Sunday

"Oh. My. God!"

"I know!"

"Oh. My. God!"

"We are gonna do that again!"

Chandler let out a husky laugh as Monica rolled over and off of him. She took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on slowing her heart rate down since it felt as if it would explode out of her chest. She shuddered a bit as the adrenaline flowed through her body like an electric shock that traveled from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, almost causing goosebumps to form on her arms. To her complete surprise, it happened again. Not the sex. After a week of sleeping with Chandler, sex is now a given. It would feel even stranger if they did not have sex. No, what still does not fail to send a jolt of shock through her is that, even a week later, this is still the best sex she has ever had.

At first, she thought that maybe she was just having a primal reaction to finally having sex again. After all, it was over a year since the last time she slept with someone before she and Chandler fell into bed together in London. It blew her away, curled her toes, and straightened her hair; but she had just assumed that her body was so overly sensitive, that if all he did was stroke her arm that night, she probably would have had an orgasm.

She was certain that after that first time, it would get weird, awkward and stale. She would come to her senses, feel remorse for what she had done in a moment of weakness, and try to gracefully move on. But then they did it again. And again. And again. And then three more times after that. It never disappointed. It was incredible. Every touch was perfect. Anywhere he put his hands or his mouth, sent waves of rapturous delight through her body. It was as if he were genetically modified to please her. And it was fun. And she laughed. And smiled. It was sexy. It was comfortable. It was everything sex for the first time with someone should not be, and yet, it was.

Still, she was unconvinced. This was Chandler. She was Monica. It didn't make any sense. So, in one last attempt to convince herself that this was not real, she told herself that it had to be London. There was no other explanation. The wedding, the drinks, her screwed up emotions; it was the perfect toxic cocktail of events that led to a most wonderful night. That was all it could be. One night. But then they got back to New York, and it took all her strength not to rip his clothes off right there in the kitchen. Joey and Phoebe be damned. She was so hungry with desire, that she didn't care in that moment. She had waited almost forty-eight hours for his hands to be on her body again. She could not wait another minute. That was when she knew, it wasn't some mistake in London. There was no man there in her apartment telling her she looked old. There was no wedding to be making her jealous and sad. Her mother's words had long stopped ringing in her ears. There was no alcohol. There was just him, with that goofy grin and those blue eyes and that crazy hair that she just wanted to run her fingers through and she had to have him.

And have him she did. In her room, on the couch, on the floor in Rachel's room, in the shower, on the kitchen table. They had sex anywhere there was a surface to rest on, and also that one time where there was nothing but him holding her in the air. She had never had it like this before. She had never experienced complete satisfaction for a week straight. She did not know where this came from or why now, all she knew, was that she did not want this to end.

"Okay. I'm ready."

"What?"

Monica pounced on top of him. She pinned his arms down and crashed hard against his body with a series of frenetic kisses as she reached down to pull the bedsheets off of him. She was not going to be denied this kind of pleasure ever again.

"You know, by tomorrow night, you aren't going to be able to be that loud anymore. Have you thought of that?"

Monica raised an eyebrow as she turned her head towards him. "Why?"

"Rachel will be back."

"Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting about her."

"Well, that's because of all the Chan-love."

Monica wanted to protest, or at least embarrass him and deflate some of his over-confidence, but she did not have the energy. "You're probably right."

"I guess I'll have to sneak over in the middle of the night after she goes to sleep."

"Or I could just spike her drinks from now on. She'll think she's having Earl Grey, but really, she'll be having a vodka-slash-Tylenol PM cocktail. It isn't a drinking problem if you don't know there's alcohol in your cup, right?"

"No, but it might be a felon."

Monica bit her lip and shook her head. "I'll have to be quiet."

"We could use my room, Joey sleeps pretty heavy once he starts snoring."

"I don't know if I want to have sex to the dulcet tones of Joey's deviated septum."

"Maybe I can start playing music at night, and then he'll get used to it and we can play the radio to drown him out."

"That could be a problem. Sometimes I end up humming along to the songs when the radio is playing."

"That could be kind of hot if we have your mouth in the right position." Monica slapped him on the chest and smirked. Chandler looked over at her and kissed the top of her head. "Do you think you can stay quiet?"

