Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the apartment, just the DVDs. There's no profit except writing practice being made here.
Warning: No plot.
Monica stood in the kitchen and watched Joey exit the bathroom, walking over to Chandler and saying something that resulted in the two men hugging, before he walked past her and left the apartment. In front of her, Chandler reclined on the sofa, perhaps expecting that she would continue cleaning until the job was done and respecting that he shouldn't interrupt.
She couldn't believe he was sitting there, completely at home on the couch with a newspaper in his lap. It was as though he had never left.
Monica breathed deeply, oxygen filling her lungs and a wave of calm washed over her. Now that everyone had dispersed, she could let the heat that was bubbling in her veins melt the last shred of modesty holding her in check.
She reached over and twisted the deadbolt.
Monica stalked over to the back of the lounge, right behind where Chandler was sitting.
She lay her hands on his shoulders and leant over the back of the couch to press her lips to the shell of Chandler's ear. He had removed his tie at some point after she'd jokingly responded to his comment about breadwinning, she had heard him muttering and watched him fling the fabric to the coffee table before Joey came out of the bathroom.
Monica rubbed her hands over the bones of his shoulders, sliding them under the flap of his collar and then downwards, her fingertips licking the triangle of exposed skin where he'd unfastened his top button.
"I'm so glad you quit."
Her lips ghosted over the side of his ear as she spoke and then Monica pressed a kiss against the skin behind Chandler's ear. Her hands skid downwards, working her way under his shirt, drawing little circles against the hot skin at his collar. Monica pressed a kiss against the back of his ear, folding it forward with the pressure of her lips. "I'm so proud of you.
His hum was a low growl in the back of his throat and Monica smirked smugly, glad to know her wordsmith husband was struck dumb by her simple caress. Monica let her nose take the place of her lips at the crevasse connecting his ear and head, and dropped a peck at the bottom of his ear.
"I didn't do much, just walked into my boss' office, told her I was done and headed to the airport."
"You've hated that job since you started, but never had the courage to quit before," she squeezed her arms around his shoulders in a hug. The angle was weird and the back of the couch was still between them, but Monica needed Chandler to know she knew how huge the decision was for him, that it was proof of how much he had grown from that scared little twenty-two year old who would rather swallow the bile of his monotonous job than trust in his skills and have faith in himself.
Monica's lust simmered back to the surface, not to be diminished by her pride for very long, boiling in her blood at the mental image of him more confident than he had ever been in his life. He'd come a long way, her husband, and Monica was just glad to have been able to witness his growth over the years. It wasn't just confidence, although that was where it stemmed from, it was he would stand up and defend himself and his decisions if the situation called for it. Chandler had never been one to blindly follow orders, but he did respect the hierarchy of power in his office and would, on most occasions, rather suffer in silence than address the issue if it only affected him. Maybe he was thinking of them as a family of two with room to grow in the future, maybe that's what gave him the courage to speak up now But Monica also knew he'd finally developed an understanding that being happy wasn't selfish and that he deserved it too.
"Marching up to your boss and demanding better for yourself - very sexy."
Monica eased his second button undone and Chandler's neck stretched backwards slightly, dropping his head to the back of the couch. The air in the living room hissed with released tension.
Monica's bottom lip pouted and she touched it to his earlobe. Opening her mouth, she captured the fleshy bit of his ear between her teeth, dragging the skin in a soft tug. Breathing deeply through her nose, Monica nipped the bottom of his earlobe and then sucked it into her mouth, licking the line of cartilage slowly.
Monica reached lower down his chest, still skipping her fingers over his chest hair in no particular pattern. Monica raked her nails against the softness of Chandler's stomach, pulling her hands back up and then swirling them down his torso in hypnotic circles that burned her fingertips. She needed to reposition her legs, her spine flattening and her rear popping, her hips opening, as she bent her left knee and dipped her lips to Chandler's neck.
Against her lips, Monica could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat. She sucked at his pulse as her palms smoothed along his ribs. If Monica thought Chandler had sunken as far as possible into the cushions before, she was proven wrong as he shifted lower, making it easier for her fingers to rim his navel. Chandler's head dropped to the back of the couch with a throaty sigh and Monica grinned triumphantly. She licked the tendon at the side of his neck and swayed forward on her toes so she could circle her lips around the lump of his Adam's apple.
