I click save on my computer about five times, making sure my file is saved on a disc and the hard drive. I settle my glasses on top of my head, rubbing my eyes for a few moments before yawning and stretching. I stick the disc in my briefcase then turn off the computer before standing and stretching once more, casually scratching my stomach.

I shuffle through the house, making sure all the lights are off and doors are locked before heading upstairs. I immediately head into the nursery, looking in on the twins.

My awesome wife, knowing I had a lot of work to take care of before my presentation tomorrow, offered to bathe and put the babies to bed on her own tonight.

She really has this motherhood thing down pat. Half the time, I'm pretty sure I'm just along for the ride.

Eh; just as long as she keeps me around, I'm okay with being arm candy.

I look in on Erica first; she's sprawled on her back, arms flung out, her mouth hanging open, tiny baby snores rumbling through her little body. There's no doubt in my mind that my little girl is going to be a troublemaker as soon as she can walk. She's going to be the one who I'm going to have to worry about coming home pierced or tattooed for no other reason than she was bored, or who'll drop out of college to form a polka-rock band, and all she'll have to do is bat her eyes at me and I'll be convinced that it was all a good idea.

I stroke her cheek and sigh—I really am in for a world of hurt with this one—before moving over to my son.

Jack is curled up on his side, hand fisted next to his face. I'm pretty sure this little dude is going to be the one to go with the flow on pretty much everything. He spends a good chunk of his spare time sleeping if he's not eating. His pediatrician says he's fine—it's just his personality. He's just laid back. I give his shoulder a little nudge, encouraging him to roll onto his back. Since he's capable of rolling onto his belly on his own, logically I know he's fairly safe, but this is my first time at the whole father-thing—I worry.

I stand in the doorway for a few moments, marveling over the fact that my babies are now five months old. Five months. I would swear that just yesterday Monica and I brought them home from the hospital; they were so teeny and helpless. Now…well, five months isn't exactly self-sufficient, but they have a lot more personality now than ever.

I shake my head and leave the room quietly, pulling the door part-way shut, and head into our bathroom to brush my teeth. I leave the light off and prop myself on the doorframe to watching Monica, who seems to be oblivious to my presence, focused on the book in front of her. It's a good sign that she's still awake; among other things, the twins have started mostly sleeping through the night, which has been wildly helpful to ward off complete exhaustion, even if their sleep schedule is a little different from each other's.

I check out the time as I crawl into bed next to Monica, rolling my eyes as I realize it's barely past nine—we certainly know how to live it up. I kiss her shoulder, waiting for her to reach a stopping point. I see her eyes move rapidly as she hurries to finish the page, her head starting to turn to me before she finally faces me, smiling brightly, her lips meeting mine briefly. "Hi!"

I smile at her, leaning in. She shoves the bookmark into place and tosses her book aside. "Hey there," I answer, sliding my arms around her as I pull her closer, kissing her more thoroughly, and she sighs into my mouth. We sink back against the pillows, falling into each other, for several long minutes before we come up for air. She rests her head against my shoulder, her arm going around my waist.

"Get all your work done?"

"Yeah; I'm all set for tomorrow. Thank you, by the way, for putting the rugrats to bed on your own tonight."

She shrugs, turning her head to kiss my neck briefly. "No big deal. You do it all the time when I have to work late."

"Still—it was a huge help."

"Well, it's not often you actually have to bring work home, so I figured it must be important."

Can't argue with that. My job in advertising has been one of the best things to ever happen to me, outside of Monica and our kids. They've been good to me, too, in that they don't particularly care where I get work done so long as it gets done, which means I can work from home when I need to, especially when one of the kids are sick. As long as I give them results, they're pretty happy. So when a big a project comes up and they ask for us to put in extra hours, I'm usually more than happy to oblige, and Monica knows how much I love this job, so she always works with me.

"So how was your day?" I ask, kissing her hair. We try to make sure we find at least a few minutes every day to actually talk about our lives, and I think we've both seen the positive effects; one of the things that's always kept our relationship so strong is that we've always, even when we were just friends, been able to talk to each other.

