I am such a moron. Now he certainly thinks that I'm a self important bitch who only considers sex as great when she is calling all the shots.
I'm not even sure why I felt the need to say that, to tell him that is was great. He sure as hell had better sexual experiences in his life than being raped by his pregnant and very horny roommate. Hence the dictionary comment.
What I wanted to say was, that it never was like that for me. Not with anyone of the men I've ever been with. I remember a talk I had with Ross a few years ago. I told him that I had never experienced that kind of passion where you have to have somebody right then and there. I longed for that, I wanted to have that so badly and a short while later, I had it. I had it with Paolo and of course, with Ross.
But even when I was the one who initiated sex, the men I was with were always taking over. It didn't bother me, I guess the thought of being the one in charge always intimidated me to some degree. Of course, there was passion, but it never made me feel like I was the passionate one. Until last night I never even thought about it that way.
But now I know what it feels like to completely lose control, to lose yourself into your own needs and to act on them just the way you want.
Yes, Joey's reluctance and passiveness had scared me because I was afraid he would turn me down, he even said that he thought it was wrong and that we shouldn't do it.
But if it would have been different, if he would have been any more active than he was, if he would have tried to make this about him, about what he wanted out of this, I'm not sure that I would've been able to go through with it.
When I think about it, it seems like it is always this way between Joey and me. It is always about what I want, what I think, what I need.
He goes with me on a fake date because I was whining about not being able to date anymore. He wants me and the baby to live with him even if it will have a serious impact on his life, too. He doesn't complain about the light mayo I made him switch to or about the beer he can't drink at home anymore because the smell makes me nauseous.
He never makes me feel bad about things I did, decisions I made, even if they were stupid in retrospect. Hell, he even tried to make me feel better about what I did last night.
He doesn't criticize me, corrects me or tries to always prove his points. Living with Joey made me feel so much more like an independent, self sufficient person, than living with Monica or Ross ever could.
I know, we are not involved. Romantic relationships are way more complicated when it comes to this. But I can't help thinking that if Joey and me were a couple, he still would accept me the way I am, he would still support my decisions, even if he wouldn't always agree with them.
Maybe that is why Ross and I failed so badly. He was there for me when I needed someone who already had done something with his life. He was sweet and caring and supportive and I really loved him for all of that. Things just began to go south when I started to make my own decisions about more than which apron to wear to work. That was when he started to second guess everything I did, to insinuate that I was in over my head with my work, with Mark and his supposedly evil plans to get me into bed. Everything that happened after this was a result of his lacking faith in me and my abilities. Yes, I'm way past blaming our breakup solely on him anymore. I made my share of mistakes too, the biggest one being that I failed to recognize what person Ross wanted me to be, what person he needed me to be.
When I slept with him the night we created the child that is growing inside of me, all of my feelings for him were still there, aching like an old wound that refuses to heal. And yeah, I started it, I wanted it to happen, but soon enough he had taken charge and even if it was a really great night, it pales in comparison to what I had last night with Joey.
Because with Joey, I could be just myself.
It's been four days. Four days of pretending nothing ever happened, four days of trying to convince myself that I just needed that one time, that this need is out of my system now. Four days of trying to look at Joey and to see nothing more than a friend. Four days of failing miserably at all of that.
Joey doesn't make it any easier. He seems reluctant to talk to me, afraid to touch me, to do all the things we were doing before. Sometimes I get the feeling he can barely stand to look at me anymore.
I feel horrible. I never needed Joey more than I do right now and I managed to push him away with my thoughtless and inappropriate behavior.
When I say need, I don't mean this only in a sexual way, although sometimes I can hardly think about anything else.
Like I said to him that night, I need to feel that I'm not alone. I need somebody to lean on and for reasons I still don't dare to analyze, I need that somebody to be Joey.
I can't blame him for behaving like he does, though. If it were me in his place, I would have thrown myself out of the apartment four days ago. Well, maybe not. Besides, I can't go anywhere. Monica lives with Chandler, Phoebe lives with Mike and Ross practically lives with Mona. Joey would never send a pregnant woman away, no matter what happened.
