A/N- I am so incredibly sorry for this long update! But I have something else exciting coming along shortly, which I hope will make up for it!
This is quite a long and heavy chapter, so be warned. And it is rated M too, so please take that into consideration before reading.
I hope you all enjoy, and thanks again for reviewing!
Chandler watched as his father cut the deck of playing cards in his hands, placing them on the table. He positioned the stacks so that the two corners were almost touching, then bent them, simultaneously running his thumbs upwards along the edge, releasing them so that they snapped back to the table, interlocking. He put his thumbs on top of the now-interlocked decks, his fingers underneath, and pushed them upwards into an arch to create a bridge before releasing them so that they fell, completing the shuffle.
It was New Year's Eve, and like always, they were spending the evening playing Hearts, where the object of the game was to get rid of all your cards in the hearts suit. They had closed the coffeehouse a few hours ago, and it would remain shut tomorrow, as they did every year. It was customary that New Year's Day was not a day for work but a day for socialising and meeting people. Tomorrow evening they were opening up the coffeehouse and putting out a buffet, inviting people far and wide to come and celebrate the first day of the New Year.
There was someone else that he would much rather be spending New Year's with though, both eve and day.
Charles began to deal the cards clockwise until everyone had thirteen each, scooping them up into their hands to hide them from cheating eyes.
Chandler looked at his hand, then looked over the top of his cards to see Rachel smirking at him, a glint in her eye. They were both very competitive, and they had a little scoreboard going to see who could win five games first. So far, Rachel had won three, and Chandler had won two. His mother had also won two like him, but his father had won four. He really was a master at this game.
For the first hand of the game, each person picked out three of their cards and passed them to the person on their left. Chandler looked at his hand and picked out three of his highest-ranking cards: a Queen of Diamonds, a Ten of Hearts, and a King of Hearts, and passed them faced down to his father. He looked at the three cards he had received from his mother on his right, a Jack of Hearts, a Queen of Hearts, and an Ace of Hearts, and added them to his hand.
Rachel grinned and put down the Two of Clubs, which was always used to start the game, into the middle of the table. His mother followed suit by placing down the Queen of Clubs on top of Rachel's card. He looked at his hand and noticed he had an Ace of Clubs and placed it down on top of his mother's. A Seven of Clubs was placed down by his father.
Ace of Clubs was the highest-ranking which meant he won the trick.
Chandler mockingly glared at Rachel, who continued to grin as he scooped up the trick of cards from the middle.
"You okay there, Chandler?" She asked sweetly.
"Perfect," he replied, completely unphased.
Nora and Charles smiled at each other. They had always found Chandler and Rachel's rivalry entertaining. It gave them an insight as to what it would have been like if they'd had another child. And Rachel was the perfect surrogate.
Because Chandler had won the trick, it was his turn to lead, so he placed down an Eight of Diamonds. His Father followed with a Five of Diamonds, Rachel a Seven of Diamonds, and his mother a King of Diamonds which meant she won the trick, so she pulled the cards towards her.
Chandler looked over at the large grandfather clock that stood in a small alcove in the parlour wall whilst his mother led the next trick with a Three of Diamonds. Its golden pendulum swung rhythmically from side to side like a beating heart, the big hand pointing at the VI and the little hand just after the IX. It was half nine, meaning there were only two and a half hours left until midnight.
Would he have time to go and see her?
If he left in an hour, he could get there just before half eleven, giving him the last half an hour of the year with her.
"Chandler, are you going to place down a card?" His mother asked with a quirked eyebrow.
He looked around the table to see Rachel and his father giving him strange looks too. Rachel, especially. He could bet that Rachel had an idea that he was thinking about someone. Or about a woman. A week ago on Christmas Day, whilst they were washing up in the scullery, he had almost let slip to Rachel about Monica, and ever since, Rachel had been giving him inquisitive looks, curious about what he was hiding. He figured she had most likely worked it out by now but just hadn't said anything. Not yet anyway.
Chandler cleared his throat, praying that he wasn't blushing, "Err, yes. Sorry."
