I take a final look in the bathroom mirror, making sure everything is in place. I give my outfit a couple of tugs, smooth down a few stray hairs, then pull my bathrobe over the whole package and tighten the sash. I take a deep breath, then put my hand on the doorknob and pause.

I don't know why I feel so nervous right now. Chandler and I have been doing this for months. I can't even blame my nerves on Rachel being home because, again, Chandler and I have been doing this for months. Rachel is a fairly heavy sleeper, and we've gotten pretty good at keeping the volume down when we know she's around.

Maybe it's because, of all the things I could have gotten Chandler for Christmas, I decided that essentially wrapping myself up in a bow and presenting myself to him was the way to go. Not that he's complaining, but I also don't think he's reading as much into it as I am. He probably doesn't see this as some symbolic gesture; it's very likely I'm the only one who is looking at this gift as me actually giving myself to him in some sort of deep, emotional way. He's probably just really excited to be getting a scantily-clad girl for Christmas.

I shake my head and sigh, and open the door. Even though it's late and Rachel's room has been quiet for hours, I sneak across the living room to my bedroom. I open the door just enough so that I can slide through and ease it shut behind me.

Chandler is already on my bed, wearing a flannel shirt and snowman pajama pants, socks covering his mutilated-by-Monica feet. Probably not the outfit that most women would consider sexy, but to me he's adorable. Besides—I don't plan on him wearing much of anything for very long.

I try my hardest to strike an alluring pose and, in what I hope is a sexy voice, say quietly, "So, Chandler…have you been naughty or nice?"

He looks over at me and starts to bounce up and down, a huge grin spreading across his face. "Naughty! So very naughty!"

I take the few steps over to my bed and he reaches for me eagerly. I bat his hands away. "What's your rush?"

He looks at me incredulously. "Well, I'm kind of pitching a tent over here, Mon," he answers, glancing down at his lap.

"Yeah, well, it took me a long time to get into this thing. You might want to savor the moment."

His breath hitches a bit, and I know he's now even more intrigued about what's underneath my robe. He scoots over to the edge of the bed and reaches for me once more, a bit more calmly this time, and I go into his arms willingly. I lace my hands together at the back of his neck and smile down at him, and the way he's looking at me almost makes me come undone. Before I can say something to ruin the moment, I lean down and kiss him.

His hands gently massage my hips and my knees start to shake a little. He reaches in between us and fumbles with the sash of my robe for a moment before it comes undone. I release his lips and take a step back, letting the robe slide off my shoulders, trying desperately to look sexy and confident as my heart rate triples.

Chandler's mouth drops open as he stares at me for a good thirty seconds before he manages to find words once more. "God, Monica," he breathes. "You look…wow."

I feel a shy grin pull at my lips. "Really?"

"I…I just…I don't…you…wow."

I'm wearing this deep, Christmas-green teddy concoction that leaves almost nothing to the imagination. But the best part is that the entire thing is held together by tiny red ribbons. It really did take forever to get into—it's really hard tying ribbons on yourself, it turns out, at least ones that come all the way up your sides—but the moment I saw it, I knew that he would literally be able to unwrap me. Just the thought of it turned me on so much I could hardly stand it, so I could only imagine what Chandler's reaction would be. He didn't disappoint.

"Merry Christmas, baby."

He says nothing. Instead, he reaches up and pulls my lips back down to his, kissing me deeply. I melt into him, no longer nervous about his reaction.

His lips travel slowly down to my neck, then across to my shoulder. "So," he mumbles against my skin. "When do I get to open my present?"

"It's yours, Chandler. You can do what you want with it."

He pulls back to look at me, a glint I don't recognize in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he runs his hands up and down my thighs, making me shiver. He leans forward and presses a kiss to my naval, an erogenous zone of mine he's discovered all on his own. "Sounds promising," he whispers against my stomach. "I think I'll take my time with it."

My breath catches in my throat as he tugs at the lowest set of ribbons, his fingertips sliding under the edge of the teddy, sliding gently over the backs of my legs. He moves to the next set of ribbons and releases those as well, his hands gliding up a little higher, teasing me, his eyes never leaving mine.

This is intense. Sustained eye contact during sex has never been my strong suit; it feels too intimate, and I usually have to find some form of distraction. It turns out that Chandler is very much into eye contact. He says that it makes the connection stronger, and is he ever right. But I'm determined that tonight I won't look away.

His hands inch up again, and my body is on high alert. When I bought this outfit, I was only thinking about how he'd react to it. I never considered that it would do as much for me as would for him. I also never suspected that he would draw it out this way.

His hands are magic.

The ribbons up to my ribcage have been untied. So tenderly, he moves the fabric to the side and drags his lips from the curve of my hip up the underside of my breast, and I realize that the soft noises filling the room are coming from me. He's still fully clothed, and I'm ready to come apart in his hands. He moves to my other side, giving it the same treatment, and my fingers dig into his shoulders.

I don't know how long I can hang on.

He pushes back on the bed a bit, pulling me with him, my knees straddling his hips, and I bite my lip at the contact. He slides his hands through my hair, pulling my face to his for another kiss, and this time I hear him moan. His fingers thread through the hair at the nape of my necks and give a little tug that causes goosebumps to rise all over my body.

Without warning, he shifts his focus back to the lingerie and my head spins. He undoes another set of ribbons, this time leaning forward to kiss the tops of my breasts. Involuntarily, my eyelids shut as my eyes roll back in my head, my head falling back, and abruptly, his lips leave me completely.

"Look at me, Mon," he whispers. "Please."

I swallow heavily and bring my face back to his, opening my eyes once more.

"I know it's hard for you," he continues. "And if it gets to be too much, you can look away. But remember—it's just me. I won't let anything happen to you."

