The One With The Anniversary Fight
Original concept, basic plot, and tons of creative input provided by: Natchou
--Chandler arrived home to an empty apartment. That wasnít so surprising, he was usually home before Monica. Especially lately. He always tried to leave work the moment the second hand clicked the hands over to five o'clock, Monica on the other hand enjoyed her job and stayed much longer than Chandler would've liked.
His job was just a job, and he did it efficiently, but with just as much fervor as was absolutely necessary. He often wondered why they didnít just fire him. And he was completely amazed when they'd actually promoted him.
But on this particular day, he didnít so much mind that he was home before Monica. It just gave him a chance to set everything up. It was his 'plan A' scenario. 'Plan B' would have involved her taking a bath while he set everything up. With 'plan B', she would've known something was going on, but this way, it would be a complete surprise.
He went into the spare room and got together all he needed. Candles, balloons, crepe paper wedding bells, the present, and of course, the anniversary card.
After he ordered the food, he began to decorate by inflating the balloons. He only got 3 inflated when he started running out of breath.
"At this rate I'm not gonna be conscious to enjoy my anniversary!" he snipped to himself, then grabbed the bag of balloons and headed across the hall to Joey's.
Joey and Phoebe were engaged in their own crazy version of the board game 'Clue' when Chandler walked in, interrupting them.
"Guys, I need your help."
"With?" Joey asked as he set down a pipe he had poised over Phoebe's head, acting out some scene from the game.
He looked at his friends skeptically, then dismissed the odd behavior in favor of his reason for being there. "Blowing up these balloons!" he waggled the bag at them. "I wanted to surprise Monica, but got three done and ran out of air!"
"With all your hot air, and you only got three blown-up?" Phoebe chuckled, and so did Joey when he caught the quip.
Chandler rolled his eyes, "Please? She'll be home soon! Can you help?"
They nodded. "Sure." Phoebe reached for the bag, "Go. Chill," she shooed him away, "We'll bring them by when we're done."
"Thanks!" He left with a smile, returning to his apartment to finish the preparations.
--This night was important, not just because it was their anniversary, but because of the strain in their marriage as of late. She never seemed to have time for him any more, and the lack of sex and intimacy was causing him distress, almost to the point of pain.
He'd wondered often over the previous several months if she was falling out of love with him. If the attraction to him was just the high of 'when will I get my wedding'. Once she'd gotten her wedding, everything changed. She was still somewhat affectionate, at least in the beginning, but as the months drug on, she seemed less interested in spending 'alone time' with him.
Tonight was different though. Tonight was their first anniversary. He would greet her when she came in the door, take her jacket, massage her shoulders. They would eat the food he ordered and drink the wine. Then, he would romance her. Kiss her, touch her, make love to her-- He was getting excited just by the thought of it, and he smiled as he lit the candles, expecting her and the order of food to arrive at any time.
--Hours ticked by and there was no Monica. He called the restaurant- no answer. He even called the local hospitals; thank God she wasnít there. He put the food in the fridge and blew out the candles, then changed into his comfortable sweats and Knicks t-shirt.
He wanted her home safe. That was all he cared about, at the moment. He would care about the ruined dinner and anniversary later.
When she walked in the door, he leapt from his seat and ran to hug her. "Where have you been?!"
"The restaurant," she replied, taken aback by his worry. "I told you I might have to work late."
"You did?" he asked, backing away and looking into her eyes questioningly. "When?"
"Last night. I told you not to go to any trouble for our anniver--" She dropped the sentence when she looked around, seeing the slightly used candles and the decorations he'd put up. "But, you did, didnít you?"
She reached out to hug him, but he pulled away. "I donít get what's up with you lately!" he snipped. "I thought that at least today of all days, I would come first!"
"Chandler, I had to work! You donít think I tried to get away?"
"I called the restaurant, Mon. There was no answer!"
"Well, I'm sorry!" she shot back. "I'm not in charge of the phones! I'm in charge of cooking!"
"I find it hard to believe that no one can answer a damn ringing phone!"
"You find it hard to believe?!" she repeated, "Ok, so, tell me Chandler, what do you believe happened?!"