He looked down at his hand and realised he had no Diamonds, so he couldn't follow suit. This meant he had the chance to not only get rid of one of his hearts but also one of his highest-ranking cards. Perfect. He placed down his Ace of Hearts in the centre of the table above his mother's and picked up his small crystal glass of whisky, taking a sip.
It was ironic that they were playing a game about giving away your hearts. There was one person in particular who he felt was tightening her grip around his heart. His actual heart. And somewhere deep down inside him, he realised that the thought of giving his heart away to her wasn't as scary as he thought it should be.
It sounded ridiculous in his head, considering he had only ever met her twice. But there wasn't a minute that slipped by where she didn't play on his mind.
They continued playing, Rachel winning the trick of the following round until she announced she had to go and quickly relieve herself, excusing herself from the table.
Chandler didn't miss the silent look that passed between his parents and waited for the question that was inevitably coming.
Nora widened her eyes the tiniest bit, and pursed her lips, nodding her head in Chandler's direction, insinuating that Charles should be the one to initiate the conversation. Subtlety had never been her strong point.
"So, Son. Anything been on your mind lately?" His father asked in the most casual voice possible, and Nora looked skyward exasperatingly.
Chandler upturned his bottom lip, shaking his head and pretending to be oblivious, "No, not at all. What makes you ask?"
Charles raised his glass of brandy to his lips, ready to take a sip "No reas–"
"Have you met someone?" His mother burst out, cutting across him.
"Nora!" His father exclaimed, shooting a look at Chandler as he placed his glass back down without having had any.
"What?" She questioned, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, "I'm just asking. You'd tell us if you'd met someone, wouldn't you, darling?"
"Huh?" Chandler responded, still playing dumb.
"I think what your mother was trying to ask was whether there was a reason as to why you were looking so intently at the clock earlier?"
Chandler put his finger to his chin, looking upwards as if he was trying to figure out the answer, then looked over at them, a look of mock realisation crossing his face, "Ah well, they do this thing called telling the time. I was reading it to see what it said."
Nora rolled her eyes again, this time at Chandler, "You know, I would love to know where you got your sarcasm from because it certainly wasn't from me or your father."
Charles pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. He usually found his son's sense of humour rather clever.
"I think the keyword in my question, son, was intently."
Chandler chewed his lip. He wasn't sure whether or not he should say anything, especially because what he and Monica had wasn't conventional. Hell, he wasn't even sure if Monica was on the same page as him. For all he knew, it was one-sided. Though he hoped it wasn't. Prayed even.
Telling them could be dangerous territory, but there was a part of him that was so desperate to tell someone. Letting these feelings bubble up inside him was starting to become painful.
"Well–
"I knew it!" Rachel declared triumphantly from behind him, making him jump in his seat.
He hadn't even realised she had re-entered the room. She sat down and picked up her hand, fanning out her cards, smirking as Chandler opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish.
"Wait, wait, wait. Knew what?" Nora questioned her, suddenly very interested.
Rachel bit her lip. As much as she was excited that he had possibly met someone, she didn't want to betray his trust and privacy. She stayed silent for a few seconds, looking at Chandler apologetically.
"Chandler was about to admit that he was going to cheat in the next round, wasn't he?" Rachel innocently questioned, and Chandler had to hold himself together. God, she was bad at lying. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or be aggravated with her.
Charles tapped his fingers on the table and drank his whiskey, his lips smirking around the glass.
"I know that wasn't what you were going to say, dear. But don't worry, I will find out, no matter whether I get it out of you or him," she told Rachel whilst pointing her thumb at Chandler.
"Yes, Mother," Chandler sighed, "Shall we continue with the game?"
"Yes," Rachel immediately replied, desperate to help get some of the heat off Chandler. "Right, where were we? Oh, right, it's my turn to lead, isn't it?" Rachel asked.
"Yes, darling," Chandler's dad confirmed with a smile.
Rachel placed down a Six of Spades in the middle of the table, his mother following suit with a Ten of Spades.
Chandler looked at the card his mother had just put down, then looked back at his own, choosing to play the Three of Spades. His father finished the round by placing down a Five of Spades, meaning his mother won the trick.
