21/6/04
Title: Whither By Moonlight
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: One - Love under glass
Rated: R15 - for adult situations(sex)
Synopsis: What do you do when the past arrives and kidnaps your future.
Pairing: W/O, W/P.
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Author's Note: There were several comments that my last story was rather "tame". So hang onto your socks, my muse decided to spice things up. Not entirely sure where I'm going with this smut biscuit, but I'm sure my muse has something up her sleeve, else why put this scene into my lust crazed brain in the first place. Fluff, smut and angst abound.
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The dark figure peered around the window frame, his strangely luminescent eyes narrowed as he tried to see within the room through the chink in the curtains. On this moonless night he was invisible against the soot stained brickwork, his long fingers gripping the rough edge of stone as he leaned further forward to see better.
Hissing in frustration he placed one hand against the glass, his breath fogging the pane as he pressed closer. A flicker of movement was his only warning before someone pulled the curtains back wide, light flooding out of the room and spilling over the figure hurriedly backing away. The next moment the window was opening and sound, which had been muted before, washed outwards, carrying with it an assortment of strange perfumes. Candlewax, flowers and sweat wafted out to the figure now flattened against the outer wall, his nose twitching as he breathed in. Music spilled out and teased his senses, the rhythm lilting and almost irresistible, his toes involuntarily tapping as the strains of a waltz drew him back to the opening and the room beyond. The sound of voices, indistinct as individuals, also reached out to him, his ears straining to filter one voice from the many, his head tilting as he closed his eyes to concentrate better. It was the same technique he used when hunting animals in the jungle, his ability to shut out the sound of the wind and birds and hear the creature breathing or treading delicately across the forest floor netting him a successful kill every time. Now his acuity was focused on finding just one voice, its timbre as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. As he listened the music drew to a stop and a polite round of glove-muffled applause sounded before the rustle of clothes as people left the dance floor, crossing the polished parquet to obtain refreshments in readiness for the next set. The level of chatter rose and the listener knitted his brow in a vain attempt to find the voice. Suddenly he felt a quiver run down his spine as the one he'd been seeking approached the window, his eyes opening as he turned his head to see two shadows fall across the window sill. The woman's gauzy scarf fluttered out a little way, carrying with it the scent of its owner. Breathing deeply Peter edged closer to the embrasure, his fingers twitching to reach out and grasp the delicate fabric but the voice halted him, freezing him to the bricks as if he'd been nailed there.
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"Thank you Steven.....a drink would be most appreciated, I don't think I've had time to pause since I arrived."
"Little wonder.....you are the prettiest girl in the room, and the best dancer, no surprise that every male present wants you for a partner," the man leant down, his lips close to the woman's ear, "but they court you in vain, my love...for I have already claimed you for my own."
Looking up, her eyes shining, Wendy Darling accepted the light kiss that her betrothed pressed on her lips before he left her to procure a drink for them both. As she watched him thread his way through the crowded room, she sighed and snapped open her fan to cool herself, the window behind her letting in some much needed air into the hot assembly rooms. She sighed again, turning her head to look out of the window to the stars just discernible beyond the rooftops, the sky like black velvet scattered with diamonds. At nearly twenty, Wendy had fulfilled the promise of her youth, growing into a lovely young woman, her shapely figure currently encased in a stylish evening dress, her hair dressed on top of her head, tendrils of honey-coloured curls teased out to soften her face and neck. Her wide blue eyes and generous mouth drew glances of admiration from old and young, her poised exterior the very model of a proper young lady of her age. Raising a gloved hand to pat her flushed cheeks, she felt the hard edge of the ring under the thin cloth on her left hand. Spreading her fingers she could see the bump and her lips curved into a smile. She had been expecting Steven to propose and his declaration, after duly expressing his intentions to her father, was all that she could want. He'd proposed in the back parlour of her Aunt's home, getting down on his knee on the well-worn carpet, his slender fingers clasping hers, his dear face earnest as he declared his love for her and asked her to be his wife. Without a moments hesitation Wendy had agreed, his speedy rise to take her in his arms as satisfying as it was expected. Her family had wished them both happy and now, two weeks later, they were planning a June wedding, her mother and exaltant Aunt helping her organise everything necessary.
She was as happy as any girl in her situation had a right to be, she had a loving family, a betrothed who adored her, a future that beckoned with open arms.
