All right my friends!
This one is LONG. It's super long. Probably too long. But, I felt like if I cut this one off anywhere in the middle of it, that people would probably find me and throw a few sharp objects my way. And I was never good at dodgeball. So, anyway, I hope this makes up for the too-short chapter the last chapter. :)
I mentioned the very-close-to-M-rating stuff that's upcoming...so, again, if you don't like that type of stuff, just kind of skip over it.
I'm delaying your reading of this really long chapter, so I'll hush now.
Please tell me your thoughts!
Saturday, May 1, 1999 – 1:36 A.M.
There was no party.
There was no celebration, no music, no cake, no dancing, no alcohol.
Although, she could use some alcohol.
It was late, but Monica couldn't sleep. As good as the sleep was the previous night, and as excited as she was to sleep again tonight, she just couldn't turn her mind off.
She lay there staring at the ceiling, her mind flooded with a million thoughts.
Mostly thoughts she knew she shouldn't be having, not tonight. Not now.
They were thoughts of Chandler, particularly Chandler's mouth. How much she wanted to taste it again, taste him again.
It wasn't the first time she kissed him. At Joey's birthday party last year, he'd gotten so drunk from Jello shots. She was walking by the supply closet, and suddenly found herself inside of it when he pulled her in with him.
She remembered gasping when his lips attacked hers, and she put her hands on his chest to push him off but couldn't make herself do it. His tongue entered her mouth so quickly and deliciously that it made her moan and wrap her arms around his neck to keep him there instead.
Shivers ran up her spine as she thought about the taste of his mouth that night, tropical fruit-flavored mixed with vodka and wonderful.
But now wasn't the time. As much as she wanted another kiss, he probably wasn't thinking about that or her at all. She shouldn't be thinking about it either, not after what happened today.
She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, hoping that sleep would come to her. She wanted to see him, to check on him, to hug him if he needed it, to kiss him if he wanted it…
Stop it, Monica, she told herself, then covered her face with both of her hands. She lowered them again and kept her eyes shut. She took a few long, deep breaths, willing her body to rest, but nothing worked.
Eventually, she gave up, groaned, and sat up in the bed.
It was no use, trying to sleep when her mind was like this.
She got out of the comfortable, plush bed and walked out of the guest room. She was surprised to find his door open, so she peeked inside to see if he was sleeping, but found the room empty instead.
He'd told her he was going to bed, that he just needed to be by himself and sleep the awful, horrible day away.
But he wasn't there.
She checked the hallway bathroom and when she found that empty, she silently moved down the stairs and into the living room.
He was there, standing at the window, watching the snow fall slowly to the ground.
She stayed in the shadows for several long moments, watching him. The living room was dark, silent, cold. She was sure that was just what he wanted.
Her eyes traveled over him. He was still in his jeans, long-sleeved t-shirt, and a jacket that he'd been wearing all day. In his right hand, he held a glass in it, a small amount of brown liquid with melting ice cubes in it.
She moved her eyes to the end table where the bottle of scotch sat. It was more than half empty.
She made a bet with herself that it was probably mostly full earlier in the night.
Her heart ached for him, for Nora.
It happened so fast.
She finally took a few silent steps forward and crossed her arms against the cooler air of the living room.
"Hey," she said softly.
He turned to look at her, and she knew right away that he'd been drinking for a couple of hours at least. He lifted his left hand out of his pocket and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb before answering her.
"What are you doing up?" He asked softly.
She shrugged a shoulder and took a couple of steps closer to him, "Couldn't sleep."
He nodded and looked down at the glass he was drinking from as he swirled the liquid around, the sound of the ice hitting the side of the glass filling the quiet room, "Me either," he finally said to her, "and I needed a drink," he added softly.
She watched him bring the glass to his lips, taking the last sip of the liquid, "I uh, I could use a drink."
She stepped up next to him and watched as he stared outside. She turned and looked outside too and understood a little more why he seemed to be in a bit of a trance.
"The snow is different here," Monica voiced softly, "it's so peaceful and beautiful."
He nodded, "Yeah."
