I tighten my grip around Monica's waist marginally, pulling her a little closer. She sighs, her fingers twining through mine. She turns her head, pressing a kiss to my cheek before turning her attention back to the movie.

Monica is curled up on my lap. In front of people. It's so amazing, I don't know how I'm so composed at the moment.

I get to be her boyfriend—all the time. I get to hold her hand and I get to kiss her and hug her and sit too close to her on the couch and no one will question it.

I'm still completely amazed by all of this. I had no idea we'd make it this far. Hoped for it, yes. Dreamed about it, wished for it, wanted it so badly it hurt, but it was all a crapshoot. Being in love with Monica is the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Actually, it's tied with having her love me back. That part's pretty spectacular, too, and still a little unbelievable. Even after my colossal freak out the other day, she still sees the good in me and wants to call me hers. She knows I have issues—most of them irrational, some of them not—and she loves me anyway. She wants to be with me anyway. And she wants to let people know about it! She's incredibly tactile and affectionate—her hand is always on my knee or she's always leaning against my side, and it doesn't freak me out in the slightest. Hell, if she's not touching me, I immediately reach for her, trying to maintain the contact.

Coming out of our couple closet almost feels like we're starting back at the beginning of our relationship, at least in the respect that we always want to be near each other. It's just such a relief to be able to do this in front of people now.

I press my lips into her shoulder and she settles herself into me a little more deeply. "I love you," I breathe against her neck, and the light from the TV bounces off her teeth in the darkened room as she grins. She turns her face back to me, resting her forehead against my temple.

"I love you, too."

I run my hand gently up and down her leg a few times and she whispers in my ear, "We have an audience."

I chuckle a little. "Mmmmhmm." I turn my head to the other chair, and Rachel's attention snaps back to the TV, trying to look as if she hadn't been staring at us for some time. I look over at the couch; Phoebe looks far too casual as she concentrates on the screen. Ross, however, has no trouble staring me down, giving me the stink-eye as his sister cuddles against me.

"What?" she asks as my body tenses beneath hers.

"I think your brother is plotting my death," I whisper, and she immediately looks over her shoulder, glaring at him. He makes a face at her before going back to the movie and I feel her shake her head.

"This is not what I had in mind for tonight."

"No kidding." Joey's out for the evening, so we figured we'd have the place to ourselves, something that hasn't happened a whole lot in the entire course of our relationship, and almost not at all since everyone found out about us. But Rachel suggested a movie, and Monica innocently mentioned that we'd be hanging out in my apartment, and all of a sudden that became the "thing" for the night, even though we almost never hang out at my place. The desire for our friends to see us as a couple was apparently too great to let us have some time to ourselves.

I think this must be what a goldfish feels like.

All I want to do is spend some time with my girlfriend; I guess it'll be a while before they don't think of us as some sort of abnormality.

That day can't come soon enough.

"We could just…go to bed," I suggest.

She nuzzles my ear gently. "I like that. Maybe that'll send them packing."

"And if not, won't they be sorry in a few minutes?"

"Sounds like somebody has big plans for tonight."

I shrug, squeezing her hip. "I still haven't gotten over the novelty of not hiding. It's kind of a turn on."

She gives my thigh a little pat then stands up, stretching—my lap feels very lonely without her. "We're gonna go to bed, guys." She holds her hand out to me, helping to pull me out of my Barcalounger. I stretch a little, too, then wrap my arm around her waist.

"Yeah, it's getting late," I agree, even though it's barely after nine.

"Together?" Ross squeaks, looking horrified. "Don't you think you should maybe…not?"

I roll my eyes, my free hand rubbing my eyes for a moment. "Ross…"

"I mean, we're in the middle of this great movie…"

"Give me one character name or one plot detail and you can stay," Monica challenges and I feel myself grin; my girl is feisty.

For a full minute, he tries. His face shifts, his mouth opens and closes before he finally sighs, slumping his shoulders. Monica grabs the remote, turning off the TV. "Out."