"I donít know what to think anymore, Mon! I really donít! You're distant, work always comes first--"
"Work doesnít always come first."
"Are you having an affair?" He blurted out the question before he had a chance to consider the consequences of such an accusation.
"What?! How could you ask me that?!"
There was no turning back. After all, he had his pride. "It all fits!" he continued, "If you're not getting your loviní from me, then just who are you getting it from?"
"Oh my God, Chandler! What the hell is the matter with you?!"
"I donít see you denying it!" he challenged. 'God, please deny it,' his brain screamed.
"Of course I'm not having an affair! I love you! Although right now, I'm not too thrilled with you!"
"Then, what's with you? Why have you been so distant? Why donít you want to make love anymore?"
"I just, haven't been in the mood, is all," she stammered, somewhat at a loss for how to answer his question.
"And the fact that I am means nothing?"
"God, that is so sexist! I'm the woman so I have to just 'give it to you' whenever you want?!"
"No!" he countered, "But occasionally would be nice!"
"I do give it to you occasionally!"
She scowled, holding her hands out in a gesture of confusion. "What?!"
"Three months!" he repeated. "It's been three months since we've made love."
"Oh, it has not been that long!"
"The day before your parentsí 35th anniversary party. You took a break from writing the speech and we had a quickie. That was the last time!"
She looked to the floor guiltily, "Well, I've been busy at the restaurant. We've been short staffed and--"
"Bullshit, Monica!" he snapped, cutting her off. "You CHOOSE to be at that damn restaurant 18 hours out of the day!"
"I happen to love my job, Chandler. Just cause you donít love yours!"
"It's just a job, Monica! I'm glad you like what you do, but, I'm your HUSBAND!"
"Really?" her tone dripped of sarcasm, "Cause, if you hadn't told me that just now really loudly, I might not ever have known!"
He glared, "You done?"
"Oh, it's ok when you joke!"
"I donít joke at inopportune times!"
She scoffed, "Wanna bet!?"
He kicked at the floor, "Damn-it Monica! I donít joke when a marriage is at stake!"
Her expression softened, "Since when has our marriage been at stake?"
He shrugged, "You tell me. When was it that you started falling out of love with me?"
"I haven't fallen out of love with you. It's just-- people change. Sex drives change. Just cause I haven't been in the mood much lately--"
"Three months Monica! We're not talking three/four weeks! We're talking twelve!"
"What do you want me to do? Lay with you even when I'm not in the mood?!"
"No, but you could try getting into the mood! I try to touch you and pet you and you push me away! If you'd just let me touch you--"
"Well, I'm sorry! I work long hours, and when I come home and climb into bed, I want to sleep!" She chuckled bitingly, "What kind of crazy sick bitch am I?!"
"I never called you that! I know you need your sleep! But, you can't make time for me at all in a 7-day period? In a 14-day period?"
Her jaw was tense, like she wanted to come back with something, but she didnít.
"I miss you Mon. I miss touching you and kissing you and making love to you."
She exhaled sharply, "So, what is it you want from me, huh? For me to quit my job? Sit at home like a dutiful wife from the 50's and await your homecoming with baited breath?"
He threw his hands up in the air in frustration, "You're twisting my words!"
"You're twisting my lack of sexual interest into something sinister!"
"Your lack of sexual interest is tearing our marriage apart!"
She scoffed, "Oh please! There's more to a marriage than sex."
"Yeah! Like closeness! I donít feel close to you anymore."
She paused for a moment, her body rigid from the confrontation. "I donít know what you want from me."
After looking her up and down for a moment, he quickly took several large strides towards her. "I want this."
His hands flew to her face as he kissed her, almost aggressively, then one hand left her face to move to the back of her head. His fingers wound into her hair as he held her to him, kissing her with an obvious growing need.
When his lips left hers to travel to her neck, she gasped for air. "Chandler?"
Pulling back to look into her eyes, he knew in an instant what she was thinking. She wanted him too.
His lips sought hers again and she pulled at the tie string on his sweats in response. His hands slipped easily into the waistband of her lose fitting knit pants, his fingers dancing along the lacy edge of her panties.
