One-Shot: Kiss for One Minute (or More)
Rachel held up her hand in a placating gesture, her palm jutting out in a way that almost suggested she was preparing to physically ward off some kind of attack. When she spoke, her tone was gentle, talking the boys down without talking down to them.
"We figured you might respond this way, so we have a back-up offer…"
"Oh, no, no….!" Chandler chortled derisively. "No more offers! You can't offer anything to us!"
"Let us keep the apartment…. and…."
"…. as a thank you…." Monica interjected. The girls shared a meaningful look with each other before she concluded: "…. Rachel and I will kiss for one minute."
Both Joey and Chandler jerked sharply, their eyes bugging out of their heads. Their collective shock seemed to indicate simultaneously both a Christmas-had-come-early elation but also skepticism that the girls would actually do it.
More than anything else, Chandler was curious. Monica and Rachel making out? If Phoebe were in the mix, he could imagine her not necessarily having as much of an issue with kissing the same sex, but Monica and Rachel were both as straight as they came. The prospect just floated made him glad Ross wasn't here. How would the man react upon seeing his sister, of all people, locking lips with his crush?
Chandler glanced back at Joey, who was slowly recovering from his disbelief to grin salaciously, wolfishly. The deal seemed like a cop out, and Chandler wasn't sure whether to praise or scold the girls for appealing to his roommate's …. OK, their… basic instinct. No matter whether it was a trick or not, it was clear that Joey was tempted. That didn't change how the deal didn't seem equitable. What was the catch, if any? Two girls regained their living arrangement and all they had to do in return was smash their lips together for sixty seconds? As a trade-off, it didn't seem like the fairest thing in the world.
But then Chandler glanced back at Monica, and noticed how she was biting her lip. From the nerves reflected in her sapphire eyes, she was clearly uncomfortable with this. It might not seem like such a big price to pay to the boys, but to Monica, it clearly was. Though also clearly nervous, Chandler's curiosity was piqued by how he didn't necessarily detect as much discomfort in Rachel. It made him wonder if Rachel had done this before – girl on girl. The thought made Chandler return his musings to Phoebe, and how she would react if she were here. It was just a suspicion, but he had a feeling that Phoebe would be even less perturbed at the thought of kissing her girlfriends than Rachel seemed to be. He'd never dare confront Phoebe about it head on (not unless he wanted to get his nose proverbially bitten off), but it was just a feeling. The same sort of feeling that his friends had doubtlessly entertained over the years, wondering if he was gay. He very much wasn't, and if his friends had harbored those wonderings, they'd kept them to themselves, but even so…
Chandler swiveled his gaze back to Monica again. The discomfort was roiling off of her in ways, enough that Chandler almost wanted to reject the offer just to spare her. It all boiled down to: would you force someone else to do what you wouldn't be comfortable doing yourself? He thought of if the roles were reversed and he and Joey had offered to kiss each other to earn their apartment back from the girls. Just the picturing of it alone had Chandler fighting to keep disgust from making its way onto his face. Singing for your supper was one thing. Subjecting oneself to humiliation for another's enjoyment, no matter how simple the deal seemed on its face, was another matter entirely.
Joey and Chandler shared a long side-eye with each other, weighing the offer. Chandler shrugged. "It's your call."
He regretted feigning such nonchalance instantly, for how Joey blasted, "Do it! Make them do it!" He seemed to have blown right past any consideration over how fair (or not) the deal was.
Chandler frowned. "We can't make them do anything, Joe…" He stole a glance back at Monica, who sent him a grateful look, even a weak smile. He turned to fully face the girls. "…. All right, ladies: you have a deal."
Monica and Rachel both flushed, sharing awkward glances with each other. They both started to make uncertain movements towards each other; Joey's face brightened like a Christmas tree in anticipation.
"Wait:" Chandler held up a hand. "Ground rules: kissing only, closed lips…. unless both of you mutually communicate a willingness to take it further…" Both Rachel and Monica bobbed their heads; Joey pouted a little. "Also:….. no catcalling from the cheap seats…." Chandler stared down Joey's now absolutely dismayed face. "If anyone tells you to do something more, like groping, ignore it. Treat it as basically an illegal order."
"You mean I can't ask them to…."
"We can't ask them to do anything they're not comfortable with, Joey," Chandler held firm. "If things get more passionate, it has to be on the girls' terms: both of you." He glanced between Monica and Rachel, who nodded again.
Monica swallowed. "Anything else?"
