I survey my handiwork, hoping everything is in place—candles lit and placed strategically around the room; brand new sheets; bottle of champagne in a bucket with two glasses that have just been poured; mildly uncomfortable skimpy underwear.

A gentle tap on the door makes me jump. I pull a robe over my mostly naked body, leaving it untied, before I open it just a crack to make sure it's Chandler.

"Hey," he says quietly, smiling at me.

I smile back and pull the door open fully, enjoy the way his jaw drops as he sees my scantily-clad body. "Whoa. It's not even my birthday."

I grab the belt loop of his pants, pulling him into my room and standing on tiptoes to wrap my arms around him and kiss him. "Hi."

I hear the door close behind him as his arms wrap around me. "Not that I'm complaining, but isn't it kind of early for me to be over here? I mean, it's not even nine."

"Rachel has a date tonight," I tell him, kissing his neck. "She said something about going to a club and it being a late night for her. So, we have the place to ourselves for a while."

"I like the sound of that," he mumbles, his lips finding mine again. Keeping my arms locked around him, I steer us farther into the bedroom.

"What do you think?" I ask him, double-checking the room even though it doesn't really matter at this point.

"Wow," he whispers, leaning forward to run his hands over the new sheets. "What's the occasion?"

I lean up, whispering in his ear. "It's been over a month."

He looks at me, puzzled. "A month? What are you talking about? Haven't we been together for like, four months?"

I feel my heart skip a beat; he knows without thinking about it how long we've been together, and that feels kind of huge. "Yes, but that's not what I'm talking about."

"You're gonna make me work for this, aren't you?"

I sigh, dropping my arms. "You're gonna make this hard, aren't you?"

He smirks, looking at me sideways. "I think you're the one who makes it hard."

"You're sick."

"I…meant it as a compliment?"

I walk over to the nightstand to pick up the glasses of champagne, handing one to him. "About a month ago, I went to the doctor…"

Understanding immediately flashes over his face as he takes his glass. "Has it really already been a month?"

"I can't believe you haven't been keeping track."

"I'm a simple creature, Monica. I've been getting sex on a regular basis, so that's kind of where my focus has been."

I roll my eyes—figures. "At any rate, I thought it'd be kind of fun to make a big deal out of it. So…" I sweep my hand around, gesturing to the room.

He reaches his hand out to stroke my cheek. "I think it's great." He steps closer to me, our lips meeting, his hand slowly sliding down my body, goosebumps rising all over my skin. I sit down on the bed and scoot over to the headboard, waiting for him to follow.

"You know," I say as he crawls toward me. "You're wearing an awful lot of clothing."

"Well, you know, it is a lot earlier in the night than usual. I thought it might look suspicious if someone saw me wandering around your dark apartment in my bathrobe." He settles in next to me and we clink our glasses, grinning at each other.

I fiddle with the stem of my glass before taking a sip of the champagne. "Four months is a pretty big deal, too," I tell him, my heart thumping nervously.

"Not just four months," he tells me. "I think these have been the best four months of my life."

I feel relief spread over me. "Really?"

"Definitely. Being on London Time was the best thing I ever did." He leans down and kisses me softly, and this time I feel my heart fluttering, nearly bursting at the seams with happiness.

"To another four months?" I ask tentatively, holding my glass out to him once more.

"At least," he answers, clinking his glass to mine again, and we finally drink our champagne. After a sip, Chandler looks at me, surprised, and I shrug bashfully.

"Tonight seemed like a good reason to buy the nice stuff. Which is why we're here instead of in a nice hotel room with privacy, but I figured it was a decent compromise."

He picks up my free hand, kissing my knuckles. "I think this is perfect." He takes the glass out of my hand and puts both back on the nightstand. When he turns back to me, his eyes are already darker, and my body hums with anticipation.

I lick my suddenly dry lips. "You don't think this is too much fanfare for what will probably just be regular sex, do you?"

"I don't think tonight will be 'regular' at all, Mon," he answers, his voice low. "Even if it's only in our heads, it's going to be so different." He kisses me slowly, firmly, his body halfway draped over mine, his clothes scraping against my overly sensitive flesh, and I moan into his mouth.

"So, four months," he says when comes up for air. "Actually, four months, three days."