His skin was salty, tinged with sweat after hours of sitting in his office, and then on a plane. There was no cologne or perfume except the slightest hint of aftershave remaining from earlier in the morning and Monica was struck by how tired he must be, trying to remember which direction the three hour time difference worked and if he'd feel like he'd been awake for a day and a half or if the day had skipped ahead and he'd have stamina enough for what she wanted to do with him.
Sucking the column of his throat, Monica could feel Chandler gulp as her thumbs pressed into his sensitive waist. His breath was hot against her temple, gasping. Monica felt his chest shift under her hands where she was snapping open the next button, the weight of his hands cupping her shoulders.
Monica ripped open the last few buttons of his shirt with a strong yank and her lips popped as she released his skin, planting smacking kisses back up in the direction she had come as she pulled herself up slightly, one hand almost at his pulse, one hand on his jaw.
Then Monica lay her lips against Chandler's.
His mouth opened immediately under hers as she played with his lips. The angle was foreign and confusing, new and exotic and completely familiar all at once. She had to tilt her head a little so that she didn't hit her nose against his chin. When she did try to capture what was his top lip for her, Monica found it was more plump and full than she had expected. These were Chandler's lips, his taste, the same sucking force and soft caress massaging against her in a heady mix of desperate desire and steady trust that they could take their time. But the new angle made the whole experience new and exciting as she had to relearn his mouth.
His lips were a little chapped, probably from the air conditioning of the plane. Chandler's full, ever-moving bottom lip scratched her top lip as he kissed her but Monica missed the scratch of his chin against hers as his stubble normally would. His nose brushed against her chin. Monica slid her hands up his chest to balance herself as her knees buckled.
As always, Chandler found a way to tangle his hands in her hair, cradling the back of her head. His lips nipped at hers, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth. Exhilaration tingled through her body and Monica swapped her bent left knee for her right one to steady herself. The action caused her stockinged thighs to rub together, a burst of friction making her moan wantonly.
She gulped.
Monica massaged her knuckles into Chandler's shoulders and then brought her hands to cup his face. Monica held her husband's cheek, tilting his chin toward her and brushing her thumbs over his sharp jaw. His skin was smooth beneath her touch, and Monica licked her lips at how sexy she found his jawline. He groaned as the tip of her tongue twirled over his lips, his mouth opening upside-down beneath hers. None of her actions fell into the familiar category of their regular kisses and, while not overly considering what she was doing, this was her husband she was kissing and instinct was taking over, Monica was very aware that her tongue was stretching in new and wonderful ways than what she was used to. She licked the bottom of his mouth, the blade of his tongue sliding along the side of hers. Their wordless teamwork and synchronicity was the only thing that kept the angle of the kiss from being uncomfortable.
Her hands tapped down his throat and snaked down Chandler's abdomen. Monica shifted her legs again, partly because there was a burn in her lower back as her posture caused her pain and a twinge in her neck, but mostly because she needed the chafe between her thighs to satisfy her desire.
It wasn't nearly enough.
"Ngah, Mon," Chandler pulled his mouth away from hers with a hot breath. "I can't."
Monica stilled, breathing rapidly with her mouth hovering just above his. Without the heat of his lips and the distraction of his hands in her hair, Monica found that it wasn't just her back and neck that were hurting from holding herself up and leaning down to meet him at the back of the lounge, but the apex of her shoulders, the back of her thighs, the balls of her feet, her elbows, all of her was suffering from being close but not close enough to him.
Monica scurried around the couch in her long skirt, hitching it up so she didn't trip. She kept her eyes on Chandler as she moved, trying not to find it amusing how utterly wrecked he looked already with his head still dropped and his chest rising dramatically, pale skin pushing through the open fabric of his shirt and blazer, as he caught his breath.
It was nice and all, but her skirt really was too long, the fabric not nearly as flexible as she needed it to be. Monica reached behind herself with both hands and pulled the zipper down, stepping out of it easily, leaving her in her full leg stockings. She bent over to pick up her discarded skirt and fold it over the coffee table.
