The One With The Night Of Seven Times

By: Jana~

 

 

Chapter Two

 

XXX

 

--The wide grin he wore upon entering the room faded slightly when his eyes landed on Monica, in his bed, sheets pulled up to her neck, seemingly sound asleep. Scoffing softly, he stepped up to the nightstand, setting the bag containing a bottle of champagne and condoms down before gently, so as not to disturb her, crawling into the bed beside her.

 

“God, your feet are like ice,” Monica whispered, scowling, her eyes remaining closed. “What, did you walk there barefoot?”

 

“Yeah, actually,” he answered with a short chuckle. “I’m surprised I didn’t lose a toe to frostbite!”

 

“And, why were we not wearing shoes?” she teased him, turning on her side to face him, slowly opening her eyes and meeting his.

 

“In my enthusiasm,” he answered with a smirk, “I simply forgot about them.”

 

“You do realize, don’t you, that the bottom of them are probably filthy, right? And that the sheets are now too probably.”

 

“I should, go wash them then?” he asked, squinting his eyes questioningly, a smirk on his face that caused Monica to laugh.

 

“Yes, you should,” she answered, smiling back as she touched his face affectionately.

 

“K,” he chirped, leaning in to kiss her lips quickly. When he pulled back, he groaned, then leaned in again and kissed her longer, softly, then begrudgingly broke it as he moved to leave the bed, calling over his shoulder, “Be right back.”

 

Turning the shower on first, he stripped as he waited for the water to warm, then jumped in, scrubbed his feet, took a quick pass at the rest of his body, and hopped out after shutting it off, all in the time it took Monica to swap Chandler’s bed’s sheets for Joey’s.

 

Stepping out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist, he grinned over at Monica as he caught the final motions of her flurried movements. “What are you doing?” he asked with a knowing lilt, and she smiled guiltily back at him for getting caught.

 

“Just changing the sheets,” she told him, her eyes locked on his before allowing them to wander over him. His skin was glistening wet, his hair sporting little beads of water, damp around the edges and sticking to his forehead and the sides of his face, and the one thing that struck her as she stared back at him was, he was handsome.

 

“What?” he asked, scowling as he noticed the intensity of her gaze.

 

Not wanting to admit where her thoughts had been, she answered, “I don’t think we’re gonna get much sleep tonight.”

 

Smiling, he said in response, “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

 

Shaking her head slowly and deliberately, she asked, “Did you think to get cups for the champagne?”

 

“I just figured we’d swig it,” he quipped sarcastically, receiving a joking glare back from her. “In the bag,” he laughed, stepping towards her as she moved to retrieve it from the nightstand, adding, “They only had paper, though.”

 

“That’s fine,” she said as she pulled the bottle out and handed it over to Chandler to open. As he went to work on the cork, she pulled the other two items out of the bag, then smirked as she held up the box of condoms. “Jumbo count?”

 

Shrugging, he said, “Better too many than too few, right?”

 

“True,” she agreed, adding, “Just thought you were being really optimistic.”

 

The cork popping startled her, and he laughed as he apologized before stating with a touch of seriousness, “Kinda seemed like I had reason to be.”

 

Pulling two cups from the wrapper they came in, she handed one over to him, hiding a grin as she told him, “You have good instincts.”

 

“I don’t know about that,” he muttered, handing her the full cup and pouring the second for himself.

 

“Oh, trust me,” she laughed shortly, “You do.”

 

Reaching past her to set the bottle on the nightstand, he smiled as he touched his cup to hers, then toasted, “To an amazing night.”

 

Raising her glass in agreement, they both drank for a moment, before she lowered the cup and announced in slight amazement, “Hey! This is pretty good!”

 

“Well, I wasn’t gonna buy crap, on a night like this,” he said in response, and Monica’s heart swelled.

 

It would probably be embarrassing for him, so she didn’t bring attention to it, but the meaning behind his words were clear. This meant something to him.

 

Setting her cup down next to the champagne bottle, she fingered the edge of the sheet she was wearing before suggesting, “Why don’t we lose the sheet and towel, and get back into bed.”

 

Nodding, his breath catching, he watched as she un-tucked the corner of the off-white linen wrapped around her, exposed herself to him oh-so slowly, then dropped it to the floor. Following her lead, he yanked the towel off himself abruptly before pulling her into his arms and pressing his lips to hers.

 

“We’ve already done the slow and torturous thing,” she said as she broke the kiss and dragged him towards the bed, “This time, no teasing.”

 

“At all?” he asked, climbing in after her and immediately on top of her.

 

“Very little,” she answered, opening her legs and wrapping them around his waist.

 

“Wait,” he announced suddenly, removing her legs from around him. “Condom.”

 

Smiling sheepishly, she muttered, “Sorry,” then they both started looking around for the box he had just purchased. “Try the floor,” she suggested, and he slid away from her as he started hunting.

