Chandler bought an Oscar la de Renta dress for their anniversary and didn't even think about it as much as he should have.
After all, he'd spent almost a month's worth of his salary just to make her happy. He'd simply hid it somewhere , and whispered something ambiguous in her ear to hint about it before they parted ways in the early hours of the morning.
She thought he was the "financially conscious" one in their group.
"Let's go on a date tonight."
Joey was going out with a girl he'd gotten the number of on the train, Ross was taking Phoebe to some big movie premiere, and Rachel had a meeting at work. Usually, when their friends were all occupied and two empty apartments available, they'd prefer spending time cuddling and eating at home—enjoying the normal, private moments other couples would have—so Monica was surprised when he suggested they go out for dinner.
Monica tilted her head back, allowing Chandler to pepper her ears and shoulders and neck with chaste kisses. His lips were gradually making it harder and harder for her to resist the idea of spending more alone time with him. "Okay. Then what should I wear tonight?"
"Nothing."
Monica moved away from him, leaving some space between them, raising her eyebrows.
Chandler grinned, his lips pouting a little, and Monica felt like a crazy person to stop his sweet attack. She wanted his lips back on her, preferably immediately.
Chandler leaned forward to lever himself higher than her, kissed her hair while she snuck back to his warmth, "Get your mind out of the gutter, lady. I mean, you don't have to prepare anything, I've taken care of everything for you. Just show up and be pretty."
Then his eyes grew dreamy. "And even if you wear nothing, I still think you're the most beautiful person, dead or alive."
Almost right away, his hand started caressing her bare skin, as if to emphasize his point. His fingers wandered between her breasts, then to her navel, came dangerously close to where she usually wanted him the most. Monica moaned. Her thighs clamped down to stop his mischievous journey, knowing they were playing with fire, soon Rachel would wake and Joey would come over banging on door for breakfast.
"Don't. There's no time."
Chandler growled in disapproval. "I hate mornings."
"No. You don't."
Chandler shook his head, smiled softly. He really didn't. He was an early riser (just like Monica), and he loved the weekday mornings with her. No one demanded her service so they would cuddle up at an old-fashioned breakfast diner, just chatting and kissing languidly, before he had to go to work and Monica went to the grocery store. There was something about the silence and idleness of the morning that was especially intimate to them.
"No, I don't. Okay, I give up, I'll go. See you later baby."
He scrambled out of bed, sleepily shoving his hands into his T-shirt. She tugged at the hem of his shirt as he pulled on his pants, still in all her nakedness. She kneeled on the bed and pulled him close until their lips met.
"I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too, but I won't be held responsible for my actions if you don't let me go now."
Monica giggled. She wanted to be naughty and seduce him back into bed, make love until noon, regardless of what their friends might hear and assume. However, she honestly had to get her mind out of the gutter, to stretch their bubble a little while longer, until they were ready to kiss and tell.
"Okay, bye. But do I really not need to prepare? For the night?"
"Ummm… I guess the lace teddy you bought the other day will do?"
Monica felt her face heat up instantly. How did he know? She had carefully hidden it under a pile of old clothes to surprise him on their anniversary!
Before she could ask, Chandler had darted away, not forgetting to give her one last swift kiss as goodbye.
And now she knew why he knew. In the three-piece suit Monica knew was tailored, Chandler bent down, flipped up the oversized bathing suit from when she was… overweight, cheered happily when pulled out a simple box and also the paper bag with flirty "La Perla" print on it, which contained the lingerie she'd bought the week before.
Like the meaningful looks he'd been throwing her all morning implied, Monica was dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans. The control freak in her felt so unprepared when he showed up at her door with a beautiful bouquet of irises and looked like Dracula reincarnated. But Chandler banished her thoughts with a passionate kiss, and he pushed her into the bedroom. The grin on his face showed he was excited, so Monica waited to see what he'd prepared, suppressing the urge to know every detail of the night.
Chandler pushed the box toward her, beaming. "Open it. Happy anniversary."
"Happy anniversary. You really don't have to give me anything, darling."
Monica always said that when Chandler did, because a big part of his love language was gift-giving. Despite Monica's protests, he'd given her cookbooks, sweets, a necklace and two pairs of earrings, and lots and lots of flowers. The secret boyfriend excuse only went so far, if he kept leaving traces of himself scattered around her apartment.
"But I want to," Chandler said, ending the argument. "Open it!"