"You kiss, and whatever else you both want to do, for one minute, and one minute only." (Joey let out an audible whine at this). "I'll time you to make sure it's sixty seconds exactly."
"That…. sounds reasonable," Rachel nodded.
"Generous," Monica supplied. "Chandler… thank you…."
Pursing his lips, Chandler just nodded. "I'll go get a stopwatch. Don't start without me."
He crossed the hall and prowled into Apartment 19, shaking off Joey and his petulant bellyaching about how Chandler was no fun and how he was stifling their rights as men, etc, etc, etc. Chandler practically power walked into his room and began flipping over all the clothes on the floor, rummaging through his nightstand. Finally, he uncovered a stopwatch amidst this archeological dig that would have excited Ross in the same way that two girls necking clearly excited Joey.
Chandler returned to the almost breathless tableau out in the hall and held up the stopwatch. Joey was giving him a withering look, to which Chandler didn't respond.
"Time starts when your lips touch." The girls warily nodded. Monica and Rachel shyly turned to face each other, awkwardly putting their arms around each other in a style reminiscent of seventh graders slow-dancing at a school function. Gulping, Monica reached up to brush some strands of blonde hair from Rachel's face, tucking it behind the other girl's ear.
"60 seconds of continuous kissing?" the beautiful chef asked for clarification. There was an odd hoarseness to her voice.
Chandler tilted his head. "What do you mean, Mon?"
His best friend swallowed. "I mean…. if we have to come up for air at any point, does that not count towards the sixty seconds?"
A good question. It was just like Monica to be so technical, even anal-retentive. Joey was already shaking his head and obnoxiously mouthing 'NO!' at Chandler; Chandler responded by stomping on his roommate's foot.
"I'll allow it." Joey fumed. Rachel snorted.
"Thank you, Your Honor…."
"You will not be penalized time for any seconds taken up regaining air," Chandler clarified. "However, take only as much time as you need to get oxygen and no more." Both Monica and Rachel nodded, still facing each other. Chandler smiled tightly. "Well, go on: kiss."
The resemblance to shy seventh graders continued with how awkwardly, clumsily, Rachel and Monica leaned in, both of them puckering their lips in a manner that was almost comical. Chandler held his breath, and his thumb over the stopwatch along with it. The suspense was absolutely terrible, and a part of Chandler hoped it would last. If Phoebe were here, she would be yelling at her friends to get on with it already; from how he tensed at his side, Joey seemed inclined to want to.
Chandler's eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the dwindling space between Rachel and Monica's lips; he didn't want to miss the moment that the gap was closed and thus throw off the count. At last, a frustrated Rachel huffed, "Oh, fuck it!", cradled Monica's face in her hands, tilted it up and slammed her lips down onto those of her roommate.
Chandler felt his thumb reflexively press down on the stopwatch, starting the clock. He was pleased with himself for not being too distracted or caught up in the moment. For some reason, it mattered to him that the girls – one in particular – only had to do this for as long as had been agreed upon and not a nanosecond more.
Monica's eyes popped at the kiss. Chandler felt Joey let out a whimper of ecstasy. For the data analyst's part, he was actually proud of Monica for how quickly she willed herself to relax and kiss Rachel back. Each girl had to play a part, and they had to play it well. The kiss had to be mutual and not one-sided, with only one girl doing all the work.
Slowly, Monica's palms glided up Rachel's forearms to tenderly frame the other girl's face. Chandler watched as, tilting her head, Monica's eyes fluttered closed, almost dreamily and the kiss was allowed to deepen. Rachel's arms, meanwhile, wound about Monica's back, pulling her close and flush, while one hand disappeared into her dark, midnight tresses.
Someone – the boys couldn't immediately tell who – moaned, but from how he now noticed the way Monica's lips parted, granting Rachel entrance, Chandler deduced it was the former.
Rachel and Monica's lips were now digging at each other hungrily; Monica dared to steal an arm around the blonde's slim waist. Finding himself almost transfixed, hypnotized, Chandler didn't want to miss one single, arousing moment, so he lifted the stopwatch without looking at it until it was level with his eye.
Only then did he allow his peripheral vision a millisecond to take its eye off the hot sight to check the clock: 25 seconds, with the millisecond number ticking up in a blur so that the '5' rapidly changed to a '6'….
The sound of heavy breathing made Chandler glance back: Monica had broken the kiss ever so briefly to come up for a gulp of air, before her one hand fisted Rachel's blonde locks and pulled her skull close again, their lips crashing together heatedly and heavily.
