I hurry across the living room to Chandler's apartment, less worried about being caught by Joey and more eager to be with my boyfriend. This part of our relationship has been much simpler since Joey figured us out, and it's nice that we don't have to sneak around his apartment as much, but that doesn't mean I'm not antsy as hell to get naked with Chandler.
Who cares if just a couple of hours ago he was pounding me into his mattress?
I push open his bedroom door and am greeted by a few candles scattered around his room and bottle of wine on his nightstand.
"Took you long enough," he tells me, wrapping his arms around me.
"Hey! The place was a mess—do you really think I could have focused on sex knowing that there were half-empty bottles and crumbs all over the place." I poke him in his chest. "You could have helped, you know."
He rolls his eyes at me. "Yeah, okay. You would have had to go behind me and clean everything again anyway. Over here, I'm out of the way, and I have a chance to get all sexy for you."
He did do that. Candles, wine, and a shirtless Chandler may not be enough for some people, but it certainly does it for me.
I lean forward and kiss his chest, moving my lips slowly up to his collarbone and over to his shoulder. "So, tell me about five months."
"Ah. Glad you asked." He leans down and kisses me lazily, and I wonder for a moment if that's all there is to it. I don't think I'd complain, actually.
He sits down on the bed, pulling me onto his lap, his lips never leaving mine. His hands slide under the thin fabric of my t-shirt, running up my sides, pulling the shirt with him. "Arms up," he mumbles into my mouth, and I lift my arms over my head, our lips only losing contact long enough for my shirt to be pulled off. He makes quick work of my bra, and we're soon skin to skin. I love this part. I love feeling him against me like this. I love that every part of me that touches him feels alive, crackling with inexplicable energy.
My hips move against his slowly, mimicking what I hope we'll be doing shortly, and I hear myself moan. His fingers tighten against my back, pulling me closer to him. "I like five months," I whisper to him.
"Aw, baby—this isn't five months. This is just for fun."
"Well, now I'm curious. What exactly WHOA!" I let out a yell as he flips me over onto my back suddenly, pressing me into the mattress. His mouth goes to my neck as he grinds his hips against me. A few moments later, he stands, hooking his fingers in the top of my pajama pants, pulling them down in one swift motion. He grabs my foot, dragging up his body, his fingers kneading the sole. He kisses my instep then works his way up my calf muscle.
"I was thinking that something along the lines of a 'build your own dessert' bar would be fun for five months," he tells me, crouching beside the bed, rummaging in his nightstand.
I frown at him in confusion. "A dessert bar? What are you talking about?"
"Well, how do you feel about..." He pops up suddenly, a bottle in hand. "Chocolate syrup?"
The shiver that runs down my spine at the mention of it ought to be shameful. Ordinarily, I wouldn't really enjoy food products in bed, but with Chandler…with Chandler, I'm finding there isn't much that I not willing to do.
"I think I feel pretty good about it, actually," I tell him, taking the bottle from his hand; it's a little cold. "You keep this in the fridge?"
"Yeah, but I took it out a little while ago so it wouldn't be too tough to squeeze out." He kisses his way up my stomach, my sternum, my throat until he lands on my lips. "And I know what you're thinking—it's kind of messy. But I have a set of clean sheets in the closet, and towels and everything ready in the bathroom for when we're done. We won't have to sleep sticky."
I run my hand down the side of his face, bringing his lips back to mine. "You're kinky and you think ahead—I like that."
He waggles his eyebrows, grinning at me. "Thanks."
"Plus, we get to combine my two favorite things—food and sex." I pause, then correct myself. "Actually, my three favorite things—food, sex, and you." I bite my lip for a moment, hoping I haven't said too much, but his smile just grows and he slides onto the bed next to me. His hand traces across my stomach, grabbing my hip, and he presses himself against my side. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but shouldn't we both be naked for this?"
"This thin layer of cotton is the only thing that will keep me in check for right now. You know I have no self-control when it comes to you." He slides his hand up, gently squeezing my breast for a moment, before reaching over and taking the bottle out of my hand. "I've never done this before," he whispers, his breath tickling my ear. "So let me know if it's too weird."