Sighing again she snapped her fan shut and stared blindly out the half open window, a tiny crease appearing on her smooth forehead as a small pain stabbed her breast. For a girl who had everything, she was remarkably melancholy.
As she continued to stare, her eyes suddenly focused on something on the glass itself. Leaning forward, she narrowed her eyes and peered a little closer. If she was not mistaken there was a handprint on the window, very clear, as if recently made. Raising her own hand she pressed it against the glass, rubbing at the print. It didn't smear, so it must be on the outside. Spreading her hand she found that the handprint was broader than her own, obviously belonging to a man. Resting her hands on the window sill, she leant outwards, looking down the two floors to the road below. There were no balcony's for anyone to stand on, only the awning covering the entrance at street level. Her wrap was fluttering in the cool breeze funnelling up the building and a sudden gust tugged it away, the silk unravelling from around her arm and floating out of the window, up towards the dark sky above.
"Oh no......" the puzzle of the hand print forgotten, Wendy reached out for her scarf, nearly falling out of the window, only a hard arm around her waist preventing her.
"Wendy what are you doing?"
Pulled back inside and against the hard wall of Steven's shirtfront, Wendy laughed a little breathlessly.
"My scarf got caught and its gone over the roof tops."
"Hardly a good enough reason to throw yourself out the window sweeting."
"Silly.....I was doing no such thing." She turned in his arms and raised her eyes, smiling up at the handsome man who would soon be her husband. Grey eyes twinkled down at her, his grip on her waist turning into a caress as he dipped his head to kiss her.
"Steven.....stop, people are staring."
"Let them stare........you're my fiancee, not theirs."
Surrendering, Wendy gave up her lips to his kiss, his own teasing hers, her body quite inappropriately pressed the length of his. It was only a quick kiss but it set Wendy's senses tingling, her eyes bright when they parted. Steven handed her a glass of punch as they turned to survey the room and the dancers twirling around the floor. Several people were indeed staring, but they were indulgent rather than critical, well aware of the handsome couples' impending nuptials.
With their refreshments consumed, Wendy was once more led out onto the dance floor by her betrothed, her focus all on him, the handprint on the window forgotten.
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Peter heard the couple move away and he pressed the back of his head against the brick wall. His eyes tracked the path of the silk scarf as it twisted and turned, still caught in the air currents wafting over the roof tops. With a push, Peter launched himself after it, his slim body like a dart as he chased the scrap of material. Before it could touch any of the sooty tiles or greasy chimney pots, he snagged it out of the air, looping back and landing on the roof of the building he'd been outside of only moments before. In the dark, he couldn't see more than a pale blur, the fabric like water running through his fingers as he pulled it back and forth across his palms. Lifting it to his nose he breathed deeply, the perfume of its owner strong and sweet, overpowering the smell of smoke that was ever present in the London air. He sat there for long moments with the scarf covering his face, revelling in its soft feel and sweet scent. For a few seconds it blotted out the pain of what he'd heard and seen, his heart still hammering from being so close to her, nearly able to touch her when she leaned out, his hand halfway there when the man had returned and pulled her back inside. He closed his eyes to bring the image back, of her hands pressed to the window sill, her hair glinting with highlights as she leant forward.
If what he had heard was the truth, she had already forgotten about him, her love now given to another, her hidden kiss given away as readily as if Peter had never existed. His fist clenched, the scrap of material fluttering as his hand trembled. Peter screwed his eyes tight shut, his teeth bared as a hated feeling welled up inside him, its insidious tendrils making his heart beat erratically, the blood pulse in his veins. Of all the feelings Peter Pan could now feel, jealousy was the hardest to deal with, its by-product, rage, making him lash out a whatever or whoever was unfortunate to be near him when the feelings struck. Lately the rages had become more frequent, usually a direct result of his visits to the human world, the creatures and peoples of Neverland keeping well clear when Peter returned, the weather their only indication of when it was safe to approach him once more.
There had been a long period when Peter had not returned to the world he'd forsaken, too caught up in the changes his body was going through to venture beyond the boundaries of his world. He had wanted to return to the Darling house, if only to ask for help to understand the changes he was going through, but each time he'd made a start on that journey, his own fears had swamped him and he'd halted before the barrier, his maturing body keeping him fully occupied with its propensity to change its appearance along with other unsettling issues. Now it appeared to have halted its alarming changes, his voice had stopped squeaking and changing, his body had stopped growing.
