The One With The Night Of Seven Times

By: Jana~

Chapter Three

XXX

--His eyes only left her to check the time, otherwise, Chandler watched Monica sleep for the entire fifteen minutes she’d asked for.

“Mon?” he called to her in a soft, quiet voice, brushing his thumb against her upper arm as his fingers hooked around her shoulder. “Time’s up.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes already?” she asked groggily, craning to give him better access to her neck when he started brushing his lips lightly up it.

“Hmm,” he hummed in answer to her question, adding breathlessly, “Longest fifteen minutes of my life.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, reaching out to him, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck in encouragement; he moaned, latching onto the taut skin beneath his lips in response. “Don’t leave a mark,” she asked of him, her objection weak at best.

“K,” he muttered, dragging the tip of his tongue up to her ear before whispering, “Why?”

“Wedding, tomorrow,” she answered, his attentions clearly affecting her, “Dress… spaghetti straps… backless…”

Smiling against her, so that she could feel him do so, he asked, “It covers your hips, right?”

Her breath catching, she nodded, knowing before he even started the journey, what his intentions were.

Planting soft kisses along her collarbone first, he then moved on to her breasts, licking and nibbling on milky skin before suckling and biting gently on taut. Receiving moans of approval, he inched lower, brushing a path down to her belly button, his tongue dipping in and swirling around it, causing her to squirm as her arousal piqued and desire flooded her senses.

“Please tell me you’re not planning on torturing me again,” she complained halfheartedly, but the way she moved beneath him and into his touch, told him she wasn’t as opposed to the idea as her words implied.

“Would that be so bad?” he asked around the faintest of grins, teasing her, inwardly pleased at how impatient he was making her.

“No,” she admitted reluctantly, her voice only slightly above a whisper.

“Tell me about your dream,” he requested as he slowly trailed kisses to her hip.

“Now?” she croaked, her fingers raking into his hair in silent support of what was to come.

“Yes,” he whispered back, his lips latching on, sucking the tender skin with increasing pressure. “I told you mine,” he said as he pulled back, just enough to admire the mark he had just left on her, adding, “It’s only fair.” Slithering up beside her, he pressed his body into hers as he nuzzled into her hair, reminding her, “You said you would.”

“I did,” she agreed, then, resigned to the fact that she wasn’t going to be able to get out of it, began to share. “It was the day Joey moved in, and Phoebe had just essentially moved out…”

“What was?” he asked, confused. “The day you had the dream, or the day in the dream?”

“Both,” she answered, then shushed him before continuing. “You had come over looking for beer, and I was depressed cause I didn’t have a boyfriend, and a little cause Phoebe had moved out. I had just left the bathroom, when you came in, and I was wrapped in a towel, headed for my room. You asked me what was wrong… Do you remember the day I’m talking about?”

“Yeah,” he answered, inching his hand under her and gathering her into his arms. “I remember. Continue.”

“Well, things didn’t stop with you consoling me,” she near-whispered, starting to feel the flush of embarrassment, adding for clarification purposes, “In the dream, I mean. In the dream, you pulled back from holding me, but instead of complimenting the fine craftsmanship of my towel,” she smirked, rolling her eyes at the memory, “You… kissed me. Real gentle at first. Nervously. But, then, it turned into more. A lot more. And then, you just stared back at me for a moment, like you were waiting for me to decide how to proceed, so, I smiled back at you, took your hand, and led you to my room.”

When she stopped her tale there, Chandler asked, “That’s where the dream ended?”

Shrugging, she whispered, “Well, no. Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?” he laughed, nudging her and asking, “What happened next?”

“We, you know, made love,” she answered hesitantly, her cheeks burning so hot, she just knew he could feel it against his chest.

“Aw, c’mon!” he complained good-naturedly, “You gotta give me more than that! I gave you more than that!”

“Not much more,” she countered, hiding a smile, biting her lip to keep from laughing when he whined disappointedly.

“K,” he suggested, “I’ll tell’ya what. How ‘bout, you give me just one little detail? Just one.”

She groaned when she recognized her own words being repeated back to her. Conceding, she said, “You’re right. Fair is fair. One little detail, then, we drop it. Deal?”

“Deal,” he returned in agreement of the terms, then shifted anxiously in anticipation of what she would say next.

“Ok,” she muttered, pausing nervously for a moment before whispering shyly, “We never made it to the bed.”

Perking in surprise, he asked almost giddily, “We did it on the floor?”

