Candy wrappers are scattered across the coffee table; half-eaten bowls of popcorn and chips are abandoned on the floor; half-drunk bottles of beer and soda litter the side tables.

Scary movie night may be the best idea Ross has ever had.

It might be the biggest cliché in the world to watch scary movies on Halloween with all of the lights turned off, but if it gives me an excuse to cuddle with Monica in public, I'm all for it.

Well, as public as her apartment can be, which can actually be pretty communal at times.

But still, it's nice to be able to do this in front of our friends for a few hours.

Monica has been pretending to be scared most of the night, so we've been curled up under a blanket, with her buried in the crook of my arm, her arm wrapped around my waist, and our friends are none the wiser.

This is truly one of the best things about us and our oddly affectionate relationship; we can cuddle in front of our friends and they don't think anything about it. Monica's been doing a fantastic job of pretending to be scared every so often and burying her face in my shoulder, using it as an excuse to covertly kiss me.

It's not much, but it's still pretty great, and at least we get to spend more time together.

I take a quick scan of the room; Rachel's curled up in the armchair, her eyes wide with terror when she's not covering her face. Ross is sitting on the floor between the chair and the couch, trying his damndest to look calm and collected even though his eyes have been shut most of the night. Joey's on the other end of the couch, alternating between looking scared out of his mind and giddy with glee, his eyes never leaving the screen. Phoebe left about an hour ago, claiming boredom, but she'd looked pretty freaked out. One would think that after living on the streets as a teenager, not much would scare her, but one truly never knows with Phoebe.

I glance down at Monica; her eyes are focused on the screen, but her hand under the blanket is gently stroking my stomach, occasionally drifting down to my thigh, my knee, before coming back. I give her shoulders a tiny squeeze and squish down a little further into the corner of the couch, bracing a foot on the edge of the coffee table.

I feel Monica's nose nuzzle my neck and I take a few deep breaths, trying will my body into submission.

Doesn't really work. Especially when my amazing girlfriend is pressed up against my side.

Her hand drifts just a little farther south, rubbing my abdomen purposefully, her fingers tracing the edge of my pajama pants. I look down at her again; her face, aside from the vague expression of fear she's wearing for the benefit of our friends, is completely innocent. I glance around the room again; no one's paying us the least bit of attention.

"What are you doing?" I breathe.

She ignores me and continues to watch the movie. I turn my eyes back to the screen—looks like Michael Myers is still slowly stalking someone who's running away at a full sprint. Gee—I wonder if he'll catch her. This is just one of the reasons why movies like this don't scare me. Who can be scared of some guy who's not in a rush that manages to catch someone who is every single time? The impossibility of that situation alone is—

I gasp as Monica's hand disappears under the waistband of my pants, grasping me.

It's just sheer dumb luck that it was timed perfectly to a scream in the movie so none of our friends noticed.

Though, it's entirely possible that Monica planned it that way.

Either way, I think my eyes are going to bug out of my head. Her hand slides up and down me gently; all of my blood immediately rushes south and I'm suddenly so hard, it's painful.

"Seriously, what are you doing?" I whisper as quietly as possible.

"Shhhh," she answers in my ear, her teeth nipping at my lobe for a moment before turning her eyes back to the TV.

Shhhh? She wants me to "shhhh"? Her hand is down my pants doing the most amazing things to me in the middle of her crowded living room and I'm not supposed to question it?

Her grip on me tightens ever so slightly, enough to make me shudder from head to toe. She moves her hand up to the top of me, her fingers swirling around the sensitive flesh for just a moment before sliding back down, and my head falls against the back of the couch.

I swear, she's trying to kill me. I can think of worse ways to go, but still…she's trying to kill me.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek and take a few deep breaths, but I whimper a little anyway. I notice Joey giving me a look, raising his eyebrow at me, but I keep my eyes focused on the screen. He shrugs and goes back to the movie, and I sink down a little further into the cushions.