With the cessation of his preoccupation with his body, he had turned his attention inwards, his feelings and emotions starting to take centre stage until he felt torn apart by conflicting desires and needs with no-one to tell him what was right or wrong, normal or abnormal.
All the turmoil had become focused on one objective, to find Wendy and ask her to help him. Afterall, she had started him on this journey, it was only right that she should help him complete it. The only problem was surmounting his own insecurities and fears born largely of ignorance. He had come back to London only a few days before, his reconnoitre of the Darling house quickly telling him that she was no longer living there on a permanent basis. By listening and following, he established where she was living but again his chaotic feelings kept him from taking the final step and approaching her. He felt awkward and unsure, desperate to make contact but fearful of rejection, maybe even denial. It had come as a shock when he'd first seen her, his mind at first refusing to believe that the graceful creature was in fact his Wendy of the Hidden Kiss. In the years since he'd last left her at her window, he thought of her often, but as she was then, a girl nearly thirteen. Now she was a grown woman and she took his breath away.
He'd followed her to this house, his curiosity piqued as to what she did when she went out. This night she had been accompanied by a man that Peter knew wasn't one of her brothers, his teeth gritting when the man had handed Wendy into the handsome cab before climbing in himself. Now he knew why the man had such a proprietary air around Wendy. The man was going to be Wendy's husband. Again the rage welled up in him, his body thrumming with anger and helplessness. All that Hook had taunted him with was coming true. She had forgotten him, had closed the window to him, had taken a husband.
But no, she hadn't taken him yet, there was still time.
Wrapping the silk around his forearm, Peter scrambled to his feet and launched himself off the tiles. Like a shadow he flew over the roof tops, his arms outspread, his long lean body dipping and swooping like a seal in the ocean as he made his way back to the house where Wendy lived.
Once there, he quickly found the window that opened onto her bedroom, his thoughts and plans still unformed but a kernel of an idea starting to curl around his brain. Her room was in darkness, her night dress and negligee laid out on the bed in readiness for her return. Cautiously he used his knife to jimmy the catch before pushing the window up, the curtains flapping around his face as he climbed through. He feet sank into the thick carpet, his toes curling as he padded across the floor to the bed, his fingers trailing over her belongings, smoothing the bed covers, picking up the book left open on her bedside. His fingers grazed over her night dress and again her perfume rose to meet him, his fingers sliding over the soft material, raising goosebumps on his arms as he gather it up and buried his face in the silky folds. It smelled of her. Dropping it back to the bed, he searched the room, briefly opening the door and poking his head out to find the corridor silent and dark. Back in her room he opened drawers, rifled her clothes, lifted the lid of the jars arrayed on her dressing table, sniffing and tasting as he explored the world Wendy inhabited. Against one wall stood an escritoire, its surface neatly arranged with ink pots and pens, crisp sheets of paper to one side waiting to be used. Opening all the drawers he found several bound sheafs of paper, like books without covers, Wendy's neat hand on the front-piece. Unable to read them in the dark, Peter could only run his fingers over the black lettering before returning them to the drawer. He found himself back at the bed and decided to lay down on it to wait. There was a decorative screen in the corner which he would hide behind when Wendy arrived home. His plans were still unclear, but he thought that he'd come up with something appropriate when the time came. As he settled into the downy covers, he crooked his arms behind his head, feeling enveloped by Wendy, his body relaxing as his thoughts ran along pleasant lines. Peter imagining her welcome when she saw him, her eagerness to go with him back to Neverland, her asking to give him a thimble again, only this time he'd know what she was asking and give her one back. With these delusions curving the corners of his mouth, Peter slipped into an untroubled sleep.
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Unaware of the surprise awaiting her, wendy lingered on the front steps of her Aunts house, her mouth happily engaged in kissing Steven goodnight, her body melting against his as he held her in his arms.
"I wish I could come in with you," Steven breathed, pressing kisses to her cheeks and nose, his heart beating a rapid tattoo, echoed by Wendy's as she returned his ardent embraces.
"Only a few more weeks my love.....be patient."
"I know.....I just.....I want..."