 

In their haste to get into bed, it fell off from it and was kicked underneath.

 

“Found them,” he said as he held it up in triumph, then immediately tore into it and fished one out. “How dedicated are you to missionary style?” he asked as he ripped into the foil and retrieved the protection from inside.

 

“Why?” she asked incredulously, a hint of a smile on her face.

 

Shrugging, he answered, “There are other really good positions.”

 

“Yeah,” she half-agreed, half-jokingly challenged, “Such as?”

 

Rolling the condom on, he avoided eye contact as he muttered, “Hands and knees?”

 

“Chandler is kinky?” she teased him; she could’ve sworn she saw him blush.

 

“Not that kinky,” he returned in slight defense. “I just… know of this really cool thing we could do.”

 

“Which is?” she asked, watching his expression carefully. It changed almost in the blink of an eye, from somewhat embarrassed, to seductively serious.

 

“Do you trust me?” he asked, reinitiating eye contact, and the slight smile dropped from her face as she nodded. Kneeling on the bed, he whispered, “Hands and knees, please.”

 

With only the slightest hesitation, she did as he asked, waiting for what seemed like minutes for him to move up to her.

 

“Sorry,” he apologized with a hint of humor in his tone, “I was enjoying the view.”

 

“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed sarcastically, smirking. “Now what?”

 

Now,” he answered, “We have some patience.”

 

“Oh, God,” she groaned, “If this is gonna be another tease-fest, I’d just assume--”

 

She was rendered effectively speechless as he grabbed her hips and thrust into her in one quick motion.

 

The pace he set wasn’t slow, but it wasn’t fast by any means. It was neither teasing nor demanding. It was just… pleasant.

 

Less than two minutes later, he leaned forward, into her, then asked in a whisper, “Ready to try the cool thing now?”

 

“Am I?” she asked, her voice expressing the pleasure she was experiencing and slight humor, and Chandler smiled against her back before trailing kisses up it.

 

“You are,” he whispered back, then, wrapping an arm around her, instructed, “Sit up with me.”

 

Holding himself deep inside her, he brought her with him as he pushed upright, her essentially sitting in his lap. Gripping her hips, he began directing her movements, but as soon as they found a rhythm, he slid his hands up and around to her front, cupping a breast in each.

 

“How we doin?” he asked breathlessly, resting his cheek against her back as he gently pulled and twisted her taut nipples.

 

“It’s nice like this,” she whispered back, “But the angle is wrong. I need your finger.”

 

Smirking, he asked, “You need my finger to what?”

 

“You know,” she answered.

 

“I do,” he admitted, “But I want to hear you say it.”

 

“Chandler,” she half-whined, half-scolded, blushing furiously.

 

“You’re shyer than I thought you’d be,” he mused aloud, returning his lips to her freckled skin.

 

“Just do it,” she sighed, slightly frustrated, but mostly embarrassed.

 

“Shy and bossy,” he teased, his right hand slowly drifting lower, “That’s one hell-of-a sexy combination.”

 

She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could even form a single word, his finger was on her clit, circling it.

 

“God, thank you,” she moaned, her head hanging limp as she began to breathe heavily.

 

He fought the urge to make a joke along the lines of “I’m hardly a God,” and instead, simply whispered, “You’re welcome.”

 

Remembering her instructions from before, he began alternating strokes, first moving his finger up and down over the small nub, then in tiny circles.

 

“You have a good memory,” she whispered. “I didn’t even have to remind you.”

 

“It’s not like it was years ago, Mon,” he joked, smiling when she laughed.

 

“Some guys forget during,” she quipped, though in reality, she had found, that was sometimes true.

 

Chandler, however, didn’t seem to have that problem. He was a fast learner, as he had boasted at the start of the night, and he seemed to genuinely care about her needs and pleasure.

 

“You’re awful quiet,” he whispered against her back, his breath warm on her skin. “Am I doing something wrong?”

 

“No,” she assured him, “I’m just… concentrating.”

 

“If you need me to do something different, I will,” he offered sincerely. “If you want to go back to missionary, we can.”

 

“Chandler,” she told him, sensing he was doubting himself again, “Quiet isn’t always a bad thing. I’m savoring the moment. Concentrating on the movement, and how it feels.”

 

Nodding, he whispered, “I just want to make you cum.”

 

Moaning, she sighed, “Go on.”

 

He scowled in confusion for a moment, then, realization hit him. She wanted him to talk to her.

 

“You feel so good, wrapped around me,” he whispered. “I’ve never been so aroused, ever in my entire life. You are so beautiful. So sexy. I can’t believe you’re here with me…”

 

It started out as ‘erotic talk’, but all too soon, the truth was spilling out of him instead.

 

“I’ve dreamt of this, so many times. You’d come into my room, late at night… climb into bed with me. We’d touch each other, nervously at first, but then need would kick in. And we’d make love, over and over again…”

 

When he realized what he was saying, he stopped, clearing his throat anxiously before asking, “Are you close yet?”