I can't sleep. Sometimes I think I haven't slept in four days. And my colleagues probably think I sleep at work since I can't seem to concentrate on anything these days. Good thing I can blame it on being pregnant.
I lie awake at night thinking of the man in the next room. Indulging fantasies about what I would do if I ever had the chance to do anything with him again. Wondering how I could have lived with this man for so long without feeling what I'm feeling now.
Although I'm not quite certain what I am feeling. I know I want to be close to him, I want to touch him, assure myself of his presence. When we're at Monica's or in the coffee house I have to remind myself not to take the seat beside him because that would surely end up with me sitting on his lap and I am sure that would raise a few eyebrows.
Probably even Joey's.
It hurts to think that he doesn't want this, doesn't want me. Not that I don't understand why. After two years of living with Joey I think I know a few things about him.
He wants to take all the chances life has to offer, professionally and personally. He doesn't care for things that are complicated or potentially painful. He wants to have fun. And I can't blame him for this because not too long ago, this was pretty much what I wanted to have too.
I can still remember how I freaked out when Ross started to tell me how he had already planned our future because back then, I didn't sound like what I wanted at all.
Being in a relationship with me would be no fun for Joey. It would probably be one hundred percent the opposite of fun. And yeah, this could be what Joey meant when he made that dictionary comment.
It would be complicated and it would be painful. It would strain, maybe even destroy, his friendship to Ross and because of Monica maybe even his friendship to Chandler. Because of me being pregnant it would burden him with a responsibility he has no intention of carrying.
There is no way he would even consider going there.
God, I am such an idiot.
It is typical for me actually. I always seem to want the things or the people I know I can't have for some reason.
My love for Ross always seemed to flare up when he was happy with somebody else. With Julie, with Bonnie, with Emily.
Am I still the spoiled little girl crying and stomping her feet in the toy store because daddy didn't want to buy me the newest Barbie, even though I never played with all the other ones I already had?
Am I using Joey to make me feel better about myself?
Am I destroying a perfect friendship to prove to myself that I can still get anyone I want?
This has to stop.
Whatever I might or might not be feeling for him, whatever happens to me when I look at him, I have to get over it.
And I have to talk to Joey to tell him that I am not gonna do anything ever again that would do more damage to our friendship. I have to try to make up for my mistake, even if it means burying everything that awakened inside of me when he first put his arms around me the night we were watching 'Cujo'.
All my musings have made it impossible for me to fall asleep for the night.
I decide to get up, get myself a glass of water and think about what I'm gonna say to Joey tomorrow.
I shuffle through the door and nearly jump out of my skin when I see a dark figure sitting on the couch.
Turns out it's Joey.
What the hell is he doing on the couch in the middle of the night?
Maybe he fell asleep there or something. No, he seems to be awake. It looks like he isn't doing anything but staring right ahead and wearing nothing but his bathrobe which is revealing a good portion of his gorgeous naked chest. Maybe he couldn't sleep either.
He looks up at me and then looks quickly down again.
Normally he would've said something, made a joke about both of us being up in the middle of the night, or about me having to run to the bathroom every few minutes.
But he just continues staring blankly at nothing in particular. When I come back with my glass of water the exact same thing happens again. He steals a glance at me and then looks away as if nothing happened.
I can't stand this anymore. We have to talk. Now.
I'll do whatever he thinks necessary to make things right between us again, to go back to this easy camaraderie we always had. I'll even move out if that's what it takes.
Panic jumps at me and makes my blood turn cold when I think of the possibility that he might actually want me to do that. That I would have to live without him near me.
Maybe it is even worse, maybe Joey despises me now, hates me for forcing him into a situation he never wanted to be in.
What if I'll lose him? I can't lose him. I just … I can't.
When I sit down next to him he looks up. I can't read his expression because it is quite dark in here, but maybe it will make things easier not to have to look into his soulful deep brown eyes that make me lose every train of thought.
"Do you … do you hate me, Joey?" I ask although that was not the way I wanted to start this conversation. It's something I desperately needed to know.
He almost jumps off the couch when I say this. "What? God no, no, Rachel. What makes you think that? I could never…"
I put my hand up to cut him off. "Because of what I did, forcing myself on to you like that. Hell, I practically raped you."