"Jesus, Mon," Chandler huffed. "Give a guy some warning."
She felt herself beaming at the sound of his voice. She missed him saying silly little things like that while he'd been gone, complimenting her offhandedly when she least expected it, the lewd comments he made as if he was just discovering how attractive he found her, the awe when he saw her nude even though he knew her body like the back of his hand.
She leant down and held his face between her hands, his mirthful eyes giving way to something darker, deeper, bluer. Her heart stuttered in her chest every time Chandler Bing looked at her like that.
"If I knew I was going to get this kind of reception…" He left the cliché hanging between them and Monica grinned, knowing a lot of her excitement was a reflection of how much she'd missed him while he was in Tulsa and a reaction to how sweet and clueless and faithful her husband was as he turned down Wendy and a great salary and title in one fell swoop.
His hands reached out towards her, angling for her hips and Monica genuinely wanted to feel his large palms ensnare her hips, his fingers digging into her bottom as he yanked her body over him.
But there was something else she wanted to do first.
Monica beamed at her husband, quirking an eyebrow salaciously at him. She kneaded the heels of her hands down his body, making sure Chandler's shirt and jacket were open and exposing his skin. Monica dropped to her knees between Chandler's legs and worked her hands down the promising line of hair that disappeared beneath his belt buckle. Chandler protested weakly, touched her elbow and swore that she didn't have to. But there was nothing Monica wanted to do other than completely envelop this man, pulling him into every nook and cranny of her body and soul, filling her the cold, empty parts of her that missed him terribly with the reality of his presence and seal it with the brand of his permanence.
Monica flicked the tongue of Chandler's buckle and eased the leather from the metal mouth. With the belt laying open at his hips, Monica stretched up on her knees. She dropped a kiss to his sternum and then planted a messy row of them down the line of his core until she reached the waistband of his trousers. She undid the button with a twist of her thumb and forefinger and then lay a kiss on the skin it revealed.
She held her palms flat against Chandler's hip bones over the fabric of his pants and brushed her fingertips over his sensitive skin. As her mouth was already there kissing his abdomen, Monica curled her lips around the zipper at his fly. She'd only ever managed to pull down a zip with her teeth a handful of times, Chandler was far better at it than she was. She remembered him laughing when she first told him that, telling her salaciously that he never would have guessed and promising her she didn't have to do it at all in the same breath. Monica recalled what her then-boyfriend had told her, that the eye contact was what really had him going, confident and lusty and familiar.
She met his eyes and Chandler groaned. His chin dropped to his chest to watch her as she bit the tag of the zip and dragged it down. Hitting a snag, Monica pressed her thumbs harder against him and moved closer inwards to aid the release of the teeth of the zip. Chandler's hand rounded over her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, warm and calming at the back of her head.
Monica circled her hands around Chandler's hips, and massaged her knuckles up his back, running them in hard lines back down either side of his spine. Using the momentum, Monica slipped her hands under his belt at the small of Chandler's back. His hips lifted up as she pulled both his slacks and boxers down to his knees.
Her hands smoothed back up Chandler's legs, trailing the back of her hands over the soft skin of his upper thighs. As she lowered her head to him, Monica watched him twitch in reaction to her hot breath.
She licked her lips at the sight of him.
Chandler's left hand remained in her hair, teasing it into a mess as he massaged her scalp. His right hand dropped down to her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone as Monica opened her lips around the head of him.
With only the bulb of his penis in her mouth, Monica sucked softly three times in quick succession and then paused, hollowing her cheeks with the force of her pull. With her lips firmly wrapped around his head, she hummed. Then, Monica ran the tip of her tongue across his slit. His thighs shivered beneath her hands as she massaged her way up to grip him at the root, holding him steady as she sucked him softly again. Pleased with herself for garnering such a reaction from her husband, already muttering curses above her, Monica swirled her tongue around the base of his head.