Time seemed to slow down almost. Chandler felt like he couldn't hear anything, and what he could hear now sounded as though it was coming from far away – there was an odd echo to Joey's rapid breathing, the murmuring groan the struggling actor now made, even though Joey was practically panting right in his ear.
A kind of tunnel vision enveloped Chandler at this moment, and he found himself focusing in on only one half of the kiss, in a phenomena not at all dissimilar to how drivers are taught to drive their half of the car when bombing down the freeway.
Specifically, Chandler was more interested in how Monica was kissing Rachel, almost to the point that he was watching how the beautiful chef's lips moved without registering whose lips her own were catching. It was strange – like watching Monica kiss empty air thanks to how compartmentalized Chandler was observing the embrace.
In her kiss, Monica was passionate, yet tender all at once. To see her so lovingly and sincerely kissing someone else mesmerized Chandler. It was almost like, in observing her participate in such a loving and sacred act, he was seeing his beautiful best friend with fresh eyes, which was odd – Chandler had seen Monica kiss many men, some of them her boyfriends, plenty of times before: Richard. Pete.
Yet what Chandler had never before acknowledged when watching Monica kiss someone was how it made him feel. Something green and boiling was bubbling up inside him, but it wasn't disgust, oh no.
It…. it was…..
Of their own mutual accord, Monica now slipped her one palm below Rachel's waist and fondled her bum, at the same moment she pushed her hips up to cradle Rachel's. It was a bold move in the paint, to be sure, and Monica waited, freezing everything except her lips, allowing Rachel to respond how she wanted to. And respond Rachel did, seizing Monica's globed glutes in her own fists and boldly humping her hips back.
Chandler was now vaguely aware of Joey making a truly weird noise that almost suggested the horn-dog actor wanted to cry, he was so enthralled by the heat he was witnessing. Even then, this barely registered through the blood and odd roar rushing through Chandler's ears as he finally let his vision zoom out to behold how happily Rachel was responding to Monica's kiss, her attentions.
… He was well aware that the only reason Rachel was doing this was because he, Chandler, had put her here…. and yet Chandler suddenly had the nearly uncontrollable urge to shove Rachel out of the way in a rage and forcibly take a turn with Monica's lips himself. A small bit of him actually wished Rachel's lips were his own….
He tore his gaze away, and a good thing too: 61 seconds...
…. Shit!
"TIME'S UP!" Chandler bellowed, almost too loudly, jamming his thumb down on the stopwatch so hard, it was a wonder he didn't break the button. He was more surprised than he should have been by how Monica and Rachel instantly snapped apart, gasping. There was a beat, and then both girls' hands dropped from the other's backside as if scalded. Monica appeared scandalized; Rachel looked downright shaken.
Joey had his one hand brazenly all the way down his pants, pumping up and down and giving his balls quite a beating. The vehemence with which he masturbated made it seem like his pecker was little more than his own personal piñata.
Monica gasped, and drew a hand to her mouth. "Oh, God!" she turned her face away too late, shielding her eyes. Rachel's glower was one of loathing.
It was nothing compared to Chandler, who now sent his roommate a look that could have spit stone. "You're disgusting!" he spat, with venom that shocked them all.
"What did I do?" Joey frowned, though he did withdraw his hand in a sheepish manner.
Chandler didn't dignify the question with a response, turning back to the ladies and dipping his head in deferential respect. "Thank you. Consider the apartment yours again." He turned on his heel and marched into Apartment 19, refraining from dragging Joey behind, instead trusting that his licentious wingman would follow.
Chandler clapped his hands together. "Totally worth it!" He said this, and yet his thoughts weren't entirely in agreement. That green monster he was loathed to name was still stirring, ravenous. Behind him, Joey appeared to possess no such inner turmoil, concurring, "That was one, good minute!"
"Good night!"
"Night!"
The boys entered their respective rooms almost as one, the doors slamming behind them.
Scarcely a minute went by before Chandler's bedroom door opened again and he strutted back out across the apartment, almost in a farcical about-face, moving back into the hallway. Nothing less than adrenaline fueled him as he pounded on the door to Apartment 20.
Relief and a kind of inertia of terror washed over him when Monica answered the door, her face affixed in a concave frown of annoyance.
"What, Chandler?"
For a single, heart-stopping moment, Chandler's mind went blank. He couldn't speak. All he could sense was how his face was hot, all red, and that his breathing was shallow. If he'd had the luxury of a mirror, he would have observed how his pupils were all dilated.