The alcohol plus the soothing snow were probably helping him to forget. She could use some of that. She wanted to forget too.
"Can I," he slowly looked over at her, "can I please have a drink?"
His blue, tired eyes studied hers for only a second before he nodded, took a step to the end table, and filled another glass. He wordlessly handed it to her.
"Thank you," she said and followed him with her eyes as he walked around the couch and sat down, turning himself so that he could see out of the window. She followed and sat down next to him, "Do you want me to leave you alone?"
He finished the sip he was in the middle of before he shook his head. He placed a hand on her knee and squeezed it, "No, of course not." He moved the hand that was on her knee and ran it through his hair.
She sipped the strong liquid and made a face, "Good gracious. It won't take many of these. How many have you had?"
He lifted an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth with a slight smile, "I think I've had four, maybe 5, I think," he said, then chuckled, "ah, I don't really know." He looked down and began to pick at his fingernail, "I definitely couldn't drive."
She placed a hand on his arm, and he looked down at it, then over to her, "Can I please fix you something to eat?"
He shook his head, "No, thank you. I'm not hungry."
She sighed softly and took another sip of the scotch, "You haven't eaten all day," she pointed out.
"Food would soak up the alcohol," he answered her, "and I'm trying to let the alcohol soak up me."
"I'll fix anything you want," she offered, "I know that beautiful kitchen is stocked full of food."
He managed a slight smile at her, "I'd love to let you lose in there," he pat her knee again, "but no thank you. I really don't want anything."
At that, she finished the glass, reached over to the bottle, and poured herself another. "It kind of grows on you after the burning stops," she said to him.
He smirked at her but didn't say anything. She sat about an arm's length away from him. He turned and rested his head on his arms as he stared out the window again. She turned on the couch so she could do the same.
It was cathartic, peaceful, quiet.
She knew it would be impossible to get the heartbreaking and panicked look she saw on his face earlier in the day out of her head. He'd turned the rental car around and sped to the hospital, but when they had gotten there, it was too late.
"Is this all a dream?" He asked, breaking the silence.
She looked up at him and realized just how long they had been sitting next to each other without saying anything. She was almost done with her second drink.
She reached over to the coffee table again and grasped the bottle. She could start to feel the alcohol work its magic.
"I wondered the same thing," she answered as she took another sip.
He shook his head slowly, "I just can't believe she's gone."
"I know honey, but you have to try to remember the good times with her." When he didn't respond, she cleared her throat, "You had a great relationship with her. I envy that. I love my grandmother, but I rarely see her or talk to her. And I loved my Mom's Mom, but we weren't close. I didn't talk to her other than the holidays." She sighed, "You had such an amazing relationship with yours, and that is wonderful."
He thought about that for a long moment, "She'd do anything for me." He sighed and turned to her more fully on the couch.
She felt a tear form in her eye as she stared at his sad, distraught face. "Tell me about your childhood with her," she said to him, placing her hand on his knee.
"Ah," he said, then shook his head, "I wouldn't want to bore you."
"You could never bore me," she returned softly, then shook his leg, "come on, please? I want to hear them."
He let his eyes linger on her for a moment, then shut them and rubbed his forehead. He started then with stories of his grandmother. Stories about when he was young, when he was a teenager, when he graduated from high school and college, how his grandmother was always there for him.
Monica laughed at some stories and cried during some others as she listened to him intently, and she knew now that Nanna was the reason that he was the great person he had become. She taught him how to be a gentleman, how to love, and how to live. Monica thought that the woman that finally married Chandler would be a lucky one. He was one of the good ones.
Now if she could only get him to see that.
"...And the turkey was so burnt that I'm sure it would've broken the knife if someone tried to cut it," Chandler said as he finished another story, this one about Thanksgiving when he was twelve years old. "And yet again, Thanksgiving let me down. Stupid holiday." He laughed a little and shook his head.
Monica chuckled and sat her glass down on the coffee table, "Well, I've been there before," she said to him, "remember when we got locked out a few years ago and all that food was burnt to a crisp? I had to throw those pans away. As much as I love to scrub, there was no saving them."