"Just a day. Work was kind of slow. Oh! But I did see Rachel."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah—she came in at the end of my shift so we grabbed a cup of coffee before I went to pick up the kids. All she did was complain about Ross."

I shake my head, pulling Monica a little closer. "Really?"

"I swear that's all she does lately."

"She is aware that he's your brother, right?"

"See, that's not even the part that bothers me—I know what a pain in the ass he can be. But she decided that she loves him, and she decided to give up Paris for him, knowing what he's like. I mean, I know he's gotten better about the whole jealousy thing. She wasn't even really complaining about anything real, you know? It was more that she didn't like the way he said this, or she wasn't happy with how he did that. Just stupid stuff, but she constantly mentioned what she gave up for him. I can't help but wonder if she's going to hold that over his head for the rest of their lives. I mean, yeah, she gave up a great job to stay here, but that was her choice."

I sigh, taking Monica's hand in mine, playing with her fingers. "You think they'll last?"

I feel her head shake against my shoulder. "I don't know. I mean, I know they love each other, but do they have what it takes to make it work?"

"They're not us, that's for sure," I say, peaking down at her as I give her shoulder a squeeze.

She looks up at me and smiles. "They sure aren't."

My heart has a moment where it feels so full that I think it could burst—this is my life. I'm married to the best woman in the world, and we have the most amazing kids possible. No other relationship in the world can hold a candle to what we have.

I lean down and kiss her again, and I feel her body responding, molding around me. She hums happily in the back of her throat, one of her hands sliding through my hair, and I feel desire surge through my veins. She pulls back a little, far enough so that we can both gasp for breath but close enough so that our lips are still skimming each other's. "How was your day?" she breathes.

I huff out a laugh. "Oh, you know. Same old same old; got up, went to work, came home, the usual." I press my lips to hers again, not at all interested at the moment in talking about the day's events, and I feel her body shake as she laughs into my mouth.

"The twins asleep?" she whispers as her hands slide under my t-shirt.

"Out like little logs," I assure her, my own hand sliding up the back of her tank top, gently stroking her back. I feel her shiver as she moans. A moment later, she sits up and I almost protest before she pulls her top over her head, tossing it over her shoulder. I grin as I sit up, too, her hands tugging at my shirt as we pull it off together. I tug her back to me, our bare torsos rubbing against each other, creating wonderful friction. I groan and lay her back on the bed, bringing my lips to hers once more. I slide my hand under the waistband of her pajama pants, suddenly extremely anxious to get her naked, when I realize I'm greeted by bare skin.

"Commando?" I ask breathlessly. "Were you planning for this tonight?"

"Hopeful," she concedes. "I was hopeful that you'd be up for it."

I shift against her playfully. "Oh, I'm up for it."

She laughs as she strokes my cheek, and I'm once again astounded by just how beautiful this woman is; her lips are already swollen, her eyes are dilated and at half-mast, her cheeks are flushed, and her soft, incredible skin is against mine, so ready, so eager for me, that it nearly knocks the wind out of me.

"I love you," I whisper, and I've never meant it as much as I mean it in this moment.

"I love you, too," she answers, her own hands going to work on my pajama pants. I roll away from her for a moment, removing first her pants then mine, then I cover her body with my own, the feel of our bodies against each other just as powerful today as it was six years ago.

She drags her nails lightly up and down my back as she kisses me, and my body shudders in response. I softly stroke her sides, feeling her body twitch as I hit spots that are only ticklish at moments like this. I feel her hips move against mine and I shake my head, pulling away from her.

"I don't want to rush it tonight," I tell her softly. Lately, we've been so worried about one of the babies waking up while we're mid-coitus that we've taken to hurrying through the process; it's still been pretty great, but it doesn't give me much of a chance to worship her the way she deserves.

"I am so horny right now," she tells me, her breathing becoming heavier, and I laugh in surprise.