Monica denoted all of this too in her best friend's demeanor, and, perplexed along with her rapidly increasing impatience, cocked a loaded eyebrow.
"Use your words," she prompted him, trying to keep her tone at least patient and gentle, even as her expression was not.
"I'm frustrated," Chandler finally ground out.
She snorted derisively. "Sexually? I gathered as much."
"That's not it!"
Monica now started to laugh awkwardly. "Oh, what, so that wasn't hot enough for you? Rache and I laid out our deal, and you accepted it. We held up our end of the bargain – what more do you want?!"
"Nothing!" Chandler whined. He wasn't making sense, and he knew it, but it also drove him mad because she wasn't listening to him! "You held up more than your fair share! I'm sorry I was slower on the draw and you went a second or two over…"
He oddly expected Monica to become enraged at this admission, but instead her expression softened. "It's OK, sweetie…. I was surprised by how it went almost too fast and too slow at the same time…." Searching his eyes, she braced Chandler's forearms with her soft palms, which was the first indication Chandler had to how he was actually shaking with pent-up emotion. "Chandler: it's OK….."
"No, it's not OK!" It would have been so simple to apologize, to say that Monica and Rachel shouldn't have been maneuvered into doing what they had done just to get their apartment back. Would that it were that simple!
Monica frowned, as bristling seeped back into her demeanor. "So it's suddenly not OK Rache and I have our apartment? We won it back, fair and square, just like we lost it, fair and square…."
"I don't give a damn about the apartment!" Chandler thundered, his teeth clenched. At this point, he doubted if he ever did.
"Then what? What is it? Why are you acting like this?"
"Because I was jealous!"
Silence. Monica's deep blue eyes widened and she leaned back a little bit from how she was almost at rest in Chandler's arms, from the way her hands still gripped his forearms. A pregnant pause, and then she started to chuckle.
"Jealous? What, of Rachel and me kissing?" Chandler started to bob his head Yes…. then shook his head No. Monica's lips pursed in a smirk of bemusement. "Which is it, honey?"
Chandler's mouth refused to work. He didn't trust his own voice to convey what he wanted to even if it did.
"Were you jealous of me?" Monica asked gently. Chandler shook his head. Monica's pretty mouth hung open and she sucked in a breath. "…. Were you jealous of Rachel?"
…. Chandler slowly nodded.
Monica, bewildered, spluttered:
"…. Why?..."
Chandler couldn't really explain it; he hadn't the words. All he had were feelings that had been shifting like sand under his feet ever since Montauk. Suddenly, things about her – things about Monica – that once hadn't made him so much as bat an eye now left him all hot and bothered. And ironically, it was the sight of this incredible woman playing tonsil tag with his college roommate's crush that had been the pebble to push the boulder over the edge.
Monica peered at Chandler. "You were…. jealous of Rachel kissing me…. because…" When Chandler didn't answer, she prodded him again, prompting. "…. because….?"
Didn't she know? If not, she was being remarkably compassionate even in her pretending not to know. Chandler actually buried his face in his hands.
"…. because for part of that minute, I couldn't even focus on who you were kissing, and just watched how you kiss. And…. I wanted nothing more than to shove Rachel aside in a jealous rage because…. I…. I wished your lips were on mine instead."
He lifted his face from his splayed fingers to peek at how Monica now gazed at him, stunned. Her flabbergasted speechlessness was the most beautiful sight he had seen in all his life.
Chandler knew: if he hadn't given the game away in Montauk by asking her out over and over again while attempting to pass it off as a teasing jab, he had definitely given away the game now. He had debased himself in humiliating fashion and now lay down his love at her feet, to do with what she wished. She had his heart, damn it all, and she could do what she liked with it: crush it. Or…..
There was no 'or.' As if she would ever entertain kissing him – deal, dare or not. Pity, maybe, now that he'd made an admission so pathetic as being jealous…. and of a girl. Of Rachel. Chandler almost didn't want Monica to kiss him because he knew if she did, it would only be out of pity. Essentially, it would be pressure not at all unlike the pressure he and Joey had used to maneuver the girls into making the deal they had, albeit a different kind.
All of these emotions that he couldn't express built and built in Chandler until he simply snapped.
"Monica…." A breathless sigh of her name was all he could manage before, almost in a fit, Chandler suddenly cradled her face in his hands, tilted it up and earnestly slammed his lips down onto hers.