He smiled and put his glass next to hers on the table. The liquor bottle was empty now, and she thought that it was helping both of them.
"Yeah, I remember that Thanksgiving. I thought of Nanna a lot that year. Even the grilled cheese we ate instead, was exactly what Nanna would've done to fix it."
"That was a nice one together," Monica replied, a small smile on her face, "the six of us."
Chandler nodded, then turned his head to look out of the window again. "I'm gonna miss her," he said eventually.
She reached over and took his free hand, "I know."
"How can this be real? Am I a horrible person for moving to New York and never seeing her and lying to her about being married and dragging you along to pretend to be my wife and fooling her into thinking I was married? What would she think of me if she knew the truth?"
Monica sighed and squeezed his hand to try and combat the heartbreak she felt for her friend, "Chandler, no. You're not a horrible person," she responded softly, "you only wanted her to be happy. And she only wanted you to be happy. She knew you are happy in New York and bringing me along was to keep her happy. That's all that matters."
He finally turned to look at her, and her heart pinged when she saw the tears in his eyes, "How is she gone?" Monica moved her hand to intertwine her fingers with his, "I mean, one night she's forcing us to make out in front of her and the next night she's…" he stopped and took a breath, and Monica could tell that he was trying to hold back the tears. "…she's gone."
Monica licked her lips and squeezed his hand.
"You know what I'll miss the most?" She looked at him, her eyes telling him to continue, "She called me on Thursday. Every Thursday. Sometimes we'd talk for an hour, sometimes only 5 minutes. She just wanted to make sure I was okay. If I had food or if I needed any money."
Monica fought the tears that wanted to fall from her eyes, "She loved you," she said brokenly.
He sniffed and she moved her thumb across his knuckles, "Sometimes I feel like she's the only one," he managed.
"Chandler," she said, shaking her head at him, ready to argue with him with the list of people who loved him so much, herself included, but he interrupted her.
"Ah, look at me," he said and raised his left hand to his face to wipe a tear he hoped she didn't see away, "I'm nothing but a big baby." He dropped her hand, stood, and walked back over to the window. He felt like he was going to cry more, and he didn't want her to see. She got up and followed him, though, and he turned his head away from her.
"Hey, come here," Monica said, pulling on his arm. He shook his head and tried to pull away from her.
"Mon, I don't…" she shook her head back at him and put her finger over his lips.
"Come here," she said again. She had to tug on him for a few seconds, but she successfully pulled him into her arms. He was hesitant at first, but finally gave in and hugged her tightly. He let himself relax as she squeezed him into her body.
It felt so good to hold her, and of course, she knew exactly what he needed. She always did.
He really could hold her all night long, even though their height difference caused him discomfort as he lay on her shoulder. She rubbed his back as she held him tight.
"God, I'm so glad you're here with me," he whispered and turned his head so that his face was facing inward, towards her neck. He took the opportunity to inhale her intoxicating scent and he could still smell the perfume that lingered from the day.
She lifted her hand and threaded it through his hair, holding his head against her shoulder, "I'll always be here for you," she whispered back.
He moved his head inward just a bit so that he could place a gentle kiss on her neck, causing a wave of tingles to go through her. "I know you will," he replied.
They stayed that way for several long, silent moments. He pulled his head up, but when he tried to step backward, she didn't let him go, "I am so very sorry, Chandler."
His eyes still held tears in them, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He was positive that if he said anything, he'd cry again. He didn't want to do that, not in front of her.
Although, he'd done it a lot in front of her in the past. After he and Kathy broke up, in particular. She was there for him, just like now.
She moved her hand from his back to cup his face and rubbed his cheek with her thumb, "She'll always be with you," she whispered, and a tear streamed down her face, "just try and remember that."
Chandler nodded once at her as a single tear fell from his eye and rolled over her finger. He moved his hands from her back to take her hand from his face. He placed a kiss in her palm and intertwined his fingers with hers like she did earlier on the couch.
"What do you need?" She asked him quietly.