"Well, I'll concede you a trick in hearts," Nora said, singling a card out of her hand and placing a Nine of Hearts on the table.
"Me too," Chandler added, placing down a Three of Hearts.
His father placed down a Four of Hearts, "Me three,"
"Me four," Rachel snorted, placing down a Six of Hearts.
Nora's mouth dropped open as she realised that her attempt to get rid of one of her hearts had backfired as she had placed down the highest-ranking card. Groaning, she scooped the trick up and started the next round.
"Where's Roly?" Chandler asked, realising he wasn't in his usual spot, curled up in front of the fire.
"He's in my room, sleeping on my pillow," Rachel confirmed as she waited for Charles to put his card down. "I guess it's warmer in there on the blankets with the fire not being on in here because of the New Year."
"Oh yes, thank you for cleaning the hearth out earlier, dear," Nora thanked. "I know it's good luck not to light a fire until New Year's Day, but God, I wish we could have it on. It's freezing. Good job that we've got alcohol to keep us warm, right?" She said, lifting up her glass of gin to the others, then drinking it.
Something about his mother's words made his heart clench. He thought about Monica and how she must be so cold in that tiny little bedroom of hers with nothing but her candles.
He looked down into his glass and guiltily swirled the whisky around in it as another round ended.
His eyes continuously darted to the clock over the next forty-five minutes, waiting for the big hand to reach the six and the little hand to reach the ten. The pendulum was ticking, the sound echoing in his ears, but it felt as though time was standing still.
Another game ended with his mother winning just before the big hand struck on the six.
Chandler stood up suddenly from the table, making the three of them jump.
"I'm going out," he announced, downing the rest of his drink in one go. His face grimaced at the sharp taste, the liquid burning his throat as he put the glass back down on the table with a soft clang.
"What?" His mother asked, slightly blindsided, "Where are you going? What about midnight and celebrating the New Year?"
"What about our scoreboard?" Rachel added quickly. Chandler snorted at her priorities.
"I forfeit," he proclaimed, walking over to the mirror on the wall to fix his hair, running his fingers through it quickly.
"You forfeit?" Rachel asked, amazed. Chandler had never forfeited before.
"Wow. I know you won't admit to it, but she must be special…whoever she is," his mother teased, her tone changing as she guessed that's where he was going.
Chandler rolled his eyes and hastily pressed a kiss to the temples of Rachel and his mother, then clapped his father on the back of his shoulder.
"Don't wait up. And Happy New Year," he called back to them after he left the room, his voice ringing in the hallway as he descended the stairs.
He was going to spend New Year's Eve with her, whatever it took.
It came as no surprise to him to find the streets crowded. The pubs on every other corner were surrounded by people waiting to bring in the New Year with a tankard of ale in their hands. Most of them were already drunk, singing loudly, and out of tune.
Usually, Chandler would be less than impressed by the antics of drunken men, but tonight he couldn't help but smile at them. Perhaps it was because this year, he felt just as happy as they did. Maybe before, he was bitter because he couldn't relate to them. Not this year, though. This year he did have something to smile about.
Again, he felt it was ridiculous to feel like this after only meeting her twice, but he didn't care. He was happy, and that was all that mattered.
He looked up ahead and saw the sign that he'd been keeping his eyes open for since he'd set out from the coffeehouse: Mrs. Leonards Lotties and Totties.
He attempted to contain his grin as he pushed open the door and walked past the threshold into the hallway. He could have sworn the peeling yellowed wallpaper was hanging even lower on the walls than when he was last here. And that was only last week.
Estelle was sitting, as usual, behind the desk, smoking a cigarette whilst reading the evening newspaper.
Chandler walked up to her and placed two guineas on the counter, "I'd like the night with Miss Geller, please."
"Miss Geller has informed me that she doesn't want any clients to visit her tonight," she responded, sounding bored, not bothering to look up from her newspaper.
Chandler felt as though someone had poured a pail of cold water over him, washing away his happy exterior.
"Can I not just go up to her room and knock on her door. If she doesn't want to see me, I promise to leave," he tried. He thought maybe if Monica knew it was him, she'd let him in.