“Nice,” she muttered sarcastically, then added, “And, no, we didn’t.”

Surprise shifted into confusion. “On the… dresser?”

Rolling her eyes, she answered, “No. And, how?”

“I don’t know!” he quipped. “Then, where?”

“I already gave the agreed upon one detail,” she told him firmly, unwilling to share more than she had to.

“C’mon, Mon,” he jokingly whined, “Why won’t you tell me?” When she only shrugged in response, he asked teasingly, “Is it because you’re too shy to?”

He’d said it to try and goad her into telling him, but instead he found himself receiving a nod in answer.

A little more serious, but still trying to keep the mood light, he asked, “If I guess it, will you tell me if I’m right?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her hand deliberately starting to stroke his chest. Other than a shaky intake of air, he gave no sign that he even realized she was doing it.

“Were we… standing up?” he asked, attempting to narrow down his options.

“Partially,” she answered, and he arched an eyebrow in response.

“Up against the door? Or the wall?”

Nodding, her hand drifted lower, playing in and around his navel, purposefully trying to distract him.

The tactic worked, a slow moan escaping him before he stated simply, “You have excellent dreams, too,” then surrendered the subject in favor of more pleasurable pursuits.

When her lips and tongue joined her hand, he moaned louder, grabbing Monica’s pillow beside him and tucking it under his head so he could better watch what she was doing to him.

“This is that, turnaround is fair play thing you were hinting at before, isn’t it?” he asked, somewhat joking, completely mesmerized by the sight of her lips on his skin, the feel of her against him as she slowly and almost painfully slid kisses and barely there caresses down across his hip to his thigh. He was in both Heaven and Hell.

“Yes,” she whispered, her warm breath in contrast to the coolness of the room causing him to shudder. “Regretting it now?” she asked playfully, a slight wicked grin only just visible to him.

“Never,” he whispered back, his eyes leisurely drifting closed as every muscle in his body seemed to tense in response to how aroused he was becoming. “If you’re trying to kill me,” he added seconds later, in a voice he scarcely recognized as his own, “You’re succeeding.”

“You won’t die,” she teased him, her kisses inching higher to play across his chest, her tongue then flicking at his right nipple before nipping at it with her teeth.

“Oh, God,” he breathed, his hand reaching to wrap around himself; she stopped him before contact was made.

“Let me,” she insisted, smirking up at him, enjoying the look of tortured ecstasy on his face.

She could tell by the subtle change in his expression, that he was anticipating her next move, the knowledge that she could read him so easily both stirring and perplexing her. If she believed in past lives, as Phoebe did, she would’ve sworn they had been lovers in a former one.

“Mon, please,” he near-begged, when her affections progressed no further, “If you’re not going to do it, at least let me do it.”

“You would be willing to do that in front of me?” she asked, and his eyes opened to find hers staring back at him.

The word ‘willing’ danced inside his brain for a moment, before he carefully asked, “Would you like me to?”

Blushing, she looked away, an eternity of seconds passing before she finally nodded, asking in a whisper, “Is that weird?”

“No,” he assured her, patting the bed to the left of him as he added, “Come over here. I’m a righty.”

Climbing over him, she settled in next to him, up against him, and he wrapped his arm around her as he pulled her closer, asking quietly, “Comfortable?”

Nodding in answer, she felt her entire body flush and arousal shoot through her as he took himself into his hand, slowly stroking his length.

“Your shyness,” he whispered, breaking the silence after several moments, “It seems to almost, come and go.”

“I don’t know why,” she answered the unasked question, then asked him curiously, “You ever do this before? In front of someone, I mean?”

“No.” His tone gave away his gratification, as did the quickening of his pace. “Is this… turning you on?”

“Yes,” she admitted guiltily, asking with an air of uncertainty, “It’s not weird?”

Shaking his head slightly, he told her, “I would be turned on, if I was watching you.”

“Is that a hint?” she asked.

He could hear the faintest inkling of humor in her voice, and he grinned as he said in reply, “If you’re willing.”

“We’ll see,” she whispered. “I might chicken out.”

Tightening his hold on her, almost consolingly, he asked, “How far did you want me to go here?”

“It’s your call,” she told him, her fingers itching to fondle him, her nails scraping gently across his torso.

A deep moan formed low in his throat, asking as the sound blended into words, “Could you take over now?”

Feeling her nod, his hand left his erection as he reached for hers, bringing it down and encouraging her to wrap it around him.