He swallowed and shut his eyes to get away from the intense stare she was aiming at him. She'd asked him the same question after Kathy cheated on him, but he only wanted a grilled cheese sandwich, a Yoo-hoo, and some Doritos to fix his broken heart.
But now, food was the very last thing on his mind.
His head was spinning, as much from the alcohol as from her presence. He opened his eyes again and stared into her eyes, getting lost in the deep, perfect blue. That thing was between them again, that feeling, but he didn't know how to explain it. And if he were a betting man, he'd bet that she couldn't explain it either.
He wondered if he would be allowed to kiss her.
He wondered if she would let him give her a deep, passionate kiss and help him forget, at least for a little while.
She was supposed to leave tomorrow, she had to get back to work, and he needed to stay and help his Mom with the funeral.
He knew he'd miss her.
All he could do was ask, right? If she didn't want it, she'd tell him no. And while he knew the answer would most likely be no, he was closer to asking her than not asking her. She'd probably tell him he was crazy and push him away. But he was already heartbroken, so why not take the chance?
Before he lost his nerve, he lifted his hand and placed it on her chin, brushing his thumb lightly over her lower lip. She let go of his other hand and placed it on his chest.
He took that as a sign that it would be okay if he leaned down and kissed her like he desperately wanted to. He licked his lips and moved his thumb just a bit more over her lip, "Can I," he stopped and looked down at her mouth, then met her eyes again, "can I kiss you?" His voice broke and he said the words so softly that he wasn't sure if she heard him.
Excitement was the overwhelming feeling in her, and she shivered with anticipation. She wanted to taste him again, badly, but she wasn't sure if it was a good idea.
He was her best friend and kissing him again for no reason other than just to do because she wanted to, and clearly, he did too, would almost definitely open a giant can of worms.
Chandler and Monica? Together? A couple? It would never happen, could never happen.
There were moments, the times she found herself without a date for several weeks, when she thought about going out on a date with him. What that might look like, where they would go, what they would do.
But of course, nothing ever happened. He didn't think of her that way anyway.
Until now, apparently.
Now, the way he was looking at her, even through the darkness, set a fire within her. She wanted to taste him again because damn it, he was a fantastic kisser. She could sense his nervousness as his eyes landed on her mouth. She returned with a look at his mouth too.
She took another second and swallowed the lump in her throat.
"Yes," she answered him, her voice shaking just slightly.
Her answer surprised him so much that he wasn't sure if it was real or if he made it up in his head. He let out a shaky breath and tried to clear his throat, "I uh," he shook his head, "I just want to make sure that you actually said yes, because I had a few drinks and I…"
He stopped speaking when she moved her index finger to his lips, "Chandler," she whispered, "shut up and kiss me."
Well, there was no questioning what she said now. He moved his hand from her back and lifted both to cup her face. He stepped even closer to her and leaned forward to place his lips on hers.
Just like the previous night, he only brushed his lips against hers for a second, as if he was testing the water.
Chills ran through him when her nails scraped the back of his head. She smirked at him and leaned in close so that her lips barely grazed his, "Give her a real kiss," she whispered just as his grandmother did the previous day.
"My God," he groaned to her, and returned his mouth to hers, his tongue pushing into her mouth immediately.
She moaned and gripped him harder, then pushed her body against his. He took a step, then another and another until her back hit the wall next to the window. She moaned again as he turned his head to make sure he got to taste every bit of her mouth.
He moved one of his hands into her hair as he explored her mouth, enjoying the sounds of her moans in the back of her throat.
What in the hell were they doing?
He was kissing Monica.
Monica Geller, his best friend, his neighbor, his favorite person.
They shouldn't be doing this, not without a conversation. He hadn't told her how he felt about her, and this was in no way just a friendly kiss, not anymore.
She moaned again and he felt all the blood in his body head south.
His lungs began to burn so he moved his head backward and licked his lips when he broke the kiss. He finally opened his eyes to gaze down at her.
She opened her eyes too and took a few deep breaths. She didn't move her hands from his chest, in fact, she didn't move at all.
He could stop this. He could back away from her right now and he knew they would be completely fine, just like when they kissed yesterday.
They were friends, and kisses between friends didn't mean anything.