Rachel stands up and moves over to the couch, grabbing Ross's arm. "Come on. Go spend some time in that nice new apartment of yours."

He stands up reluctantly, letting her move him to the door. "But they're gonna do…stuff."

"Probably," she confirms, and he groans as she shoves him through the door.

"If I can tell you the characters and the plot, can I stay?"

"Phoebe!" Monica exclaims, frowning at our friend.

She just sighs and gathers her belongings. "Just remember; the offer's on the table."

"Go please," I tell her, pointing at the door.

"Your loss," she tells us, finally walking out the door. Just in case, I follow behind and turn the lock. I turn, and Monica's waiting by the bedroom, looking a little impatient.

"What's up?" I ask, making my way back to her, my hands going to her hips.

"Nothing. I just had something kind of fun in mind and I thought you'd like to be a part of it."

I feel myself spring to attention, stiffening a little painfully. "I think I could be open to that," I say, my voice a little gravely with desire. She just smiles and goes into my bedroom, me close on her heels. I push the door shut and she goes to my nightstand, turning back a moment later with a notepad in one hand, and what looks like a measuring tape in the other. I feel terribly confused. "What's going on?"

She crawls onto my bed, patting the spot next to her. Slowly, cautiously, I sit down, watching as she pulls a pen from the spiral binding of the notepad. "Remember—a while back—when I told you that you were the biggest?"

I feel my chest puff out, my inner caveman very proud of myself. "I believe so."

"And I also told you that we'd break out the measuring tape at some point."

"Yeah, so you could compare me to…"I pause, not even really wanting to say his name.

"Right. Anyway, I thought this could be kind of fun…" She seems to lose a little steam all of a sudden, looking a bit doubtful. "But if you're not into it…"

I gently take her chin in my hand, grinning at her. "So you're going to stroke my ego."

"If you want, I can stroke that, too." I snort a little and she smiles at me. "Yes; it's supposed to be an ego boost. Not that I think you need it lately, but…well, I wouldn't mind getting the dimensions, actually."

I shift a little, looking down at my lap. "Well; someone's suddenly very eager to come out to play."

"Good." She reaches over, sliding her hand across my chest. "Of course, that'll make it harder—" I cut her off as I burst out laughing, and she looks confused for a moment before she catches what she said. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, 'hard,' haha. It will be more difficult to get the initial measurement this way, but I think we'll survive. So, pants off."

"So romantic," I tell her, even though I stand and pull down my pants.

+She just gives me a look. "Boxers, too, honey."

"You could at least buy me a drink first."

She stands up, sliding her hands under my t-shirt and I shiver at her touch. She lifts up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to mine, and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close.

"Still need that drink?" she breathes a few moments later.

"No, I'm good." My voice cracks and I mentally curse myself just a bit—if I could not be an adolescent boy, that would be super. She tugs at my shirt, pulling it up, and I bend over a little so she can pull it over my head. I'm standing there in only my boxers, and I suddenly feel a little self-conscious. "So, uh…what exactly did you have in mind?"

She gives me a little push and I flop back down onto the bed, completely at her mercy. She kneels next to me, running a hand gently over my stomach. "Well…there are different…phases of the erection, right? I mean, once the blood starts to flow south, it just gets bigger. I've heard that just before the end is when you get the biggest, so what I thought we could try is taking random measurements throughout the act. Like, I'll get the starting height and width, we'll do some stuff, measure you again, do some more stuff, measure…you just have to let me know when you're about to orgasm so we can take the final measurement."

I take a few deep breaths, trying to will myself to be a bit calmer. "What sort of 'stuff' are we going to do?"

She leans into me, her lips tickling my earlobe. "If I tell you that, it might skew the results. We wouldn't want that, would we? Then we'd have to do this all over again."

"That would be terrible," I agree. "A fate worse than death."

"So, I'm going to need you to take off the boxers."

In a flash, I pull them down my hips and toss them over my shoulder. "Aren't you going to get naked, too?"