Estelle didn't respond and instead just took another long drag of her cigarette, flipping to the next page.
"Please," Chandler pleaded.
Estelle sighed and looked up from her newspaper, hiding her smirk when she finally recognised him, "You know, you're very sure of yourself for someone who doesn't pre-book." She eyed him carefully, her eyes drawn, "It seems as though you are becoming a regular client Mr…" she trailed off.
"Bing," Chandler supplied. He wasn't sure where she had gotten that observation from. This was only his third time visiting.
She suddenly graced him with her two rows of crooked teeth, her lipstick smudged on them as she smiled, "You must be lonely if you're willing to spend your New Year's Eve with a prostitute."
She paused, waiting to see his reaction, but he gave none.
"You know where her room is," she eventually said, looking back down to continue reading.
Chandler silently gritted his teeth. He hated that that was what Monica seemed to be labelled as. As if that's all she was worth. It was completely untrue.
"Thank you," he said in a controlled manner, careful not to reveal his irritation.
He left the reception area and headed straight for her room, knocking on her door three times.
"Who is it?" He heard her call, a slight edge to her voice, which made him a bit nervous. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
"I–It's Chandler," he stuttered back.
It was silent for a couple of seconds until the door opened, and she peered her head around it.
"Chandler," she stated, surprised to see him. "I wasn't expecting anyone tonight." She seemed almost shy in her demeanour.
He tried not to show his disappointment but didn't want to make her feel forced or uncomfortable either. "I can come another time if you like?"
"No, no. Come in," she quickly countered, opening the door wider so that Chandler could enter her room.
He turned around just as she shut the door and noticed she looked completely different from the last time he saw her. She was wearing just her nightgown, the sleeves reaching past her elbows whilst her hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her face was naked of any makeup.
She looked like her twenty years of age for the first time. Young and innocent.
It took a moment for Chandler to remember that she was actually a year younger than him. He had never really stopped to think about it before because she was so much more experienced than him, not just with sex but with life in general. Now when he thought about it, he wondered why that was?
What had happened to her to make her grow up so fast?
She wasn't sure why, but she self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest. It seemed like an automatic protective response for herself.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come back another time?" Chandler asked, her sudden shyness coming off her in waves.
She bit her lip and looked down at the floor for a few seconds, then looked back up, shaking her head before walking towards him.
"I'm sure," she finally smiled at him, "I just wasn't expecting to see you again so soon. It's just a bit unexpected." She reached up to push a strand of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes behind his ear.
"But I want you to stay," she added quietly, cupping his cheek.
"Okay," he murmured, the feel of her fingertips soft against his skin.
They looked into each other's eyes, and something passed between them. He wasn't sure what, but it made his heart beat just that little bit faster.
Chandler cleared his throat, "D–Did you like my Christmas card?"
Monica smiled widely at him, bringing her hands down to the top of his arms, squeezing them gently, "I did. Thank you so much. I would've had it on display, but I can't be seen showing favouritism towards any of my clients."
"Oh, so does that mean that I'm your favourite?" Chandler teased.
"I couldn't possibly say," she joked, though the light blush on her cheeks said otherwise.
It went silent for a few seconds, and she bit her lip again, "What are you doing here, Chandler?" She whispered. "It's New Year's Eve. Shouldn't you be with your family?"
Chandler swallowed, looking deeply into her eyes, "I'd rather be with you."
There was that dangerous territory again. Something was screaming inside of Monica's head, warning her that this was a bad idea. And that if she let this…whatever this was between them, escalate, that it could end in disaster for her. But as he ran his hand down her back, resting his hand at the bottom, she knew she couldn't turn him away. And she didn't want to.
"Besides," he pulled something out from his pocket, holding it up to her face, "I thought tonight would be the perfect way to celebrate losing my virginity, and you're the only person I trust to help me with that."
Monica's eyes widened slightly when he realised what he was holding. It was a condom. She recognised it from the small box, but she hadn't used many before as most of her clients believed it ruined the sensation. All she knew was that they were made from the lining of animal intestines.
"You brought protection?" Monica asked, stunned.