Unless one of the friends was in love with the other. He met her eyes again and swallowed nervously.
She ran her hands up his chest and gripped his shoulders, her body craving for more contact with his.
"Damn it Mon," he whispered, moved his hands back down to her waist, and leaned his forehead against hers. His head was swirling, his heart beat rapidly in his chest.
"Was that all you wanted?" She whispered back, then placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.
His eyes met hers, was she asking him if he wanted to continue? Was she seriously asking him if he wanted to taste and touch and hear and see and smell all her body?
He swallowed nervously and moved his forehead back and forth against hers. His mind teetered between moving back and telling her 'thank you' for the fantastic kiss and allow that to be enough or telling her what he wanted.
Should he? Would she tell him that he was crazy, or that he'd lost his mind, or that it wasn't a good idea?
Because it wasn't a good idea.
As much as he wanted it, as much as he craved her, he didn't want to lose what they had, their friendship.
But the way she was touching him, her body fully against his, the way she kissed him, it seemed as if she wanted it too.
And Jesus, he couldn't be happier.
He took in a shaky breath to try and prepare himself to say his decision out loud. He finally met her eyes.
She studied his dilated, full of desire eyes, and she was sure that hers displayed the same. She wanted this glorious feeling within her to continue. And if he wanted it, she was going to give it to him. Gladly.
"Damn, Monica, I want…" He paused, making her nervous. She took in a shaky breath and waited, but he was taking too long to answer, and it wasn't helping her current state of mind.
"What do you want, Chandler?" She whispered as she moved her head closer to his.
"Fuck," he murmured, his mind clearly in turmoil. He sighed and pressed his fingertips into her hips over the fabric of her pajama pants before he moved in closer to her mouth again, "I want you, Mon. You."
A shiver ran down her spine as she moved her hands to his chest and slid one of them up, over his shoulder, to behind his ear, "You can have me," she whispered, her lips against his.
He felt his pulse quicken to what he was sure was an unsafe pace. His head was swimming, his skin had goosebumps all over it, and he wasn't sure again if he was dreaming or if this was real life.
Their ability to communicate nonverbally came with the years and the closeness of friendship and now was no exception. He could tell exactly what she was thinking, and he was certain now that she wanted this too.
"Monica..." he whispered as he leaned in and captured her soft, perfect lips again.
She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled his body even closer to her. He deepened their kiss again and ran his hands around to the skin of her lower back. She returned the favor and pulled up his shirt, her hands roaming over his stomach.
When he pulled away, he kissed a trail of fire down her jawline and onto her neck, then kissed a spot just below her ear and it made her grip him tight and moan.
He placed his mouth on her collarbone and groaned when his lips touched fabric instead of her delicious skin.
He moved his body back from hers for a split second to lift and remove the oversized T-shirt that she slept in. He bit his bottom lip as he looked over her, then lifted his hands to massage her breasts over the fabric of her bra.
She leaned forward, put her lips on his neck, and ran her hands up his chest up to his shoulders, then down his arms to remove his jacket. Chandler let the outerwear fall to the ground but immediately put his hands back on her.
He lifted his head from kissing her collarbone and neck to kiss her lips and suck on the bottom one.
He pushed his hips into hers and a deep, throaty moan left her mouth. If all the blood in his body hadn't already relocated south, he was sure that it would rush down there now. He ran his hands down her sides then back up to her bra.
She pulled on his long-sleeved t-shirt and kept moving it upwards until he moved back slightly and allowed her to pull it up and over his head.
He put his mouth back on her chest and kissed his way down to her left, then her right breast, kissing and nipping at them through the silk fabric of her bra. "My God, Chandler," she panted, looking down at his head as he dragged his hands up her back and to the clasp of the garment.
He picked up where he left off, and her head hit the wall with a thump as she threw it back and grabbed his shoulders even harder.
She pulled on his belt, and he returned his mouth to hers. He moved his hips again against hers and good God almighty, she could feel what was already waiting for her against her thigh. He slipped his hands into her pajama pants, squeezing her butt over her underwear.