He laughs out loud at that but he gets serious again when he realizes that I wasn't joking.
When he takes my hands in his, it's all I can do not to start crying, because he is touching me again – and he doesn't hate me. "Rachel, I can't believe this is what you were thinking. I mean it was pretty intense and … uhm … unexpected. But trust me, if I wouldn't have wanted things to happen, things wouldn't have happened."
Somehow I manage to speak around the lump in my throat. "You wanted it to happen?"
His trademark smirk appears on his face and I can almost hear the suggestively raised eyebrows in his voice when he asks, "You couldn't tell?"
Now I feel foolish. I stare at our joined hands and try to come up with something clever to say. Of course I could tell. In a way. But like they say, making someone come is as easy as making someone scream. It's all about knowing which buttons to push. And I sure know which buttons to push. For that matter, I know from recent experience that he knows that too.
That doesn't really mean he wanted it.
"Look Rach. I know I've been a bit distant lately. I have to deal with what happened, too. This is all so very complicated. You … and Ross … and your history …"
I'm starting to get a little sick of hearing Ross' name coming out of Joey's mouth in relation to what is happening between us. Why does this so called 'history' still matter to him that much? It is just that – history. Ancient history to be exact - it has been five god damn years for crying out loud.
"… and the baby" he finishes while placing one hand on my belly.
Now there are definitely tears running down my face. How could I forget about my child? How could I ever think that it wouldn't matter? That it wouldn't matter to him that I slept with Ross just five months ago and that we're gonna have this baby together?
When I don't answer him for a while, he puts his hand under my chin and lifts it up so he can look straight at me. I guess the wetness all over my face tells him that I'm crying. He tries to wipe the tears away but they're just keep on coming. This situation is so messed up, I don't know how to get out of it.
The worst thing is that right in this moment I barely think about all the things I'm supposed to think about. What I'm thinking, what my body is saying or rather screaming is that I want to do the same thing that I did four days ago. My tears are not so much about my somewhat hopeless relationship situation or because of my concern for the future of my baby. They are mostly the tears of a woman who is sexually frustrated beyond reason and who has the man of her desire sitting half naked right in front of her, touching her face.
"I'm so sorry, Rach. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Please stop crying. Please. You make me cry if you don't stop. Please."
Maybe throwing myself into his arms will make everything better.
For a while, it does. He is stroking my back and murmurs soothing words against my hair and I'm just basking in the glory of being welcomed back in his arms. I know it sounds corny but it feels like coming home.
After these few glorious moments I notice that it probably wasn't such a great idea after all. Obviously he hadn't tied up his bathrobe all that carefully and it is now just hanging useless at his sides. So I'm finding myself lying half on top of a very naked Joey.
How is a woman supposed to restrain herself in a situation like this? Because I sure as hell can't.
I let my hand roam over his skin and hear him draw a sharp breath when I'm grazing the inside of his thigh. Looks like am not the only one with problems restraining myself.
He suddenly grabs my hand and hisses, "Rachel, what do you think you're doing?"
Now it's my turn to grin mischievously at him. "Can't you tell?"
"God Rachel, no. We just talked about that, we can't..."
He tries to get out from under me and cover himself up but I can't let him do that. I feel the desperation again, the urge that made me throw myself at him the last time. The sense of foreboding that if I let him go now, something would be lost forever.
"Please, Joey. Just this one time", I whisper, clinging to him. "I want this ...", no that sounds wrong somehow. I don't just want sex, I want him. "I want you so much."
I start kissing him, telling him with my hands and lips what I obviously can't make him understand otherwise.
"But Rach..."
"Please", I breathe between kisses, " ... need you… just this one time."
His resistance is getting noticeably weaker with every passing second.
"It won't happen again after tonight. I'll be good. I promise."
That one seems to have gotten through to him. He grabs my head with both hands and kisses me with a fervor that leaves me breathless.
When he breaks the kiss all I can manage to mutter is a toneless "Wow". Then I push him back against the couch and claim his lips again, intending to match his passion with mine.
