Chapter 5: I Spend My Nights Spooning

Monica almost regally lifted her leg and draped it over Chandler's shoulder. Her womanhood remained level with his wickedly talented mouth. Already, she had decided that having Chandler's mouth on her, his upper lips suckling upon her lower ones like a calf nursing at its mother's teat, was her favorite place for his lips to belong.

But Chandler refrained from plunging his tongue back into her mound again. Instead, he began to blaze a trail beginning from his lover's upper thigh all the way down to her lower calf. Monica trembled in anticipation, her breath quickening and her pupils dilating, curious to see what he had up his sleeve.

All the while, the shower spray cascaded over them both like a balm, yet by now, Monica could almost no longer feel it, except to register that the water was still warm. Though that might change, if she and Chandler stayed in here, locked in coitus, much longer.

Chandler's lips had by now joined the water in washing Monica's feet. He was bathing the arch of her heel, her ankle, with kisses. When his lips finally, suddenly darted to her toes and then sealed over her big one, Monica's eyes shot open and she let out something that sounded like a happy "Eeek!"

The pleasure that tingled from her big toe all the way up to the apex of her thighs was so mellifluous, her reflexes almost overpowered her enough that she damn near kicked him in the face.

Son of a bitch, Rachel had been right: the toes did act as a weak spot for some people. And some people apparently included Monica.

Through her fluttering lashes, Monica watched as Chandler now lolled out his tongue, licking and kissing her toes one by one, and she crossed her legs together, whimpering pleadingly. If she came now…. well, then there likely was no place on her body that Chandler could touch and not bring her to delightful orgasm.

She didn't cum, but that was more due to willpower than anything else. She did, however, nearly go collapsing to the ground as she fell to her knees.

The shower spray still baptizing them, Monica reached out a hand and pressed her palm to Chandler's almost reverently. He smiled back at her smolderingly, his wet and bronze curls flopping into his impossibly blue eyes, and she radiantly smiled back. Still on their knees, Chandler and Monica embraced and kissed once more; as they kissed, she reached and groped behind him for the handle and turned off the water.

The pair toweled and donned robes, sharing blushing, elated grins with one another.

"Let's go to sleep…." Chandler murmured amorously into her ear.

As tired as she….. well, wasn't, the sensible side of Monica had to agree. Besides, her internal clock seemed to sense that the night was still reasonably young. She and Chandler could nod off for a few minutes, then hopefully awaken before the dawn and have time for one last quickie. Possibly two.

Still clad in their bathrobes, Chandler and Monica climbed into bed together. There was something faithful about the action, in a sense, as if the pair really were husband and wife going to sleep together.

Settling under the covers, Monica briefly entertained the imagining of being married to Chandler. Holding in a laugh, she turned to face him so that they lay together, pressed almost chest-to-chest. She and Chandler? Married? So that everyone would be addressing her as the new Mrs. Bing? As gifted as Chandler was between the sheets, the thought of him being the one man she made love to for the rest of her days was ab… absu….

….. Awesome. Monica internally shook her head to clear it, attempting to be practical despite the heady giddiness that still permeated her brain. Marriage wasn't just about lazy mornings and late nights in bed. It was compromise, and married couples fought. She and Chandler had been known to bicker when they were friends, though in pretty much every case, they had worked out their disagreements maturely and in a reasonably timely manner. That didn't mean they could survive a marital spat, though.

She and Chandler beamed at each other goofily. Monica reached out a hand to caress his hair, run her fingers through it; the strands were still damp to the touch. Three little words suddenly stuck in her throat, and were clawing to get out. She daren't speak them, not now, lest she frighten him. Even so, she confessed them aloud in her heart:

I love you….. How could such an acknowledgement be so simple and yet so axis tilting at the same time? Hell, how could you fall in love with a person after only one, two, three, four rounds in heat? It didn't make sense. What was happening to her? Whatever it was, it disturbed Monica, a little.

Suddenly, Chandler tensed, his ear cocked and primed for listening. Monica followed the sound and realized that what she heard was the pattering of feet out in the hallway, drawing closer.

She and Chandler shared a look. His impossibly blue eyes were wide.

"Someone's coming!"

Monica let out a yip and pulled the covers up over both of them.

Joey Tribbiani slid his hotel key card into the slot with a practiced flick of the wrist. When he heard the beep and saw the handle flash green, he was pleased that he was apparently still only tipsy enough to have arrived at his correct door on the first try.

Still, the need to make this trip at all annoyed him, and he hoped he had enough sobriety about him to find his way back to Felicity's room.

He wandered into the hotel room to find it seemingly deserted. Then he glanced to the single bed at the right. Under the sheets, there were lumps clearly visible, perhaps two…

…. or maybe just one. Joey's eyes crossed, and he shook his head. Chandler really had let himself go. Either that, or the man was in some contortionist position under those covers; he'd found Chandler in some pretty bizarre snoozing angles before, back in his room at their apartment.

Also:

"Why the fuck are all these lights on?" Joey frowned, grumbling as he extended out a finger to flip the switch, plunging the hotel room into darkness. He shook his head. "Bastard could sleep in broad daylight, if given the opportunity….."

