One-Shot: Mondler in an Elevator
Monica Gellar morosely pushed the button with her knuckle, watching the doors before her slide open. She almost never took the elevator on her morning commute, preferring the exercise that taking the stairs from her third floor apartment afforded her.
Besides, hitching a ride just once to the ground floor would give her a few moments of peace and quiet, as she tried to work out why her colleagues at Alessandro's hated her.
Monica was glancing down at her feet as she turned to face the front, so she only heard the sudden shout of –
"Hold the door!"
She glanced up quickly, just in time to see her dear friend Chandler Bing lunge for the closing automated doors and halting them with his hand in the nick of time. Stepping aboard, he gave her his winning smile.
"Thanks, Mon. I'm so late!"
Monica quirked both an eyebrow and her own lips into a smirk. "You didn't seem in such a rush eating breakfast this morning. Did you and Joey at least put the dishes in the sink?"
Chandler playfully rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mon." In the interim, the doors closed before them.
"Good," she smiled, even if it didn't quite reach her eyes. She should have known that Chandler would notice.
"Hey…. You OK?" She could feel him peering at her. "You pretty much never take the elevator." He knew well her almost militaristic penchant for fitness.
Monica hastily wiped at her eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just…. needed a moment to think."
"And by thinking, you mean you would be thinking so much that your feet couldn't concentrate on where they needed to go down some steps?" Chandler quipped teasingly. "Usually, tripping is my job – and I don't mean the kind of tripping you get from drugs…."
Monica twittered out a laugh, but it sounded wet, like she was barely holding in a sob. Her chuckle turned into a sob before long, and she dropped her face into her palm.
"Monica…" Chandler watched her with concern.
"My colleagues…. hate me!" she blubbered.
Chandler stared at her. "If they do, well, 1: they're idiots, and 2: it's probably because they're so jealous of what a brilliant chef you are, they can't stand it!" His voice was vehemently comforting.
Monica lifted her face out of her hand just long enough to flash Chandler a weak smile. "You're sweet…."
She faltered, her expression dipping into a frown as the elevator suddenly let out a sudden rumble and paused. Chandler absently glanced up at the little numbers that lit up when the car arrived at one floor. None were glowing, causing him to frown as well.
"Oh, no…" Monica muttered, stepping forward to slap a hand against the shut doors. "Don't tell me…."
"Elevator's stuck," Chandler observed, sounding maddeningly calm.
Casting a glance over her shoulder, Monica sent him a withering look. "I told you not to tell me!" she whined.
"Probably between floors," Chandler continued, as if he hadn't heard her.
"Urrrr…." Monica began to pound on the elevator doors again. "HELP!"
"Mon, relax. I'm sure a generator just blew. They'll get it up and running again."
"Yeah? In how long?" Monica snorted, sinking to the floor and crisscrossing her legs with a sigh.
"No telling," Chandler joined her on the ground. "Just means less time at the desk for me. I hate my job anyway."
Monica peered at him curiously. "If you hate your job so much…." she queried. "…. Why don't you quit?" She and their friends had heard him complain about his work often enough.
"Well, because it pays ridiculously well," he quipped. At her blinking, he chuckled. "I know. Seems cynical, doesn't it? Avaricious, even."
Monica felt her lips upturn into a smirk. "I wouldn't call it greedy," she employed the synonym deliberately, although she was impressed that Chandler would have such an advanced vocabulary, to know a word like avaricious. "Most people work in a job that they hate. Well – except for Ross and Rachel. And I guess me, until recently." She hugged herself, pulling up her knees to her chest. "For the first time in my life, I've actually dreaded to go to work."
Chandler studied her with sympathy. "But that isn't coming from you hating the work that you do. You're just now stuck with colleagues who are a bunch of assholes!" He touched her arm. "I've seen you in the kitchen, Mon. You're always…. in your element. You shine."
She blinked at him dolefully, frowning. "Really?"
Chandler beamed and patted his tummy. "Scout's honor. My stomach could attest to that. Never mind Joey's!"
Monica giggled. "Well, Joey's stomach would eat anything put in front of it, even if it was inedible!" They both shared a chuckle at that, the sound quickly petering out as Monica played with the hem of her blue cashmere sweater.
"That's not….. the assurance you needed, was it?" Chandler peered at her.
She smiled at him weakly again. "No. Well….. yes, but….." she sighed.
"You're not concerned about people liking your food. You're concerned about people liking you," Chandler noted perceptively. "While I can't fathom why anybody wouldn't, you can't make everyone like you. And hey, you don't need anyone's validation, Mon, least of all your colleagues. You're amazing, and if they can't see that, fuck 'em!"