 

The significance of what he had just said was not lost on her.

 

“Getting there,” she told him, then downplaying the whole thing with a casual tone, asked of him, “Tell me more about the dream.”

 

The request more than just surprised him. Not only was she not angry with him for having an erotic dream about her, she was actually encouraging him to share details.

 

“Is that where you got the idea for this position?” she pressed further, hoping to ease him past the awkwardness she sensed he was feeling.

 

“Yes,” he admitted, his thrusts becoming more insistent, almost possessive.

 

Matching his change in approach, she brought her hand up to his, the one laying across her breast motionless, and threaded her fingers through his, dropping their entwined hands down to her side. “Tell me,” she whispered, almost demanding, though the tone she used was far from it.

 

“There’s not much else to tell,” he sighed, scowling, silently wishing she’d just let it go. Cursing himself for blurting it out in the first place.

 

“Any little detail, Chandler,” she urged. “Just one.” When he remained silent, she glanced over her shoulder, a smirk playing on her lips as she offered, “If you tell me, I’ll share with you.”

 

A shot of arousal coursed through him, and he leaned his forehead against her back as he attempted to breathe through it, asking in a whisper, “You’ve had dreams about me and you?”

 

“Yes,” she answered, adding, “Want to hear about it?”

 

“Yes,” he breathed, shuddering at the mere thought of it.

 

“You first,” she told him determinedly.

 

“In this position,” he finally shared, “In the dream, you were more… hands-on.”

 

Forcing herself not to laugh at the implication, she asked, “Meaning?”

 

“You pleasured yourself,” he answered, “Leaving my hands free to do… other things.”

 

Catching on easily, she disentangled her left hand from his, bringing it to her breast as she inched her right hand beneath his, taking over the task he was dutifully attending to.

 

Leaving his hand hovering over hers for a few moments, to feel what she was doing, he then regained his head, sliding his right hand up to her right breast as his left moved to her abdomen, his index finger playing in and around her navel.

 

“You have excellent dreams,” she whispered, the last syllable easing into a moan.

 

“Your turn,” he choked out, brushing his lips across her back, trailing soft kisses as he traveled.

 

“Later,” she grunted softly. “I’m close.”

 

“Thank God.” The meaning was clear. A whimper escaped her as she started to tense, and he knew she was on the brink. “Cum for me, Monica,” he whispered. “I want to feel you cum.”

 

That sent her crashing over, and she moaned loudly as she shook from the intensity of it, an ‘oh, God’ and his name tumbling from her lips.

 

He gripped her hips to help slow the pace, but as soon as she started to relax, he picked it back up again, triggering her second orgasm, which quickly brought on his.

 

As soon as he was finished, and sensed she was as well, he pulled out and collapsed beside her on the bed, his arms reaching out for her. Shifting positions, she fell into his embrace, her lips seeking his. Panting, they broke away often to gain air, but they kept going back for more, the kiss growing passionate despite the frequent disruptions.

 

When their labored breathing started to return to normal, the kiss softened, more closely resembling the deep-seeded affection long time lovers would share, as they languidly reacquainted themselves with each other.

 

“I can’t believe you don’t think I’m a pervert,” he whispered abruptly against her lips, then continued kissing her like he hadn’t said anything at all.

 

Pulling away slightly, she smirked back at him, the expression growing when he seemed almost wounded that she had broken their connection.

 

“Why would I think that?” she asked, denying him her lips when he reached for them with his.

 

Realizing the kissing was over, at least for the moment, he sighed, then shrugged as he answered, “Cause, I’ve had dreams about you.”

 

“So?” she laughed, “I’ve had dreams about you, too! Lots of people have dreams about their friends!”

 

“Sex dreams?” he asked, almost challenging her.

 

She laughed again, reminding him, “Don’t you remember that one Rachel had about you?”

 

The memory finding him, a tiny smile inched onto his face, and he nodded once, only slightly, before announcing in a tone that was a cross between a question and a statement, “I’m not a pervert.”

 

“No,” she assured him, moving to grab the blankets and bringing them up, snuggling into them and encouraging him to do the same, “You’re not a pervert.”

 

They settled in, her in his arms, and as he heard her sigh contentedly, he asked, “Were you going to tell me about your dream?”

 

“Later,” she whispered, allowing her eyes to drift closed. “Let me just, rest my eyes, for a few minutes.”

 

She was sleepy, he could tell, but he wasn’t ready to give up the night just yet. “How many minutes do you want?” he asked, reaching behind him blindly and fumbling past the champagne bottle and cups, to find his watch. “I’ll keep an eye on the time for you.”

 

“Fifteen?” she asked, checking to see if he was ok with that.

 

Smiling as he kissed her forehead, he whispered, “See you on the other side of fifteen.”

 

To be continued

 

Thanks for reading!