"I think we'll be fine," I answer breathlessly, my body already undulating a little in anticipation. He lifts the bottle of syrup over me, and I watch it pour out almost in slow motion. I hiss a moment later as the cold chocolate makes contact with my overheated skin, landing perfectly on my nipple.
"Looks like a Hershey Kiss," he says, fascinated, before taking me in his mouth, sucking at me eagerly. My entire body convulses around him for a moment as I groan. My hands go to his head, my fingers grabbing at his hair, trying to hold him in place. He moans against me, the sound muffled. "Oh, God, this is good," he tells me, his mouth never leaving my nipple.
I whimper in agreement, one of my legs coming up to wrap around his thigh, and I push myself against him. It's better than good.
He releases me with a pop and I stare at him in horror, wondering why he stopped. Before I can ask, though, he's covering my other nipple in syrup, smiling to himself. I scratch my nails at the nape of his neck, smiling at him fondly. "You and my boobs."
"Yeah, well, your boobs are pretty amazing." He looks up at me in concern. "Is that okay? That I like them so much, I mean."
"How can you even ask that? I'm practically humping your leg right now."
He chuckles, kissing the underside of my breast for a moment. "You've always seemed good with it, but I never thought that maybe it was mostly one-sided."
"I love it," I assure him. "I just like that you're so fascinated by them."
He shrugs helplessly, looking not at all ashamed. "Have been for years, Mon." Before I can answer, his lips wrap around the next one, a look of pure bliss on his face. My head falls back against the mattress and I moan, long and loud.
"Hands down," he tells me, nipping at my breasts playfully with his teeth, "you are the tastiest dessert I've ever had."
"Go back for seconds," I answer, taking the bottle out of his hand and dribbling it on myself, covering more area this time.
He grins at me, his face disappearing against my chest once more. "Oh, God, YES." I push my hips against him, desperate for more contact, only frustrated a tiny bit because I know he plans on taking his time with this.
Not that I'm complaining about that part.
"Next please," he mumbles, and I oblige, trickling syrup onto my other nipple, which he attacks almost before I have time to stop pouring. One of his hands slides down my side and over my hip, grabbing my thigh to keep it wrapped tightly around him; he thrusts his hips into me and I can feel just how turned on his is right now.
"Chandlerrrrrr," I moan, gripping the bottle so tightly I almost crush it.
He reaches up suddenly, taking the syrup from my hand, squeezing the syrup in a line from my cleavage to my naval, his tongue following in its wake. My stomach muscles twitch as I gasp; he pours another line of syrup down me, letting it trickle down my sides a little this time, catching most of it in his mouth.
This is so erotic, I can't watch it. But I can't not watch it, either.
He pours the chocolate directly into my belly button, and I jerk when I feel his tongue reaching into me, searching out the syrup. I thrust against him a little harder, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "Oh, God, please, more," I beg, and he looks up at me for a second, chocolate at the corner of his mouth.
"Your belly button? Really?"
I nod at him frantically. "Really. Don't know why."
He shrugs and pours more chocolate, his mouth going at me furiously. I grab the bedspread over my head, my back arching off the bed. "OHHHHHHH." I swear; I could orgasm from this alone. And I just might.
Maybe he can sense it, maybe he's just trying to explore the entire territory, but he moves on, drizzling the syrup across my stomach in nonsensical designs, his tongue always right behind. I almost miss the "M+C" he writes, as well as the tiny heart he draws, and I let him think I didn't notice, but that one little gesture makes this evening feel just a little bit romantic.
"Where else could I put chocolate syrup on Monica?" he asks playfully. I sit up a little, dragging his mouth to mine. It's the most delicious kiss ever.
"You taste like chocolate," I whisper, digging my fingers into his biceps. "I like that." I slide off the bed, pulling him with me. I untie the drawstring of his pants and pull them down his legs, my body automatically arching into his at the sight of him. I take the bottle from his hand and drag my body down his, landing on my knees in front of him.
"Monica," he says warningly, and I ignore him. I drizzle a thin line of syrup down his erection, his entire body shuddering. I look up at him, making eye contact, before I catch the chocolate with my tongue, licking him gently. He jerks against me and gasps. "Jesus!"