He gripped her hair tighter and Monica felt him swell in her mouth. She moaned at the familiar but indefinable taste of him, sending vibrations along his sensitive skin. As he grew hard, Monica flattened her tongue underneath him, pulling more of him into her mouth. She let her fingers twirl in the hair just shy of her nose, tugging slightly so that his hips bucked. As Chandler hardened under her touch, Monica managed to kiss her way down his length, nipping along the pulsing vein of him. She kissed his skin softly, her hands sliding down to the sensitive inside of his thighs, the backs of her hands brushing his tightening testicles.
Above her, Chandler gasped as Monica wrapped her lips around him and drew his length into her mouth, opening her jaw wider so he could meet the back of her throat.
Breathing through her nose, Monica hollowed her cheeks and massaged him with the inside of her mouth, toying with him in a way she knew drove Chandler wild. She took long drags of him, tightening the walls of her mouth until her eyes rolled back in her head and then slowed to a steady pulse of her cheeks around his thick shaft, working in time with the dance of the lights behind her eyelids.
"Fuck! Monica."
She loved the way he said her name when she did this, reverent and damning all at once. Breathless, Chandler panted, his abdomen rising dramatically under her nose. His grip on her hair grew tighter and then, as though conscious he held too tight and should realise it, his fingers softened.
But that wasn't what Monica wanted. If Chandler could concentrate on how rough he was touching her, she wasn't doing it right. She wanted to drive him right to the edge, having him howling, about to reach the summit and then pull herself away from him and reap the rewards of his animalistic revenge.
She turned her hand over and stroked her thumb against the skin in the middle of his sac, scratching her nail ever so lightly against him. Monica also released him from her mouth, returning to lick patternless pleasure around the head of his erection.
Monica could feel his balls tighten in her hand as she squeezed them in a pulsing grip, kneading and pinching in alternating intervals. Monica curled her tongue around him, sliding across the ditch that made him buck upwards. Then, she breathed cool air over her saliva and watched his thighs prickle with goose flesh before heading back down on him with her hot mouth.
Her plan was working.
Except that her own hips had started rocking without her permission. Her knees were set on the floor, her underwear and pantihose still covering her lower half, and she could feel her body swaying against the crotch of her clothes, hoping for a little friction. She hummed as she pulled him into her mouth again, trying to focus on how he fisted her hair with one hand and brushed her hair out of her eyes with the other and not the way her insides fluttered emptily.
It wasn't nearly enough and she didn't want to remove her hands from teasing Chandler.
Instead, Monica sucked him deep into her throat one last time. Chandler's eyes had closed, his head tipped back and his back arched off the couch as though he was close. His deep moan was cut short when Monica released him with a pop.
Confusion flashed behind the lust in his dilated pupils and Monica suppressed a giggle. She watched him pant a few times and then lick his lips sinfully, regaining his composure just enough to reach for her hips.
"Am I being punished for losing?" He whined.
Monica mounted his thighs, shaking her head even though she was mostly certain there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice hidden under the disappointment.
"You quitting is a win," Monica promised, holding his ears so his eyes would meet hers. "Only good things can come of it."
"What about bills?"
Monica should have been offended that she was straddling her husband's lap after kissing him to hardness and he could still talk about their finances. But his hands rested like a warm weight on her lower back and she could feel the heat of him at her core and Monica couldn't hold anything against him when he was hot and ready and right there.
"No."
He furrowed his brow at her but didn't comment further.
That's when Monica realised, Chandler had never spent asingle day of his adult life unemployed. Even though his family was loaded he'd worked for every dime he had, waiting tables in college until he got an internship in his final year, using the momentum and a good reference to propel him into a stable but temporary job that had eventually become his career. He worked hard but was disinterested. Nevertheless, Chandler received promotion after promotion, a pay bump, the corner office, an assistant. He paid most of Joey's rent when the actor couldn't do it, he never asked for recompense or compensation. Never in his life had Chandler scrounged for a job, asked for help or turned to his parents for money. But he was about to be unemployed. He had savings and they shared an account for domestic spending and bills, but Monica knew Chandler better than anybody. He was a provider. He was going to struggle not being able to do that, no matter how small. No matter how much he had hated his job or was proud that he had quit, he was going to be lost without it. Monica vowed she wouldn't let him feel small or useless or onerous. What he'd done was amazing and she loved him all the more for worrying already about their future.