Wendy pulled back a little, smiling at his disappointed face. "I know...I want it too..."
"I'll see you tomorrow......at the regatta?"
"Pick me up at two...I'll be ready."
With a final kiss, Wendy turned to go, her hand lingering in his as she opened the door before parting from him and closing the door.
Steven stared at the wooden panels for a second before swinging around on his heel and jumping down the steps, whistling jauntily. Climbing into the waiting cab he instructed the driver to take him home.
Wendy walked tiredly up the stairs, stripping the gloves from her hands as she went. She'd enjoyed the evening, having danced every dance, more often than not with Steven holding her in his strong arms. With a smile curling her lips she paused outside her room, reaching up to raise the flame in the gas lamp before putting her hand on her door knob and twisting it open.
As she did so the door further down the hall opened and her Aunt's head appeared, her hair done up in papers as she pulled a woollen wrap more firmly around her narrow shoulders.
"Oh Wendy dear......you're back. How was your evening?"
"It was wonderful Aunt.....I danced every dance."
"That's nice dear......and Steven?"
"He was wonderful too....I'm going with him to the regatta tomorrow, so I won't be in for the afternoon. Was there anything you needed me for?"
"No..no, everything is running smoothly. Get yourself to bed dear, you must be tired."
"Thank you Aunt....I am. Goodnight, I hope you sleep well."
Impulsively, Wendy let go of the door and walked the few steps to her Aunts room, leaning forward to kiss the older woman on her wrinkled cheek before turning back to her own room and pushing the door open wide. For a moment she paused on the threshold, her fingers reaching up to unbutton her cape, her eyes unfocused, then she stepped purposefully into the room and reached for the matches to light the lamps. As the room brightened she closed the door and pulled off her cape, opening the cupboard door and hanging it on a hook. Turning around she stopped to toe off her shoes before sitting down at her dressing table and starting to pull out the pins holding her hair up. As she did so she hummed the strains of the waltz, her eyes staring off into the distance as her fingers sought and found the pins. As her hair tumbled down her back she reached for her brush and started to smooth the unruly locks into their usual gleaming selves, so long they reached almost to her waist, curling slightly at the ends. Satisfied that there were no tangles, she rose and started to unbutton her dress, requiring her to twist and stretch to reach each one before being able to step out of the it and drape it over the back of the chair. In just her chemise and petticoat, she sat on the end of the bed and lifted her knee to roll down her stockings. Leaving those filmy items on the floor she spent a few moments massaging her feet, working out the tendons in her toes, waggling her ankles to help relax her legs. Standing up again, she undid her petticoat and it dropped to the floor revealing her silk drawers. Scooping up the petticoat and stockings, she draped them over the back of the chair as well. Reaching her arms up, she stretched again, glad to be free of the clothes. She was wearing a light corset that laced at the front, her slender form not requiring the heavier whale bone contraptions. She slowly untied the ribbons until the corset was loose enough for her to shimmy it over her hips to the floor. Bending over she picked up the uncomfortable article of fashion and pushed it into a drawer, shutting it with a grimace. Free at last, Wendy padded over to her bed and inelegantly flopped down on her back, her limbs outspread over the coverlet, unwilling for the moment to finish her toilette.
She closed her eyes, allowing her tired body to relax into the softness of the bed, her fingers coming up to stroke the pillow beside her head as she revisited some of the highlights of the evening. She sensed a movement and opened her eyes. The curtains were moving and she felt a frisson of alarm shoot through her before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and padding towards the window. Pulling the curtains wide she felt a shiver run down her back as a breeze washed over her bare arms.
"Now who left this window open..I'm sure I closed it." Puzzled, but not unduly upset, Wendy pulled the sash down with a thump before pulling the curtains closed again, shutting out the night. Facing the room, she started to notice other things. Her book beside her bed was closed, when she knew she'd left it open at the place she was up to. Her nightdress was all higgledy-piggledy at the end of the bed when she knew that Sara would have left it laid out neatly for her return. Turning her head she noticed that several of the jars of cream and perfume on her dresser weren't in their usual place, something she'd not noticed when she'd been taking out her hair pins.