I pull back, pouring another line down him, letting it drip down the sides just a little before my tongue darts out, cleaning the syrup off him thoroughly, moving my lips up and down the shaft, not taking him in my mouth yet. I look up at him again; all of his muscles are tense, the cords in his neck straining, and I feel a rush go through my body knowing I have that kind of control over him.
He doesn't often let me do this often, though he's always quick to reassure me that it's not because I'm not great at it—with the way he reacts, there's no way he could deny it. He just tells me that he prefers, if given the choice, to have sex with me than have it be one-sided, that he can usually, pretty easily, get another orgasm out of me, but it can take a while for him.
"You don't have to do this," he groans, his hands fisting into tight balls at his sides.
"What if I want to?" I ask, my finger tracing gentle lines up and down him, and I drizzle more chocolate on him. I watch it run down the sides of him for a moment before I chase after it. His knees shake and he drops to his bed. I crawl over to him, kneeling in between his legs. I can't even begin to describe the look in his eyes. I put the bottle on the floor and brace my hands against his thighs, pulling myself up a bit. His hand gently sweeps the hair out of my eyes before he kisses me tenderly. I pull away from him a bit reluctantly, grabbing the bottle once more. I dribble a small amount on the head of his penis; he hisses at the contact. I wrap my lips around just the very top of him and his hips buck against me slightly. I release him, pouring more syrup on him. This time, I just swirl my tongue around him, watching his reaction. His eyes roll back in his head; his hands grab the comforter; I can see his thigh muscles twitching as he fights for control.
I pull back from him once more, squeezing the bottle carefully in a circle, watching the chocolate syrup drip in uneven lines down his shaft, and it nearly does me in. I groan as I slide my lips over him, the sauce running away from me as I try to catch it all; I can taste chocolate and him and it's the best flavor in the world. I move my head up and down slowly, taking in as much of him as I can. I moan happily and I feel him shiver, the vibrations from my throat getting to him.
I dig my fingers into his hips and breathe deeply through my nose, the chocolate long gone; all that's left is him. I can't bring myself to give this up.
He says something to me; I can't hear him over the rush of blood in ears. I move my mouth over him more determinedly, and I hear him say something again, this time pulling at my arms. I look up at him; a fine layer of sweat is covering his body, his chest is heaving. I try to focus on his mouth, but all he's doing now is biting his lip. His hips are thrusting against me; I grin and slide my lips down him again, but this time I hear him say, "No no no no! Up here, please."
In an instant, I release him from my mouth and climb onto his lap, rubbing myself against him. He grabs for the forgotten bottle of chocolate syrup, squeezing it down my chest, wrapping one arm around me. He attacks the syrup, scraping his teeth over me, and I arch my back, giving him easier access. He squeezes more onto the tops of my breasts before he ever finishes cleaning up the first batch, his mouth sucking at me greedily. I push myself against him harder, moaning in short, staccato breaths.
He pours more syrup in the hollow of my throat, and it runs quickly down my torso, my overheated body giving it all the traction it needs. He tightens his arm around me and I lean back—all the way back—my stomach muscles tightening as I try to maintain my balance. I feel his tongue run from my naval all the way up to my neck as he pulls me back up, yanking my mouth to his. Chocolate. So much chocolate. It's incredible in a way I never imagined it could be.
I gasp into his mouth, shifting my hips; his hands slide to the backs of my thighs, holding me gently, helping me lift up a little. A moment later, I slide down onto him, and we both take big, shuddery breaths as our bodies join together, neither of us moving for several long moments.
I feel my body shake a little; Chandler's chocolately breath is sweet on my face. I lick my lips slowly; his fingers spread across my back, digging into me just a little. Finally, I move against him, and that's all it takes; his hips start thrusting into mine as I slide down on him. I bury my face in his neck, wrapping my arms around him tightly, a series of "uh uh uh uh uh" falling out of my mouth.
I love this man so much.
I tighten my grip on him, biting at his neck.
I love him more than I ever thought possible. I had no idea five months ago that I would ever fall in love with Chandler. And when it happened, I never imagined that I would love him this much, this fast; that I would love him more than I've loved anyone before.