"You're home," she told him, stroking her fingers over his ears and flattening her clothed chest against his naked one. "That means I get to fall asleep beside you every night and I can keep you up all night with my snoring. You get to have afternoons with Joey and meet Ross for your geeky movie nights. I get to kiss you when I get home and tell you immediately how my day was. And sex whenever we want."
Chandler groaned as her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Of course," Monica twined her hands behind his neck and leant backwards. "We won't have all that tension and build-up from not seeing each other that made sex so intense. It might not be as good anymore."
"I think we'll be fine."
Chandler rolled his hips and Monica gasped at the friction against her nylons as he slid up her clothed centre. He pointed desperately between her thighs, red and swollen and just shy of touching her as Monica sat on his lap.
His hands sheered up her back, taking her shirt with him, peeling the long sleeves from her arms in one smooth movement. And then Chandler's lips descended on her.
He started at the corner of her mouth, pecking her twice, and then laving attention down her neck to the tops of her breasts that were spilling out of her bra with every sharp intake of air. Behind her, his hands twisted open her bra and the garment snapped open at the back. His nose, which poked at her skin inhaled deeply as though he was smelling her perfume from where she'd dabbed it at her collar and his chin pushed her bra completely away from her chest, exposing her breasts to the cold air of the apartment.
Chandler pushed her back aggressively, needing her close to him. His erection was trapped between their bodies, thick and promising and making her insides melt even through her clothing.
She felt like liquid, putty in his hands, as he stroked either side of her spine. Chandler's lips nipped the pale skin of her left breast, kissing fire into her flesh. His hot breath fanned over her as he pulled back to study her and Monica moaned at the loss. She knew what he was doing, payback for her teasing him, but dammit it was lovely.
Without modesty, Monica arched her back and pushed her chest forward, offering herself to her husband's mouth. Chandler didn't disappoint.
His hands smoothed along the line of her ribs, tracing inwards just beneath her breasts until his thumbs stroked the sensitive skin under her nipples. He cupped his left hand around her breast, none of his fingers touching her nipple, and squeezed tenderly. Releasing her and then gripping her again, kneading her flesh with his fingers, Chandler then shifted his hand so his palm rubbed against her peaked nipple.
Monica's hips bucked against his. The stretch of her stockings was uncomfortable on her legs. Although the seam of the nylons connected right at her most sensitive place, the pressure wasn't nearly strong enough to bring her relief. So she sat up tall on her knees with every intention of manoeuvring him to trap him against his thigh and grind down in him. Hard.
Only Chandler used the position to bite her left nipple. Monica gasped and fell forward, catching herself on the back of the couch with a hand on either side of her husband's head. He engulfed her breast with his mouth sucking searing kisses around her nipple. Monica's insides quivered and she felt her neck pimple with goosebumps.
His teeth trailed threateningly against her skin, scratching down her breast to tweak her nipple. He used his tongue to roll the pebbled flesh between his teeth and Monica felt her mouth drop open in pleasure. His right hand flattened down her stomach and he stroked his knuckles across her sensitive skin, circling her belly button with a hooked finger dipping into her navel.
He flicked her nipple with his tongue, massaging her breast with his mouth. His left hand mirrored his mouth, tugging and swirling and pinching her other breast, fingers squeezing the sides of her breast tightly while his thumbnail raked the underside.
Just when he licked his hot tongue across her he pulled away to blow a cold breath over her that made her shudder.
Instead of switching between her breasts like Monica expected him to, Chandler replaced his lips with his hands.
He kissed his way to her sternum, licking a hot stripe up to the divot between her collar bones. He swirled his tongue there with his nose pressing against the column of her throat. With her head tossed back, her throat was exposed to him and Chandler nipped and kissed his way up her neck to suck at the sensitive spot on her neck.
With his mouth working magic just under her jaw, Chandler's hands let go of her chest and skipped down her body and yanked her underclothes down her thighs as far as he could manage. Chandlers hands gripped her ass, rubbing her skin in his palms. His right hand slipped between her cheeks, a fingertip rimming her pinched opening until she gripped his shoulders tightly.
With two fingers, Chandler continued inwards from behind, tickling across the sensitive perineum and then finding the slick heat of her core.