She kissed him thankfully. She guessed by the rustle inside the box that it was a dress. Also, there was the fact that Chandler had asked her size weeks ago.
But greeting her as she lifted the lid, this extravagant dress… Monica choked.
The crimson satin shimmers under the soft lights of her bedside lamp, almost as if she's holding a stream of blood moon in her arm. The dress features a plunging sweetheart neckline that dips demurely between the breasts, might expose just a tease of decolletage. Across the bodice, delicate lace in a deeper burgundy shade forms a sheer illusion overlay. The vibrant crimson hue was regal and seductive, balancing formal sophistication with irresistible sultriness.
A showstopping look, to command and to allure.
"Chandler!"
"Do you like it?"
"Oh my God!"
"I guess you do?" Chandler pressed, both amused and worried, his hands clasped tightly together.
Monica threw herself into his arms. The dress was wedged between them. "My God, honey, how much did you spend on this?"
"Not much. I thought of you when I saw it…"
"Where could you even see it?" Monica chuckled.
Seeing that he was about to be exposed, Chandler quickly changed the subject. "Let me dress you."
Monica blushed. He was good at that, saying things that were completely seductive, suggestive, and salacious , with eyes as clear blue as a summer sky.
"Dress me?"
"Yes. I will dress you."
Chandler took the dress from Monica, spread it out on the bed, smoothing it from sleeve to hem, just as Monica would prepare his work clothes. And he pulled out the lingerie that left very little to the imagination, keeping on his hands, ready for her.
"Strip, my love."
Of course, this wasn't the first time they'd helped each other get dressed, though it usually happened when it was almost sunrise and one was rushing out of the apartment across the hall before their friends caught them. On a few occasions, Monica had helped Chandler put on his tie (like a good wife, she joked to herself), or Chandler had helped her fasten a few buttons (on his shirts, a fact that always made him shiver with desire) in the middle of the night when it was getting cold.
But witnessing the whole process of dressing and participating, too?
No, this was the first time they'd done that.
Monica was a bit hesitant. Not that he never saw her naked before, for God's sake. Or not for God's sake. That man right there, dressed in all formality and respectability, was the one who had fleshed her alive and savoured each to every inch of her skin, then managed to tell her all about it. What she already knew, and what she didn't. Chandler scooped her juice with his lips and fingers and let her taste herself – what she had done but never reached the intensity as when they did it together. At this point, he probably knew Monica better than she knew her own self.
Which she guessed was why he decided to take things in his own hands (take her in his own hands), and pulled her t-shirts off her head in one smooth swoop.
Where did this proactive piece of shit come from?
But the tension eased off a little, Monica chuckled when Chandler flair his nose visibly, his serious mask fell off a bit.
"Where's your…"
"Bra? I went doing laundry before you came, and I guess since my boyfriend has gallantly prepared my clothes for me…"
"Hell yeah he did. " Chandler growled, unbuttoned her jeans too.
He let her do the honour of taking off her jeans and pulling the lingerie on, because much as he wanted to worship her, Chandler had booked a pricey restaurant in advance. He wanted to come into whatever later tonight held with a full belly, so, no funny business.
His motions were very much deliberate as he tied the silk ribbons along her back, fingers grazing on the complex lacing, the only barrier between them. With each ribbon gently tugged, lace cups and bodice hugged her glorious curves more deliciously.
A playful night the month before, they put a full-length mirror against the far side of Monica's wall, and had fun with it. After that, she found out it was convenient not to move back and forth from bedroom to bathroom to dress up every morning, so Monica left it as it was.
Now, in their reflection, she could clearly see Chandler drinking in her beauty with a smouldering stare, the clear sky originally in his eyes darkened to a stormy clouded one. Pulling her against him, his hands roamed appreciatively. She shivered at his feather-light touch as he pressed his lips to the nape of her neck.
"Do we really have to go?"
"Mhm, how would I know? Isn't it your idea?"
"Damn me."
Chandler sighed, actually looked pained when he let go of her. Monica laughed. At least she's not the one being tortured, if the erected bump grinding on her bottom was any indication.
Determined to see her in the dress he had spent a small fortune on, and also had to contact his mother for advice and connections, Chandler continued with the quest, zipping the side down.
"Come here, my love."
"Honey" was playful, "dear" came with a scoff or gentle console, "baby" was for heated caress, and "my love"...