"I will," she promises, grabbing the measuring tape off the bed. "But seeing me naked tends to get you a bit more excited, so we'll get to it. For now, just lie back and trust me."

I do as she asks, folding my arms behind my head, feeling for a brief moment like a total stud. I feel the plastic of the tape measure against my skin and my entire body jumps; I peer down at her, and she already looks pretty satisfied. She wraps it around me, lifts an eyebrow, then leans over to her notepad, scribbling something down. She moves the measuring tape, running her fingers up and down me gently, keeping her eyes focused on my face.

"Well?" I ask, already dying of curiosity.

"You'll have to wait until the end, big guy."

I groan a little and flop back down, but it's hard to be too disappointed when Monica's hands are on me. I lick my lips and sigh, my eyes falling shut and I let her work her magic.

A few minutes later, I'm greeted with cold air and my eyes pop open. She has the measuring tape out again, and she's looking at me intently, her breathing just a little heavier. She measures, leans over to scribble down a few things, then stands up.

"You like seeing me in your clothes, right?"

I pause for a moment. "Yeah…"

"Good." She grabs her pajama pants, pulling them down and kicking them away. Her panties follow a moment later, and I swallow as she stands in nothing but a thermal shirt.

My thermal shirt.

Oh, dear lord…

"How did I not notice you wearing that before?" I don't expect her to answer; I don't need her to. I just need to stare at her for a few moments; the soft blue material grazing her thighs, draping off her slight form…she looks sexy beyond belief.

My groin tightens considerably and I let out a little moan. Damn, but I love this woman.

She smiles and crawls back onto the bed, pausing by my hip. She leans her arm across my thighs, bracing herself, and I catch on an instant before her lips slide over me. I gasp and groan at the same time, my hands fisting in the comforter beneath me.

"Jesus," I manage to say between gritted teeth. I feel her giggle and I whimper. Her eyes meet mine as her tongue slides across me; the visual of her leaning over me in nothing but my shirt that has ridden up so that I can now see the curve of her ass while she does unspeakably wonderful things to me is almost enough to do me in. "God, Monica."

She puts her hand on my stomach, her fingers flexing and relaxing in time with her mouth. My hand reaches out, gently stroking her thigh, desperately needing something to distract me.

Her soft skin is not the way to do it.

I breathe deeply and stare at the ceiling—I can't watch her do this. I bite my lip and try to keep my hips from bucking up.

I feel her teeth graze me a few times and my fingers tighten even more around the blanket.

Without warning, her mouth is gone and I gasp in shock. I feel the measuring tape on me again and I can't bear to look.

"Breathe, Chandler," she whispers, her breath suddenly in my ear, and I inhale deeply, my eyes focusing on her face. She runs a finger down my cheek. "You okay?"

"To put it mildly," I groan and I see her eyes light up.

"Ready for more?"

"Please yes."

She presses her lips to mine, surprisingly gentle considering the circumstances. Her leg slides across me, and she braces herself on her knees over me. I slide my hands up her legs, her thighs, her hips, and am met with fabric. I open my eyes in surprise. "Why're you still dressed?" I ask, doing my best to keep our lips together.

"It's all part of it," she whispers, her fingers tracing down my arms. She moves her hips against me and I shudder at the contact, heat coming off of her in waves. I slide my hands under her shirt, her skin damp from being trapped under thermal. She sits up suddenly, shifting her hips a bit, and her delicate fingers are on me again, but only for a moment as she positions me. My chest heaves as I try to watch, though the view is partly obscured by the shirt.

Kind of makes it hotter.

I feel the very tip of me at her entrance and I push myself back against the mattress, waiting to see what she'll do, not wanting to rush this moment. I love when she takes the lead.

Then again, I love when she lets me take the lead.

Hell, it doesn't matter—all of it's good.

She sinks down on me slowly, a fraction at a time, and I can feel her thighs trembling as she tries to maintain control. I grab onto her hips and her fingers dig into my forearms as she lets out long, slow moan.