The feel of his hands on her bare skin sent shivers through her, and she grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it up over his head, their lips parting as she did.
Tugging at the collar, he caused the buttons to fly off her blouse as he ripped it from her body. Both hands hurriedly cupped her breasts through the silk material of her bra, his thumbs brushing her nipples into taught peaks of firm flesh.
Her head flew back as she held his shoulders for support, and a groan could be heard from deep inside her. As his arm snaked around her waist, he pulled her closer, his lips nipping at her throat, his free hand fondling her breast, almost roughly.
She moaned again, and it fueled his need for her. He reached around and unhooked her bra, the skimpy garment a little more than an annoyance as he pushed it down her body.
His mouth immediately descended to taste her petite breasts, and he licked and nibbled the milky flesh before sucking a rosy nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled around it, then he nipped at it with his teeth. She gasped and jerked in his arms at the slightly painful sensation.
"Sorry," he muttered, his mouth full of her, then he continued his affectionate assault.
He slowly dropped to his knees, kissing his way down her body as he did, his tongue dipping into her belly button before hooking his fingers around the waistband of her pants and underwear, pulling them down her body both at the same time.
She stepped out of them as he made quick work of removing his sweats, then he grabbed her and pulled her tight to him once again. His lips were on hers so firmly it was almost painful, and he kissed her eagerly as he slowly backed her against their bedroom door.
When she reached for the doorknob, he grabbed her hand to stop her, and with his hands firmly on her waist, he lifted her. She immediately caught on, wrapping her legs around his waist as he leaned with her against the closed bedroom door.
After a few failed tries, he eased her down onto himself, his painfully hard erection slipping in easily. It was instantly a tiring position, but neither made any attempt to break away.
They gyrated against one another, the only movement between them slight, but it was still enough to take them to where they wanted to go.
Within minutes of when it began, it was overÖ for him. She wasnít there yet, but exhaustion created the need to stop and rest. He held her tight to him, gasping from the exertion, kissing her sweaty skin as his penis shrunk in satisfaction.
"I love you, Monica," he whispered, "I'm sorry for fighting with you on our anniversary."
"I'm sorry too," she apologized, "And I love you so much."
He felt his knees wobble, and he staggered a little as he adjusted his grip on his wife. "Room?"
She nodded, then reached for the knob and turned it. They both nearly fell to the floor as he stumbled in.
Carefully, he dropped her onto the bed, then crawled in beside her, immediately wrapping his arms around her, kissing her tenderly.
"I'm sorry I haven't been, more, 'available', to you," she muttered as she enjoyed his soft lips on her body, "I'll put in for a sous-chef tomorrow."
"Thank you," he whispered, his free hand roaming her nakedness. "Have you come down too far?" he asked, his hand moving up her inner thigh, "Can I get you back up there?"
"Mmmm," she purred, her hips moving as an encouragement.
"I'll take that as a yes," he cooed playfully, parting her legs a bit further to accommodate him.
He teased at first, running his fingers along her folds, purposefully missing her swollen bud as he kissed her lips and neck. With two fingers, he danced around her opening, not quite entering her, causing her to squirm and buck her hips in frustration.
"I love it when you become impatient," he whispered. "When you squirm because you want me so badly."
"I do want you," she moaned. "Please."
Concurrently, he inserted two fingers as his thumb rubbed her clit, and she gasped in response. He teased and delighted her, finally bringing her to orgasm minutes later, then gathered her into his arms as she came down off her high.
--"MmmmÖ" Monica hummed. "Happy anniversary."
"Happy anniversary." Chandler smiled as he kissed her hair. "Speaking of which," he added, "I have something for you."
He nodded, grabbing her robe off the foot of the bed, it being more convenient than his own, then headed for the door. "Be back in a second."
She sighed contentedly as she waited for him to return, then a slight scowl took the place of her smile as she recalled how upset he'd been with her. She knew she was spending a great deal of time at the restaurant, but she had no idea how upset her time there was making him.