Even Richard.
What I felt for Richard is nothing compared to Chandler. I can't describe it; I can't explain it. It's just there. This feeling that starts in my chest and spreads out through my entire body every time I see him, every time I think about him. It's intense, and it's almost scary.
And I want so badly to be able to tell him, but I know he's not there yet. He might feel it—hell, he most likely feels it—but he's just not there yet. And that's okay. He's with me; he's with me as often as he can be, and that's more than enough.
His hips slow suddenly, rising against me in long, strong strokes, and I pull my head back to look at him. He smiles at me happily, and I press my lips against his in response. Without warning, he speeds up again and my mouth drops open as I gasp. "Ohhhh, ohhhh, ohhhhhh."
I push myself against him as hard and as fast as I can, our chocolate-covered bodies sticking to each other, this feeling delicious agony. He slows down again, grabbing my hips to bring me to the pace he wants. I want to be irritated—he keeps changing it up so that I can't get into the proper rhythm, but it feels just so good that I can't care too much. "Oh, Chandler," I moan.
"What, baby?" His lips are against my throat, his teeth scratching at the tender flesh.
"Oh, Chandler, yes. YES YES YES." I rock myself against him, and despite his best efforts, I feel myself about to spiral out of control. "Harder," I beg. "Please. Oh, please, more."
The sound he makes is low, guttural, and he presses his forehead against my shoulder, his hips thrusting against mine madly. In my mind, I'm screaming, "I love you! I love you!" I settle instead for just screaming. I clutch him to me, burying my face in his neck once more as we slam against each other, my orgasm unraveling from the tips of my toes, pouring out of me in waves and I throw my head back. "AHHHHHH!"
His body shudders violently, his orgasm moments behind me, his fingertips digging into me as we keep moving together, our bodies seemingly unable to stop, the feeling so intense I think I stop breathing for a few moments.
He moans softly into my hair, his grip on me finally easing a bit. I drag my lips up his neck and find his mouth, kissing him languidly, holding onto him as he collapses onto the bed. He shifts a bit as he tries to pull his legs up, holding me in place when I go to move off of him.
"Oh, God, that was fun," I say, laughing. I prop my head up to look at him. "Hey. For six months, can we do desserts again?"
"Yes, please," he answers immediately. I smile and kiss his neck again before pressing my cheek to his chest, listening to his heart pound. I drag my foot up and down his leg and wiggle my hips against his a little. He tilts his head away for a moment, looking at me. "You want to go again, don't you?"
I look up at him sheepishly and shrug. "Little bit. Think you're up for it?"
He scrunches up his face, contemplating it. He opens his mouth to answer, then pauses, thinking about it some more. He cocks his head, squinting an eye, looking hopeful for a few moments before his head flops back against his pillow in defeat. "No. I'm so sorry. I really want to be, but…"
I slide off him, cuddling into his side, and pat his chest reassuringly. "Oh, honey, don't worry about it. I'm just being greedy." I freeze for a moment—that "honey" just slipped right out.
It doesn't seem to phase him; he just strokes my arm. "Yeah, but if you still want it, I'd hate to deprive you." His eyes light up, a devilish little grin spreading across his face. "I know something I can do for you." He looks over the side of the bed, popping back up a moment later with the chocolate syrup once more, looking triumphant. He stands up and grabs my legs, pulling me to the side of the bed, and I feel my body quiver in anticipation. I've told him repeatedly that he doesn't have to do this, but every time he ignores me, happily going to town on my nether-regions.
The man aims to please, and hits the bullseye every time.
"I think I missed a few spots the first time around," he whispers as he kneels before me, his breath soft against me. He aims the bottle low on my stomach, pouring a little out, and my body jumps as his lips meet my skin. I swallow heavily, knowing that if I'm this responsive right now, we're in for a hell of a ride in a few minutes.
He dribbles a little on my inner thigh, sucking at the soft skin gently. I close my eyes and moan. He turns to the other thigh, adding a bit more chocolate this time, only using his tongue to clean it this time. "God, yeah," I groan, my hand stroking through his hair. He looks up at me and smiles, and my breath catches in my throat. I know exactly what he's going to do the instant before he does it. He takes the bottle and squeezes, the chocolate falling all over my pelvis, my thighs, my—
"OH MY GOD!"