My hands spread out across her and I feel her stomach muscles clench under my touch. She pauses, breathing heavily for a few moments, her chin dropping to her chest.

"God, I love you," I whisper and she drops onto me completely, and I can't help but spasm for a moment as my body tries to get used to the feel of her around me. Her head lifts, her eyes meeting mine; her face is flushed, her hair already a little disheveled, and my entire body trembles—she's the most beautiful thing in the world.

"I love you," she answers, rocking her hips slowly back and forth, her fingers trailing down to grab my elbows, and I find myself just as turned on by what I can't see of her as what I can.

"How're the measurements coming along?" I ask, hoping conversation will help relieve some of my tension.

"Oh, God," she groans, her nails cutting into me, moving against me a little faster, her hips moving in little circles. "It's good. It's soooo good."

"Anything to report?" I grunt, my hands moving to her back, my fingers sliding up her spine.

"So far so good." She gasps as my hips involuntarily thrust into hers. My hands slide back down her, gently cupping her ass, encouraging her movements. She pushes herself up on her knees a little, sliding back down onto me slowly. She does it again, drawing out her motions, drawing out the sensations. "Ohhhh," she says softly, her hips speeding up a little. "Ohh ohhhhhh."

She falls forward, landing on my chest, our arms tangling around each other. She breathes heavily against my neck, and I bring a hand up, fisting it in her hair, pulling her lips to mine. She moans into my mouth, her hips moving faster and I completely forget the purpose of this entire exercise until I feel her hands pushing against me.

"Where are you going?"

She stares at me for a few moments, panting. She shifts off me and I whine in protest. Her shaky hands reach out for the measuring tape again and my head falls back against the bed. How she has the willpower to do this right now I'll never know. I'm past the point of caring about measurements of any sort—it's attached to me and fits into her and that's kind of all that matters right now.

Well, that, and she seems to really enjoy what it does to her. That part kind of matters right now, too.

She rests her head against my hip for a few seconds and I stroke her hair, waiting. She looks up at me with desire-darkened eyes and I swear I feel a new wave of blood pulsate through me. She licks her lips and drags the tape across me, and it's almost more than my overly-sensitive flesh can handle right now. I hiss at the contact; with a few deep breaths, she grabs her pen again, her hand still shaking as she writes down her next set of information.

She tosses the pen to the side and drags herself to her knees, her hands crossing to grab the bottom of the shirt. She pulls it over her head and tosses it over her shoulder, her head falling back as the comparatively cool air hits her flushed, over-heated skin.

I sit up and pull her onto my lap, my mouth going to her breasts, showering them with as much attention as I can, going back and forth between them quickly, breathing heavily against her skin, her smell filling my nostrils. Her arms wrap around me tightly; her entire body is shaking.

I'm not doing much better myself.

I move my hips against her, trying to increase the friction, trying to get as close to her as I can. She presses her forehead against the top of my head, her breath coming in short gasps, tiny, short moans falling out of her mouth.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," she says suddenly, her voice tight, barely controlled, and I grunt loudly as I feel myself almost come apart. I dig my fingers into her, my teeth nearly biting into the soft skin of her breasts.

"Monica." It's all I can say, and I barely manage that.

I grab her hips and pull her up; moments later, she thrusts down onto me, wailing, her voice high. "I need you," she breaths. "Need you."

I push up against her, barely in control. She slams down onto me, slowly a few times, forcefully. Her hands grab at my back, gaining leverage, pushing against me faster.

I bring my face up, my lips searching for hers, one of my hands reaching for her blindly, finding the back of her head, dragging her to me. Our lips meet and we breathe against each other's mouths heavily.

"Oh, my God," she whispers, rocking back and forth a few times, changing angles, changing the contact, and I grit my teeth, trying to keep myself together.

I release the back of her head, tracing my fingers down her arm, giving it a little tug, and she lets go of my back. My fingers find hers and I bring her hand to my chest, placing it over my thumping heart.