I feel my breath catch in my throat and fight the tears I feel prickling at the corners of my eyes with every fiber of my being. It was just an odd coincidence that a month after I started back on the pill wound up being close to our anniversary, and I really didn't want to make a big deal out of it. I thought he might be okay with it, but I never really know with Chandler. I didn't want to push it. Celebrating condom-free sex seemed like a good enough event to make tonight special. But the fact that he knows exactly how long we've been together completely blows me away.

"You…you know our anniversary?"

"You never forget a day that changes your life."

I'm done. I feel tears slide down the sides of my face, and he tenderly wipes them away.

If I didn't know before this, I certainly know now; this thing I have with Chandler is completely different than anything else in my life. "You changed me, too, Chandler," I whisper, running a hand through his hair.

His arms wrap around me and we lie face to face on my bed, kissing, hands roaming and caressing, and a feeling of complete happiness washes over me.

I'm in love with this guy.

I realized it a few days ago, though I've felt it for a while now.

He probably loves me, too. Or at least, he will, in his own time. Aside from his commitment issues, what he went through with Kathy last year really hurt him, but I know he'll get there.

"Know what I'd like to do?" he whispers against my lips.

"Take off your clothes?" I answer, tugging at his shirt.

He offers no resistance; instead, he stands, peeling off his clothing and I lie back for a moment, watching the way the muscles in his back shift and ripple as he pulls off his undershirt. He tosses his clothes to the floor, his button down still in hand, when I see his shoulders shake a little as he chuckles.

"What?"

"Wanna see something funny?"

I sigh and roll my eyes; he certainly knows how to kill a moment. "Probably not."

"I think you'll enjoy it."

"Fiiiiine."

He turns to face me, and I burst out laughing; his work shirt is draped over is erection.

"You like?" he asks proudly.

"There are so many things wrong with you," I tell him between fits of laughter.

"What are you talking about?" He sticks his hands on his hips and struts back and forth for a moment, causing me to laugh even harder. "It's multipurpose."

I shake my head as I sit up on my knees, reaching out a hand to grab his hip, stilling him. I take the shirt and toss it to the foot of my bed. "Come over here."

He takes my face in his hands, kissing me around our smiles; I don't know if it was entirely on purpose, but he's managed to shift the mood from serious to playful.

His hands slide under my robe, pushing it off my shoulders. I let go of him for half a second to let it fall to the bed before my hands go around him again, pulling him closer. I feel his fingers fumble with the clasp of my bra for a few seconds before it comes undone, and I pull away to look at him, impressed.

"You're getting better at that."

"Yeah, my hot girlfriend's been letting me practice on her for a while now."

"Well, she sounds awesome. Remind me to bake her a cake."

"Oh, will do," he answers, sliding the bra straps down my arms and tossing it over his shoulder. "Hey, Mon?"

"Hmm?"

"Bake yourself a cake." He lowers us slowly down to the bed, his lips on mine, one arm wrapped firmly around me as the other braces against the mattress. My legs instinctively fall open to cradle him, and I realize that I'm still wearing my underwear.

"I think you forgot something." I wiggle my hips against him for emphasis.

"I'm getting there," he tells me. "Be patient." He begins to kiss his way down my body, his lips slowly paying homage to every spot he can find, his hands gently stroking my sides. I feel my breathing start to grow a bit more rapid.

Slowly, so slowly, his lips trail down to my breasts, but he manages to just skim over them, giving them no more and no less attention than the rest of me. I feel myself start to moan, and I'm not sure if it's because I'm turned on, desperate for more contact, or both.

He kisses his way down to my stomach, his lips finally pressing more firmly, his teeth nipping at my hips, his tongue tracing the edge of my belly button, and I moan loudly this time. He grins at me as he stands up, his fingers gently hooking around the edge of my panties, pulling them down my legs and tossing them in the pile with his clothes. His lips gently work their way up my legs, alternating from time to time, and I feel dizzy with anticipation.

His lips are on my stomach again, and my back arches off the bed as I whimper. He finds a pillow and tosses it on the floor, kneeling on it. He grabs my knees and pulls me to the edge of the bed, his lips on my inner thigh. I prop myself up on my elbows and nudge his back with my heel.

"You don't have to…tonight's about us, not just me."

"Four months is cunnilingus—didn't you know?" he mumbles against me, his lips still working their way up my thighs.