My back arches off the bed, and I almost take Chandler with me. I feel him chuckle against me and I cry out at the vibrations. He grabs blindly for the syrup adding a little more and I wail, my feet bracing against his back, moving in time with his mouth.
His mouth leaves me suddenly, his head perking up. "Did you hear that?"
"What?!" I exclaim. Like I could hear anything but myself at the moment. "Hear what?"
He shrugs a moment later, his mouth just about to make contact again when we both hear a knock on the door, immediately followed by Joey's voice. "Guys!"
Chandler raises his eyebrows at me; my chest heaves as I try to compute what's going.
"Guys, c'mon!"
Chandler makes a face, looking pissed off as he stands up. He tosses a blanket over me, covering the basic areas, and grabs his bathrobe. He wraps it around his waist as he opens the door a crack. "What."
All I can see is Joey's elbow. "Do you mind?"
"I'm kind of in the middle of something, Joe!"
"I get that, but could you keep it down? I'm trying to sleep."
I groan and flop back against the bed, and I can only imagine the look on Chandler's face right now. "Seriously? Seriously? How many years have we been roommates?"
"Well, a lot, but—"
"No no," he interrupts; I realize I can see his ass where his robe isn't entirely closed and it occurs to me that if I weren't still all kinds of riled up, I'd be horribly embarrassed right now. "I've spent all that time listening to you parade women in and out of your room, and how many times have I complained? Hmmm? How many times did I ask you to keep it down because I had to go to work in the morning? Oh—oh, that's right! None."
"Whoa, dude, calm down."
"I will not calm down. I'm in the middle of sex with my girlfriend and you come pounding on my door and tell me to keep it down?" I can tell Chandler's really pissed—he's speaking in italics. Not that I can blame him, really. I'm not feeling too fond of Joey at the moment, either.
"Okay, fine, but…" I can picture his face, probably looking mostly contrite. "But do you guys have to be so loud?"
I let out a frustrated noise and prop myself up on my elbows, making sure my vital areas are still covered. "Yes, Joey, I have to be that loud. I absolutely have to be. Now would you go away?!"
He peeks over Chandler's shoulder and his eyes grow wide, an impressed look on his face. "Whoa-ho-ho. What's going on in here?"
Chandler quickly steps in his line-of-sight, blocking me from view, and his voice gets strangely low. "Leave now. Leave us alone. Go put in your headphones or something. Just leave us alone."
"Fine! But I just thought you should know that it sounds like someone is being killed over here."
Chandler slams the door in Joey's face, and I bite my lip to hide my smile—I know that had been a goal of Chandler's—being able to make a woman produce those sorts of noises. I'm just happy to be on the receiving end of it. It's been so long since I've had a boyfriend and had to deal with how that works with having a roommate that I forgot how awkward it could be to share a wall with someone who's getting laid regularly. Or to be the one getting laid and having to look a roommate in the eye the next day.
Chandler turns to face me, and he looks so distraught that I laugh even as my heart goes out to him. "Oh, honey, it's okay." There's that "honey" again.
He flops down to his knees, resting his chin on my stomach. It looks like he's actually pouting. "He totally killed the mood."
I shrug, amazed to find that that's not really true. "I could keep going."
He straightens up, staring at me in surprise. "Really?"
"Well, yeah. We were kinda in the middle of some stuff and, to be honest, I'd like to finish it." For the first time, I notice that he has a tiny smear of chocolate on his face. I reach out, my thumb wiping it off him. "Is that okay?" I ask, licking the syrup off my finger.
He squeaks a little, then wraps his arms around my thighs, pulling me closer to the edge of the bed. In a moment, he's lost himself between my legs again. I hear myself moaning and briefly wonder if I should try to keep it down for Joey's sake; I immediately dismiss that thought, though. We spent over four months hiding our relationship, being quiet when we didn't want to, and now that Joey knows about us, we should at least be able to have fun when we're over here.
