The One With The Night Of Seven Times

By: Jana~

Chapter Four

XXX

--“I’m not going anywhere, trust me,” he assured her, then hastily rolled the condom on, returning to her just as quickly.

Settling in between her legs, he pressed himself against her opening, ready to enter her, but then, he paused. Staring down on her, their eyes locked, and a slightly confused expression edged onto her face as she asked, “Is something wrong?”

Silent for a moment, he eventually shook his head, whispering back, “Nothing is.”

With a brief smile to reassure her, he began easing inside her, slowly, so he could feel every inch enter her, watching her intently as the signs of pleasure and arousal flickered in her eyes. When finally he was nestled against her, he paused again, then withdrew just as slowly.

Still staring deep into her eyes, continuing to study her reaction, he slammed into her hard, halting all movement once he did to gauge her response. When she moaned loudly, her eyes closing as she wrapped her legs around his waist, he knew all he needed to know.

Gathering her into his arms, he set the pace, fast and frenzied, hesitating briefly when fully inside her to grind against her clit, only to pull back quickly and slam in again. The way she moved with him, meeting his every thrust, told him she was enjoying the slightly more forceful approach every bit as much as he was.

In time, the exertion began to tire him, so he slowed the pace, moving to kiss her neck and shoulder, teasingly threatening to leave a mark as he would suck on her skin just hard enough to worry her, before easing up. She smirked as she realized what he was doing, but when he started to bring the frantic pace back up to speed, it dropped from her face, a low, soft moan escaping.

“When I’m closer, we’ll switch positions so I can get you up there, too, ok?” he panted, nuzzling into her hair and against her neck, his vigorousness and extreme arousal stealing his breath.

“No,” she whispered, “Don’t.”

“Monica, I need you to cum,” he told her, groaning in pleasure when she scraped a single fingernail up the length of his spine. “It’s no good, if you don’t cum. I’m not in it just for me.”

“I know,” she choked out, her words as ragged as her breathing, “Just, don’t.”

As soon as the thought occurred to him, he asked her, “Are you climbing?”

Nodding, she hissed, “Yes,” then whimpered, “God, the tension is unbearable.”

“I know,” he agreed in a whisper, kissing just behind her ear quickly before shifting positions and pushing upright, grabbing her hips to better control his thrusts, and the fevered tempo he was struggling to keep.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes flying open, her arms reaching out for him. “Come back.”

“In a sec,” he promised her, then inched his arms under her legs and directed them up to his shoulders. “I’m just gonna help you out for a minute,” he explained, then changed his movements to shallow upward thrusts, adding in a strained whisper, “Finger your clit.”

Hesitating for seconds only, her hand darted down to between her legs, moving in time to the rhythm he set as she created firm circles in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure she was feeling.

Sensing she was over the hurdle, he asked, “Better?”

She removed her hand from her body and nodded slight, then reached out to him again as she breathed, “Come back.”

First helping to wrap her legs back around his waist, he collapsed on top of her, inching up just enough to reach in between them so that he could pinch and play with her nipple, then he reset the previous pace, surpassing it in his eagerness.

When she started to shake, and groaned several curse words, he knew she had finally crashed over. Pushing deep inside her, he held himself there, grinding against her to help ease her through it, ignoring his own critical need for release momentarily.

“I’m on the edge of sanity here, Mon. Please,” he near-begged her, “Tell me when you start coming down.”

“I am,” she told him, almost dreamily, indicating she was in a far-off place. Desperate to join her, he picked up where he had left off, his thrusts hard and insistent.

Her needs met, he focused solely on his own, but after several moments, the way she just passively accepted him started to cause him concern.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” he asked, slowing and easing back considerably as he awaited her answer.

“No,” she assured him, then added, with a sort of, in-awe quality to her voice that instantly caught his attention, “I’m… climbing again.”

“Oh, God,” he groaned, trapped between pleasure and pain, between the desire to please her again and complete exhaustion. “Mon, I don’t think I can hold out much longer.”

“I’m not asking you to,” she whispered sympathetically, digging the heels of her feet into his back as an encouragement to keep going.

He started again, but slowed almost immediately, emitting a low growl that seemed to come from deep within him as he pulled out of her, as if it nearly killed him to do so.

“What are you doing?” she asked him, confused, dropping her legs from around him as he sat up and moved just slightly back away from her.

His eyes closed tight, he appeared to be in deep concentration, breathing in through his nose, then out through his mouth, in a very rhythmic pattern.

“I’m trying to buy us more time,” he finally answered on a long exhale, returning to her as he added, “If I can get you back up there, I want to.”

Just short of laughing, she whispered, “You’re going to bust something, Chandler. Just, don’t worry about it.”

“You don’t understand,” he said as he eased back inside her, moaning hoarsely at the feel of her around him, “I like making you cum.”

“You already have,” she sighed, moving with him to meet his slow, steady thrusts, “Multiple times.”

When he didn’t appear to be heeding her advice, she clenched her inner muscles down on him, smirking when she heard him gasp in surprise.

“God, Monica, don’t do that,” he pleaded. “I won’t last three seconds.”

“I know,” she whispered, then relaxed for a moment only, before clamping down again.

It was too much. There was no way he could stave off the inevitable any longer, and he knew it. Giving up the fight, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and whispered, “Again.”

Grinning victoriously, she eased off, then tensed up one final time, sending him over the edge as he cursed and spiraled into bliss.

“Holy… fucking… shit,” he panted, allowing his weight to crush onto her for a moment before rolling away beside her, “That was unreal.”

“But in a good way?” she asked, her tone indicating that she was looking for confirmation.

Nodding emphatically, still laboring to breath, he told her, “In a very good way.”