"This is you," I gasp. "You're in here."

"Oh, Chandler," she breathes, moving faster, clenching herself around me.

"It's you, baby. It's you."

"Gooooooood."

"You're my heart."

Her eyes snap open and she pauses, both of us trembling. "What?"

"You're my heart," I tell her again, tightening my grip on her hand.

She smiles at me, shakily, but brilliantly. "And you're mine."

"I love you," I remind her and her eyes cloud over with a fine sheen of tears. "Love" suddenly doesn't seem like a strong enough way to describe what I feel for this woman, but I don't know of a better way. All I can do is say it as often as possible, hoping she'll get just how much she means to me.

She presses her lips to mine as our bodies start to move again, the kiss sweet despite the frantic motions of the two of us moving together, and it strikes me that this is the real deal. I know everyone was just screwing with us when they were talking about marriage and I know that I almost went off the deep end for a couple of days, but I realize that I absolutely cannot imagine my life without this woman. This is a forever kind of love. To the world around us, we may not look like some great love affair, but that doesn't matter. We are love. Everything that word is supposed to mean is what we are. There are no conditions to the way I feel about her, and judging how she's stuck with me lately, I don't think she has conditions, either. Maybe it's overly sentimental, but I think this is what true love is supposed to be. It's intense and pure and so full of joy, and all I want is to feel this way forever.

She really is my heart. If she's not there, then I don't exist.

That should scare me.

It should, but I know with absolute certainty that it's the truth. Without Monica, there is no Chandler. We're too far entwined now; there's no going back. And I sure as hell don't want to.

Her movements speed up suddenly as she gasps. "Oh, my God, Chandler, I love you. I love you so much." Her fingers tighten against my chest and I pull her closer, impossibly closer, and a few moments later, she throws her head back, moaning wordlessly, her body moving frantically against mine as she orgasms around me. I let myself go, holding onto her hip with one hand, thrusting against her sloppily, groaning into her hair, my ears ringing as the world around us disappears for a few moments.

I don't know where we are in those moments, but it's magical.

I feel our bodies shaking together as I come back to reality, our limbs still tangled as we breathe heavily. I stroke her hair, brushing it back from her face.

"Damn," I whisper.

"Yeah," she agrees.

"Hey," I say, stroking her back gently. "I forget to let you know to measure me one last time."

"Yeah, it kinda slipped my mind, too. I wouldn't worry too much, though. You won by a landslide."

I kiss her shoulder, chuckling. "That right?"

"Before we even started, you'd won."

Despite my satiated, drowsy state, I feel myself preen just a bit. Somehow, though, I know this isn't the time to gloat. "Can I see what you wrote down?"

She chuckles, looking over her shoulder, the notepad still off to one side. She stretches over, grabbing it, handing it to me. "Sure. Won't do you much good, though."

I look at her, confused, before shifting to the paper.

The first line just says, "WOW!"

The second line says, "I love this man."

The third one says, "Oh, my God."

The fourth line is just gibberish scribbles.

"I think I like this better," I tell her softly.

She takes my face in her hands, kissing me. "I couldn't even remember how to write that last time. I don't know how I managed to even stop."

I tighten my arms around her, and I feel her body start to slump a bit. I grab at the blankets, pulling them down, and we reluctantly shift part so we can crawl under together, our arms and legs immediately wrapping around each other, holding each other close.

"Maybe it's incredibly cheesy to tell you this," she says quietly, her voice muffled by my neck. "But the fact that I can tell you that I love you while we're having sex is the most incredible thing in the world."

I feel a shiver run through me as my heart thumps erratically a few more times. "I love you, Monica."

Her arms give me a little squeeze. "Of course, it's kind of nice to hear it, period."

"Then I'll say it all the time," I whisper, resting my cheek on top of her head.

"Promise?" she asks, her voice fading, sleep taking hold.

"Promise."

Forever, I add silently.

Forever.