His kiss was frustrated without being violent, and Chandler waited for Monica to shove him away. More likely, deck him, and he wouldn't blame her if she did. He felt her lips part under his as she let out an astonished gasp, and then a choked squeak. He kissed her more deeply, even as the feel of his lips on hers eased just a bit, almost in apology – forcibly kissing her was taking a huge risk, even if it could be chalked up as having some kind of sexually-frustrated nervous breakdown. Chandler wouldn't have been surprised if, after he had had his fill of tasting heaven, Monica sent him away, their friendship in tatters.
The only trouble was: …. He would never have his fill of kissing her. He had supped from this perfect set of lips for only a handful of seconds, and suddenly, Chandler was bowled over to realize and gladly accept how he never, never wanted to kiss anyone else ever again.
His eyes had closed without his brain telling them to. He heard Monica make a kind of whimpering noise in the back of her throat. At first listen, that whimper sounded shocked, but interestingly, not frightened. Not even outraged.
Chandler shivered with delirious delight as he felt Monica's palms glide up his chest. He suddenly felt a pinch as her fingers fisted the fabric of his T-shirt, then the skin underneath, her grip just missing his third nipple. His entire body tensed as he braced himself for the moment when she would inevitably push him away. Probably, she would then slap him too, for good measure.
Neither happened. It took a moment for Chandler to register how Monica's lips turned, pushed into his such that he realized:
She was kissing him back…..
Chandler and Monica finally broke apart after an untold amount of seconds that no stopwatch could have ever measured. Certainly, it was far more than a minute. Their lips drew away reluctantly, sensuously, with a pronounced POP! Chandler fought the instinct to wince, the skittish, awkward geek in him somewhat still awaiting, expecting a justified smack across the face.
Gazing into Monica's eyes, he saw how they were dilated, darkened. Flecks of black now tinged those sapphire pools that Chandler could just swim in. Her breasts heaved like a bellows under the maroonish-brown top she wore, and she ducked her head down to study Chandler's chest almost contemplatively, even shyly. How her palms braced his pectorals.
"We… we mustn't…. This is wrong…." Her voice sounded breathless, weak; Chandler could hear it. He also clearly detected what he didn't hear: the word 'NO.' For all her protestations against giving in to such wicked temptation, Monica hadn't said No. She hadn't pushed him away. She hadn't berated him in righteous outrage, for kissing her without her express permission.
Then, suddenly, Monica was kissing him again, her lips slanting, caressing, smothering over Chandler's. With every breath she took, and these were few, in between fervent kisses, Monica purred and hummed. "Hmmmm….. Mmmmmmm…." She was trembling against him, and Chandler indulged in every instinct to wind his arms around her slim waist and pull Monica close, into his embrace. They were making out ferociously now, with a passion that gave every indication of just how much they had forgotten themselves.
They broke apart to get air, but also to get a hold of themselves. Monica's face was adorably flushed, her eyes lidded with a dazed quality. "You know what's weird?" she rasped, panted.
"What?" Chandler grunted.
"This doesn't feel weird!" And a luminous, pleasantly surprised beam alighted across Monica's face like the very dawn.
"I know!"
Monica bit her lip shyly. "You're a really good kisser…."
Chandler giggled. "Well, I have kissed more than four women…."
"I don't want to hear about any of the women you've kissed." There was abruptly a tense growl in Monica's tone - possessive, domineering, and it excited Chandler's very blood. She had seen some of the women Chandler had kissed, and, for her personally, had found them wanting, on his behalf. Kathy. And worst of all, Janice.
"Fine. Then I don't want to hear about the women you've kissed!" Chandler's lips flopped in a flummoxed frown at his use of the plural – Monica had only ever kissed one woman, as far as he knew, and moments ago. "…. Or men," he added lamely.
"Fine." A loaded beat, and then they were ravishing each other with their lips once more, necking fiercely. Monica boldly steered Chandler into putting his hands on her, helping him grip and then hike her thigh up to wrap around his torso, while his other palm, she guided to cup the swell of her breast through her sweater.
The embracing couple staggered, stumbled back towards Monica's bedroom. Chandler finally had to lift Monica completely off her feet and into his arms so she could fold both of her svelte legs around his middle.
One of them – they didn't know who, and didn't care – kicked the door closed with their foot. Chandler and Monica tumbled back onto her bed.
He freed his aching erection. She lethargically spread her legs in invitation.
A moment later, Chandler filled his lover's wet warmth and they were making love.
Not once did their lips part from the kiss they had sunk into – not even long after both Chandler and Monica had climaxed at the heights of pleasure.
Neither would kiss another with such love for the rest of their days.