Tears spring to my eyes and I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep myself in check. He knows me so well—he gets all of my insecurities. That's why what we have is so amazing, and why it's so scary at the same time.

He brings his hands up to my face and his thumbs gently wipe away the tears. I give him a shaky smile. "I'm okay." I give him a quick kiss. "I'm okay."

His hands drift down to my shoulders and he releases the ribbons there—all that's left are two tiny ribbons under my armpits, barely holding the teddy up and together. Before he can make another move, I grab the bottom of his shirt pull it up his body and over his head. The feel of the lace I'm wearing against his bare skin is enough to make us both groan.

He wastes no more time untying the ribbons, and before I know what's happening, I've been flipped onto my back, Chandler hovering over me, the lacy material that took me so long to get into now a ball in the corner of my room. He positions himself on top of me, kissing me hungrily, his hands touching as much of me as he can. He grabs my legs and wraps them around his waist, then groans when he realizes his pajama pants still separate us.

Breathing heavily, he meticulously kisses his way down my body, and I clutch at my quilt as I desperately try to remain quiet.

All of a sudden, his mouth is on me and, if he didn't have a hold of my hips, I probably would have flown off the bed. I quickly grab a pillow and shove it over my face, trying to muffle myself, my heart almost hammering out of my chest, stars exploding behind my eyelids.

I can only handle a few minutes of this sweet torture before I fling the pillow off my face and grab his hand, trying to get his attention. "Chandler!" I whisper frantically, barely keeping myself composed. He chooses to ignore me, but keeps his eyes locked on mine, which is both unnerving and so unbearably hot. I pinch his arm this time. "Chandler, stop."

He moves his mouth a fraction, now kissing my inner thighs. "Why?"

"Because I don't think I can take this right now." I really don't. My body is trembling so hard right now I feel like I'll fly apart. There's something about the combination of the sustained eye contact, the intensity of my feelings for him, and not being able to express it that's just too much.

"You sure?" He mumbles. "I know how much you like this." Bastard has me there—I do like it. A lot. But still…too intense. If he wants me to look him in the eyes the entire time, it can't be while doing that.

"Yeah." I reach down and run a hand through his hair. "I need you inside of me," I whisper.

That gets his attention. He loves when I talk dirty, even if it's only mildly dirty. He stands up and pulls down his pajama pants and crawls on top of me once more. I pull his face down to mine and kiss him hungrily. I can tell by the way he's kissing me back that, if left to his own devices, the foreplay could go on for hours. That's one of the best things about him when it comes to sex—he's so eager to please that I'm usually pretty revved up by the time we ever get to actually having sex.

"Chandler," I whisper into his ear, biting down on his lobe. "Make love to me."

He groans and pushes himself inside of me, and I only have a moment to panic—I try to avoid asking him to make to love me because I don't know if that's the sort of thing that will make him freak out—before I can't bring myself to care. He certainly doesn't seem bothered by it.

I have another moment of panic when I realize we didn't use a condom before I remember that I'm back on the pill. I did that not long after we started dating, mostly for moments like this when a condom is the furthest thing from our minds.

It takes me a moment to realize that he's not moving, and that's when I realize my eyes closed once more. I force them open and find him looking at me, patiently. "You all right?" I can tell by the way his body is tensed that it's taking everything he has to hold still. It makes me love him even more—he thinks of me first.

I grin at him crookedly. "I think too much."

"You do."

"Make me stop."

He can't resist a challenge any more than I can. He starts to move slowly; I brace my feet next to his calves and dig my fingers into his shoulder blades.

I lose track of time as he gazes into my eyes—this is an experience that I've managed to completely avoid not only with Chandler, but with anyone else before him. He's always been so understanding about my need to look away, to keep just a little piece of myself, but now...now he's asking for that piece. How can I deny him? Especially when I realize it's been his all along.

In that moment, when I realize that there's nothing to hide, I feel something in me in unwind. Something I hadn't realized I'd been holding back for the last six months. I'm not sure if he feels it, too, but I know I'm more in love with him than ever, and I feel free.

He presses his forehead against mine, the sweat on his brow mixing with my own, our breath coming in short, hard gasps. His right hand slides down my left arm until his fingers lock with mine. I squeeze his hand, letting him know that I'm there, that I'm right there with him. Our movements quicken and I can tell I only have moments left. I'm now desperate to keep this connection, but somehow remember, through the fog that has become my brain, that I still have to keep quiet. With my free, I grab his neck and bring his lips to mine, just in time to stifle the low, primal sounding noise that comes from deep within my soul as my body finally lets go. The same kind of noise comes from Chandler as he drives in to me furiously before collapsing bonelessly on top of me, and I'm pretty sure we both black out for a few moments.

Probably only minutes later, I become self-aware enough to realize Chandler's already about a step ahead of me; he's pressing gentle kisses to my neck and collarbone, his hands gently stroking my sides. I take a deep breath and let out a shuddering sigh. I think that may have been the most profound experience of my life. I wrap my arms around him to keep him close; not only do I still need the contact, but he's acting as a hot water bottle for my rapidly cooling body.

"Thank you," he whispers into my ear. "Thank you for the best Christmas present ever."

I chuckle for a moment before pulls back a little so I can see his face, and I realize he's talking about much more than just the lingerie.

This night definitely didn't go in the direction I originally intended, but I'm pretty damn happy with how it turned out.

I gently stroke his cheek and smile. "You're welcome," I whisper, kissing him once more.

*A/N…That is about as smutty as I can offer. I never even intended to write that, but I received a wonderful review that asked if we'd see what happened Christmas night and *poof* this popped into my head. I'm not even proof-reading it. Reviews save lives, people. Please let me know this wasn't creepy or weird.