"Think you got more than one in you?" I ask, tracing patterns on her hip, and she nods enthusiastically. I slide my hand in between us, stroking her gently, teasingly, watching her eyes roll back in her head as her mouth falls open. Her hips shift up to meet me just as I slide my fingers inside of her, a hiss of pleasure falling out of her lips as her fingers dig into my biceps. I love when she's responsive like this—makes my job a hell of a lot more fun.

I move my hand against her slowly, shifting my body off her slightly so I can get a better view. Her hips push against me insistently, her inner muscles clenching at my fingers, and I can tell she's already close. "Really?" I whisper, kissing her neck, nibbling on the soft flesh. She nods and whimpers, her hips coming off the bed. I pump my hand against her a few more times and her body is suddenly spasming against me, a low moan escaping her throat as finds her release, her fingers digging into me.

"You know," I whisper in her ear as her motions start to slow down, still moving my hand against her, in her, gently, watching her chest rise and fall rapidly. "I feel really, really cocky when I make you come that quickly."

"As you should," she gasps. "As you should." I move down to kiss the tops of her breasts when she says suddenly, "Hey. How many orgasms do you think you can give me tonight?"

I lift my head to look at her. "You're that horny?"

"And then some," she assures me. "So how many?"

I pause to think about it—this could be interesting. "I'm gonna say…three."

"Really? I'm gonna go with four."

"You have high hopes for me."

"I have confidence in you."

I shrug, bringing my lips down to her neck. If this is what she wants, then I'm more than happy to try to make it happen. I drag my mouth slowly down to her left shoulder, then down the outside of her arm, then just as slowly back up the inside. I kiss my way down her chest, wrapping my lips around her nipple for a few moments, sucking gently, and her hips move against my hand, which is still stroking her gently, my fingers still enveloped by her heat. I follow this path all the way down her body—down her stomach, her waist, her hip, down her leg and the bottom of her foot, before trailing my way up her inner leg, only moving my hand when I can replace it immediately with my mouth, gently nipping at her, suckling her, feeling her buck against me, for a few moments before I move my lips, sliding them down the inside of her right leg, moving my other hand against her. I get down to her foot when I hear her start to moan, wordlessly but continuously. I struggle to control myself, forcing myself to move just as slowly up her right leg as I did down her left. When I reach her hip, her hand finds its way to my hair, tugging at me, scratching my scalp. I slide my lips across her stomach, up to the underside of her right breast for a few moments before I pull her nipple into my mouth, sucking a little harder at this one, and her body suddenly freezes for a split second before she's nearly flying off the bed.

"Chandler! Oh, my God CHANDLER!" she yells, thrusting against my hand once more, and I keep my mouth wrapped around her, push my hand against her harder, trying to draw it out. "Ohhhhhhhhh," she moans as she pumps against me, beads of sweat suddenly bursting out all over her body. I love that she's so enthusiastic and so...noisy.

I move my lips up her neck, finally moving my hands away from her to stroke her sweaty body. "You're really easy tonight."

She laughs as she gasps, her body shaking. "I don't know why."

"I'm not complaining," I assure her. "Just observing."

She tugs at me, pulling me back on top of her, her thighs falling open to cradle me, her lips finding mine. All self-control I had is lost and I push into her, groaning at the intensity of it all. She clutches at my back for a few moments, her body tensing, and I pause. She relaxes a bit, and I look down at her, curious.

"Was that another one?"

"Almost," she pants. This really is good for my ego—after all these years, I can still get her to respond to me this quickly, this intensely, and it's unbelievable. This, along with a million other things is why we're so perfect together, why we make sense. And I've never gotten lazy with her—I always work to make sure I know what she needs, what her body needs, what her minds needs to make sex as good as possible each time. To the best of my knowledge, she's never faked it with me, and I want to keep on believing that until the day I die.

I move against her slowly—so slowly—pulling as far back as I can before sliding back in. My instincts want me to go faster, want me to make this happen as fast as possible, and it seems like of all nights, this would be the one where she'd be able to keep up with that sort of pace. But Monica's husband, the guy who loves her more than he ever thought possible, wants so desperately to be able to make love to his wife, to draw it out, because it doesn't get to happen as often as it used to.

