"So when I get inside her house finally, I find out why she wouldn't let me get to second base. She actually has three nipples!"
The whole gang breaks out into a chorus of "Ew!"s and"Gross"es and one "Did you still stay?" from Ross, to which Joey replies with an affirmative nod. Ross whoops, holding his hand out, which Joey slaps. I try to act normal, nodding in agreement when Monica asks me if I think that's gross. I can't shake the paranoid feeling that the grin I have pasted onto my face isn't fooling anyone, especially when I see Joey's eyes slide towards mine, a silent question in his gaze. I just wave him off, taking a sip of my coffee, hoping no one will notice how uncomfortable I am.
Looks like that isn't working. Next to me on the couch, Phoebe stirs, shaking my shoulder. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need me to do some chants or something?" She asks me, her gaze serious. I bark out a laugh, but stop when her grip on my shoulder gets harder.
"N-no!"I yelp, jumping away from her, ramming into Monica.
"Hey, maybe try to stay seated, huh?" She says, her eyes narrowed, pushing me back towards Phoebe.
"Sorry,"I gasp out, catching myself before I run into Phoebe. I don't want a repeat of what just happened. I turn to her, trying to play it cool as I stretch my arms out, resting them on the top of the couch. "You know, just creeped out by Joey's story," I state, in reply to Phoebe's previous statement. I pray to God that no one notices the shake in my voice when I say his name, unable to keep my eyes from finding him, stretched out on an armchair next to the couch, talking animatedly to Ross, who is across from him. Rachel walks up, oblivious to the customers right next to us who need a refill, resting her arm on Joey's back. I resist the urge to push her off of him, chanting over and over in my mind, 'She's not into him like that, she's not into him like that, she—oh dear God, is her hand stroking his hair?'
Turns out, her arm just slipped on his shirt, which resulted in her spilling some coffee on him. "Jesus!" Joey cries out, jumping up from his chair and hopping in place. "Rach, that seriously burned me! And you stained my shirt!" He gestures down to his white v-neck, which, I can't help but notice, now shows some of his skin.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Come on, Joey, take your shirt off, and I'll get you a new one from the back," she says, setting the pot of coffee down, so as to prevent from any other accidents.
Joey complies, stripping his shirt off as though it's not that big of a deal. My arms, which are still stretched out on the couch, start to ache, and that's when I realise I'm gripping onto the fabric extremely hard. There, standing in all his glistening, rather pink (from the coffee) glory, is Joey, his perfectly toned, gloriously naked chest out in the open. I bite back a moan, crossing my legs, hoping the action isn't too noticeable.
Joey seems oblivious, swiping at his skin, trying to cool it off. He looks up when Rachel comes back, a too-small shirt clutched in between her hands. "Here ya go, it's the biggest one I could find."
His gaze is questioning, right until the shirt is over his head. He pulls it down, then just stares at himself, his eyes unbelieving. "You have to be kidding me!" Joey exclaims. The shirt only goes down mid-waist, stopping just above his belly button. Everyone starts laughing, so I do too, my tone higher and rising. Everybody turns to me when I reach Michael Jackson pitch, their gazes caught between amused and freaked out.
I just laugh again. "Hey, anybody notice how hot it is in here?" I ask no one, tugging at the collar of my shirt, hoping to take their attention off of me. They keep staring for a few minutes, before finally turning back to the more immediate problem.
"If I have to walk around like this, I'm gonna get jumped," Joey states, his hands on his hips.
"Don't count on it," Rachel says under her breath, picking up the coffee pot to put more of her weaponry in.
Joey just shakes his head, sighing. "Well, anyway, I gotta get out of here. I'll see you at the apartment, Chandler?"
My head shoots up, my cheeks coloring. For a second there, it sounded like he was my boyfriend or something. I shake my head to clear these unattainable dreams, placing my hands in my lap. "Yeah, see you there," I let out, putting on a weak smile.
Joey stands there for a beat, looking like he has something to say, before letting it drop. "All right, guys, see ya later," he says, grinning as he leaves the coffee shop. His grin turns into a frown as a couple passing by laugh. "Yeah, I do have a tiny shirt on," he spits at them, stomping off in the direction of our apartment.
The gang laughs, turning away from his retreating form. I can't help but watch him through the window, though, as he flips the bird to a bunch of teenagers, who appear to be taunting him.
I finally turn back when I can't see him anymore, resigned to listening to my friends' inane talk, wishing that the Italian big-mouth was still here.
An hour later I'm walking back to the apartment, my hands shrugged into my pockets, my body hunched into itself. I close my eyes as the craving for a cigarette comes, hoping this wave will pass. I suck in a breath, thinking maybe that will help avert my thoughts. Instead, I get a lungful of second hand smoke, making my mouth water. I shake my head violently, startling a pair of nuns walking by me.