Chandler furrowed his eyebrows, confused, "Yes, why wouldn't I? I want you to be safe. I snuck it into my pocket on the way out when I left."
Tears almost came to her eyes at his words, touched that he cared about her safety. This man was constantly surprising her.
"You're so different to anyone else I've ever met," she murmured.
"Is that a good thing? Or a bad thing?"
"I haven't decided yet," she whispered as she opened his overcoat, slipping her hands under the lapels to push it off his body.
"Well, when you find out, let me know," he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he brushed her hair from off her shoulders to place a kiss on her neck.
She gently took the condom from his hand and threw it on the bed next to her pillow as her hands began swiftly unbuttoning his forest-green waistcoat, letting it drop on top of the coat on the floor.
Chandler trailed kisses down her neck and slipped his fingers underneath her nightgown to push the material off her shoulder, exposing her freckled skin. Her fingers were halfway down his shirt when his left hand firmly squeezed her butt, and she paused, letting out a whimper.
He lightly chuckled against her shoulder and brought his nose up to nuzzle underneath her ear just as his shirt joined the growing pile of clothes.
"Are you wearing anything under this?" He breathed into her ear, making her shiver.
"No," she answered, her voice low.
Chandler let out a soft groan at her response, her hands making quick work off his belt. They pulled it out of his belt loops together, followed by her hands immediately going to his fly to undo the buttons where she briefly felt his bulge brush against the back of her palm. He kissed the other side of her neck as both sets of hands tugged down his trousers, leaving him in nothing but his underwear.
He slid his hands down to her thighs and began pulling up the material of her nightgown so that it bunched into his hands.
"You ready?"
She threaded her fingers slowly through his hair before nodding and raising her arms so that he could pull the nightgown off her.
His breath caught in his throat as he saw her naked for a second time. He dropped his hands to her waist, not breaking eye contact with her, as he lightly skimmed them up the sides of her torso to the swell of her breasts. She shuddered at his feather-light touch as he grazed the sides of her breasts before bringing his hands back down. He slowly began walking her backwards until she hit the bed.
Monica lay down on it, resting her head on the pillow and watching as Chandler quickly removed his trousers so he could join her. Careful not to crush her with his body weight, his rested his forearms on the pillow, one on either side of her head. She traced the curves of his shoulder blades, his skin warm and comforting as he pressed a wet kiss to the hollow of her throat.
"Do you…do you remember what you learnt in your last lesson?" Her breath caught in her throat as he shifted, and she felt him against her thigh.
Chandler kissed the freckles along her collar bone, "I do. And I intended to find them again," he whispered huskily.
Monica gasped as he suddenly bit her earlobe, softly tugging it before licking the skin behind her ear.
"I take it your lips are still of limit?" He asked, leaning back.
She nodded her head, "I'm sorry."
"Shhhh, you have nothing to apologise for, Monica. You set the boundaries, and I will respect them," he told her, stroking his finger down the bridge of her nose.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He smiled and returned his mouth to her body. She could feel herself becoming more and more aroused as his lips caressed her skin, trailing down from her neck to her chest.
Her back arched suddenly as he circled her nipples with his thumbs, and he watched, fascinated, as they became tauter against his touch.
A woman's body is amazing, he thought.
He brought his head down and captured her nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue around it and flicking it across the top before sucking it into the warmth of his mouth. Monica moaned, her back arching ever further as he brought his hand up to cup her other breast, kneading it, and rolling the nipple between his fingers.
Monica's chest heaved as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention. She brought her legs up, bending them at the knees so that her feet were planted firmly on the bed beside him. Her fingers tugged at the hair on the nape of his neck when he gently nipped her nipple.
"Chandler," she whimpered.
His mouth left her breasts and he started to pepper kisses down her body as his hands stroked the skin on her ribcage. Just as he was about to reach her belly button, a thought popped into his head, and he sat back on his haunches.
Monica's eyes were closed, but she had a soft smile on her face and a faint blush across her chest. She realised he wasn't doing anything, so she fluttered her eyes open to see him gazing down at her, a smile on his face, and she swore her heart stopped.
"Is everything okay?" She asked, running her hand along his thigh.