"What the....." suddenly feeling afraid, Wendy took a step back until her shoulders hit the wall, her heart starting to hammer in her chest as she put the small clues together. Someone had been in her room, someone had disturbed her things, fingered them, moved them. With horror she glanced back at the window. Someone had come through the window into her room. In a sudden move she darted away from the wall and ran for the door. There was a crash behind her and she found herself suddenly tackled from behind, a muscular arm encircling her waist so that she fell just short of the door, her first instinct to scream muffled by the grubby hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled against the iron arm holding her hostage, her bare feet kicking the legs that strove to pin her to the carpet, her nails coming up to gouge at the face of the man behind her.
"I won't hurt you.....just stop fighting.....I don't mean to hurt you."
The voice was a trifle breathless, his warm breath close to her ear as she stilled her movements, her chest heaving as the man withdrew his arm around her waist only to spin her around beneath him, his legs straddling her, his hand still over her mouth, the other capturing her hands and pulling them over her head.
Effectively pinned, Wendy could only star wide-eyed up at her captor, his body looming over hers, completely in control of her.
What she saw froze her into immobility, all the fight going out of her as she took in the naked, bronzed torso, sun kissed curls and thickly lashed, sea-green eyes of the beautiful Adonis above her. Feeling her relax, Peter lifted his hand from her mouth, her lips parting as she panted from her exertions. His eyes swept over her face, his fingers tracing lines down her cheek, over her jaw and down her neck.
"You're beautiful..." He whispered, releasing her hands, which stayed where he'd held them, her rapidly moving chest drawing his attention as her breasts strained the thin fabric of the chemise to the extreme.
"Get off me...." the sound of her voice startled him, his body complying before he realised what he was doing. Free of his weight, Wendy rolled to the side and pushed herself upright, turning to sit with her back against the wall, regarding her attacker with disbelief.
"Who are you.....and what are you doing in my room?"
Peter knelt on the carpet in front of her, his hands resting on the thick pile, his head tilted to the side as he looked at her.
"So you have forgotten me.....I had hoped...."
"Forgotten you...I don't know you.....we've never met before....."
Peter shook his head. "Wendy........it's me....Peter...."
For a long moment Wendy stared at him, then she started to laugh, the sound not the least bit mirthful.
"I'm afraid you didn't do your research very well.....Peter is just a boy....you are......well, you're not a boy."
"Research? What's that?"
"It doesn't matter....you can't be Peter.....you just can't....be....."
As Peter continued to stare at her, Wendy lifted her fingers to her mouth, her eyes starting to well as she stared back.
"You are....aren't you......you're.....Peter Pan."
"Didn't I tell you so?"
"But......no it's not possible....you can't do this, not now...not after all these years!"
"Do what?" Peter asked, not sure of her meaning.
"Come back into my life.......you can't do this." Scrabbling to her knees, Wendy started to push at Peter, her hands trying to shove him to his feet, her breath catching in her throat as tears threatened to choke her. "Go away Peter.....go back to Neverland......go away!"
Catching her hands again, Peter climbed to his feet and hauled her up with him, Wendy still trying to push him towards the window despite not being able to move him an inch.
"It's too late," Wendy was sobbing now, her efforts to move him, turning into pummelling blows, her small fists striking his chest and arms, her breath leaving her lungs in gasps as she fought to evict him from her room and her life. Fending her off, Peter wrapped her in his arms and held her, her struggles lessening as she found herself once more immobilised, her hands coming to rest, curled against his chest, her head falling forward to rest against his shoulder.
"Shhhhh Wendy.....it'll be alright...I promise." Speaking softly, Peter scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her gently down on the covers, his hand smoothing away the hair that had tangled over her face as the tears continued to flow, her lips trembling as she fought to bring her emotions under control once more. Crawling onto the bed beside her Peter continued to speak softly to her, as if calming a wild animal, his hands stroking her hair, as Wendy started to calm herself, her hand coming up to cover her eyes as Peter bent over her to place a light kiss against her forehead. That small caress proved his undoing. As Wendy continued to relax under his ministrations, he kissed her again, his lips finding her hair, her temple, her cheek, her finger tips, even her nose. Gently he lifted her hand from her eyes, his own alight with emotion as she blinked up at him, her own awash with disbelief and bewilderment. Infinitely slowly he bent his head to hers, his lips touching hers so lightly she almost didn't feel it, only the caress of his warm breath as he pulled back, his eyes holding hers, trying to read her reaction to his boldness. Seeing nothing but a strange bafflement in her eyes, Peter bent his head again, this time pressing his lips to hers in a proper kiss, his hand finding hers where it rested on the pillow and entwining their fingers as his lips moved over hers. Wendy could only close her eyes and drown in the sensations coursing through her body, her mind telling her to stop this madness, to bite and kick and rail at the impropriety of his actions, but her body sang a different tune. It welcomed his gentle caress, her lips parting as his tongue swept over her lower lip, her body starting to melt under the onslaught of emotions sweeping all common sense away.