"I don't know. Let's find out." Monica pulled Chandler over and on top of her as she wrapped her legs around his back.

Chandler could not believe what was happening to him. Never in a million years could this scenario have ever played out in his head, even in his most wild of fantasies. He has already had sex three times tonight. And once this afternoon. And what he considered a half-to-three-quarters first thing in the morning before Joey almost caught them as he came in looking for breakfast.

Monica was insatiable. She was like some wildcat that stalked him around the apartment, and without warning, she would jump on top of him. It was as if she were commanding him to perform. He was not complaining. He made sure to repeat that silently as many times as he could, just on the off chance that there was some cosmic entity who controlled everything and would take this away from him if it heard him question its validity.

He still questioned it though. Three times. There have been years of his life where he hadn't had sex more than three times. Yet here was this amazing, beautiful woman who wanted to use his body as if she were some sexual vampire, intent on draining him of all his virility. He didn't care. He was game. If this was going to be how he died, he would want it proudly etched on his tombstone for all to see. With illustrations.

He glanced over at her. Even now, sweaty, hair tussled, breathing heavy, glassy eyed; she was gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. He knew from the moment that she crashed her lips on his in that hotel room in London, that for however long she wanted this to go on, he was all hers. Hook, line and sinker. It didn't matter to him who was in charge and who initiated. As long as he got to taste her skin that was a mix of salty sweat and what he could only describe as honeysuckle. Sweet and savory.

"You weren't very quiet."

"I thought about trying to be quiet, but then I said to myself, to hell with that. Rachel isn't home yet. I am going to enjoy myself."

He laughed and reached over to stroke her stomach with the back of his hand. He needed to be in constant physical contact with her, almost to ensure she did not disappear like some object of fairy tale magic that vanished at the stroke of midnight. He watched her from the corner of his eye, and when their skin touched, she closed her eyes and smiled. That was what blew his mind the most. Not that this was happening, although, yes, that was insane. It was that she wanted it, she liked it. He would touch her, and she would smile, and it felt like the greatest trick he would ever learn.

"We need to come up with a plan." Monica almost hummed as she spoke, her eyes still closed.

"A plan?"

"Yes. With Rachel coming home tomorrow, Ross back already, Phoebe and Joey; we need a plan."

"What? We can't have a plan. Sex is supposed to be spontaneous, and unpredictable."

"We need to be organized. We need to come up with code words and ways to talk about it around the gang without everyone figuring it out."

Chandler laughed. To think he was going to keep this a secret. This amazing thing that was happening to him and he couldn't even brag about it to anyone. Who would believe him anyway?

"What are you laughing at."

"Nothing. Forget it. I don't want to get you mad at me."

"Chandler, I can't get mad right now. It is physically impossible for me to get mad. All my mad for at least the next twenty-four hours has been screwed out of me."

Chandler chuckled again. Just the idea that he was the one to do his to her made him light-headed. "Why don't we name it after a chore. You're always doing chores. You could be like "Chandler I need help with my…uh…something…and that's when we do it."

Monica's eyes snapped open. "Laundry!"

"What?"

"We can just say we're doing laundry. It's perfect. It's something we both would have to do anyway. It's totally believable. We've done our laundry together before so no one will think twice about it."

"So, laundry is going to mean sex."

"Yes, unless it actually means laundry."

"How am I going to know the difference."

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not."

Monica's breath started to hitch and she ran her hand over her flushed cheek. "Oh wow."

"What?"

"Nothing. I don't want you to get mad."

Chandler reached up and cupped one of Monica's breasts. "There. As long as I am holding one of these, it is impossible for me to get mad."

Monica giggled and shook her head. "All this talk about chores and laundry and sex and plans, well, it's kind of got me turned on. I mean, you're telling me I am going to have clean clothes and a lot of sex?"

"Why would that make me mad?"

"Well, you know, guys like to think they're the reason a woman gets turned on."

Chandler laughed and shook his head. "Look, I am just happy to be nominated."

Monica grabbed his hand and started to slowly slide it down the length of her body, until both their hands disappeared underneath the sheets. "I may have another part for you to play."

"I'd like to thank the academy."

"What about clothes?"

"What?"