He looked sheepish, as if he was debating asking her something. "Yeah, erm, you know last week how you err…how you…you know…with your mouth?" Chandler felt his cheeks getting hot.
Monica struggled to contain her giggle at his shyness. "You mean when I gave you oral?"
Chandler's mouth dropped open at her forwardness. He was amazed that she could so easily talk about it, and secretly, he found it rather sexy. It was a confidence that he wished he had.
"Yeah…I was err…wondering if there was…you know…a way for me to repay the favour. What I mean is, is there anything I can do like that for you?"
Monica pressed her lips together because she didn't want him to think she was laughing at him because she wasn't, but she just found his naivety so sweet and endearing.
"You don't have to do that, Chandler," she said gently.
"I know I don't," he kissed her bent knee, "but I want to," he added, tracing nonsensical designs on her navel, sending shivers down her spine.
She swallowed hard and silently grabbed his hand, directing it to her clit. Together they began rubbing small circles around it, and her eyes fluttered closed once more.
"I thought that you didn't like to be touched there," Chandler asked, confused even though their entwined fingers continued. "When I touched you there last week, you jerked away."
Monica struggled to find her voice, her brain struggling to keep up with the ministrations happening below her waist. "That's because I wasn't expecting it. Believe me, you will know when it's too sensitive to be touched."
She groaned as the pressure increased, the circles becoming faster. She brought her hand away to grip the sheets tightly, "You can…you can continue to use your hand…or…or you can use your mouth like I did with you. I don't mind either way," she breathed heavily.
Chandler would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued. He slowly stopped rubbing and instead brought his fingers down to stroke her, causing her hips to buck. He lowered his head down and swept his lips up her inner thigh, kissing and sucking the skin there. He continued upwards until she was in front of him.
He felt her wetness against the tip of his nose as he inhaled, noting that she had a mild, musky scent that made his underwear slightly tighter. He inquisitively probed his tongue out and gave her a small lick, earning him a gasp from Monica. Her response encouraged him, and this time he gave her a firmer lick, going from bottom to top.
Her hips strongly bucked as she let out a soft cry, and he realised he would need to hold her down if he was going to do this, so he wrapped his arms around her thighs and gently pulled her towards his mouth. He placed soft, open-mouthed kisses over her, then used his tongue to delicately trace up and down her slit, listening to her soft, laboured breathing and little gasps every time he passed over her clit. His fingers drew little circles on her skin as he held her against his mouth, his tongue pushing through to find the small nub of flesh that his fingers were rubbing only moments before. Carefully, he ran his tongue over it, and Monica squirmed, her gasps transforming into moans.
Monica reached down and gripped his hair, causing him to groan which sent vibrations through her body. The sensation was unexpected, and she let out a choked sound, her breath caught in her throat. He began sucking her with a steady pressure, and Monica could feel that same feeling building up in her stomach as she did last week.
"Chandler," she nudged his side with her foot, but he continued to alternate between sucking and flicking her sensitive flesh.
"Chandler!" She repeated, this time louder, and he brought his head up.
She felt butterflies in her stomach when she saw the arousal in his eyes, "I'm ready."
Chandler rubbed his thumb along her hip bone, "But you haven't orgasmed?"
"I know, but last week was the first time, and I don't know how long it'll take me to do it again, so I'd rather save it for the last part," she explained, her chest still heaving slightly.
"If you're sure."
Monica picked up the small condom box next to the pillow and held it out to him, "I'm sure."
Chandler suddenly felt very nervous as he took the box from her, holding it in his hand. She sensed his apprehension and leaned up on her elbow, reaching up to stroke his face, "We don't have to do this if you're not ready," she murmured gently.
He swallowed but pulled the drawstring of his underwear, pushing them down his hips, and off his legs, dropping them somewhere onto the floor. He took the condom out of the box and sheathed himself, tying the ribbon at the base to secure it. He ran his hands down her legs, which we still bent at the knee, and wrapped them around the top of her thighs, pulling her against his pelvis.
"I'm ready," he said, holding his shaft and positioning himself at her entrance before finally pushing forward.
Monica gasped as he pushed just the head of his erection into her, and he immediately stopped, worried he was hurting her.