Typical of a man, she thought, to keep it all bottled up till the cork couldnít take the pressure anymore and blew. Her mind quickly bounced around ideas for fixing the problem, shuffling the schedules a little, putting in for a nighttime chef. When Chandler reappeared, all thoughts of work left her brain, and she smiled at her grinning husband.
As he brought his hands from around his back, he produced a small wrapped gift and a card, complete with little hand-drawn hearts on the envelope.
"Open the card first," he instructed, and then sat on the bed as she pulled herself up into a sitting position.
She read the card silently to herself, tears pooling in her eyes, making the words blurry and hard to read. He obviously went to great lengths to pick out the perfect card, with the perfect sentiment, but then he also added to the card, his words of love for her.
"This is wonderful, Chandler," she smiled, wiping the tears that fell to her cheeks. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." He kissed her lips softly, then pointed at the gift. "Now the present."
He was almost giddy, excited about what he had picked out, wanting so much for her to like it.
She unwrapped the box, then opened the lid to find a small velvet jewelry box inside. She looked up and smiled at him as she tipped the outer box, dropping the velvet box into her hand. Holding her breath unknowingly, she slowly opened it, the hinge creaking, then popping open to reveal a beautiful ring.
"Is this--? Is this what I think it is?" she asked, her eyes leaving the ring only briefly to glance at him.
He repositioned himself on the bed anxiously, his smile wide. "It's a Mother's Ring. See," he pointed at the gemstone set in gold, "This is our anniversary stone, but, you can add to it. So, as we have children, you can add their birthstones."
She choked down the lump in her throat. "Are youÖ trying to tell me something?"
"Well, I'm not pregnant, if that's what you're thinking," he quipped, and they both chuckled. His expression grew serious, but a sweet smile remained. "I want us to try for a family, Mon." He took the ring out of the box and held it up to her. "If you're ready."
She nodded as she held out her hand, her right ring finger extended. It wasnít unlike a marriage proposal, and she immediately thought back to the day Chandler proposed to her. How did she ever get so lucky, she wondered, to have as her husband the kind, loving, romantic man that sat before her.
With the ring on her finger, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her, kissing him tenderly, her way of thanking him for the gift, and for the sweet romantic gesture.
"Your gift isn't ready yet," she stated as an apology. "I was going to pick it up tomorrow."
"Thatís ok," he shrugged, "You already gave me the best gift of allÖ you."
"You seemed so angry with me," she stated, her face suddenly falling.
"Not angryÖ necessarily. More like, worried sick." He shed his robe and climbed into bed beside her. "Because you were late. Because there was no answer at the restaurant. Because I thought I was losing you."
"Chandler," she whispered, "You're not losing me sweetie. I will always be here, loving you. Next time you're upset, talk to me! Donít keep it bottled up, ok?"
"Ok," he agreed. "But, let's hope there isn't a next time. I hate fighting with you."
"Oh, I donít know," she grinned, "Fighting leads to making up." She kissed him, slithering up next to his body. "That was some really great makeup sex."
"Yeah?" he smiled proudly, reading his wife's signs clearly. "You're trying to seduce me," he breathed as his hands stroked her back.
"And it's working," she purred, feeling his arousal growing as she rubbed herself against him. She raised her eyebrows suggestively.
"Well, it has been twelve weeks," he reminded, his slight grin leaving his face as he noticed Monica's expression change. "What's wrong?"
"Before?" she began, and he nodded, "You kind ofÖ scared me a little."
"We were fighting, then, all of the sudden, you were kissing me, andÖ"
"Monica," he sat up and placed his hands on her shoulders, "You know I would never hurt you. Ever."
She looked away, "I know, I'm just being stupid--"
"Monica, no. You're not, if that's how you really felt." He hesitated before asking, "You wereÖ afraid of me?"
"No, not afraid, necessarily. I was, in shock. To have you go from one emotion to the other so quickly. It was like, there was still anger in your affections, and," she hesitated, "It caused me a moment's concern."
He shook his head and sighed, dropping back down to the mattress. "I'm sorry, Mon. I never want you to feel like that again. I never want you to be afraid of me. I was just, really emotional at that moment, and I guess my better judgement was clouded. It won't happen again."
