The One With The Night Of Seven Times

By: Jana~

 

 

Chapter Five

 

XXX

 

--Pinching the edge of the condom package between his thumb and forefinger, he shook it playfully as he reentered the shower, setting it on the ledge that was, assumedly, for holding the little bars of soap the hotel gave out for free, before bringing his hands to her waist and his lips to hers.

 

Moving slowly, so as not to draw attention to what he was doing, he inched them both towards the wall behind her, smirking inwardly when she gasped at the sensation caused by the cooler tiles against her back.

 

Gently breaking their kiss, he slowly descended, his lips trailing from her chin to her collarbone, down in a straight line to her navel, kneeling in front of her as he adored it with his tongue. Hands caressing her feverishly, he ran a path up her inner thigh, encouraging her to open her stance so he could better reach more intimate areas, his fingers teasingly threatening to enter her without ever actually seeing the action through.

 

“Too much teasing?” he asked, his hand still between her legs as he stood, brushing his lips up her body to nip and play with the hard peaks on her breasts.

 

“No,” she sighed, “I like it… at the moment,” she added, raking her fingers through his hair, softly at first, tenderly, but as need and desire built within her, her strokes became slightly rougher.

 

It was obvious to him that she was aroused by his torturous attentions, he could hear it in her voice, see it on her face, smell it on her skin, and his own arousal heightened with the knowledge of it.

 

Hurriedly, he left her just long enough to open and roll on the condom, then he was back in her arms, kissing her as if his life depended on it, completely convinced at that moment, that it did.

 

“When I lift,” he instructed, his hands gliding down past her hips and around her body to just below her ass, “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

 

Once in position, it took several tries, but finally, he was inside her, the movement between them slight as they struggled to find a comfortable rhythm and pace.

 

“Chandler?” Monica whispered, to which he only hummed questioningly in response. “Don’t slip and drop me.”

 

A slight smirk pulled at his lips as he buried his face in her neck, whispering back, “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

 

“We’ll be no good to anybody, if we’re both in the hospital with concussions,” she breathed, her focus more on the intense pressure that was beginning to fill her, radiating throughout her entire body.

 

“I have you, Monica, trust me,” he assured her, his tone of voice showing the fatigue and strain he was starting to feel.

 

She could tell he was already tiring, his slight tremble and harsh breath against her skin cluing her in easily. Concerned, she suggested, “Maybe we should continue this in bed.”

 

“Are you not enjoying it?” he asked, readjusting his hold on her, his pace faltering briefly as he did.

 

“No, I am,” she admitted, “But, are you?”

 

“It’s harder than I thought it would be, but, it’s worth it,” he answered, adding in an almost-moan, “God, this feels unbe-freaking-lievable.”

 

“You’re more adventurous, than I thought you’d be,” she murmured, not necessarily meaning to say it out loud, somewhat amazed when she realized she had.

 

“You’ve thought about how I’d be?” he asked, surprised; she nodded, just barely, in response.

 

“A few times,” she whispered. “After the dream, being one of them.”

 

“And you had me pegged as unadventurous?”

 

It was hard to tell for sure, due to the strain in his voice, but, to her, he sounded like he was upset with the label, which prompted her to quickly apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

 

“I’m not,” he told her, nuzzling against her shoulder and kissing it as proof, “I’m just, curious, as to why.”

 

“I’m not sure why,” she sighed. “Preconceived notions don’t always have rhyme or reason.”

 

“I suppose,” he whispered seriously, then chuckled softly as he quipped sarcastically, “This is some heavy dirty talk we got goin’ on here!”

 

“Sorry,” she apologized again, “I’ll shut up now.”

 

Laughing, he said lightly, “I was just joking with you. That’s what I do,” he added humorously, “Or haven’t you noticed?”

 

“I’ve noticed,” she returned with a smirk he couldn’t see, then added in all honesty, “I’m just no good at that. The whole, dirty talk thing, I mean.”

 

“I’m sure that’s not true,” he insisted, adding, “You’re just, self conscious, about it, is all.”

 

Shrugging, she muttered, “Maybe.”

 

“Ross has the same problem,” he shared casually, slowing the pace down to a near stop temporarily in order to rest.

 

“I didn’t need to know that,” she joked, then asked, “And how do you know that?”

 

Smiling, he answered, “He asked for Joey’s help, and I happened to walk in on the conversation.”

 

“I don’t think the inability is hereditary,” she mused, causing him to laugh shortly.

 

“I wouldn’t think so,” he agreed, asking carefully, “You’ve never?”