So I fight for self control with every move I make.

I continue to pull out slowly, but start to slam back into her, making her gasp every time.

"Harder," she gasps, and I happily oblige, moving against her a little faster.

Her head tosses back and forth against the pillow as she starts to moan loudly, her arms reaching up to grab the headboard, her body thrusting up against mine. I brace my hands on the bed next to her, lifting my torso off hers to watch her, fascinated, captivated, my hips pushing against her more rapidly, my thrusts shorter, faster, stronger.

Her eyes fly open suddenly and she gazes at me, our eyes locking, and it's unnerving in the best way possible. I feel a familiar tingling all the way in the tips of my toes, and I push it back as best I can. Now that she's challenged me to four, I want to get her there.

I see her struggling to maintain eye contact, fighting off the urge to close her eyes. I change the angle of my hips, pushing farther into her, and she cries out, bucking against me sharply. I do it again, and she yells louder, bending her knees, bracing her feet against the bed, the angle changing again, and I grit my teeth in concentration, trying to focus on her, on what will make her squirm, and not focus on how rapidly her breasts are moving, bouncing with every thrust.

Her brow furrows as her moans grow louder, no words forming, just long, loud sounds of pleasure. She's so close—I can feel it in the tension of her body, the way her muscles clench around me, and I finally cop out. I drop my head to her breasts, pulling one into my mouth, and in an instant, she's screaming, her body pulling at mine, her hips slamming into me furiously, her back arching off the bed, her fingernails digging into my arms. Still, I fight it. It takes every ounce of self-control that I have, and some that I don't, and I feel dizzy from the effort—but I hold off my own orgasm.

I gasp against her, my own body trembling, my hips still as I wait for her to come back down, her volume decreasing gradually.

"Oh, Gooooooood," she moans, her hips thrusting against me for a moment, the aftershocks briefly taking control.

"I know," I answer, moving my head a little to nip at the soft skin of her breasts, and she moans again. "That's three, right?"

"Yeaaaaaaah," she drawls, trying to pull in deep breaths. "Can you hear the baby monitor?"

I lift my head up and strain my ears, trying to listen over the pounding of my own heartbeat. I can hear Erica snoring and Jack smacking his lips, so I settle back against her. "Still asleep," I confirm.

"That's hard to believe," she moans, stretching her body against mine.

"Good sleepers," I mumble. "Ready for number four?"

She laughs breathlessly. "I think so. I might die, but I think so."

"Good." I pull back to my knees suddenly, out of her completely, and she whines loudly in protest. "Sit up." I wait as she drags her body to a sitting position, her eyes still not completely focused. "On your knees." She groans, but does what I ask, and I slide over to her, pushing her against the headboard, my hands sliding around her waist. She moans into my mouth as her arms wrap around my back, bracing her knees on either side of my thighs. I shift against her and she shivers at the contact, tugging at my lip with her teeth. She slides a hand in between and gently takes hold of me, and I hiss through my clenched teeth, screwing my eyes shut. She guides me into her and sighs happily, the noise quickly morphing into a moan.

"Yessssssssssss," is all she says, and it's all I need to hear. I move my hips against her steadily, resting my forehead against her shoulder. She strokes my hair as she moans, rotating her hips every time she pushes against me. "Oh, God, yes."

I dig my fingers into her hips as I grunt against her skin. "You're so sexy, baby."

She moans louder, her fingers digging into my shoulder blades, her head falling back, and I kiss her throat, the noises she's making resonating against my lips.

I slow my movements, and she protests loudly, her hips moving faster against me, but I refuse to take the bait. I gently stroke her with my hands—her back, her sides, any part of her front I can reach—taking her in, trying to show her just how much she means to me, and I feel her quiver, allowing me to take my time.

Sex with her is great. Sex with Monica has always been great, but this is one of those times where it goes so much beyond this physical act. This connection we share—the connection we create—is incredibly powerful, and I swear sometimes I can actually feel our souls connecting. At the very least, there's some more going on that just chemistry and bodies reacting to one another; for just the briefest moments in time, we become one person, we complete each other, and it's so strong that it all makes me feel like I honestly can't take it, that I'll fall apart.