"Donít be sad," she said as she kissed the worry lines on his forehead.
"I caused my wife to be afraid of me, I'm sure not happy about that."
"Not afraid, Chandler, just briefly concerned."
"For how long?"
"For how long were you concerned?"
"Until I looked into your eyes," she smiled. "I looked into your eyes, and I knew."
"What did you know?" he asked, his smile returning.
"That you would never hurt me. That you just wanted to make love to me."
"I didnít just want to make love to you, Mon. I wanted more than anything to make love to you." His smile grew wider, "And I still do."
"Making up for lost times?" she asked with a sly grin.
"As many times as you'll let me," he replied, gently pulling her in for a kiss.
"Tonight," she whispered, "As many times as you want."
"What about you?" he asked. "What do you want?"
He smiled, "Does that mean you're in the mood? Wouldnít want to be accused of being sexist," he teased. "Expecting you to 'lay with me' when you're not in the mood."
"Are you mocking me, Mr. Bing?"
"Are you avoiding the question, Mrs. Bing?"
Her sly grin returned as she ran her hand down his chest, running little circles around his belly button before moving lower. "I'm very much in the mood."
That was all he needed to hear. He turned on his side to face her, leaning to kiss her lips as he draped his arm across her body, his hand sliding slowly up her back. He intensified the kiss as his fingers combed into her hair, holding her tentatively to his lips.
He rolled with her, supporting his weight above her as he parted her legs with his own, and as he continued to kiss her, he entered her.
The pace Chandler set was slow and gentle, and she breathed his name as she arched into his body. He brushed her hair back from her neck and kissed the hollow of her shoulder, sending shivers up and down her body.
It was nothing like the previous time that evening. This was slow and sweet and romantic, whereas before, it was hasty and needy and raw.
He watched her as he made love to her, her face contorted in pleasure, her lips parted just slightly as she breathed in and out unevenly. He was still, after all their years together, amazed by her beauty.
Monica sensed him looking at her and slowly opened her eyes. He was studying her with his sharp blue stare, drinking her in, and the intensity of his expression made her shudder. His absolute love for her, she would never question, as long as he continued to look at her like that.
Nuzzling against her neck, he kissed and licked her sweaty skin, relishing the sounds of her pleasure in his ear. She was always vocal during sex, not that he minded. The moaning and uttered words of passion he used almost like a compass, to gauge what she needed from him and when.
She whimpered in slight frustration, her orgasm close, but reluctant, and the cues she sent her husband didnít go unnoticed. He seemed to always know just what she was trying to convey, and he shifted his weight and reached between them, his thumb stroking her clit as he continued to move in and out of her.
That was what she had needed, and she moaned loudly, gratified as she fisted the bed sheets in her hands. He smiled down at his wife, knowing she was close, knowing what would push her over the edge. Skillfully, he leaned forward and licked at the highly aroused nipple on her left breast, receiving more moans of approval.
Within seconds, she gasped and tensed, her orgasm finally ripping through her, and he gave her clitoris a soft pinch as he very gently bit her nipple. That seemed to bring on another wave, and he was rewarded for giving her a multiple orgasm when her vaginal muscles tightened around him, giving him unbelievable pleasure.
He groaned as he climaxed, his pace slowing to a stop, then he collapsed beside her, fully spent.
"That was incredible," he whispered, breathless.
"You are incredible," she replied, kissing his chest.
"I know," he joked, "But that's only because of you," he added seriously. He kissed her hair, sighing deeply, "You just bring out the 'incredible' in me."
"Do you remember," she asked suddenly, still panting as she recovered, "When you were dating Kathy, and I helped you out with that little drawing? Pinpointing all the erogenous zones?"
He groaned at the mention of his former girlfriend's name, then smiled at the memory of Monica's crash course in lovemaking. "Yeah, I remember. She was hot!" he exclaimed, and Monica promptly smacked him. "What?" he asked, then realized what he'd said and how it sounded. "No, not Kathy! The woman in the picture you drew!"
"Oh," she smiled, a touch of a glare remaining, "Ok then."