He moved his hands back to the front of her and pulled on the silk strings of her pajama pants. She moved her hands to his waist and unbuttoned his jeans and let down the zipper.
She licked her lips and slowly moved one of her hands into his pants to rub him through his boxers. He gasped and muttered an expletive as he made his way back to her mouth. He kissed her and pushed her pajama pants down.
When he ran out of breath, he began to kiss her jawline, that spot on her neck that made her moan again, and her collarbone. He gasped against her skin when she moved her hand into his boxer briefs and bit her bottom lip with anticipation of really getting to what was inside, "Your hands are freezing," he groaned.
She smiled and nipped at his chin, "Well I'm trying to warm them up."
He groaned again and pressed his mouth against hers. She moaned into his mouth and he moved his hands to her hips and pulled her harder against him.
"Should we move to the bedroom?" She breathed against his neck, then licked the spot below his ear as she continued to stroke him.
"No, right here," he groaned, "I want you right here, right now," he added, and a whimper left her mouth as he pushed her panties and pants the rest of the way down until they were around her feet on the floor.
He reached behind him and took his wallet out of his back pocket before she pushed his jeans most of the way down. He pulled a condom out and tossed the wallet on the floor. Monica gripped his underwear and he helped her push them and his jeans down.
Chandler, in his endless fantasies about this moment, pictured it much slower, romantic, a moment where he could taste every inch of her body.
But he was too eager, too drunk, and too sad to care at this moment. He just wanted her. Monica Geller.
He needed it, needed someone, and she was there and willing.
He ran his hands up and then back down her sides, then took a moment to look at her naked body as she stood in front of him. He moved all the way against her again, then kissed her lips on the way to ear, "You are so fucking beautiful."
She smiled and kissed him while trying to ignore the tears that burned the back of her eyes. He returned his hands to the front of her body so that he could rub her.
"Chandler," she panted, moving her leg so that he could turn his hand to a more comfortable position, "this is not all about me," she moaned when he pressed his fingers into the bundle of nerves she was dying for him to touch.
"Yes, it is," he whispered back, then kissed her as he moved his fingers more against her, "it's always been about you."
She moaned loudly and dear God, he loved the sound of that.
"I wanted to make you feel better," she whispered, her head pointed towards the ceiling as she gripped his shoulders as her body trembled with pleasure.
"You are," he promised, and moved his hand against her again, "you are amazing," he said to her. He cupped her face with his free hand and pulled her down to dive into another kiss.
She broke the kiss moments later to moan loudly and he planted his mouth back on hers, "Oh God, yes, baby, right there," she said against his lips.
"Shhhh," he whispered, his mouth still on top of hers, "not so loud."
She moaned and while yes, he wanted to make sure they wouldn't wake his mother, he also loved the way she sounded and wanted to hear more of it. He moved his fingers again, this time harder, and she cried out and gripped him more. "Monica," he scolded lightly, but a smile was on his lips to let her know that he was teasing her.
She managed a smile and bit his bottom lip, "Can't help it."
He moved his entire body against hers and kissed her again, deeply, passionately.
He doubted that his mom could hear them, she was on the other end of the house, and she was exhausted when she went to bed. But he didn't want to risk it. He didn't want to have to explain this to her, to anyone. It was about him and Monica.
He continued to stroke her and kept his mouth on hers to ensure that she wouldn't moan or groan or scream too loud. "More," she pleaded breathlessly, "please," she added softly.
Chandler groaned this time as he moved his hand and stroked her even harder. He wondered for a brief moment if he was hurting her, but by the sounds coming out of her mouth and the look on her pleasured face, it seemed to be exactly what she was asking for.
"Yes, right there, oh my God," she panted, "Chandler," she moaned, and he felt his groin tighten even more.
He leaned forward and kissed below her earlobe, then whispered huskily in her ear, "I love it when you say my name like that."
She began to moan louder and moved his free hand to her mouth and covered it when her grip got even stronger on his hips. She screamed into his palm moments later, then he moved his arm around her waist and pulled her body up to his to support her as she panted and shook and tried desperately to calm herself back down. He kissed her neck, waiting on her to recover.
