The One With The Night Of Seven Times

By: Jana~

Chapter Seven 

XXX

--Teasing her lips, brushing his across hers so as to deny her the kiss she wanted, was only the beginning of what he was planning. Essentially, she had given him permission to torture her, and that was exactly what he was going to do. She was already starting to squirm impatiently, and he had barely just started.

Hiding a grin, he asked her in a low and breathy tone of voice, “I may deny you for hours. Still sure you want it slow?”

Nodding slight, as if she was uncertain, she whispered, “Just, try not to kill me.”

Answering indistinctly with a soft humming sound, he pressed his lips hard to hers, finally, kissing her as he dug his fingers into the flesh of her upper inner thigh, relishing her sounds of approval as she whimpered into his mouth. Continuing to grasp her leg firmly, he broke the kiss abruptly, planting soft sensual ones along her jaw line before trailing them down her neck to her collarbone.

She moaned in pleasure, her brain trying to find a way to describe what he was doing to her with his lips. The only words her desire-clouded mind could come up with, was that he was using his lips fully, or completely. It wasn’t just pecks; it was as if he was French kissing her skin. His tongue was definitely involved. It was then that she realized why he was holding her leg so tightly. He was preventing her from squeezing them closed so that she could alleviate the pulsing ache between them.

“You’re cruel,” she whispered, but he knew by her tone, that she didn’t really mean it like it sounded.

“Why’s that?” he asked, playing along, forcing himself not to grin as he moved slowly from her collarbone, to the valley between her breasts.

“I want to close my legs,” she answered indirectly, and the inward smirk he’d kept from appearing, burst across his face.

“No,” he told her, amused, but struggling not to show it, his tone seductively serious as he added, “You asked for this. Think of how amazing it’ll feel, when I finally touch you.” Kissing the milky skin of her breast, purposefully avoiding the peaking nipple, he continued, whispering against her skin, “When I finally sink my fingers inside you, and stroke your clit, till you cum hard.”

“God, you’re good at that,” she half-moaned, half-whispered, her back arching in both arousal and frustration, her voice dripping with desperation.

The way she reacted to him made him want to tease her all the more, but by the way she was panting, near hyperventilating, he knew he needed to give her something.

“Deep breaths,” he advised her, then immediately put his tongue to taut flesh, swirling the tip around it before sucking it into his mouth, further bringing it to attention before dragging his teeth across it.

“Harder,” she urged, raking her fingers roughly into his hair to spur him on, fisting the strands and moaning when he complied.

Cautiously, he gradually applied more pressure, till he was fairly certain he had reached her pain threshold, then eased off, lapping gently to sooth it before darting over to the other one to give it equal treatment.

“Are you ready for me, Mon?” he asked, moving back to the first breast, alternating between biting and caressing the pert skin, confusing it. When she nodded emphatically, a soft sigh accompanying the action, he began inching his fingers higher up her thigh.

Continuing to play with her breasts and nipples with his mouth and tongue, his hand slowly crept into the edges of her curly hair, dancing along her folds, barely grazing her swollen lips and avoiding her clit completely. Near frantic for his touch, she was just about to cry out, when he finally pressed his palm hard against her mound, allowing her the friction she needed to release some of the pressure.

When she started grinding against his hand desperately, he removed it altogether, then licked her nipple a few times leisurely before moving his mouth up to her ear, whispering, “How much more of this can you handle?”

Shaking her head, her eyes barely opening, she whispered back, “No more teasing, Chandler, please.”

Initiating eye contact with her, an imperceptible smirk playing on his lips, he told her softly, “That’s the heat of the moment talking. Honestly, how much more can you handle?”

“Not much,” she answered, her expression a cross between pained and amused, and he nodded once before bringing his lips down on hers in a heated kiss as he slid his hand back down between her legs.

Still teasing her, he ran his fingers lightly up and down against her opening, refusing to give her clit any contact whatsoever, wholly denying her what she needed to achieve orgasm.

Aroused was too weak a word to describe it. It was as if her entire body was pulling in on itself, the pressure was so intense, almost to the point of causing her pain. Pleasurable pain, but pain nonetheless.

Her whimpers prompted him to break their kiss, his eyes searching hers before she closed them tightly, a soft, “Please,” falling faintly from her lips.

The tip of a single finger dipped just past her lips, not quite entering her, refusing to go deeper even as she pushed towards it.

“Please, what?” he asked, nuzzling against her cheek in comforting encouragement. “Tell me. Tell me what you want, Monica.”

“I want your fingers inside me,” she whispered near instantly. “I want you to make me cum.”

Without hesitation, he slid his middle and forefingers inside her, his thumb then rubbing in circles over her clit, eliciting from her a cry of relief.

Instead of thrusting in and out of her, he held himself steady, hooking his fingers and stroking her G-spot directly, then he returned his lips to her breasts, teasing them once again for a few moments before licking and nipping at them in turn.

Her whole body tensed as her impending orgasm rapidly approached, building to such an intensity, she just knew it was going to shake her to her very soul, once it hit.

“Do you like that, Monica?” he asked huskily, his kisses trailing up her neck to just behind her ear. “Am I hitting your spot?”