He kissed her pouting lips, then asked, "Why do you ask?"
"Just thinking back," she replied. "It wasnít long after you split with Kathy that we got together."
"I know," he smiled, "I was there, remember?" She glared jokingly at his quip. "What's with the trip down memory lane?" he asked, curious if she had a point.
"From the very beginning," she explained, "From our very first night together, you've always been incredible. You know," she added, "In bed."
"Just in bed?" he joked, "Cause I thought that up-against-the-door thing earlier was pretty incredible."
She scolded him, "You know what I mean!"
He chuckled, "Just giving you a hard time."
"Hmmm," she hummed, "Something you excel at."
"I do my best to excel in all I do," he stated proudly, then added, "Was there a point you were heading for?"
"Just wondering," she continued, "If my little lesson had anything to do with how incredible you are, in bed."
"You would like that," he chortled, "Wouldnít you? To be able to take credit for how I perform." He shook his head, "You are so competitive!"
"Not being competitive," she defended, "Just wondering. You know," she added smugly, "She came over the morning after I gave you that little lesson and thanked me. Profusely."
"I know," he replied with a nod. "She told me." He kissed his wife's temple as he snuggled in beside her. "Can we stop talking about my ex-girlfriends now?"
"Not girlfriends," she emphasized the 's'. "We're just talking about one of them. Just Kathy. And yes, we can stop talking about her."
She inched closer as she felt him snuggle into her and sighed, contented. Several minutes had gone by, and she had almost dozed off when his voice broke into her dream-like state.
"I kept that drawing for over a year," he stated suddenly.
"Yeah?" she acknowledged sleepily.
"Yeah," he admitted. "I referred to it often during the beginning of our relationship."
She moved just enough to look him in the eyes. "I didnít know that."
He smiled and shrugged. "I referred back to it even after I had it memorized. Even when it was all old and pretty much falling apart."
"I always wanted the sex to be hot, like it was in London."
She smirked, "And looking at a tattered piece of paper helped you with that?"
"In a way. I mean, I know your body now like the back of my hand, but beforeÖ" He trailed off, and she smiled as she snuggled back into his side.
"I think it's sweet."
"You do?" he asked.
"Mmm-hmm," she hummed. "To care that much about my pleasure," she reflected, "Very sweet."
"Yeah, well, thatís me," he quipped, noting as he glanced at her how tired she seemed. Her eyes were heavy and she looked like she was fighting to stay awake. "Sleepy?"
"Yeah," she muttered, yawning. "Sorry."
"Donít be sorry," he told her gently, "I understand."
"Thanks," she mumbled, half conscious. "Love you."
"I love you too," he whispered. "Sleep."
He felt her relax completely in his arms as sleep took over, then he smiled as he closed his eyes, listening to her deep breathing, the sound soon lulling him to sleep.
--Chandler awoke before the sun, wonderful feelings washing over him in waves, interrupting his sleep. He wiped at his eyes, trying to focus them as an involuntary moan escaped him, his hands instinctively reaching out at the source of his pleasure.
Monica sighed as her sleepy husband woke enough to tune in what was happening, and his strong hands moved to grasp her waist, helping her move.
Just minutes before, she had climbed atop him, his sleep-induced erection creating a need in her. She knew the moment she slid down onto him, his penis entering her, that he would be awake in seconds. She was right.
He moaned her name, thrusting up to meet her as she came down, the slow pace she had started picking up rapidly. She leaned forward, crushing her breasts to his chest as she kissed his neck, biting and sucking as she rubbed against his body.
He physically pushed her upright, back into a sitting position, then reached for her breasts, playing with them as he pushed his hips helplessly into her. He was desperate for friction, but she barely moved, a torture in its own right.
She writhed against him, grinding her clit into his pubic hair as he pinched and rubbed both her nipples simultaneously. He struggled to sit up enough to reach her lips with his, his hands traveling around to her back, holding her tightly as he kissed her passionately.
Moving again, she worked him slowly, knowing he was near frantic for release. Knowing her purposefully slow movements would be just inadequate enough to take him there quickly.
He groaned in frustration, "Monica, please," he begged, his voice hoarse.