I reach the apartment, my eyes wide. I ignore the people outside the building, cigarettes in their hands and mouths. "Come on, Chandler, you're almost home…"I whisper to myself, making my way up the stairs. I breathe in a sigh of relief when I finally reach the door, surprised when I find it ajar. Well, that's weird.
I quietly push it open, surveying the house. And that's when I see him.
Whatever clever little quip I was going to use about Joey leaving the door open dies on my lips. All I can do is stand there, mouth agape, unable to peel my eyes away.
Gripped between Joey's shaking fingers is his penis. He's stretched out horizontally on the couch, his back to me, so he doesn't see me. He's slowly stroking up and down, his shoulders shaking. "Ch…" he says. I can only catch part of his phrase, his voice is so low. He says it again, this time louder. "Chan…" His cock, fully erect and flushed with pleasure, twitches at the sound of his voice. His thumb slips up, kneading the head. He sticks it into the slit, making him growl in ecstasy. "Ch-Chandler!" He grinds out between his teeth, slipping his hand under that tiny shirt to tweak a nipple.
I keep standing there, almost unable to believe my ears, until he says my name again, this time in a low, purring voice. I'm unable to stop myself from what happens next.
I walk over there, observing Joey. His eyes are now shut, and his mind is off in a pleasured state, so he doesn't seem to notice me for now. That's about to change.
I climb on top of him, licking his firmly shut lips. He lets out a small whimper, stroking himself faster. That is, until he gets his bearings. His eyes shoot open suddenly, just in time to catch me dip my head low, licking a trail from his collarbone to the corner of his mouth.
"Ch-Chandler!" He cries out, shooting out from under me to the opposite end of the couch. He's slipped his penis back inside his pants, and is now buttoning them up.
"Aw, now why'd you go and do a thing like that?" I ask, a forlorn expression on my face. I really like the look of his penis.
"Wha….what the hell? Chandler, what are you saying?" He asks, blushing. The red is spreading to his ears, and down his neck.
I ignore his question, skooching closer to him on the couch. He retreats, skooching back further. "Did you say my name?" I ask, my voice and expression equally serious. I'm not letting him out of this; not if I can help it.
It seems that Joey's whole body burns a shade of red, and I almost reach out a finger, wondering if his body temperature's become hotter. He stammers, unable to form a sentence. He just skooches back further, and I follow, until he's run out of room. He doesn't seem to notice; just skooches back again, to fall on his ass. "Ow!" He cries, rubbing his sore butt. I lick my lips, wondering at myself and what turns me on.
Joey seems to get his bearings, suddenly jumping up. I follow. He backs up, his arms up in a defensive stance. "Come on, Ch-Chandler, leave me alone," he says, his voice quivering at the mention of my name. This makes me keep moving, until he's trapped against the wall. I plant my hands on the wall on either side of his head, my expression unreadable.
"I said…" I whisper into his ear, reveling in the shiver it warrants from him, "Did. You. Say. My. Name."
Joey shudders, biting his lip. He ducks his head, his black hair covering his eyes. "You…you don't have to worry," he says in a small voice. I widen my eyes, surprised. He continues. "It's probably just a phase; I'm sure I won't be attracted to you for long. But I still want to be friends, if that's possible. I know what happened last night freaked you ou—"
"Wait a fucking second." I slam my fist into the wall next to him, to make a point. He jumps, his head shooting up to look at me, his eyes questioning.
"First of all. You remember last night? And you didn't tell me?" Joey's about to stammer a response, but I cover his mouth with my hand. "Second. Why would I worry? I like you just as much as you like me!" Joey's eyes widen, his mouth opening beneath my hand. "And finally. This better as hell not be just a phase; if it is, I'll still keep trying to make you fall for me," I finish, my gaze determined.
I release Joey's mouth. He keeps standing there, a kind of dumb look on his face. I wave my hand over his glazed eyes. "Hey, Joey, you still there?" I ask, a half-smile on my face.
"Bu…but it doesn't make sense! Why do you like me?" He asks, and I'm surprised. There's a very angry look on his face, his stance aggravated.
"What, you think it's weird for a guy to like another guy?" I ask, setting my lip in a stubborn way.
"Well…no. I think it's weird for people to like me. You know, the girls I'm with are never going out with me 'cuz of my personality. Is that how it is for you, too?" His hands are clenched at his sides, his brow furrowed in anguish.
I sigh. Lifting his face with my forefinger, I quell all his stupid notions with a chaste kiss to his mouth. His eyes widen, looking up at me with a scared look, tears building at the corners of his eyes. I smile into our kiss, licking away a tear that's fallen to the corner of his mouth.
"I-it doesn't make sense," he blubbers out, rubbing at the tears with the back of his hand.
"Joey…" I say, grabbing his wrists and restraining them against the wall above our heads. I lean in close, my lips tickling his cheek as I speak. "I love you."