I try unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh and he grins up at me. "I like to do this, you know. It's not a chore for me." He stands up suddenly and leans over me, his face so close to mine our noses bump. "I love the way you taste."

My body jerks involuntarily as I groan; he doesn't often say things like that, but when he does, it makes me feel like I'm about to implode.

I lean up and kiss him briefly, and then he's gone, kneeling before me again. Before another word can be said, his mouth is on me and my hips fly off the bed for a moment before his hands bring me back down.

"Ohhhhhh, God," I moan as my hands clutch my quilt tightly, my voice loud enough so that I can hear it echo back against my walls.

I feel him mumble something against me, the vibrations from his lips making me shiver.

One of his hands leaves my hip, and I can feel his fingers stroking me softly for a moment before they slide into me, and my back arches off the bed again, strangled sounds falling out of my mouth. His other arm moves to drape across my torso, keeping me mostly on the bed, his hand teasing my breasts.

I reach down and squeeze his fingers in my hand, and he somehow manages to link our fingers together.

My entire body constricts for a moment, my toes curling against his back. I feel him attacking me more purposefully, his mouth doing wonderful, unearthly things to me. My free hand reaches down and grabs at his shoulder, squeezing tightly, nails digging into him, my body almost in a sitting position. I look down at him and our eyes meet for the briefest of moments before my head falls back and I start to spasm violently, yelling wordlessly, senselessly. His hand curls around mine, that simple gesture more reassuring and intimate than I expected.

My body flops against the bed, spent, my chest heaving as I try to compose myself enough to make sense.

"Out of curiosity," I gasp, "what's five months?"

I feel his lips on my stomach once more as he chuckles. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

A noise that's somewhere between a laugh and a whimper escapes me as I tug at his arms. He crawls up me, both of us scooting up until we're not dangling off the mattress. I take his face in my hands, bringing his lips to mine.

His body slides against mine and I feel my insides quiver. I push him onto his back, crawling on top of him, my thighs bracketing his. His fingers dig into my back as he moans into my mouth, and all of a sudden his flips me onto my back. "I wanna be on top," he tells me, nipping at my earlobe for emphasis.

My heart speeds up a little; usually, that means he's in the mood to be super romantic, and it happens that I'm in the market for that. I sigh and scratch my nails through his hair, and he makes a happy little noise as he settles against me, our bodies moving slowly against each other, our mouths following suit.

I think this is what heaven feels like.

He pulls back from me a bit, his face flushed and a little sweaty, his eyes so dark they're almost black, and I have to fight the instinct to reach over to my nightstand for a condom.

"You sure you want to do this?" His voice is soft, breathless, and in that moment, I love him even more. He puts my comfort before his pleasure, regardless of how far gone his is.

"Positive. I don't even have any condoms in here right now."

"You don't?"

"Nope. I wanted to make sure I didn't wuss out."

He strokes my hair reassuringly. "I don't think it's wussing out to be concerned with safety."

"I'd say we're pretty safe," I tell him. "I want to do this."

Part of me wonders if we're making more out of this than we should—it's not as if we're having completely unprotected sex.

I guess it's just that I've never actually wanted to do this with someone.

That doesn't stop me from feeling more nervous now than the first time we slept together.

I run my hand down the side of his face, and he turns his head to kiss my palm. "I'm ready when you are," I whisper.

He looks at me so seriously, with such concentration, as his hands slide around my back and his hips pull back from mine, positioning himself just outside of me, so close that all it will take is one little thrust. His eyebrow lifts just a bit, asking me one last time if I'm sure. I give him a little nod and lift my hips off the mattress the same time he sinks into me.

A strange noise rips its way out of my throat as my eyes slam shut and I bury my face in his neck, my fingers digging into his lower back.

"Jesus," he groans into my hair, his body coming to a complete stop as he pants against me.

A shudder works its way up from my toes, coursing through my entire body, and I grip him more tightly for a moment, not sure what to do. He was completely right when he said this wouldn't be regular sex. And I'm sure the bulk of the difference is in my mind, but I don't care.

This feels amazing.

I'm aware that I'm still making noises—something between a whimper and a whine—even though we haven't started moving.

"Please," I moan, and he springs into action, his hips firmly, slowly pushing against me, his body moving against mine sensuously, his pelvis making contact with mine each time, causing little waves of pleasure to ripple through me.

This is so intense I think I might cry.

