In the morning, the challenge of having three adult couples share one bathroom became evident. The group settled on doing it one couple at a time, instead of one person at a time. This forced Ross and Rachel into a new degree of intimacy. They figured it was just as well, and inevitable if their relationship was to go long-term, as it seemed destined to do.
Rachel discretely polled the other three women in the house, who all stated that no one had heard anything coming from Rachel's room. In return, Rachel confided to each of them that she and Ross had in fact made love.
The wedding highlighted what a handsome and natural couple Ross and Rachel were. Ross gamely endured incessant remarks about the prospects for a marriage between he and Rachel, when a proposal might be expected, honeymoon options, recommended caterers, and would they be having children?
Rachel had been overly competitive all her life. When the time came for her cousin to toss the bouquet, Rachel's blood came up. Rachel was in no hurry to get married, or even engaged, but she fought for that bouquet more fiercely than was appropriate. She won, and sashayed over to Ross, swinging her hips and taunting him by waving the bouquet. Ross needed to hide the fact that he was ready to marry Rachel that very moment. He tried to play it cool by looking nonplused.
Rachel shocked herself a bit by fighting for and winning the bouquet, and with the over-the-top victory dance. Although it was all a silly show, and part of the festivities, having presented herself as an eager bridal prospect forced her to confront the inevitable. Anyone who saw the way Ross looked at her knew that he wanted her. Rachel suddenly realized that, at a subconscious level, she had already decided that she would marry Ross Geller one day.
Rachel paraded Ross among the guests, introducing him to a bewildering array of family and friends. They danced. The wedding venue had an expansive view, and the couple found themselves admiring it together, and conspicuously alone. Rachel screwed up her courage. She turned to Ross, wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him, and asked, softly, "Ross, what are you feeling...about us?"
"I love you." Ross said it without hesitation or reservation, as she knew he would.
"I love you, too." They kissed and embraced so passionately that more than one observer delivered the tired "Get a room!" wisecrack.
Ross was over the moon. Not only had Rachel uttered those momentous words, but he had, against all odds, held back on saying it himself until exactly the right moment. It was all he could do not to get down on one knee. He knew that that would be the next test of his impulse control. Ross was dragged through the remainder of the weekend with a silly, addled look on his face.
That night, Rachel got the drop on Ross by giving her surprise first. When Ross returned to her room from the bathroom, he entered to see Rachel wearing the sexiest outfit this sexy woman had ever worn. Ross stripped her joyfully, and humped her happily. The canopy bed rattled and shook ominously. Rachel cheered him on, "Professor Geller! Professor Geller! You're my favorite teacher!" Ross's eyes bugged out while he frantically blasted her with semen. Rachel sang, "Two, four, six, eight, you taught me how to copulate!" At long last, Ross Geller had made it with a real, live cheerleader.
Ross and Rachel were both so tired from the wedding, and the lovemaking, that they went to sleep without Ross having given his special surprise. In the morning, he faced his last chance to do it, and he was determined to make it happen. He and Rachel maneuvered around each other in the bathroom to get themselves ready for the day. When they returned to Rachel's room, in bathrobes, Ross said, "Rachel, there is something special I want to do. You may think it a little too kinky, though."
Rachel asked, suspiciously, "What is it?"
"It's just normal lovemaking, in this room."
"I'm up for it, then. Proceed."
They disrobed. Ross deftly picked Rachel up and carried her to the corner of the room where her enormous collection of stuffed animals was piled up against the walls. The pile was about four feet high. Ross lay the uncertain Rachel on the pile. When she realized what he was up to, she said, "Oh, no, Ross, I couldn't!"
"I could." He bent down to kiss her. He held her by the shoulders to discourage her from fleeing and moved to mount her.
She said, "No, Ross, we'll ruin them. I can't do this!"
"I love you, Rachel."
She was defeated. She said, in concession, "I love you, Ross" and lay back on her childhood treasures to perform a very adult act. Ross watched her on top of the comical, pillowy creatures as he made love to her. He embraced her, rolling them about on the pile and feeling the varied textures and shapes beneath them. Every movement, every jab of his hips against hers, worked her deeper into the pile. Ross was half-mad with passion. He set himself the goal of driving Rachel through the stuffed creatures and to the floor. He climaxed before he reached that goal. He came with short thrusts.
When finished, he stood, nude, and raised his arms in triumph, "Yes! Yes! Rachel, you will never look at those stuffed animals the same way again!" Rachel nodded in weary acknowledgement. She was more concerned about getting out of the pile without spilling any sex fluids onto her teddy bears. Her body had pushed a crater into the pile that she could not get out of on her own. She held out a hand, and Ross hauled her out. Stuffed animals were scattered all over that part of the room, and a couple even adhered briefly to her moist skin.
She covered her pussy with one hand to contain any leakage, and made for the wipes. It was by now part of their routine that she handed two wipes to Ross. After getting cleaned up and dressed, Rachel fussed over her stuffed animals. She fluffed them up, repositioned them, and apologized to them, out loud, for the trauma they had experienced.
Ross watched her with satisfaction, and said, "Maybe we should bring in a stuffed psychiatrist to counsel them so they don't get PTSD."
Rachel said, with mock indignation, "Damn you Ross! You're insulting both my animals and everyone with PTSD."