She grinned in satisfaction. "Where's number three?"
"What?" he asked, confused, half dazed.
"Erogenous zone number three," she clarified. "Where is it?"
He panted as he tried but failed to get her to pick up the pace. "What are you talking about?"
"This is a test," her grin widened. "The lesson in erogenous zones?" she reminded. "Now, where is erogenous zone number three?" she asked again. "Get it right, I pick up the pace."
"I know. Number three?"
He struggled to reach her neck, kissing and nibbling on it, moaning when she did. She picked up the pace, but just slightly.
"Number four?" she breathed, smiling when he instantly latched on to one of her pert nipples, swirling his tongue around it deliciously.
"I love the way you love me," she whispered as she almost roughly raked her fingers through his hair.
He looked up at her and smiled, then flipped her over so he was once again in control. He loved having power over her while they made love, since she seemed to have the power in their relationship moreso than he did.
He didnít mind most of the time, though sometimes it poked annoyingly at his self esteem. Still, he knew going into it, all those years ago, back in London, that she was bossy and competitive.
He had to endure often, jokes and such, because his wife 'wore the pants in the family'. But she was worth all the ribbings he got from friends and coworkers about how he was whipped and hen-pecked. He knew the truth. She loved and respected him.
Monica was just a strong woman, and that was fine by him. And it wasnít that he wasnít a strong man, because he was, but he was a lot happier viewing life casually, and with humor. She was happier if she could control all aspects of her life.
But when they made love, it was different. In the throes of passion, he was often times the one in control, and she relinquished that to him without hesitation. He sometimes wondered if that was something of a relief to her, to have a break from being or trying to be in constant control.
"I love you," he whispered in her ear, reaching down between them to rub her sensitive skin. When he brushed her clitoris, she moaned loudly in appreciation. "Number seven was always your favorite," he teased, then kissed her lips softly.
He made love to her until she cried out, his name and other indiscernible words on her lips as she climaxed, his orgasm brought on by her sounds of pleasure a moment later.
He rolled away from her, then pulled her into his embrace as he fought to catch his breath.
"What brought that on?" he asked in reference to his wife's early morning wake-up call.
"I felt kinda bad about falling asleep on you before," she explained. "I wanted to make it up to you."
"Not that I'm not appreciative," he said with a smile, "But you didnít have to. I understood that you were tired and needed to sleep."
"I know you did," she replied, absently playing with his chest hairs.
"What time is it anyway?" he asked as he strained to look over at their alarm clock.
"Our friends will be over soon."
"Wanting breakfast," Monica added.
"Yep." He sighed, "Wanna take a shower with me?"
She smiled. "Yeah."
--He loved showering with her, and taking bubble baths with her. It was considered unmanly to sit in a tub of water with bubbles and bath salts and other such scented things, but to him, it was a very manly experience. He could run his soapy slick hands all over her soft silky body, and she could reciprocate. What could be more manly, than to touch and caress the woman you love in that fashion?
Showers were just as nice. Seeing the water cascading down her beautiful freckled skin, it caused him to shiver, even in the heat and steam of the closed bathroom.
He stood behind her as she leaned her head back onto his shoulder, her weight dependant on him just slightly. With soapy fingers he ran his hands down her body, slipping across her breasts, down her flat stomach to her belly button. When he dipped his finger inside, she giggled.
"Tickles," she whispered, turning in his arms to face him.
"I gathered," he whispered back. "Sorry."
She shook her head, "No need to be," she assured him, "Your touch feels amazing."
He bent to kiss the hollow of her shoulder when a knock at the door scared them half to death.
"Hey! You guys!" Joey's distinct whining could be heard over the sound of the shower. "We're hungry out here!"
Monica rolled her eyes. "Who's we?"
"Well, me!" Joey replied.
"We'll be right out, Joe," Chandler spoke up, releasing Monica from his embrace.
They were vaguely aware that Joey had walked away from the bathroom door when they faintly heard the TV come on.
"Probably better wrap this up," Monica suggested, turning to let the water wet her hair.
"He'll be fine for a few," Chandler informed, wanting to pick up where they had left off. "He'll find porn or something."