"My God," she whispered to him, then turned her head to kiss his cheek. She was glad that he was holding onto her, because she didn't think she would be still standing otherwise. She leaned up and kissed him fully on the lips, then pulled back and grinned at him, "Those fingers of yours are magical."
Chandler smiled at her, "Your whole body is magical," he whispered, his lips on top of hers, "want it again?" He murmured and moved his hand back down her body. If she did want it again, he'd happily oblige. He'd do it over, and over, and over again.
She grabbed his wrist to stop him, "I want you now," she answered.
He kissed her again and moved his hands to her head to hold it in place while he devoured her mouth. reached for the condom he'd placed on the windowsill earlier. He placed his hand on top of hers to move her hand from him, but she took the condom from him instead, "Let me," she breathed against his lips, then kissed him before she moved foil packet between her teeth to tear it open and God, he thought that move was explosively hot.
She rolled the condom down slowly as he ran a hand down her leg and lifted it around his waist. He leaned forward and kissed her, "Ready?" he asked breathlessly. He was quite proud of himself that he didn't slam into her like his body desperately wanted to.
"Yes, now, please," she groaned and moved her hands to his hips to encourage him to continue before her insides melted from internal fire.
He only waited another second before he moved his hips forward, sinking into her slowly. Both moaned as the ridiculously perfect feeling overtook them, their emotions, "My God," he panted into her ear, whispering, "you feel so fucking good, so perfect, Monica."
This gravelly, edgy voice of his made her tingle from head to toe. She didn't know if it was the alcohol or just how he sounded when he made love, but she wanted to hear it again, and often. She lifted her head to kiss him briefly, then moved to his ear so that she could whisper into it "Yes, Chandler," she managed, "please don't stop," she puffed, slamming her eyes shut as he sped up the pace just a bit.
God almighty, she knew exactly what to say to make him crazy. "I don't know if I can get enough of you," he said back to her.
Her hands tightened around his neck as he returned to kissing her wherever his mouth landed on her skin.
She moaned when he used what little bit of strength he had left to lift her leg slightly higher, changing the angle just a bit. "Oh God yes," she groaned into his ear, "harder, please."
He wanted to give her exactly what she wanted, but his knees were becoming weak and he didn't know how much longer he could stand. Maybe she was right, the bedroom might have been better.
He promised himself that the next time he did this with her, it would be the slow, romantic, and passionate kind and it would be on a soft bed.
He thought about moving this to the floor, but the promise of back pain his body was sure to experience tomorrow crossed his mind, so he didn't think that was a good idea.
She held onto him tighter, and he groaned then leaned up to kiss her. There was no way he could continue this much longer. He pulled back from her mouth and pulled out of her. She moaned and reached for him immediately, but he put his hand on top of hers, "Hold on" he said, panting as he tried to catch his breath.
"You okay?" She asked, her breathing just as rapid.
He leaned his forehead against hers and nodded, but she was even more puzzled when he put his hand on her thigh and moved her leg from around him. He finally pulled his forehead away from hers and attempted to move his jelly-like legs.
"Couch," he grunted. He didn't possess the energy or brainpower to articulate more words than that.
He took her hand and led her back over to the couch. He placed his hands on her waist and gently kissed her as he guided her to sit down and lay down on her back. She moaned when he trailed kisses down her body, "Chandler," she whined as she squirmed just a bit, "please."
"Not yet," he groaned back at her, "I want to look at you." He moved his hands from her hips, dragged them slowly, sensually, up her body, "Feel you," he whispered. He finally got to her breasts, and he cupped them, then rubbed his thumbs against her nipples.
She looked up at him, his eyes stared at her, her body. In all the years she'd known him, she had never seen that look before.
Desire.
The look in his eyes as he ran his hands back down her body, to her waist, her hips, made her shiver with anticipation, "Chandler," she whispered, "please, baby, now." She moaned as she put her hands on his chest and wiggled her hips.
She didn't know how he was controlling himself when she was literally about to explode. He leaned down and kissed her, then trailed kisses down to her ear, "I'm crazy about you," he whispered to her, then moved back up to stare into her eyes.