Monica starts stroking me faster and my eyes shut involuntarily—God, she has such amazing hands. Small, delicate, strong…she can do anything with them, include bring me to the brink of insanity.

It goes without saying that I basically have the world's coolest girlfriend. I've never known any other woman so willing to do dirty stuff in such public places. I never would have suspected that of her; I certainly never would have suspected that she'd instigate it most of the time.

It's incredibly hot.

What she's doing to me right now is even hotter. Wildly inappropriate, but so, so hot.

My fingers dig into her shoulder; it's all I can do right now. My other hand his draped on the arm of the couch—if I move it under the blanket, I'm sure I'll draw attention and that is the last thing I want right now.

I'm completely torn between wanting her to stop and needing her to continue; it feels amazing.

Her fingers slide down to the base of me, squeezing me for just a second and I hiss through my teeth, my body tensing as I try desperately to stop myself from throwing her over my shoulder and taking her to her room. Her fingers relax and resume stroking.

"Monicaaaaa," I breathe, my hips desperate to thrust into her hand.

Her lips are in my ear again for a moment. "Five months is 'public hand-job'. Didn't I tell you that?"

I slouch down farther on the couch, bending my knee more, hiding what Monica's doing, and I'm distracted for a moment. Five months. I've already been with Monica for five months.

I'm one lucky son of a bitch. A little over a year ago when I teased her about being her boyfriend, I don't think I ever let myself truly believe it could happen. But here I am, with Monica. I get to see her naked. But more than that—much more than that—I get to actually be her boyfriend. I get to take her out to dinner and hold her while she sleeps. I get to kiss her in the morning and hold her hand whenever the opportunity presents itself.

And, apparently, I get to have her hand shoved down the front of my pants in the middle of her living room.

Her movements speed up, and I can tell she now has a purpose, an endgame, and part of me wants it so badly. Another slightly more reasonable part of me knows that it would leave an uncomfortable mess and lead to more questions than I'd care to answer.

Inexplicably, I feel her other hand slide down my pants. I wonder for a moment how she's even managing it before the world goes hazy around me. I feel my stomach tightening and my hips are starting to move in time with her ministrations despite my best efforts.

With a burst of internal strength I didn't know I had, I slide my hand under the blanket and wrap my fingers around her wrist, stopping her motions. She looks at me with wide, innocent eyes as I stare at her, breathing heavily. I hope I transmit my message to her effectively before I stand up, moving to leave the apartment. "This movie is kinda lame, guys," I throw over my shoulder by way of explanation as I walk through the door.

Once in the hallway, I bend over for a moment, my hands on my knees as I breathe deeply. A few seconds later, I push open the door to my apartment and go into my bedroom, closing the door partway behind me. I scrub my hands over my face and pace back and forth, waiting, hoping she'll show up.

I need her so badly right now I think I might faint.

Finally—finally—I heard the front door creak open, and a few moments later, Monica's standing in my doorway looking mighty pleased with herself. As she closes my bedroom door behind her, I rush at her, taking her face in my hands, and kiss her. And kiss her, and kiss her some more. Her fingers dig into my forearms, not to push me away but to keep me close, and she moans loudly into my mouth. I feel her knees buckle a little and wrap an arm around her waist, hauling her body against me. Her arms circle my waist as she rubs herself against me.

Roughly, I pull away from her. We stare each other for a full minute, chests heaving, both mentally calculating the risks of doing this right now. At the same moment, we decide we just don't care and start ripping off our clothes.

She's all I can see. She's all that matters. She's glorious.

The last piece of clothing falls away from her and I only spare a second to take her all in before I'm kissing her again, feverishly.

Her hands slide over my already damp skin, her fingers kneading the muscles at the small of my back. I run my hand down her side, over her hip, over the soft curve of her ass to the back of her thigh and haul her leg over my hip, grinding myself against her.

She pulls her lips from mine, gasping. "Oh, God."