Monica barked out a shocked laugh at that. She'd heard Chandler swear before, but never this colorfully.
"It's more than that…." she said softly. "I'm never gonna get married. I'm never gonna find a boyfriend again."
"Back onto this, huh?" Chandler quibbled. Clearly, he also recalled their moment outside Central Perk several weeks earlier. He didn't sound annoyed at the topic being brought up again, more sad for her. For a moment, Monica expected him to make his offer, clearly in jest, to be her fallback – a running gag he had kept up on their trip to Montauk, but he didn't.
"That's not gonna happen, Mon." At his soft, sure voice, Monica lifted her head and studied him. "You'll get married, and have a family because honestly…." He gazed at her, almost baffled on her behalf. "…. Who wouldn't want you?" He averted his stare finally, picking at some lint on his suit. "Even if you're single right now, at least it's giving hope for the rest of us." He snorted bitterly. "No one wants me."
Monica felt a sharp pang go through her, watching him. Chandler didn't say it, but she knew exactly what – or, more accurately, to whom – he was alluding to. She opened her mouth, started to close it, then:
"That's not true. I…. would want you."
For some reason, she added the conditional phrase at the last second, her cheeks turning pink as Chandler lifted his head to gape at her. Then he laughed awkwardly, sending her a bashful sideways grin before pondering the floor again.
"Not after I peed on you in Montauk, you wouldn't – don't." He frowned in bemusement over the semantics of his grammatical sentence structure. "Huh. I knew there was a reason I failed English class."
Monica chuckled, even as she looked at him. Really looked at him. A bolt of adrenaline all at once surged through her, along with the deep affection she felt for his sweet, adorable man, and bewilderment at how anyone could reject him or not want to go panting after him. Chandler had so much to offer, and it drove her bonkers that he could not see it.
Scooting closer to him, Monica swung her thighs into Chandler's lap as she moved to straddle him. Her hands were now caressing his face, which she tilted back, peering deep into his eyes.
"Monica….?" Chandler frowned in leery confusion.
"Kathy's an idiot," Monica declared in a hiss, not recognizing the lustful tone in her own voice.
"What…..?"
"Kathy is an idiot!" And with that, Monica crashed her lips down onto his and kissed him.
A kind of warm tingling, like an electric shock or a bolt of lightning, coursed through her veins and she unconsciously moaned, the sound parting her lips under his stiff but rapidly softening ones so that the kiss deepened. Monica curled her fingers into Chandler's chestnut hair, her digits weaving into the strands, and she sighed with content pleasure as she felt his arms dazedly encircle her, sweeping up her back.
They broke the sensuous kiss far too abruptly for her liking, and from the stunned look on his face, Monica feared that Chandler had misconstrued her kiss as her in some way making fun of him.
"Whoa, whoa, you and I just made out! Are we making out?"
"Yes," Monica growled in pent-up frustration. She slammed her lips back down onto his again, humming with pleasure until Chandler wrenched up for air again.
"But we don't do that!"
"Chandler?" Monica warned, both her frown and her tone dangerous. "Stop talking and kiss me!"
He blinked, a goofy grin casting over his face like the light of the rising sun. "OK."
Their lips mashed back together and Monica sighed softly, coaxing Chandler's mouth open with hers. When she felt his tongue slither out to grapple with hers, she let out a gasp.
Even as it was she who had made the first move, she was astonished. But not, as she might have imagined, the least bit aghast. She was kissing her best friend…. and he was kissing her back…
"Mmmmhmmmmmmm….." she groaned, shrugging her shoulders as Chandler moved to shuck her cashmere sweater coat off of her shoulders, so that it pooled with a rustle at her spread-eagled legs. Chandler's own suit coat quickly followed. The kiss escalating in passion until the couple was really involved, Monica felt her fingers fly to his belt buckle and she began to undo it, the digits trembling. She lifted her bum briefly to help Chandler push her sweatpants down past her hips.
Oh… Oh, God….. were they really going to do this…..? Risk something that could very well obliterate their friendship? Did she want this?
Monica answered herself by pulling Chandler closer. Yes. Yes, she did. Come what may.
Coming up for air as Monica resorted to lovingly kissing his face, Chandler sounded less sure, nervous. "Monica….?"
"What?" she hummed, nuzzling her cheek against his, planting kisses along his neck, causing his pulse point to race.
"We…. Maybe we should stop….."
She silenced him with another deep kiss. "No," she whispered into his mouth. "No stopping. Not now."
It was all the encouragement Chandler needed. Monica at last worked his slacks free and Chandler wriggled to shimmy out of them, enough for her to grasp his cock and free him.