“Man, that’s gotta be some kind of record,” she laughed, threading her fingers through his absently, resting their entwined hands between them.

“What’s a record?” he asked, his thumb brushing against hers faintly, almost as if trying not to get caught at it.

“How quickly you… recovered. Of course,” she immediately countered her own point, “You did say that it’s been a while.”

“It has,” he admitted, “But, I don’t think it’s just that.”

By the way he tensed, and stopped his slight caress of her hand, she guessed his comment was made due to a slip of the tongue, so, instead of questioning it, though she was pretty sure what he meant by it, she decided to change the subject.

“I’m thirsty,” she muttered casually, smirking when he laughed in agreement.

“Yeah,” he returned as he disentangled his fingers from hers, reaching for the champagne bottle on the nightstand beside them, and then her cup, “All that panting will do that to ‘ya!”

Pushing herself into a sitting position, she watched as he topped her off, then accepted the cup when he handed it over. “I shouldn’t drink too much,” she mumbled, tipping it to her lips and sipping just a little. “The scotch is finally out of my system, and I don’t want to be hung over tomorrow.”

“Speaking of,” he asked, pouring himself half a cup before setting the bottle back on the table, “How much scotch did you drink?”

“Enough,” she replied, taking another small sip before holding the cup down in her lap.

“Enough to…?” he asked, trailing off in request for elaboration.

“Enough to be fuzzy warm,” she answered, shrugging as she added, “Enough to be able to knock on your door.”

Feeling that the potential direction the conversation was headed in was a threat to the mood, or to the possibilities for the rest of their time together, Chandler cleared his throat, then gently plucked her cup from her hands as he suggested, “Wanna take a shower? That was some pretty intense, sweaty lovemaking!”

“Together?” she asked, a slight smile growing slowly on her face as he grinned cheekily back at her. “That sounds… nice,” she whispered, then slipped out of bed, knowing without question that Chandler would be right behind her.

His fists in the air, he did a little half-dance of sorts, then leapt off the bed and followed her in, encircling his arms around her as she turned on the water and adjusted the temperature.

“You really are the most beautiful woman in most rooms,” he whispered as he nuzzled up to her, at the tender spot between shoulder and neck, eliciting a tiny grin from her.

“That’s an incredibly sweet thing to say,” she whispered back, her hands sliding over his arms to rest on them.

“I mean it,” he added, his lips hovering over her skin; she could feel their movement and his breath as he spoke, causing her to sigh.

Turning in his arms, she wrapped hers around his neck, leaning into him as she murmured, “I believe you,” before pressing her lips lightly to his.

The kiss was soft and perfect, affectionate and arousing, like two long lost souls finding each other after years of separation.

It was beyond amazing and completely confusing, and Chandler broke it as the intensity of it overwhelmed him.

“We should get in now,” he suggested, hiding his disorientation behind a gentle smile, touching her attentively at her elbow as she stepped in over the tub’s ledge.

“You ok?” she asked, settling back into his embrace as soon as he joined her.

“Yeah, why?” If she could have seen his eyes, she wouldn’t have believed him.

Shrugging, her cheek against his chest, she whispered, “Just making sure.”

“Just thinking about how exhausted we’re gonna be tomorrow,” he semi-lied, slipping his arms around her back and pulling her tighter to him, her slick, wet skin quickly getting to him.

“I know,” she chuckled softly. “Maybe we should try to get some sleep after this.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, but in word only, his hands slowly starting to caress her back.

His touch felt incredible. Gentle and forgiving, but not at all wimpy or unmanly. Passionately sweet, in her mind, were the adjectives that best described it. She knew there was no way she would ever be able to look at his hands again, without thinking about how they felt on her body.

When she felt his penis jerk and begin to stiffen against her, she choked down a laugh, asking in amazement, “Are you on some kind of vitamin regimen I don’t know about?”

The implication clear, he sighed, almost with a sense of shame, “Sorry. It doesn’t normally behave this way.”

“How does it normally behave?” she asked curiously.

“It wakes up, takes a ride, spits happily, then goes back to sleep,” he answered, smiling when she laughed in response.

“You paint quite a picture,” she quipped, pulling back to stare into his eyes as she asked, “Any idea why it’s now behaving… abnormally?”

The smile dropped from his face, and he nodded once before admitting in a whisper, “It really likes you.”

The declaration was worded cautiously, but the subtle meaning behind it was obvious.

Another dangerous topic to be avoided, she thought to herself, so, she did. Leaning back against him, she muttered, “We’re gonna be useless tomorrow.”

“Eh,” he returned dismissively, “Main focus of attention will be on Ross and Emily. As long as we show up on time and stand in the right place, I doubt anyone will care if we look a little tired.”

“A little?” she shot back jokingly, laughing when he did.

There was an elongated pause, after the laughter slowly died, before Chandler asked, almost hesitantly, “So, have you ever wanted to… reenact, that dream you had?”

“We didn’t have sex in the shower,” she reminded him, “In my dream.”

“I know,” he conceded, “But, you had just gotten out of the shower. And, we have a wall right here,” he added, reaching out to pat the wall behind her.

“I’ve never done that before,” she admitted, her tone reverting back to that timid quality that Chandler quickly recognized.

“Me neither,” he replied, holding her a little tighter, comforting her, rather than trying to seduce her.

“The condoms are in the other room,” she added, sighing deeply to settle her nerves.

“I can go get one,” he told her, then asked, “Is this your way of saying no?”

“No,” she answered, “This is my way of saying, I’m nervous.”

“Why?” he asked curiously, sensing what the answer might be, wondering if she would actually say it.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, then, after a long moment of obvious deliberation, added, “Go get a condom.”

To be continued

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