He leaned in to lick her nipple, and she moaned slightly, but never moved off task.
"Later," she promised. "Tonight."
He groaned, resigning himself to the fact that his arousal was not going to be getting any satisfaction any time soon.
"Can you turn that over to cold when you're done?" he somewhat quipped, and she smiled sympathetically.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, lathering her hair with shampoo as her eyes remained closed tight.
"Not your fault," he shrugged to himself. "I blame Joey."
She chuckled. "I'm doneÖ" She started to leave the shower, but he pulled her back to him.
"I love you," he whispered, "So much."
Smiling, she kissed his lips quickly. "You're such a romantic," she teased, then reached over and turned the temperature to cold as she jumped out, avoiding the stark cold spray as it hit Chandler full force.
He screamed in surprise, and Monica laughed at his antics as he tried to turn the water off.
"You're dead," he told her in an eerily calm voice, forcing a smile from crossing his face.
He jumped in front of the door to prevent her from leaving, then started mercilessly tickling her.
--The sounds coming from that bathroom caused family and friends to look at each other with looks of disgust and wide smiles.
"They're not newlyweds anymore," Ross muttered as he rolled his eyes. "Or 13 year olds," he added.
"They're in love," Rachel countered Ross' cynicism. "Grow a heart."
"Hey, I have a heart!" he defended himself. "I just happen to feel that there is a time and a place for such silliness!"
"Yeah," Rachel said as she rolled her eyes, "Best not to have unscripted silliness."
Ross glared at Rachel as Phoebe interjectedÖ
"I think it's great! They've been so unhappy lately."
"They've been unhappy?" Joey asked, oblivious.
"They just stopped making time for each other," Phoebe informed Joey.
"But, they're gonna be ok, right?" he asked worriedly.
"Yes, Joey," Rachel assured him. "Can't you tell?" she asked as she gestured towards the bathroom and the sounds of laughter and ruckus that could still be heard. A relieved lopsided grin took the place of his concerned expression.
"I can be as silly as the next guy," Ross mumbled, irritated.
"Fine, Ross," Rachel placated him. "Let it go."
--Chandler and Monica exited the bathroom in nothing but terry towels, and all eyes were immediately on them.
"Good," Monica forced a smile, "You're all here."
"We can leave," Phoebe suggested, "If you want." Joey made a whining sound in response.
"No, it's fine," Monica replied, then started for her bedroom. "Just give me a minute and I'll start breakfast."
Chandler followed her into the bedroom.
"Do you think they heard us in there?" she asked her husband once the door to their room was closed.
"Unless they recently lost their hearing," was his quippy reply.
"Thatís just great," she mumbled as she started to dress.
He pulled her into his arms. "You're upset cause they heard us playing?"
"No, I guess not," she sighed. "Just, I know them. Ross will think we were being silly and stupid and the others will tease us."
"Let them," he breathed as he kissed and nibbled on her ear. "They're just happy for us," he added. "And Ross is just jealous."
She smiled as she broke away, "We can't get this started," she told him. "They'll be expecting breakfast."
"They can wait," he cooed, kissing her shoulders, preventing her from dressing easily.
"We're hungry out here!" They could hear Joey whining from out in the livingroom, and Chandler backed one step away from his wife.
"Ok, maybe not."
Monica laughed as she pulled on her tight short-sleeved sweater, noting that Chandler was just sitting on the edge of the bed and making no attempt to dress.
"You coming?" she asked as she collected the wet towels.
"In a minute," he answered, smiling.
"Why are you smiling at me like that?"
"Just thinking about how much I love you."
She smiled. "I love you too."
"Are we gonna tell the gang that we're trying?"
"We should probably wait till we're actually pregnant."
He nodded. "Ok."
"See you out there?"
He nodded again. "Right behind you."
After a quick nod of acknowledgement, Monica walked out into the livingroom, her husband of exactly one year watching as she left.
He could hear her assuring Joey that she would hurry with breakfast, and he chuckled softly to himself as he realized how lucky he was.
He was married to the most wonderful woman in the world.
Thanks for reading!