"Are you okay?" He asked anxiously.
Monica's eyes were closed, but she nodded her head, her voice sounding strained when she replied, "I'm fine. That was a good gasp."
It was true. Monica had thought about how he would feel inside of her many times , but this didn't come anywhere near close to her imagination.
She cracked her eye open when he didn't move and saw that he still looked a bit apprehensive.
"I promise. Please…please continue," she breathed heavily.
Trusting her words, Chandler pushed further forward, and Monica's mouth dropped open as he slowly filled her up. She felt herself stretching around him to accommodate his size, his pelvis flush against hers, now completely inside her.
Monica and Chandler weren't sure who this felt more incredible for. They both could have sworn that something passed through them when they finally became one, like a strong connection binding them together.
Chandler began moving, thrusting in and out of her in a slow and steady rhythm, gritting his teeth at the feel of her surrounding him.
"How does it feel?" Monica was curious to know.
He groaned as he picked up the pace, "Tight. So warm and incredibly tight."
He looked down at her, mesmerised by the way her breasts bounced in time with his thrusts.
"God, Monica. You're so beautiful," he grunted out with each stroke.
"Faster," she begged, that delightful feeling returning in the pit of her stomach.
Chandler ran his hands down her legs, gripping her calves and encouraging her to wrap them around his back, which put him in her deeper, resulting in a loud moan from Monica.
He ran his hands up her stomach, cupping her breasts and squeezing them as his thrusts became harder and faster. His thumbs lightly pinched her nipples as the bed rocked, the headboard rhythmically thumping against the wall.
Monica pressed her head back into the pillow, her hands coming up to grip the corners as he pounded into her.
"Oh, God," she whimpered, and he brought his hands back down to her hips, holding them firmly as he gave her everything he had.
"Chandler!" She cried as she suddenly felt herself tightening around him.
The feeling of her muscles clamping sent him over the edge with her.
Chandler had no idea how they had managed to time it so perfectly, but they simultaneously climaxed, theirs bodies convulsing, just as the ringing of bells sounded across the city, echoing through the streets of London, and continuing for miles.
It was midnight. And it was the new year. The first day of January, eighteen seventy-eight.
And he was no longer a virgin.
His thrusts slowed down as he finally stopped, collapsing on top of her. Their chests heaved together as their lust-crazed minds attempted to catch up with reality. Chandler rested his head in the crook of her neck as she ran her fingers through the damp strands of hair at the nape of his neck.
The bells continued to ring through the streets, and Chandler pressed a kiss to the junction between her neck and shoulder.
"Happy New Year," he murmured against her skin which was dotted in perspiration.
Monica felt tears spring to her eyes, "Happy New Year, Chandler," she whispered.
Chandler finally rolled off her, discreetly removing the condom, and cuddled into her side. She shifted her body so that her back was pressed against his stomach, their skin sticky and warm from sweat. He swept her hair to the side and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the freckles along the back of her shoulder.
It was at that moment that Monica knew Chandler was no longer just a client. He had become so much more than that. She didn't want to label whatever this was between them, but she could no longer deny it either.
She just prayed that Estelle never found out.
"Was that okay?" She finally asked, her eyes drifting to look at the moon, which shone directly down into her bedroom. She had never been able to afford curtains, but she didn't mind. Watching the night sky every night brought her a sense of calm.
"Okay?" He scoffed, "Monica, that was perfect," he whispered, holding her tighter against him.
He leant over and kissed her cheek, "Thank you,"
Monica smiled, still watching the moon, "You're welcome."
It became quiet, the only sounds in the room being their breathing and the few bells that were still echoing in the distance. A sudden lump rose in Monica's throat, and she closed her eyes, scared to let any tears fall.
She was the happiest she had ever been in years, and it was all because of the man beside her, but all she could feel was a fresh wave of guilt wash over her.
Why did she get to be so happy? Why her?
What about him?
She swallowed hard, blinking away her tears before Chandler could notice.
"What's Rachel like?" She suddenly asked, her voice quiet.
Chandler, who had started to drift off, snapped his eyes open, caught off guard by her question.