Monica shuddered, slumping against him as his fingers found her swollen nub. His arm drew her close as he reached around her, his free hand toying with her breast again while his mouth sucked kisses down her chest again. Chandler's tongue branded her collar with love bites, easing the pain with tender caresses and his fingers relieved some of the tension between her thighs.
His fingertips pressed into her heat, and Monica rocked her hips to accept more of him. His fingers were a teasing intrusion, steady and warm and circling her entrance deliciously, only stopping to bump against her bundle of nerves.
Monica let go of her husband and reached for the waistband of her stockings and underwear. She tilted sideways and tried to remove the scratchy fabric from her legs.
"Help," the fabric rolled as she tried to slip out of it. Extending her left leg all the way to the side, Monica balanced on her right knee and pulled her left leg up, bending it so she could pull her foot out of her clothes. She laughed at how awkward her movements were, almost falling over, "Oh god."
Chandler's hands left her heat, dragging moisture across her hips and gripping her waist to steady her as Monica tilted in the other direction to get the other leg of her nylons off.
Fully nude, Monica touched her hand to her husband and settled her knees back on either side of his hips. She sunk down onto his thick length, letting his body cleave into hers. Her body trembled as he plunged into her, stretching her, and Monica leant forward to capture his lips with hers.
Flattened chest to chest, Monica sashayed her hips in deliberately slow circles that aided her body to accept more and more of him. Chandler's hands dug bruises into her hips and his tongue plundered her mouth desperately. Panting, her hips rocked forward and back, forward. Forward.
Her thighs strained with effort and Chandler's slapped against her as he thrust upwards into her.
Her sensitive nipples scraped against the hair of his chest and Chandler's tongue caressed the inside of her cheek, the front of her lips, until it retreated into his mouth so that he was kissing her with a hot open mouth.
Their kiss was constantly interrupted by moans and grunts, breathless curses as Chandler groaned her name.
"Fuck, Monica."
She shivered as he swore. Chandler hardly ever swore, reserving curses for regaling her about his boss - although that would stop now - and when she swivelled her hips and arched her back, creating just the right amount of friction and fluttered around him, her walls tightening, bringing him right to the edge.
He slapped her ass, gripping her tightly, and manoeuvred her body just so. Electricity rippled throughout her body at the low vibrations of his voice and Monica helped as Chandler pinched a fistful of her rear with each of his hands. His tongue licked the corner of her lip and he kissed his way across her jaw, bringing his mouth to her neck, just below her ear. He sucked at her skin, sending tremors the way down to her curled toes and whispered hotly against her ear, affirmations and compliments and "God, I missed you."
She felt him shift beneath her, his thighs opening a little as though he was slouching a little and planting his feet firmly on the floor. But the force of his next thrust suggested his feet were on the coffee table. He canted up hard at just the right angle.
Monica gasped at the surge of strength from her husband, surprise and satisfaction marring her vision as she squeezed her eyes shut. His hands bruised her thighs as he slammed into her and Monica found herself arching backwards, completely at his mercy. She was hot all over, her insides molten. Monica exhaled hot moans and tipped her head back in search of cool air across her chest and neck. Her breasts swayed in the space between their chests and Monica gripped Chandler's shoulders in the hopes of grounding herself in the reality of him.
He thrust into her frantically, ramping up the pace of his hips. Chandler tossed his head back too, she felt it because his hips changed angle again and he drove deep into her, sliding along the most tightly grouped nerve endings inside her body. His hands rounded over her ass and rested over the small of her back, supporting Monica as she arched further backwards.
She couldn't form the words to tell him how good that felt, him tearing her apart so he could nudge against the deepest parts, as if she needed more stimulation. It felt like all of her energy was focused at her core, pulses of electricity gathering in her lower belly, waiting for him to unleash it. Chandler stroked her insides rapidly, shoving in deeper and never pulling more than halfway out. She felt like she was choking, her tongue idle in her mouth, words trying to escape but only gasping, breathless vocalisations coming out. Monica was lightheaded, her calves cramping from how tight she was curling her toes.
