved it away long enough to push her vest further up, so I could finally kiss her perfect breasts, but then my hand was back on her stomach, and she allowed me to edge it slowly into her shorts. She wasn't wearing panties underneath. My hand continued lower, and she didn't move to stop me, she just grabbed my head and forced me to kiss her lips instead of her breasts. She didn't stop me until my hand was pressed between her legs, where I could feel that she wanted me as much I as wanted her.
"Rach, don't," she said in a choked voice, pulling away from my kiss. I looked at her and saw that she was serious, not teasing me or playing around, so I did as she asked and removed my hand from her shorts. "I'm sorry, its just-" she started to explain, sounding as though she was on the verge of tears.
"Shhh, baby, its ok, you don't have to explain anything to me, its ok," I reassured her, hugging her tightly and kissing her hair. She kissed me softly, once, then wriggled slightly away from me, so she could sleep easier. We didn't need to be pressed together, but I needed to hold her in some way all night, I needed to know we were still joined together.
To be continued…
A/N: This was written before I left for Uni in September, but this is only my second weekend of having access to the internet for uneducational purposes (I know, I know, lesbian fanfics apparantly aren't educational!) since then, and I've only just gotten around to toning it down (slightly) to what I hope is acceptable for an R rating. Like I said, if it offends you, tell me. Chapter 4 is very much up in the air, as is whether I'll be going home again before the Christmas holidays, so bear with me.