I push her down on the corner of my bed and she slides back just a little, her legs instinctively falling open, waiting for me. I pause for a moment, considering. What I'd really like to do is bury my face between her thighs and not come up for air for a week. I know the odds of that happening are slim, even if she'd let me, so I lean over her, capturing her lips in mine once more. She keeps one hand on the mattress, bracing herself, and the other comes up to the back of my neck, her nails scratching my scalp.

I grab her behind the knees and give her a little tug; she falls back onto the mattress, her hand reaching out to skim over my chest, my stomach, my hip. I lean over her and kiss her for a moment; her knees brace against my chest. I bring a hand down to stroke her and she groans loudly, arching her back off the mattress. I move my hand and position myself at her entrance; she pushes her hips at me and I slide into her. Her hand flies up and she grabs the comforter over her head, her eyes slamming shut, a long, loud, "Ohhhhhhhhh," leaving her lips.

I slide my hands down her leg, down to her hip and back up again, stretching it out for her, her foot bracing against my shoulder as I thrust into her. I know we need to hurry—I don't know what excuse she gave them for coming over here, but I'm sure the clock is ticking. But she looks so sensual, so absolutely delectable lying on my bed as I move in and out of her that I can't bring myself to rush it just yet.

She lifts her hips a little to meet mine and I fight for control. I wrap my hands around her leg, pulling it flush against my body as I push into her a little harder, feeling a tiny bit smug as she gasps beneath me. I do it again; she pushes against me just as hard. I slide one hand across her torso and over her breasts, squeezing roughly. Her hands reach up for me, grabbing at my back, trying to pull me closer. I lean over her a little, her leg stretching with me, placing my hands next to her ribcage, but refuse to come any closer. She pulls at me a little harder; I know how much she loves having our bodies pressed together. Hell, I love it, too…but not right now.

"Chandler," she moans, her eyes open just a crack. "Chandler, please."

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?" I grunt, slamming into her.

She lets out a high-pitched whine in frustration. "Baby, please."

I almost cave. I truly almost do. It takes most of my willpower to keep doing what I'm doing. I swallow heavily, move against her gently suddenly. She moans louder than before. Her knee loses traction against my chest and slides off to my side, the other leg falling off my shoulder as I release it, also moving to bracket my side, and we both gasp as that puts me deeper inside her.

Her head lolls to one side, her mouth falling open. "Ohhhh, yeahhhhh."

I drive into her again, harder this time; her breasts bounce with each thrust, just begging for me. Oh, God, do I want them.

I bend over her, my tongue tracing outlines around her nipples, moving my mouth as best I can in slowly growing circles. Her hands grab my head, pulling at my hair, causing my hips to falter for just a second—something about the way she pulls my hair sends good chills up and down my spine.

I lean over her a little more, bringing our faces closer together. She lifts her head and kisses me, gasping into me as our hips meet over and over and over. I press my forehead against hers. "Monica," I whisper.

"Ohhhhhhhh." Monica's head falls back against the mattress, her hands gripping at my sides, her back arching toward me again. I slow my hips down, rolling them against her gently for a few moments, readjusting my legs so that I'm at a better angle, so I can pound into her harder.

I can't take much more of this, even though I want it to go on forever. I hope like hell she can't, either.

"Oh, God," she gasps suddenly. "That's it. Oh, my God, THAT'S IT THAT'S IT THAT'S AH AH AH AH AH AH AHHHHHHHHH!" Her body spasms against me, thrusting wildly, her thighs pulling me closer, her inner muscles clenching around me, one her hands gripping at my forearm, the other fisting into her hair, and my control slips. I pound into her, releasing into her, my hands fisting into the blanket beneath her, grunting loudly.

I feel her hands tug at me again and this time I don't resist; I mostly collapse on top of her, barely catching myself from completely crushing her, our chests heaving against each other in tandem.

"That was…" I gasp, trying to find the right word. "That was…"

"That was," she agrees as she pulls my head down to hers, kissing me around our heavy breathing. I vaguely notice our hips are still thrusting against each other slowly, but can't bring myself to stop it.