His hands are on my hips and start to go up under my t-shirt. I arch into his touch moaning and panting. I'm so far gone already it isn't even funny.
When his hands reach the swell of my belly he suddenly stops. And I start to panic he is changing his mind.
"We're not gonna hurt her, are we?" he asks me.
I seriously can't believe we are talking about this now, after we already had sex before. But I know he is not gonna do anything I want him to do, if I'm not telling him what he wants to hear. If I weren't so unbelievably turned on right now, I surely would find his concerns adorable.
As it is, I find it hard to speak.
"No ... you just ... not on top ... and being careful," I manage to pant out.
I start kissing him again to turn his attention back to me.
Which works surprisingly well until he pulls back again. "I'm not gonna sit back and enjoy the show this time around, okay?"
Again he seems to expect me to answer so I just nod my head. If his kisses are any indication for what might come next, I would be stupid to say no. I just really hope we're done talking now.
He lifts my arms over my head and takes my t-shirt off. His hands are traveling down my arms again and then farther down while brushing lightly against my breasts. A wailing moan tears itself free from my throat at this teasing touch. He gets the hint and cups one of my breasts circling the nipple with his thumb.
I already noticed four days ago that I respond to the slightest touch so much more than I used to. I am more aware of my own body and my skin is a lot more sensitive than before. Especially the skin of my breasts and - of course - my nipples.
I'm still surprised though, that only the feeling of his hands caressing my breasts, the feeling of his tongue exploring my mouth and his teeth nipping lightly at my lips is enough to build up that familiar pressure inside of me to the point where stars are exploding behind my closed eyes.
I hear someone cry somewhere and realize only later that this must have been me, crying out his name.
For a while I'm hanging limply in Joey's arms and try not to be embarrassed at how easy it is to get me off.
Just then Joey whispers something into my ear. "You are so amazing", he says with so much sincerity in his voice that I don't even know anymore why I was worrying. This is my Joey, the man I can be myself with.
When I look at him, the sight of his smile, barely visible in the darkness, creates this all consuming warmth inside of me that I obviously only feel when I am with him. This insight comes with the gut wrenching pain of realizing that this is gonna be the last time I'm ever gonna be able to feel it. Guess I will have to make it count.
When I try to get rid of my pajama pants, Joey stops me. "Let me do this."
He places me on the couch and kneels on the floor so that he is between my legs. And then he is kissing me again. His hands are gliding down my naked back and are eventually reaching the waistband of my pants. He gently pulls it down and I lift my hips up a bit so it would come off easy. Somehow I realize I will have to stop kissing him if I want him to get that damn thing off me completely so I break the kiss. I slowly release my grip on his head and put my arms down beside me. He looks at me as if he wants to ask me for permission to go further. It makes me feel as if this is actually our first time, as if nothing had happened four days ago. His hands are on my thighs, still gripping the waistband of my pants. I put my hands on top of his and shove them further downwards. He follows my lead, his gaze still locked with mine. When the irritating piece of clothing finally pools around my ankles I toss it to the side with one foot.
Now that my eyes have adjusted to the darkness, I can watch him studying my naked body. With the way he is looking at me, with so much open admiration and wonder, his gaze feels like a gentle caress, like the touch of butterfly wings against my heated skin.
If I want to be able to let him go after tonight, he has to stop looking at me as if I am the most amazing, the most beautiful thing he ever laid eyes on.
So I do the next best thing that comes to mind. I grab his head and kiss him, drawing his naked body to me and reveling in the sensation of his skin on mine.
He doesn't need more convincing to get things going.
My assault is countered with a scorching kiss that leaves me shaking with need. He runs his hand over the inside of my thigh and my legs open up further seemingly by their own volition.
When I feel the first light touch against the centre of my desire I have to break the kiss and throw my head back against the couch moaning loudly. He kisses his way down my neck and upper body; his tongue and lips leaving a wet trail on my skin that makes me shiver. I try to push myself a bit forward towards his unmoving hand but in this moment his hot wet mouth covers one of my nipples and I am lost in a sea of overwhelming sensations.
Just as I'm ready to explode just from what he is doing to my breasts, he starts to delicately stroke me between my legs. Needless to say his skillful ministrations bring me to the point of no return in no time.