"Well, last time, I was stuck here without any clothes. What if we have another emergency or a close call and one of us has to hide out until the coast is clear? Maybe we should make sure to have clean clothes hidden in each other's room. For emergencies."

Monica propped herself up and leaned over him, smiling at his initiative. "You know, that's not a bad idea. Tomorrow morning I'll run out and buy you some pajamas to keep here."

"I can just give you some of my pajamas."

"Everyone will know they're yours. Your pajamas aren't exactly what I would call inconspicuous. I mean, you have a set with race cars on them. What are you? Twelve?"

Chandler rolled his eyes. "Okay, so should I buy clothes for you?"

"Yeah, right. Like I'd trust you to pick out clothes for me. I'll just give you some."

Chandler stretched out and yawned. "What time is it?"

Monica lifted her head to see the clock on the bedside table. "Uh, about three-thirty."

"Maybe we should get some sleep. Everybody will be here in the morning."

Monica looked at the clock one more time and tilted her head. "Or we could have sex again."

Monica's head lifted up over the side of the bed from the floor as she looked around her room to check the clock. She looked down next to her to see Chandler trying to slip his arm out from under the bed.

He shook his head, trying to break his memory loose from the fog that sex and dehydration had caused in his brain. "How did we end up down here?"

Monica shrunk into her shoulders from embarrassment. "I think I might have thrown you out of bed and then jumped on top of you during that last one."

"Oh, is that why my ribs hurt?"

Monica gently touched him on the side and slowly rubbed him along his ribcage. She stopped when she heard a noise come from the kitchen of her apartment.

"Shh! Who is that? It can't be Rachel. It's too early."

Chandler closed his eyes and nodded. "Joey."

"Joey? What?"

"Yeah, uh, he normally has a snack in the middle of the night."

"Why is he here?"

"Well, you always have better snacks."

She stayed still and tried to listen intently on their nocturnal intruder. "Is he awake?"

"Barely."

The sound of one of the kitchen chairs rubbing against the floor echos throughout the apartment as it gets pulled out so their visitor can sit.

"I can't believe I've never heard him out there before. How long has he been doing this?"

"I'm not sure. What year did he move in with me?"

Monica bit her lip and then looked over at Chandler with a lascivious gleam in her eye, "This is a great opportunity to practice."

"Practice what?"

"Being quiet." Monica placed both her hands on his chest and forced him down to the ground. Chandler let out a groan as he hit the floor with a thud.

"I can't believe I have to go to work in two hours." Chandler tugged on the the blanket so he could cover Monica's shoulders and pulled her into his body. "I probably should go back to my place and take a shower."

Monica nuzzled her head into his chest and let out a long, satisfied sigh. "You know what? You should bring a couple of your suits over here to keep in my closet and just shower with me this morning. It might be our last chance to shower together. for a while."

"What? Seriously? Now?"

Monica slowly nodded her head. "Come on Chandler. It'll be fun. Let's shower together. We still have about an hour or so before anyone else comes here. As long as we are careful and we don't do anything stupid, we'll beat them!"

"Beat who?"

"The gang. It's us versus them now."

"Really?"

"Yes! Everything is a competition. How do you not know that by now?" Monica gently pinched Chandler on the chest, causing a jolt through his body. "So, what do you say? Care to join me in the shower?"

"You had me at suits in the closet." Chandler kissed her at the crown of her head and rested his eyes. "I can't believe this is coming to an end."

"What?"

"You know, all this freedom to just do it whenever we want. I mean, how do I know when we are going to do it again?"

Monica let a devilish smile spread across her lips. "Well, I do have to do some laundry tonight."

"Oh yeah? You know what, I think I might have to do some laundry too." Chandler breathed in deep, as if he were trying to take in her scent. "We're talking about sex, right?"

A/N - Okay, now that is a week. Sunday to Sunday. I originally ended this at the bathtub scene during the cold open to "TOW All the Kissing", but that episode takes place over a few days. So, now, for the purposed of my story; Joey interrupts them in the bath on Friday and Rachel comes home on Monday, giving me one more weekend to play with before Chandler goes to work and instinctively kisses Monica in front of Rachel and Phoebe.

Now on to edit and clean up the next story in this series. I'm sure I won't add anything to that. Really. Maybe.

I probably will.