Her eyes adjusting to find Chandler's terrified ones in the gloom, Monica felt her pulse racing under her wrist. Her mind zoomed just as fast, and she had to hold in a breath as she realized:

Their clothes were still on the floor. Any second now, Joey was going to come across them. In the dizzying haze of her and Chandler's first kiss, and their making the decision to do the dirty deed, leaping into bed together, Monica hadn't given much thought to where his pajamas had been tossed or where she had shucked her dress. She strained to remember.

Chandler had tossed his cowboy pajamas off and over the bottom of the bed. She remembered that clearly, for how she had complimented him on his speed in disrobing. As for her dress….. she had let it pool with a rustle off the comforter and down on the right side of the bed. For Joey to find it, he would have to intentionally turn into the tight corner between the edge of this bed and the far wall. In other words, to come upon her dress, he would have to be actively looking for it, know what to look for, and where.

But Chandler's pajamas…. Monica cringed, squeezing her eyes shut.

Somewhere on the other side of these covers, Joey was still bumping and bumbling about. He was clearly looking for something, whatever it was.

"Only four rounds, and I already gotta get a new condom!..." he was muttering to himself. "Why does the damn rubber have to break…?"

Chandler's eyes bulged in something resembling outrage. 'We're tied?!' he mouthed; if he had voiced it, the question would have come out in a disbelieving squeak, and Monica no doubt would have laughed.

As it was, she didn't dare answer now, just kept perfectly still. Listening. Waiting. It took everything in her not to actually reveal herself and yell at Joey to get the fuck out of here.

Hearing Joey's footfalls, the secret lovers could track roughly where he was in the room. Now he'd stopped….

…. right at the foot of their bed, from what they could sense.

"Hey," Joey asked, and Chandler and Monica froze, holding their breaths. The exclamation wasn't loud or a bark of accusation, however, and thus suggesting the making of an unholy discovery. "What the heck are you doing down here….?"

There was a rustling, and Monica felt the bottom of the comforter, the part that was hanging off the edge of the bed, shift. She oh so carefully dragged her feet up towards her chest, as much as she could without rustling the blankets too much and alerting Joey to her, their, presence.

Neither Chandler nor Monica could see, but Joey had found Chandler's cowboy pajamas peeking out from under the draped portion of the down comforter. He studied the articles of clothing, perplexed. Then he tousled his head with a snort.

"Poor bastard – he really has to jack off naked?" He sent an almost pitying glance towards the lump in the bed, which he assumed was Chandler, and only Chandler, asleep. "I pity you, pal."

Monica's teeth set in frustration. If Joey had his condom already, why didn't he just take it and go?

There was a rustling and the couple felt some fabric settle on top of the covers, where Joey must have tossed Chandler's abandoned pajamas.

All at once, Monica felt her nose scrunch up. Oh no.

From how his eyes bulged, Chandler clearly sensed what was coming. As Monica felt her head rear back while bracing for the sneeze that would give them away, damn them both, he did the only thing he could:

He pushed his lips desperately against hers, silencing her with a deep kiss.

Even though they had shared kisses in the double digits by now, Monica's eyes still popped. She had to hold down the shocked whimper that threatened to bubble up in her throat. Her eyes drifted shut and she started to kiss Chandler back, though she made no moves to take him in her arms or deepen the embrace.

Joey's footfalls were at long last moving to the front door. Under the covers, the kiss deepened. Just before her brain rapidly turned to mush, Monica fretfully, silently begged Joey: Don't look in the bathroom. Don't look in the bathroom…. If he did, he might see the recent condensation and water droplets suggesting that Chandler had, at some point recently, taken a shower, and then what would Joey suspect?

The sound of the hotel room door finally, mercifully closing behind their friend echoed like the crack of a gunshot through this little paradise. Just to be safe, Monica listened for Joey's footfalls moving away; when she heard it, she melted in Chandler arms at last and finally allowed herself that moan.

"Mmmmhmmmmmmmm…." The kiss now took on a passionate tenor of utter relief, and she and Chandler clutched at each other. Hands pushed silken wool off shoulders so as to better clasp skin as tongues pushed through to dance. Monica's bathrobe parted like curtains, the cloth falling away from her lithe frame to reveal soft curves and the swell of her pert breasts.

It didn't take long for Chandler to come home. Spooning her, squeezing her buttocks in his fist, he slid his engorged erection right back into his lover's warmth. Teeth nipping at Monica's bottom lip, he let out a possessive growl and began to thrust. Seizing his glutes in her own greedy mitts, Monica furiously rocked her hips back, matching him slam for slam.

The covers that concealed them both roiled like waves, and if anyone else had barged in, there would have been little doubt as to what was happening beneath.

"You…. you have…." she panted between feverish kisses, in the instances when Chandler even let her come up for air. "Thirty seconds…. To get your act together…."

"Yes, ma'am!" Chandler almost yelped and he began to mate with her faster, harder, deeper still. Monica now let the noises get torn from her throat with abandon. She didn't mind it when Chandler slapped a palm over her kiss-swollen lips, perhaps fearful that someone, if not Joey, might hear.

"Huhhhhh… Uhhhhh…. Ermmm….. Hmmmmm… Mmmmmmmm – MMMMMMHMMMMMMM!" The last came out in a kind of muffled squawk, and her folds drew Chandler's cock in balls-deep as, for the first time that night, the lovers came together.