“Yes,” she moaned, “It feels incredible, God, Chandler…”

His penis throbbed in response to her passion-filled words, and he pushed himself up against her to relieve it, rocking his hips to create friction, timing his movements to coincide with what his fingers were doing inside her.

The feel of him against her brought her to the brink and beyond, the scowl of concentration and frustration fading as a look of contentment took its place, her body finally relaxing as the force of it ebbed.

Slowing to a stop, he pressed the palm of his hand to her clit, allowing her to push and move against it as the final waves coursed through her, waiting till he was sure she had landed from her high before whispering urgently, “My turn?”

Licking her dry lips and nodding weakly, she murmured, “Lay on your back.” As soon as she felt him do so, she turned to her side, propped herself up on her arm and elbow, and wrapped her hand around his painfully hard erection.

“I was afraid you were going to torture me,” he admitted breathlessly, thrusting to meet her hand’s downward strokes, “Like I did you.”

“Did you want me to?” she teased, smiling when he shook his head.

“God, no,” he groaned, “I’m already too far gone. I’m not gonna last a minute, here, I don’t think,” he added, sounding almost as if he was sorry, or ashamed.

Sensing the tone, she assured him, “Counting this time, we’ve been together seven tonight. You’ve already won the award for stamina, in my book.”

“You keep a book?” he joked, the smile and laughter in his voice disappearing abruptly as his orgasm lurched closer. “Grip me a little firmer,” he asked of her, his voice straining to sound normal, “And speed up a little.” As soon as she did, he was on the brink.

When his breathing changed, she knew he was there, and without breaking pace or rhythm, she leaned in and pressed her lips soundly to his, which effectively pushed him over the edge.

Amazingly under the circumstances, he remembered her request from before, and just as his orgasm hit, he put his hand up to prevent his ejaculate from making a mess, smiling through his climax as he realized how ‘Monica’ it was to want that.

Feeling his lips curl up against hers, she pulled back, confirming what she already knew… he was grinning.

“What’s so funny?” she asked curiously, just after slowing to a stop, and he shook his head in partial dismissal before actually answering.

“I remembered to put my hand up.”

Scowling, a look of disbelief on her face, she then asked, “And that’s funny… why?”

Guessing that the truth would upset her, or at the very least make her feel bad, he said instead, jokingly, “I am a fast learner!”

She smirked back at him for a moment, then told him with a slightly more serious expression, “We should go clean up, but I don’t want to move. My legs feel like Jello.”

“Same here,” he replied, then started looking around, asking, “Where’s that towel I was wearing?”

“I think it’s under you,” she answered, moving when he shifted positions to grope for it.

“Found it,” he announced, holding it up in triumph before handing it over to her to use.

After they both used it, to clean themselves the best they could, he took it from her, balled it up, held it over his head, then craned his neck to see past her as he muttered, “Careful for a sec,” before throwing it hard towards the bathroom, aiming for the counter within view. “Close enough,” he laughed when it landed on the floor in front of the sink, then settled back down beside her, pulling her into a little more than friendly embrace as he whispered, “Let’s get some sleep.”

Agreeing with a nod and a yawn, she whispered back, “Good idea. Wake me up before it gets too much past dawn though. I shouldn’t be here,” she added, “When Joey gets back.”

“K,” he mumbled, yawning as exhaustion crept up on him. “Night.”

“Night.”

XXX

--Chandler couldn’t sleep. He’d spent the better part of two hours trying, he was tired enough to, but he couldn’t shut off his brain, or his conscience as it berated him for his actions.

‘This is your friend! She showed up at your door drunk! Sure, maybe not three sheets to the wind, but still! It doesn’t matter that she said she wanted to do it! It doesn’t matter that she told you not to feel guilty! She was impaired! Well, maybe not the entire night. I mean, at some point, the alcohol left her system. But by then, the damage had been done!’

‘This is a person you’ve known most of your adult life! How are you supposed to even be around her now? How are you supposed to eat meals with her at her apartment, drink coffee with her at Central Perk, be with her around the others and act as if nothing’s happened?’

‘And why in the hell is it, that all I want is to stay wrapped in her arms, all day long? How can I still be aroused by the feel of her against me, after having marathon sex with her, all fucking night long?’

‘Oh my God, is that footsteps? Shit! Is it Joey?’

There was almost no time to react. No time to warn her. As soon as he heard the hand on the doorknob, he quickly grabbed the blankets and yanked them over Monica’s head, obscuring her from view just in the nick of time.

“I’m getting married today!”

Chandler felt Monica tense beside him, but she otherwise remained completely motionless.

Forcing a smile onto his face, he responded to his friend’s excited outburst. “Mornin’, Ross.”

“I’m getting married, to-day!”

“Yeah you are!” he bounced back enthusiastically, his brain assaulting him with waves of guilt. If the man had any idea that his sister was beneath the covers, naked, it would end their friendship for sure, of that, Chandler was certain.

“A, woo-hoo!” Ross cheered, then left like he had entered. Abruptly. Leaving the two friends to face their actions, each other, and the awkwardness of trying to move forward and past it.

The End

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