He changes his angle, pushing against me harder, steadier, and I can hear the headboard knocking against the wall, a steady thump-thump-thump.

"Oh, God, yes," I groan. "Yes yes yes yes yes yes." I think I get progressively louder with each "yes."

Chandler's lips are on mine again, his own groans muffled against me as his hips move faster. I move my feet until they're braced on the inside of his legs, trying to keep him close. His head falls back for a few moments as he groans out, "Oh, yeah."

Usually, I'm the talker; I know this must be pretty good for him if he's chatty.

"More," I demand, thrusting my hips up against him rapidly.

Not in the mood to tease me, he gives me more. He slams against me, the knock of the headboard against the wall faster, and I find it oddly fascinating; most nights, we have to find a position that doesn't cause a lot of commotion, and my lust-addled mind finds it terribly interesting that the force of the two of us together can cause my bed to move like this.

I wonder if there'll be dents in the wall.

I arch my back off the bed, pushing my breasts into his face, and he instantly latches on, his teeth grazing my sensitive flesh around the incredible suction.

One of my hands flies out, scrambling against the wall, the mattress, the bed frame, looking for anything to grab onto as a shriek leaves my mouth.

My hand comes back to him, grabbing his back again, my nails scratching his skin. He hisses, but I know he doesn't care; he moves against me harder, faster, moaning almost continuously.

Much more of this and I'll actually go insane.

If this ends now, I'll go insane.

His hand slides down to my thigh, hitching my leg higher around his waist and my eyes fly open for a minute, my head pushing back against the pillow. "Oh, baby, THERE YES. OH GOD YES."

I clutch at him frantically, trying to keep him close to me, our hips creating so much friction I think we'll combust.

I pull his face up to mine, kissing him as best I can around my panting and groaning, his body hot and sweaty against mine, everything about him fitting perfectly against me.

He gasps against me, pressing his forehead to mine. He changes his angle again, and somehow he feels like he's in me deeper, more completely, and he's hitting all of the spots at once and I feel my body start to tingle.

I try to let him know, but I'm beyond words right now. The best I can manage is, "I…I…I…" over and over again.

But he knows. His body slams against mine and I yell out; he does it again, and this time I actually scream. He rams into me over and over and over, relentlessly, mercilessly, wonderfully, and I keep yelling and screaming, unaware and unconcerned with what's happening. I push myself into him, my body speeding up, racing toward a release, trying to find it, trying to get there.

"Monica," he moans reverently, and I explode into a million tiny pieces, making noises I've never made before, yelling for him, begging him not to stop, to never stop, as my orgasm slams through me.

He's only seconds behind me, his movements all of a sudden jerky and sloppy as he releases into me, and I vaguely realize that, for the first time, he's actually releasing into me; I clutch him tighter, push against him harder, making it last as long as possible.

Finally, he collapses on top of me, spent, and I stare at the ceiling as I pant, stroking his damp hair as he tries to catch his breath.

I feel…like nothing I've ever felt before.

He's shaking against me, his entire body on vibrate.

I turn my head and kiss his temple, breathing him in—breathing us in.

I feel his lips on my neck, moving softly and slowly.

He doesn't move to get off of me; I hold him in place anyway.

"Oh, my God," I whisper, and I involuntarily thrust my hips against his, the aftershocks alone more intense than most sex with other guys.

Unbelievably, I feel him stiffening inside of me as his hips respond to mine. "Again?" I ask, still breathless, my body still overly sensitive and extraordinarily responsive.

"I think so." He drives into me a couple of times and I moan helplessly, desperate for more of him, amazed that he can do this again so soon. "You want to?"

"Oh, yes, please. Very much." He rotates his hips against me gently as I lie beneath him, my body coming back to life under his touch. "Sit up," I breathe.

"Do I have to?" In protest, his hand snakes down to my pelvis, his fingers pushing against me. I yelp and grab his hand, pulling it away quickly.

"Too much." I tell him. "Sit up."

Reluctantly, he does, sliding out of me in the process. I don't let myself think about how empty it feels as I sit up with him. His hands immediately go to my waist, pulling me closer. "What do you want me to do?"

I only think for a moment—that's all my brain will allow. I hadn't anticipated needing him this much again so soon. "Headboard," is all I say, pointing in that general direction. He lifts up on his knees and I go with him, and his mouth finds mine again. I sink into him for a few moments, sighing into his mouth. He rubs against me gently, and I can feel him twitching against me, completely ready again.