The first time it was like the short and powerful release of pent up pressure. This time the pleasure is rolling over me in gentle waves, leaving me breathless and still wanting more. Not only more of these sensation, but more of him. I want him to feel what I feel, to lose control, to give in to want and need the same way I did.
I put my hands on his chest pushing him away from me and then I slide from the couch next to him, making him move away further. Sensing what I have in mind, he lies down onto the floor. The thought that he's following my lead so willingly makes my desire burn even hotter than before. It is not that he is submissive, he isn't, but he lets me set the pace. Again giving me the feeling that this is about me, about what I want, what I need.
And I know what I want now.
I crawl over him and start kissing his face, his mouth, his neck. Hearing him breathe irregularly and gasping every so often when I vary the intensity of my attentions is far more arousing than I would ever have imagined.
Again the thought of this being the last time strikes me with painful brutality, making me flinch. I have to make this count.
If this is gonna be the last time I get to touch him ever, I better make sure that I memorize every square inch of his skin, every spot that makes him groan with pleasure, every texture, every taste.
When I reach the place I was headed for, he is already writhing under me, groaning my name in an almost begging way. This is exactly where I wanted to have him.
When I take him into my mouth he starts to sound helpless, pained almost.
I know he wants to hold back, I know he thinks it shouldn't be like this but I'm not about to give him a choice. There is no doubt that he will be ready again for doing it the way he thinks it's supposed to be in no time, so I'm doing what I need to do to make this count for me.
Like I said, I know which buttons to push and I'm bringing this knowledge to good use right now, using everything weapon in my arsenal, my tongue, my lips, my teeth, my hands. I can pinpoint the exact moment when he gives up and lets go. Holding back for as long as he did makes his release slow and intense, the spasms run through him multiple times before they stop.
When I kiss my way back up again, I feel his chest heaving with sharp and labored intakes of breath. I kiss the spot over his heart and can feel the vibrations his heart creates by hammering against his ribs rapidly. I wish by kissing this spot I could leave an imprint of myself in there. Marking him, declaring him mine.
"You're amazing," I murmur into his ear.
His mouth is soft under mine, pliable, lightly trembling.
Just when I start to wonder when he's going to recover from this, he kisses me back with renewed passion. He rolls me over and looks at me intently for a few moments before announcing, "Your turn".
In an instant he has taken a few cushions from the couch and positioned me on the floor quite comfortably.
I know what's next. The knowledge makes my body hum and vibrate with anticipation. For a second I wonder why I don't feel the usual inhibitions and insecurities I normally have when doing this with someone. Why I don't ask myself if he's only doing it because he feels obliged to. But the answer is always the same. Because he's Joey.
He starts to kiss me and I let myself fall. I stop thinking and give myself over to sensations and feelings, to the endless variety of kisses and touches that reduce me to a quivering mass of need before his mouth even reaches the spot where I need it the most.
Then finally…finally he is there … and God, he really knows what he's doing and he does it so well. He runs his tongue around my clit in teasing circles and I try to push myself further against him, growling frustrated, but I don't get far because he firmly holds me still with both his hands on my hips. I can feel his lips curling into a smile at my outburst, but I am way past caring about self-control at the moment. After thankfully only a few more moments of teasing he goes at it really fast and hard, bringing me closer … closer…
On my peripheral field of awareness I register his right hand leaving it's place on my hips, wandering around my thigh. Then he slides a finger inside me and starts pumping into me and this is enough to send me flying.
When I'm back in the real world, Joey is beside me again, caressing my face, looking at me with the expression I saw on him before. The one that opens my heart and frees an emotion I don't want to feel, because the memory of it is laced with heartache and pain.
So I do what I did when he first looked at me like this. I kiss him again.
It takes only a few minutes of kissing for me to realize that I'm not as satisfied as I thought. There is still something I want to do, still something I want to feel and there is no mistaking that he is ready for that again. I push him onto his back, straddling him and taking him inside all in one fluid movement.
This is what I want, what I need. Why can't I have this, why can't I have him? Why has this to be the last time?