Chandler's teeth scrape against me and all thoughts of Joey are gone; all I can see are colors and bursts of light swirling beneath my eyelids. He sucks at me—hard—and my body jerks as I yell out for him. "CHANDLER!"
"Hey, babe," he mumbles, moving his lips just a fraction to the side, and I thrust my hips against his face lewdly, desperate for more contact. "It's totally up to you how we finish this because I'm good either way, but I wanted to let you know that I'm back in business."
I groan my hips keep moving of their own volition, my sex-addled mind trying to understand what he's saying. Finally, I tug at his hair, pulling him up, and he drags his lips up my body as he goes before our lips meet. His hips fall naturally into the cradle of my thighs, and together we shift backward until we're completely on the bed.
Wait…did he just call me "babe"? Did we manage to drop two different terms of endearment in one night and not have it be a big deal? Will he call me that from now on? Because I think I'd be okay with that. Can I call him "honey?" Because I really like that, too.
He thrusts inside of me all of a sudden and I gasp, and all that fills my mind is the thought of just how good this feels. He was completely right when he said that we're too good at sex to stop.
He has me so primed from earlier I don't know how long I can hold out.
I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders, his hips pushing against mine, his mouth and tongue mimicking those movements. I feel his hands slide under me, reaching up to grab the edge of his mattress, and he drives into me with long, hard strokes.
I couldn't be quiet right now if my life depended on it. As it is, I'm only muffled by his lips on mine.
He moves against me a little faster and I tear my lips from his, gasping for air. "Gah!" I exclaim, real words unimportant. My hands leave his shoulders, reaching over my head. I knock a pillow out of the way to find his hands, my fingers squeezing on top of him.
My breath catches in my throat as he swivels his hips against mine, dropping his head to my breasts. My legs clench around him tighter for a few moments before I unravel them and brace them on the mattress, needing some traction.
I feel his knees come up to push against my thighs, spreading me further apart, the angle intensifying. My feet come off the bed as he slams into me and I push my hips up against him as best I can.
His teeth bite into the soft flesh of my breast and I cry out, but not in pain, surprised at the threads of pleasure that go rocketing through me at the sensation. I feel like I could actually break into a million pieces right now.
His lips trace across my chest to my other breast, and he bites into that one, too. My internal muscles clench around him as I yell out, "AHH! GOD!" I feel him shudder against me, his forehead resting in the hollow of my throat. My entire body hums with electricity, like I'm being charged with high voltage and all thoughts of anything but climaxing leave my head. I push against him faster, trying to encourage him to speed up his moments. He picks up on my less-than-subtle signal and pounds into me, and all of a sudden I'm flying apart.
"Ahh ahh ahhh ahhh ahhh OHGODCHANDLER!" Our hips meet over and over again in a flurry of movement, and his lips press against mine, my mouth swallowing his moans of happiness.
My hands relax, releasing him, collapsing onto the bed next to my head. My legs give out, draping over his, though our bodies are still thrusting together slowly, milking the moment, milking each other, tiny, leftover waves of orgasms coursing through us, our mouths moving against each other slowly, dreamily. He nips at my bottom lip and I smile, managing to get a hand up high enough to stroke his sweaty hair.
Oh, dear lord, I love this man.
His legs straighten out a bit, my legs going with him, and I feel him relax against me, his head lying next to mine on the mattress. He strokes my face gently, our bodies still pressed together, the feeling of him covering me almost as intense as sex.
He sighs, his eyes sleepy, and smiles at me. "You're so beautiful."
My breath catches in my throat at that; I don't know why, but he always catches me off guard when he says things like that. I know he means it, though, because he's always said it to me. I lean toward him and catch his lips in my own, kissing him slowly.
I never want this night to end.
"We should probably shower and change the sheets," he whispers.
"I don't care," I answer softly, shocked to realize that I genuinely don't. I don't care at all that we're sticky and sweaty, and that the bed is probably covered in a fairly disgusting mix of…things. All I want is stay like this, holding each other.
But I think he gets it because he just nods. As tired as I am—as tired as we now both are—we stay like that for a long time, not really talking. Just our bodies pressed together, staring into each other's eyes, kissing occasionally.
Oh, yeah. I'm in love.
And it's the best feeling in the world.