Using all of her strength, Monica pulled herself up, wrapping her arms around his neck and draping her body over his chest, her forehead touching his. She was desperate for release, beyond cognitive thought, a condition that was only exacerbated by the way he clipped her swollen clitoris with every thrust now.
At least Monica had some control over their movements again. She ground down on him sensually, her whole body rubbing against his. The pair of them panted against each other, not actually kissing. Monica gazed into her husband's navy eyes, she couldn't actually see his expression, but she felt the intensity of it. It only took a few more twists of her hips and she was shaking like she was short-circuiting, her whole body buzzing with her orgasm.
Chandler waited her out, seated within her as she came, catching his breath while she saw stars and then heaved upwards again. She could barely see straight and her extremities were still tingling with pins and needles but she gripped Chandler's neck and worked her body in tandem with his.
It didn't take long for her body to come down from feeling like she'd stuck a fork in a socket, and she rocked her hips frantically against her husband. Her body slid against his, more lubricated than before, gliding easily up and down his length.
"Almost," Chandler whispered hotly through gritted teeth. "I just - I just need..."
Before Monica could ask what it was Chandler was desperate for, he held her waist and thrust upwards, using his momentum to lift her up. She squealed at the weightless sensation and giggled as Chandler growled playfully. In a fluid movement, Monica found herself lying with her back flat on the seat of the couch, Chandler's arm cupping her spine, his hand protecting her head. Her husband hovered over her, situated deliciously between her legs having slipped out of her. He pressed into her with a sigh, and Monica lifted her right leg. Her leg paused, midair as she naturally went to lay her calf across Chandler's back before she decided she'd have more leverage and a chance to drive him wild with a dramatic angle and tighter channel if she hooked her ankle over the back of the couch.
"Oh God," he swore again, the Lord's name taken absolutely in vein as he groaned, strained.
He worked himself deeper than he had been before in long, steady rolls of his hips and Monica found herself moaning and muttering wantonly as she neared her peak again.
Up on his knees, Chandler pushed her into the cushions with heavy hands on her hip bones and hammered into her. His thumb smeared over the place where they were joined and Monica tumbled into pleasure, her body feeling that euphoric nothing. Above her, she was vaguely aware of Chandler crying out and stilling.
Once her eyes opened and her heartbeat stopped shuddering to return to a steady, if cantering, pace, Monica made eye contact with her husband, who was catching his breath with his chin on her sternum.
He stretched up, her body emptying, and kissed her slowly.
"It's good to be home," his lips barely left hers as he said it.
Monica snorted at the understatement. Her limbs were as limp as noodles but she managed to stroke the back of her hand over Chandler's sweaty temple.
"You're going to be home all day every day and I won't need to call you to hear your voice or ignore it when I need a hug." She grinned excitedly, quitting really had been the best for the both of them. There were a couple of other things that she wouldn't need to use the phone for, and much more than a hug that he could provide in the middle of the day whenever the mood should strike. "It's going to be great."
Chandler hummed and slithered down her torso, peppering kisses along her chest so he could lay his head against the pillow of her breast, his fingers beginning to stroke the top of her left thigh.
"I was a little worried," he admitted between kisses. "And I'll probably be worried in the morning too and I know it's going to be tough to find work in this economy. But I'm really looking forward to having a job I'm interested in. One that's here and preferably fun, maybe a little creative. I'm sick of numbers."
"What are you doing?" She asked as she stroked his cheek.
"My dream job, I'm telling you about it." He answered sarcastically, pointedly not drawing attention to his pinching fingers or the nipping at her skin between clauses.
Monica looked at him mirthlessy, touching her fingers to his face tenderly.
"I'm going for the record," he answered simply, his hand stroking a coy line from her nipple to her core.
Monica's insides thrilled at the idea. "You always say that."
Chandler's head poked up, his brow arching smugly as his fingers dusted over her body lazily. "And?"
Monica sighed as her body reset and shivered as her husband's thumb toyed with her entrance and his hand pressed her thigh to the cushion to stretch her hips open.
Monica was still sensitive but not overly so, her calmness ebbing away from her, replaced with a ringing excitement that thrummed through her body. She moaned, "Oh, it's good to have you home."