Chandler and Monica broke apart, still sprawled in a heap of an embrace, their arms still around each other. Glancing down, Monica caught a flash of him and drew both hands to her mouth in astonishment, to hold in a gasp. Certainly, she hadn't gotten an eyeful like this on Montauk, and rightly so; she had turned her face away when he had peed on her, to take away her pain.
"Oh….. Oh, God…" Monica moaned. "You…. you can't be serious…." He….. he was…. he was so….. big….. "PUT. THAT. BACK!" She didn't mean the last part, except out of nerves because God Almighty, how was he going to fit in…..?
Chandler kissed her hungrily, and Monica melted into the kiss instantly. The man in her arms only came up for air one final time.
"Monica: tell me to stop."
He was giving her an out. Dumbly, she shook her head. Kissing her again, Chandler lined up at her soaked entrance and mated with her.
Feeling him plunge into her warm and wet heat was like coming home. Throwing back her head with a happy cry, Monica bounced up and down in his lap, riding his cock, her tits jiggling as she swayed against him. Chandler face-planted into her clothed breasts and she held him against her as he thrust and she rocked, faster and faster. Her blue eyes wide with amazement, Monica's moans rose melodiously with each upstroke.
"Ahhhhh… AHHHHHHHHHH…. AHHHHHHHHHH!"
Her toes curled, so that her one slippered shoe slipped off her foot.
Her fingernails clenched as they fisted the fabric of his dress shirt, along his rippling back, nearly digging into the very skin of his shoulder blades.
Her walls contracted as she came.
Tears of pleasure streaming down her cheeks, Monica let out a sigh of happiness and drooped her head into the crook of Chandler's shoulder, bucking against him as he continued to thrust deep within her, so that he might achieve release as well. She was exceedingly proud of herself when she brought him to orgasm.
Stunned, utterly slack-jawed, Monica could only babble soft and sweet nothings. She told Chandler she loved him, how ecstatic she was to have found him.
The elevator started moving.
….. The elevator started moving! …..
Frantic, Monica only had time to yank her sweatpants up over her hips, covering her bare ass. She lurched to redress Chandler but the elevator car was shuddering to a stop and Chandler quickly yanked Monica down so that her clothed womanhood pressed against his still free member, keeping her spread-eagled in his lap.
The elevator doors dinged open and Chandler and Monica turned to look up, their flush and very kiss-swollen lips now hinging open-mouthed at the people waiting for the elevator, now gawking at them.
There was a mercilessly long and awkward pause before the elevator doors dinged and slowly closed again.
Chandler and Monica stared at each other for a beat….
…. and then they burst out laughing.
Monica's giggles pealed like bells, only for them to get cut off into a lustful groan as Chandler kissed her furiously again, even as he lurched forward, with her still straddling his lap, to slap his hand on the button for Floor 3. The elevator car rumbled upward.
"Ch-Chandler!" Monica gasped as his hands greedily disappeared into her dark hair, his mouth on her jawline. "I…. I have….. I have work!"
"You're calling in sick," he grunted. "We both are."
When the elevator reached their floor, Chandler struggled to his feet as gracefully as he could, with his pants still down to his ankles and while lifting Monica in his arms. Shuffling as fast as he could down the hall, he swept her off her feet and carried her off, bridal-style, into Apartment 19 and into his room.
Throwing this beautiful woman down onto the bed, he clambered on top of her. Monica gulped and shimmying out of her sweatpants, she spread her legs for him.
Once more, they made love.
Later, after hours upon hours of having mind-blowing sex, Chandler and Monica lay wrapped in each other's arms and in post-coital bliss. Only a blanket covered their nakedness. They kissed languorously, lazily, and when they drew back, Monica's face was shining with happy tears.
"Don't cry…." Chandler crooned, brushing the moisture away with his thumb. He chastely kissed her lips again. "… I love you….."
Knowing well his fear of commitment, Monica sucked in a sharp intake of breath. She grinned at him goofily, adoringly, still dazed from having this man's hands on her…. having this man's mouth on her…. having him inside her….. "Oh….. I know. I love you too."
They kissed again, beaming into each other's eyes. "Stay with me?"
Grinning, Monica settled down on the bed, pulling Chandler closer so that he remained spooning her. "Please. Stay. Make love to me….."
Neither of the lovers saw the sun again that day. And once the moon appeared, they spent the night together, alone in Chandler's locked room, having sex as frantically and as quietly as they could.
Seven times, Chandler made Monica cum. And when he was finished inside of her, he told his beautiful best friend once more that he loved her.
She said it back.
For Monica knew:
She wanted him. She wanted all of him. And he wanted her. He wanted her so badly. So she gave herself to him, a sweet and decent man who after one elevator ride had shown her, given her, everything she had been looking for her whole life.