"I've never wanted you more," I tell him, my heart thumping erratically against my chest. His fingers tighten against me briefly before he finally crawls around me, situating himself where I asked.

I smile as I turn to face him, though I'm sure it comes across much more predatory than I intend. Even though he's carefully schooled his face into a mask of control, his entire body is tense, his knuckles turning white as he balls his fists. I see his nostrils flare as he breathes heavily through his nose, waiting for me.

I crawl over to him, sliding my hands slowly up his thighs, his arms, up to his shoulders. "I like this." I swear I'm purring—that's what it sounds like at this point. "No condom to throw away, no new condom to struggle with. I could get used to it."

His hands stretch out, fingers grazing my thighs delicately, but he doesn't pull me to him. He remains silent, waiting, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Desire rushes through me and I can't possibly wait another second.

I move forward, my hands still braced on his shoulders, positioning myself for a second before I slide onto him. My head falls back as I moan, happy to have him back where he needs to be.

His fingers tighten around my hips as he buries his face against my chest, what sounds like a growl coming from him.

I push against him, taking him in as far as he'll go. "Jesus, Monica," is all he says, his body rigid beneath mine, his breath hot against my skin. I push against him again, trying to deepen the connection, not at all interested in having our bodies be apart for even half a second.

His fingers dig into my skin, his hips thrusting up into me; he seems to want the same contact I do.

"I think I'm about to embarrass myself," he grunts, his thrusts only speeding up.

"Me, too," I try to reassure him. I am so close already, it's insane. Maybe I never stopped. I can't tell. I don't care.

He's all that matters. Him and this moment, and the two of us being together like this with literally no barriers.

"Oh, my God, this is incredible," I groan, pushing faster, my hands sliding off his shoulders to his back, my arms wrapping around him tightly. I kiss him for a few moments, unable to maintain the contact for long between our heavy breathing, rapid movements, and my inability to stop moaning.

All of a sudden, it feels as if a rubber band snaps inside of me and my movements become uncoordinated, jerky, and I feel like I'm falling off the edge of a cliff. An honest to God wail leaves my lips as I pound into Chandler, and I vaguely realize that at some point, he'll want to preen about all the noises he managed to elicit from me tonight.

Whatever. It's worth it to feel like this.

He pounds into me a few moments later, his hands keeping my hips still, the force of his motions making my knees leave the bed for a few seconds, and he yells out against my neck, sounds that mean nothing and everything at the same time.

I gasp for air as we finally—finally—start to slow down. I collapse against him, boneless; I probably couldn't move if the room caught on fire right now.

"Totally regular sex," he whispers to me, his arms sliding around my waist.

"Completely ordinary," I agree, my voice raspy, and I realize then that I probably screamed a lot more than I realized. I should be embarrassed—this sort of reaction can't possibly be normal, not in the real world, at least.

He nuzzles my cheek, saying nothing about my voice for the moment, though I'm sure that will come up at some point when he's grandstanding about tonight.

"I think you killed me. I think I actually died."

I giggle softly, kissing his shoulder. "Then my work here is done."

"God, that was amazing." His hands stroke my back reverently, and I snuggle into him, feeling exhaustion start to take over.

"Mmmm," I mumble in agreement, then sigh contentedly. "Every time I think we can't possibly get better at this…"

"I know." I feel his lips on my neck as they drag across my skin lazily.

"Can I just go to sleep like this?" I ask, my eyes heavy, and I feel nearly comatose.

"Sure, but we might be in pain in a few hours." He makes no move to shift me off of him, though.

"Or, we'll already be in position for more sex."

I feel his lips curl against my neck. "Mmm. More sex." His breathing evens out, and it seems we're actually going to sleep like this. I tighten my grip around him as best as I can as my eyes shut completely.

We'll probably wake up in an hour or so, sore and chilly, and hopefully with enough energy to get into a better sleeping position.

Right now…none of it matters. I'm with the guy I love, wrapped in his arms, our bodies still linked, that connection still there.

My life is perfect.

*A/N…I'm trying to tie these in with my other stories, because even though there are some differences, I still feel most of these stories fit together. So, for context, this takes place a few days after "To Fall In Love," and at the same time as "Hot Blooded People."