“Too hard?” she asked after stroking him for several repetitions, “I’m told I have too strong a grip.”

“God, no,” he breathed, “It feels amazing.”

Within minutes, he started to tense, and she knew by that and his shallow breathing, that he was close.

“Chandler?” she whispered, “Put your hand up.”

Confused by what she was asking of him, he muttered, “Why? You’re doing fantastically.”

“Not that,” she told him, adding in explanation, “Put your hand up, in front, to, you know, catch the… stuff.”

“The stuff?” he laughed, effectively staving off his orgasm, pulling her tighter to him when he heard her sigh in slight exasperation. “Your shyness seems to be more about verbalizing, rather than doing,” he ventured, squinting an eye open as he awaited her response.

“While you seem to want to verbalize every aspect,” she shot back, her tone letting him know that she wasn’t at all angry, her pace remaining steady as she shifted to look over at him.

“Does that bother you?” he asked, trying to determine the answer by the expression she wore.

“No,” she said meekly, “It challenges me, because of my inability to.”

The need for release rising again, he only nodded silently in answer, closing his eyes as he allowed the feeling to overtake him.

She watched him as he scowled in concentration, as his tongue darted out to wet his dry lips, and she smiled knowingly as his breathing came in short gasps. He was on the brink.

When he put his hand up, as she had asked him to do earlier, she knew he was there.

“Cum for me, Chandler,” she whispered, and the tiniest grin appeared on his face before a look of pleasure washed over him, a moan accompanying the look of bliss.

“Was that so hard?” he asked as she slowed to a stop, and a teasing grin played on her lips in response.

“Are you referring to you, or what I just said?” she asked in jest, to which he glared jokingly back at her.

“What you just said,” he answered, adding with a smirk, “I know exactly how hard I was.”

Laughing shortly, she suggested a bit more seriously, “We should go wash up.”

Agreeing with a nod, he shifted positions, moving to leave the bed, her directly behind him, following as he entered the bathroom.

As soon as he was done at the sink, he stepped aside to allow her access, but upon catching their reflection in the mirror, he slid up in back of her, his arms wrapping around her, just below her breasts.

“This is a fantastic view, don’t’cha think?” he asked, resting his chin on her shoulder, watching her expression in the glass in front of them as he cupped a breast, running his thumb across the taut peak of it.

Moaning, she steadied herself by gripping at the edge of the counter, her eyes drooping closed in response to his touch.

“Open your eyes, Mon,” he whispered as he nuzzled her cheek with his, his slight stubble pleasantly rough against her delicate skin, “Look at how good this looks.”

Visual stimulation collided with physical as she stared back at their images, and in a moment that was almost bordering on sheer desperation, she turned in his arms and lunged for his lips with hers. Due to the abruptness of her actions, he stumbled slightly at first, but quickly caught up with her frenzied pace, lifting her in his arms and carrying her back to the bed.

“I just need a minute,” he whispered, then without teasing or pretenses, pushed her legs open and slipped two fingers inside her.

Arching her back, she moaned loudly at the wanted intrusion, the sound being absorbed as he kissed her hard. With each inward stroke, when fully inside her, he pressed the palm of his hand against her clit, on each outward stroke, he hooked his fingers, pushing up and dragging slowly. When she whimpered in response, he knew he’d found the right combination to fulfill her needs.

Wanting to give her more pleasure, feeling almost high over her reaction to him, he broke the kiss and moved quickly to her breast, flicking the rock hard nipple only once with his tongue before taking it into his mouth, alternating between lapping gently and sucking firmly.

Her orgasm was approaching at an alarming speed, stealing her breath, causing her words to come out in whispered gasps. “God… Chandler… So… Close…”

Attempting to push her over the edge, not knowing if it even would, he pressed his growing erection up against her, rocking to create friction not only for himself, but so that she could feel how aroused he was becoming.

“Do you like the feel of me, hard against you?” he asked in a whisper, genuinely wanting to know; he received his answer not in words, but indirectly.

Tensing, she inhaled sharply, breathing his name in a slow exhale of air as she climaxed, only beginning to relax when he withdrew his fingers from her body.

Feeling him shift away from her, she struggled to open her eyes, asking when it looked like he was leaving the bed, “Where are you going?”

Smiling back at her, he held up the little foil package before ripping into it, whispering, “I’m not going anywhere, trust me.”

To be continued

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