"What brought that on in there?" I ask her softly, gesturing with my head in the general direction of her apartment.

She just shrugs, her lips running gently down the side of my face. "Felt like it."

"In the middle of the movie Halloween?"

"Seemed like as good a time as any."

I shake my head at her gently, our noses rubbing together softly. "How can I argue with that kind of logic?" I kiss her for a few moments before reluctantly lifting myself off her, my shaking knees almost dropping me to the floor. I hold out a hand for her, helping her to stand; she stumbles for a moment, too. I wrap my arms around her for a minute, pulling her close. I just need a moment with her, and judging by the way her arms tighten around me, she does, too.

I give her one final squeeze and kiss her quickly before I release her, searching for our clothes. I find my t-shirt and pajama pants but no boxers.

"Hey." I look up just as she flings her underwear at me.

"Uhh…thanks?"

She rolls her eyes, going to my underwear drawer. "You're just going to squirrel them away over here anyway, so throw them in with your laundry." I shrug and toss them in the hamper as she reaches way back into my drawer, finding clean panties.

"You mock me," I say as we pull on our clothes over our hot, sweaty bodies. "But it's come in handy for you more than once."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Hey, what did you tell them so you could get over here?"

Her mouth quirks to one side for a moment. "I told them that you were scared of the movie and that I'd try to convince you to come back over. Think you're convinced yet?"

I reach out and tug at her hip, pulling her into me. "I'd rather stay here. Can arrange that?"

She stands on tiptoe, kissing me. "I'll be back later tonight," she whispers.

"Good. Because I've got a better idea for five months."

Her breathing increases ever so slightly. "Want to fill me in?"

"Oh, I'll fill you in."

Her eyes grow wide and I watch a blush spread across her cheeks. I love that I never know what's going to cause that kind of reaction in her. When we're naked and writhing together, she never gets self-conscious or shy, but sometimes, when I make some lewd, off-color remark like that, it actually throws her for a loop and she gets a little embarrassed.

I shake my head, kissing her forehead before releasing her, taking pity on her. "You'll see."

She just sighs. "I would argue with you, but we really need to get back." She tilts her head at me, smiling, as she plays with my fingers. "You totally look like you just got laid."

"Yeah, well, so do you." She does, too—she looks wonderfully rumpled and disheveled, flushed and glowy. She brings her hands up to smooth down her hair before shrugging.

"Can't help it now; it's a good thing the lights are off over there—no one should notice. Come on." She tugs at my arm and I follow her through the apartment, pausing when we get to the door, our arms wrapping around each other, our lips fusing. I back her into the door, my hand sliding down her side to her leg, pulling it over my hip, and we rub against each other for few moments, promising each other a more thorough session later tonight. A few long moments later I release her, both of us taking deep breaths, trying to bring ourselves back down, though the temptation to just forget our friends and spend the rest of the evening in each other's arms looms large over us. She sighs and pulls at my hand once more, and I'm being led back into her apartment, directed to my previous spot on the couch.

"Scary movie too much for you?" Joey asks, and I can't tell by the tone of his voice if he's mocking me or serious, so I settle for making a face at him as I get comfortable on the couch.

"It took some doing," Monica says as she settles in beside me once more, and I covertly pinch her side at her choice of words. "But I talked him into coming back over. He did have one condition, though."

Rachel barely tears her eyes away from the screen. "What's that?"

"That we watch Hocus Pocus after this."

Everyone around me laughs and I take it stride—I'm used to them thinking I'm kind of a doof, and it tends to work in my favor. Monica snuggles into me, pulling the blanket over us once more.

"Joke's on you," I whisper. "I happen to like that movie."

She wraps her arm around my waist, cuddling into my side once more. "Why am I not surprised?" Her fingers slide just under the waistband of my pajamas again, stroking my hip softly.

I can't get her alone soon enough.

*A/N…just in case anyone is wondering, the next chapter is, in fact, a continuation of this. Not to get anyone all hot and bothered. *winkwinknudgenudge*