 

“Not never,” she answered, “Just, not much. Hardly ever. It was… uncomfortable.”

 

“You’re worrying too much about it,” he whispered soothingly. “It’s not that hard. You just, say how stuff feels. What you like. What you want done to you. Just, try it,” he asked of her, immediately receiving a nervous scoff in response.

 

“Right now?” she shot back incredulously, adding near instantly, “I don’t think so.”

 

“Ever?” he asked hopefully, smirking at her eventual answer.

 

“Maybe.”

 

Wanting to show her how easy it was, hoping to encourage her to at least try, he whispered in a low seductive tone, “I love the feel of your body against mine. Your breasts… your nipples, hard against my chest. The feel of you wrapped around me, warm and wet, and inviting me deeper, begging me to fill you completely and release your pleasure.”

 

Gradually, as he said the words, he picked up the pace, pressing her harder to the wall, trying to gain better control over his thrusts.

 

“It sounds good, coming from you,” she whispered, clearly affected by his words. “From me, it would sound stupid.”

 

“No, it wouldn’t,” he promised her, then asked, “Is that why you won’t? Cause you think you’ll sound stupid?” When she nodded slight, he assured her, “You won’t, trust me. Just, try. Just, one little thing.”

 

The adrenalin rush caused by both his words, and her nervousness, heightened her arousal, and she moaned his name softly before whispering, “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

 

Sensing she was on the verge of surrendering to him, by climaxing and by yielding to his request, he told her, “Just, tell me how this feels. God, please, Mon,” he added hoarsely, his orgasm just out of reach, “Try.”

 

There was a long pause, and for a moment, he assumed it just wasn’t going to happen. But then, finally, eventually, she spoke up.

 

“You feel so good inside me… pressed up against me… your lips on my skin…”

 

“Oh, God yes,” he moaned, his thrusts more insistent, grinding harder against her clit, desperately wanting to take her with him into ecstasy. “You’re better than, you think you are,” he added sincerely, panting from exertion and the building need for release. “Are you at all close?” When she nodded in response, he shuddered noticeably. “When you’re on the brink, will you do something for me?”

 

“Yes, what?” she answered without hesitation.

 

“Do that muscle clenching thing, like you did before? But only when you’re on the absolute edge,” he added. “I won’t last, if you do it too soon.”

 

“Mmm-hmm,” she agreed in a whimper, then announced, almost as if in pain, “If I don’t go over soon, I’m going to explode!”

 

“God, Baby, I know,” he breathed, so caught up in his impending orgasm, that he slipped the term of endearment without thinking.

 

The moment the word was uttered, Monica’s heart swelled, sending a jolt of electricity straight to where their bodies were joined and working furiously together in unison towards the same goal.

 

Seconds later, she felt the intense pressure bubble up, teeter on the edge, then finally climb into orgasm, her muscles clamping down on him involuntarily, just from the sheer power of it.

 

It seemed to go on forever, refusing to allow her to float, the tension remaining as Chandler shot into his own release and beyond. At last, as he started to slow, the pressure topped over into relaxation, and she moaned loudly as she finally drifted pleasantly back down to Earth.

 

After helping her to stand, he put his hands on the wall behind her for stability, leaning into her and resting his head on her shoulder as he gulped air into his lungs, struggling to remain upright as his body shook.

 

“Fuck, Monica, what the hell was that?” he gasped, swallowing hard before panting again.

 

“What?” she asked as she slid her hands down off his shoulders to fall limply by her side.

 

“You didn’t do it on purpose?” he asked, pushing off the shower wall to initiate eye contact.

 

“Do what?” Her scowl showed her to be as confused as he was.

 

“It was like that muscle clamping thing, only, way more intense,” he answered, his lips then melding to hers, kissing her slowly, deeply, showing his profound affection for her as he gently caressed her body in a non demanding way.

 

“I wasn’t doing it consciously,” she told him, when he broke away for air, “My body just, kept climbing.”

 

“Shit,” he whispered in amazement, kissing her again quickly before asking, “Wanna get back in bed?”

 

Nodding, she added, “Water’s getting cold, anyway.”

 

Exiting the bathroom, Monica in the hotel’s stark white bathrobe, Chandler wrapped in a barely-fitting towel, they both climbed into bed and under the covers, snuggling up to one another as much for warmth, as for the intimacy of it.

 

The minutes ticked on in comfortable silence, eyes drooping of their own volition, neither of them realizing it was happening. They fell asleep.

 

To be continued

 

Thanks for reading!