"Rachel?" He asked, confused.
"Yeah, you said she was like a surrogate sister."
"She is," he replied.
"So, what's she like?" She asked again, clutching the sheets closer to her like a protective blanket.
Chandler still didn't understand why she was asking but answered her anyway. "She's wonderful. I never thought I wanted any siblings until I met Rachel. She's kind, and sweet and very caring. But she is also strong-willed and confident. She stood up to her parents when they tried to make her quit the coffeehouse, but she remained firm on her decision that that wouldn't be happening. She told them that the only person who was going to decide her future was her. I have a lot of respect for her."
Monica chuckled softly, "She sounds like my kind of girl."
Chandler smiled in agreement, "Maybe I could introduce you to her sometime."
He brought his hand up and ran it along her arm softly.
"Maybe," she said, her heart not fully in her words. The idea of meeting Rachel and getting out of here sounded almost too good to be true.
It went silent again until she rolled over to face him. He pulled her close to his body, her heart beating against his chest.
"Ross used to be like that," she said quietly, curling her fingers around the hairs on his chest.
It wasn't too hard for Chandler to figure out who she was talking about. "Your brother?" He asked delicately, remembering how she reacted that last time he had been brought up in conversation.
She nodded her head, "I always looked up to him as a little girl. He was my protector and my best friend. But most importantly, he was my big brother, and I loved him so much…I still do."
Monica was opening up to him, and he was pleased that she felt like she could trust him. Chandler asked the question that he was almost too afraid to ask, "Is he still with us?"
She chuckled darkly in her throat. "Depends how you mean? He is still with us physically if that's what you're asking."
Chandler furrowed his eyebrows until he realised what she was insinuating, "A–and what about mentally?"
Monica bit her lip and closed her eyes to try and compose herself, "When I was sixteen, I was working as a seamstress whilst my father and brother worked in one of the mines. We had already lost my mother to tuberculosis when I was nine, so it was just the three of us."
She paused, swallowing back tears.
"Anyway, one of the Getters was chiselling away, not realising that there was a column on the other side. It was a freak accident, but he chiselled too far and the column collapsed, causing the mine to cave in. Thirty-nine miners were killed…and…and my father was one of them.
"Oh, my God," Chandler whispered.
"Ross suddenly became the sole carer of me despite only being seventeen himself. He got injured during the accident and couldn't return to work for a while, and my income as a seamstress wasn't bringing in enough. To cut a long story short, Ross buckled under the pressure of having to look after me, putting money on the table and dealing with survivor's guilt. He just couldn't cope anymore, and he slowly went mad with grief. I can't really remember when or how it happened, but he became mute, not just by voice but by mind as well. I remember looking into his eyes, and he just…he wasn't my big brother anymore. He was gone."
A lone tear slipped down her cheek, and Chandler wiped it away with his thumb. She had been through so much in her life. She had a strength he didn't think he would ever have. And he lo…he realised he loved her for it.
"I always say that I lost both my father and brother in the mine collapse because I did. I lost my father to mortality, and I lost my brother to grief. Life wasn't perfect before the collapse, but I still had my family."
Chandler stroked her hair comfortingly, "Where is he now?"
"He's in Beth's Dayspring Asylum up North," she answered, chewing on her bottom lip, "I knew I couldn't look after him, and putting him in there was the only way for us both to survive. He's been in there ever since."
"Monica, I am so sor–"
"Don't," she cut him off, "I can't bear to hear those words…I just…I just need you to promise me one thing."
"Anything," he breathed.
"Never judge me for leaving him," she whispered.
He shook his head, crushed that she felt so guilty when she had no other choice. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Never," he promised.
A/N- I hope that cleared up your questions about Ross. If you do have any other questions, please leave them in a review or PM me and I will answer you as best as I can!
Some fun facts:
- Hearts is a real card game that you can play.
- The Victorians really did use condoms made out of animal intestines that you tied at the bottom.
- On New Year's Eve, instead of setting fireworks off at midnight as we do, the Victorians rang bells instead.
- A Getter was someone who worked at the coal face cutting the coal from the seam with a pickaxe.