I begin to move, trying to savor the feeling of having him inside of me, trying to draw it out. But despite the voice in my head chanting 'last time' with every one of my movements, despite the fact that there are tears burning in the back of my throat and despite the fact that I want it to last forever, it is over much to soon. I can't welcome the slow and sweet fulfillment this is bringing me, because it means the end.
Luckily for me, it isn't quite the end since Joey seems to be far from where I am. Looks like my idea from before was even better than I thought.
I can't move though, because I'm shaking too hard.
Joey places my hands on his chest, puts his hands on my hips to steady me and then begins to move, controlled and heartbreakingly careful.
The waves of the orgasm I just had haven't ebbed away yet and his thrusts don't let them. They undulate through me, keeping me on the edge and I come at least twice before I hear him groan when he finds his own release.
So this is what they call a multiple orgasm. Too bad it's gonna be my last.
I lie down beside him and for a while the only sound that can be heard is our labored breathing.
My throat is still burning and I know I can't hold back the tears much longer. I turn to face him, place one kiss over his heart and one on his mouth. "Thank you, Joe."
When I'm at my door he calls after me. "Rachel, wait,"
But I don't turn around. I can't because tears are already running down my face and my chest hurts with suppressed sobs and I don't want him to remind me of my promise or something like that. I want to take this with me as untainted as possible.
In my room I crawl into my bed and press my face against my pillow, stifling the agonized wail that seems to come right out of my heart.
When I come out of my room the next morning, hoping against hope he won't be there, his gaze is drilling into me the minute I appear at the door. "Good morning," I say trying to sound as casual as possible while heading for the bathroom.
He doesn't even answer.
I shut the door behind me leaning against it and thinking about how to handle the situation, what to say to him.
Maybe it isn't even that hard. We already had that conversation. It's no big deal, I promise it won't happen again, we just pretend it never happened.
Although I have the feeling that this won't be enough for him this time around since it failed to work last night.
My drawn out ritual of showering and dressing and getting myself ready for work had bought me some time, but I still don't know what to tell him.
When I make my may over to the kitchen, he glares at me, obviously pissed. I guess starting to make small talk would annoy him even more so I cut right to the chase. "Joey I … I don't know what to say. I know we wanted to forget about it, but …"
"Then why do we keep doing this?"
"I … I can't help it. It feels so … good."
"Rachel, this is not the point. You know how I feel about this, about doing this to Ross."
So this is what he is so upset about. That he'd jeopardized his precious friendship.
"I'm not gonna tell anyone. Not Phoebe, not Monica, no one. If we're not telling anyone, no one will ever know."
He runs his hands through his hair a few times shaking his head. Maybe I should tell him that I'm sorry but the thing is - I'm not. How can I convince myself we did something wrong when it felt so right? "And I already promised it won't happen again," I offer instead. That should do the trick, it did yesterday.
"If I wouldn't hold you to your promise, would you want to do it again?"
My first instinct is to lie. Maybe that would make it easier for him, maybe even for me if I could bring myself to believe it this time. What I doubt. "Yes, I'm sure I would. I felt … I never … it was amazing. Knowing it isn't going to happen again makes me …" Want to pull my hair out one by one? Wish Ross wouldn't exist? Want to kill myself? "… sad."
He looks positively heartbroken now. I should have told him the lie.
"Do you even care about me, Rachel? Do you care about me at all?"
He sounds accusing. As if I've never considered his feelings and maybe this isn't even that far from the truth. I have the strong urge to tell him exactly how much I care about him. But I don't think this it what he needs to hear, if anything it will makes things even more complicated.
"Of course I do, Joey. I care about you."
"Then why are you doing this to me? Because Rachel, I can't … I can't live like this. It kills me," he pleads.
Up until know I had no idea how much I was hurting him. I should have because of course I know how much he hates secrets and lies and how much he values loyalty to his friends and keeping to the rules of friendship. I have no right to mess with his head like this just because I selfishly put my feelings and needs above his.
And this time I won't get weak because even though the thought of never sleeping with him again is killing me inside, the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt him.
"I am sorry Joe," I say and I mean it.
xxxxxxx
tbc