I still don't necessarily believe in soul mates, but I do believe that this woman was meant for me.

"Please," she moans suddenly, gasping. "Oh, please."

I move my hands to the headboard, shifting my knees further apart. "Hold on," I growl, and start pounding into her as fast as I can.

Her arms tighten around me, and I feel her thighs clench against my legs as she moves on top of me, her moans becoming louder and louder. I slow down for a few seconds, taking long, slow strokes, before driving into her again.

"Oh, God," she yells, mostly into my ear. "Oh, God. Oh, GOD! Yesyesyes right there, oh, my God, right there, baby, don't stop don't stop don't stop!"

I grunt against her neck, the skin salty with sweat, words beyond me at the moment. I clutch her tighter, move faster, suddenly desperate for a release. Her pace matches mine, our hips a flurry of movement as we slam against each other.

I hear her breath catch suddenly, her body moving at impossible speeds for a few moments before she screams out my name, her body arching against me once more, her inner muscles tugging at me, and I follow her a few moments later, gripping her tightly enough to leave bruises, my orgasm pouring over me, feeling like it'll never end, wishing it would never end.

I swallow heavily some long minutes later, realizing that I have her crushed against the headboard. I relax my grip a bit and she droops against me, her body still spasming.

"Jesus," I whisper. "That's the best sex we've had in a while."

"Unhhhh," she moans, and I grin—anytime she can't bring herself to speak after sex, I know a good time was had by all.

Cautiously, I shift my knees, trying to ease us down to a reclined position, when Monica gasps, her eyes flying open. "What?" I ask, stilling my movements.

She rocks her body against mine a couple of times and I realize what she's doing. "Seriously? Again?"

"Can't help it," she groans, her body starting to seize as she pushes against me faster. I stare at her in amazement. She buries her face in my neck and moans as her legs wrap around my waist. I hold her close and stroke her skin, kissing whatever part of her I can reach.

Finally, she really does collapse. "Okay—I'm done."

I can't help but chuckle as I pull out of her and we collapse against the bed. Immediately, she curls into my side and I kiss the top of her head, wrapping my arms around her. "Did you come?" I ask cheekily, and she bursts out laughing.

"Nope. Faked it all." She presses her lips to my neck, partly kissing, partly still gasping for air.

I squeeze her a little tighter. "But seriously—what was that?" I ask. "Was that number five?"

"I can't really say—I don't know if it was its own entity or just a continuation of number four. Felt pretty good, though." She's silent for a moment, and I can tell she's listening to the monitor. Amazingly, the nursery is still quiet. "I'm gonna have to check on them, make sure they're not traumatized by Mommy and Daddy having a good time." She groans. "Eventually. When I can move."

"We need to get it in while we can," I tell her. "In a couple of years, we'll have to remember to lock the door every time, and make sure we muffle our voices."

She scrunches her face and pulls the blanket over us, cuddling into me once more. I look down at her and see her eyes shifting around the room. "What is it?"

"Do you realize that our windows are open?"

I lift my head and look around. "Huh. Well, what do you know? I guess that means if any of our neighbors have their windows open, they got quite the show."

"If any of our neighbors have their windows open, they probably thought I was being murdered."

I laugh in agreement. "Yeah, it might be a few days before I can look at any of them again."

"Hell, we'll probably have a bunch of horny housewives beating down our door with baked goods."

I shake my head, then lean down to kiss her, our lips moving against each other slowly, smiles spreading across our faces.

"I love you so much," she tells me suddenly.

"Love you more," I answer.

"Not possible," she says, her head resting against my shoulder again, and we're quiet for a while, listening to the soft sounds of our babies sleeping through the monitor.

"It's a good thing I don't have to work tomorrow," she says suddenly.

"Why's that?"

"Because I don't think I'll be able to walk properly for a while."

Just like that, my ego inflates to ridiculous proportions once more. "You are welcome."

She laughs and props herself up on her elbow, her smile dazzling, and I swear I fall in love all over again.