She stared up at him, looking into his eyes, into his soul.
Monica grasped his shoulders and squeezed them, "Kiss me," she said to him, and he happily did just that. He pulled back again, only this time he gently bit her bottom lip as he moved away.
She reached down and grabbed him to move things along herself, but he groaned and pushed her hand away, "No, no, no," he said breathlessly, "I won't last much longer," he told her.
She pushed her head further into the couch beneath her and arched her back. He slowly moved his hand over her body, between her breasts. She moaned again, "God, please, Chandler."
Chandler felt himself shiver as when she said his name. He wanted to explore more of her beautiful body, but he knew she was eager to get back to business. Honestly, he was too. He moved his hands back down to her legs and finally, finally, finally pushed into her again.
She moaned loud enough to scare him back down to kiss her, but he didn't stop moving his hips, so she didn't mind. She grasped him tighter and pulled back from the kiss so she could try and catch her breath.
"You feel so good," she managed, mimicking his statement from earlier. He turned his head and kissed her cheek. They moaned in unison as he sped up the pace a little, "Yes, oh my..." she bit his ear lobe and dug her nails even more into him.
He moved his hips even faster and he groaned into her neck when he felt her walls clench around him tightly. Sweet, perfect release shot through her, and she was proud of herself that she didn't scream to the heavens as bliss spread throughout her body. Her toes curled and she held onto him as if he were going to move away. It wasn't but a few strokes later that he came too and fell on top her.
Both of them lay there, panting, exhausted, and satisfied. He placed gentle kisses on her neck.
He began to move off of her, but her grip tightened, and she moved her arms to wrap around his back, "Wait, stay here," she said.
He shook his head, "No way, I'm crushing you."
"I like your weight on me," she answered breathlessly.
"Mon…" he sighed, "I'm too heavy," he moved his head back to look at her. She opened her eyes and lifted her hand to cup his face.
"Just for a minute, please."
He adjusted his arms so that most of his upper body weight was on his elbows, then he leaned down to kiss her.
The kiss wasn't long, because they were both still out of breath, but he moved down and kissed her neck again, probably his new favorite place on her entire body.
Although, he now had a lot of other favorite places too.
"Can I move now?" He breathed into her ear moments later. He was enjoying the feel of her naked body beneath his, but he worried about her ability to catch her breath with his weight on top of her.
She smiled and squeezed him, "If you don't go far."
He smiled at her and kissed her lips. He reached over to the coffee table and got a tissue to clean himself up, then fell next to her on the couch. She turned onto her side so that he had a bit more room.
They needed to get up, get cleaned up, and get dressed, but he didn't know if either of them had the energy. He got his answer when she lifted an arm to pull the blanket that was on the back of the couch over them.
"Mon..." he said again, but she silenced him with a kiss.
"I know," she said, "just for a little while."
He sighed, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her naked body all the way up next to his. Holding her in his arms for a little while would be perfectly fine with him.
He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her cheek, her temple, "That was amazing," he breathed against her skin, "you are amazing."
She blushed, smiled at the sweet statement, and turned her head, allowing him to continue kissing her neck, "It was amazing," she agreed, then lifted her hands to tangle in his hair, urging him to keep contact with her neck.
He moaned into her skin, "I could kiss you all night long."
"I might let you," she breathed, then moaned when he brought his lips back to her mouth.
He broke the kiss and kissed the corner of her mouth one more time, "We should get up and get out of here," he whispered.
"I don't have the strength," she told him, a small chuckle escaped her lips.
He grinned at her, "Well, we're in a pickle." He leaned down and kissed below her ear again.
"Let's just stay here for a little while," she suggested, and ran a finger down his face to his chin. She grasped it then and pulled his face to her to kiss him.
He sighed against her but nodded and moved his arm to wrap around her. How could he possibly tell her no? He couldn't, he knew it, and she knew it too.
"Okay," he said and leaned up kissed her lips. He pulled her body as close as he could get it to his own and settled next to her.
Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a satisfied sigh as she drifted off to sleep.