"My love" falling from his kissable lips sounded downright exquisite.
Monica walked to him like a moth to the fire. With the glorious red hanging on his hands, he looked just like a god, bearing the fire would take humanity out of darkness. She finally stepped delicately into the pool of fabric , raising her arms as he slowly, tantalizingly drew the dress up along her body, fire running after each thread clinging to her skin.
Chandler took his time. As the satin embraced her lithe form, he brushed the cascading dark hair aside, zipping everything in place, checking if any details got stuck with a surprising dedication.
This piece of artwork was bolder than most of her closet. The upper kind of resembled the one she wore to Ross' black-tie benefit and being "breezy" to Richard's voicemail. It was backless to a deep V, but from hips down was a tempting mermaid flare to the floor. A daring side slit extends up to the upper thigh, a bit above her knees, allowing tantalizing teases of her leg to be revealed with each stride. Everything was covered up just enough so her lingerie was hidden nicely but the maroon thigh garters didn't.
Monica sighed at her sight in the mirror. She was stunning. Chandler seemingly smiled, she couldn't see him but his cheeks pulled up proudly. He's so full of himself, the bastard, but fortunately, her bastard.
And suddenly,
he kneeled.
Chandler pulled the high hells to him, but he paid no attention. From below, his eyes were wholly on her. The blue had disappeared among the pool of black in his eyes.
Monica sat down on the bed. Logically, it's because it would be easier for him to tie the shoes this way. But in fact, her legs just gave in without warning.
"How uh… how do you put this on?"
Of course, her voice cracked. "It's tied around the ankles. I can wear it mys—"
"No." He firmly declined. "I'll figure it out."
Chandler started to do as he said.
Monica couldn't process what the colour her shoes even were for the life of her. She tried, she truly did, to instruct his fingers where to tie the knot and warn him not to scratch her pedicure. But all she could see was Chandler kneeling in front of her. Her mind short-circuited at that image.
"Is this going under or over?"
"As long as the next cross is the same pattern."
Chandler nodded, bowed his head, placed her foot on his thigh, the sharp heel digging onto him. Cross to cross, tie to tie, and in a few minutes, Monica's foot is safely snugged into the golden stiletto. Pleased with his work, Chandler put his lips where the slick parted and skin started.
Monica groaned.
"Fuck..."
"This is erotic, isn't it?" Chandler asked with faux innocently.
A heart attack would bestow her before dinner did if this sweet torture wouldn't end soon enough. Monica wanted to kick him in the face.
Or opened her legs and drowned him for the rest of the night.
Not a very bad idea. Despite the façade, Chandler's shortened breaths didn't lie. He might regret ordering this outfit in the first place.
However, dutifully, Chandler began to do the other shoe, this time quicker than the prior. He's running a race with his patience and the possibility of Monica being his main dish tonight. He had planned for her to be the dessert, thus nothing would make him do otherwise.
Though Chandler made a mental promise to never let her wear this dress by herself . He had to be present, and that's that.
He jumped away from her like catching fire when it was finally done. They were both gasping now, burned up from the dressing game . The sight, the desire, all undeniable, bare to human eyes.
Unable to resist any longer, Monica pulled at his tie, she would seriously sob if he resisted. But he didn't. With the same eagerness, he tilted her chin up, captured her parted lips in a searing kiss. She sighed softly as their mouths fit together as if they were made for this moment alone.
Finally.
His tongue forced its way past her lips, which she gladly granted. Their tongues met and intertwined in a slow, sultry dance. Chandler angled her head, deepening the kiss as she wound her arms around his neck, fingers combing through his neatly combed hair. Their breaths quickly grew ragged as the intense kiss overwhelmed their senses.
Chandler pulled away first, but not far, the tantalizing chorus of ragged breaths and soft whimpers of pleasure filled the space between them. "We had a reservation at Le Bernardin so if you please…"
"Later?" Monica whimpered, displeasure evident. "Please?"
Chandler cracked a smile at his lover's whiny voice. He loved when he could render her to this carefree, sullen baby. He loved that she could lean on him for promises, while the entire world leaned on her,
"Yes, baby, later." He said.
Then, as she deserved, he kissed her hand in the most formal manner , bowing to her and all, his eyes shining blue again, meeting her lovely gaze.
"Now, shall we, darling mine?"
Note: English is not my first language, if there's any error, please let me know! Hope you enjoy this!