Peter was on fire, his body trembling as he devoured wendy's mouth. Since she'd first come into her room, unaware of him behind the screen, he'd been yearning to be this close to her. As she'd peeled away the layers of her civilised life, he'd revelled in each new treasure revealed to his curious gaze. Hidden as he was, he only had a narrow view of her room, centred on her dressing table. He'd wanted to let her know he was there from the first, but as soon as she sat down and started to unpin her hair he was frozen in place, his body starting to quiver as she brushed out her crowning glory, the strands catching the light of the gas lamps, alive with gold highlights. When she'd started to remove her dress and underclothes he thought he'd die from the surge of adrenaline in his blood, his heart rate soaring as her body revealed its hidden delights, her new curves so tantalisingly and unconsciously displayed for his eyes alone. It was only when she approached the window and paused there, that a prickle of fear started to make itself known, his muscles tensing when she turned from the window and started to appraise her room. He saw the moment she chose to flee, his body already poised to stop her, the screen crashing to the ground when he leapt after her, tackling her to the carpet and pinning her writhing form with his own body.
Now she lay pliant and warm beneath him, her mouth open and wet for his explorations, her tongue tentatively meeting his, stroking and dancing as he gave chase, a moan deep in her throat making him shudder as she moved against him, pressing herself closer.
They were both lost in the thrall of passion, Wendy's hands reaching up to cradle his face, her fingers combing through his hair, angling his head so that he could deepen the kiss. His hand left her fingers on the pillow to roam down her side, brushing over her ribs, his thumb stoking the side of her breast before curving around her slender waist, pulling her closer until they lay hip to hip.
Wendy moaned again when his fingers grazed over her hip and down to the sleek length of her thigh, her leg lifting as he pulled it up to wrap around his legs, his callused hand skimming back up to caress the swell of her backside, hot and wicked against her skin through the silk.
Her own hands were busy measuring the expanse of his shoulders, kneading the muscles that flexed and pulled under the satin skin, her nails dragging over the hard points of his shoulders before wrapping around his upper arms.
Peter's busy fingers had trailed up her body and were cupping a breast, his thumb brushing over the peak causing sparks to ignite behind her eyelids, the combination of his mouth and hand leaving her liquid with want, her breath leaving her mouth on a gasp as his mouth moved from hers to kiss his way down her neck to her chest where he took her nipple in his hot mouth right though her camisole. Wendy's body arched off the bed as he sucked and laved the hard flesh, the silk turning transparent with each brush of his tongue. Wanting more, Peter tugged the fabric up until her breast was exposed, his mouth latching on once more bringing Wendy to a state of incoherence as he feasted on her.
Peter was being guided purely by instinct, being as much a virgin as Wendy in the games of love, but in this he was ahead of her, having none of the restraints of civility to hold him back, his passionate nature giving full rein to his senses as he licked and suckled, his own level of arousal as urgent as hers for fulfilment. He knew the basics of human anatomy and reproduction, but had no practical experience except in his own ability to pleasure himself. Now he was able to bring that pleasure to Wendy as well as himself, it was as close to heaven as he could imagine.
Wendy couldn't believe the level of excitement building in her body, her only desire being to somehow absorb Peter into herself, become one with him until there was no division, no part of her untouched by him, inside or out. She was so focused on the new sensations sending sparks and flames down her limbs and within her body that she hardly noticed when Peter used his knife to slice through the thin barriers of her camisole and knickers, the silk parting like a the petals of a flower. All she knew was that now his hands could touch her everywhere, his heat could sear her and douse the flames that threatened to consume her.
His mouth was once more on hers, his heated skin melding with hers, no longer a barrier between them of clothes, his own shed a laying in a crumpled heap by the bed. Now they were only skin on skin, hot and urgent, his hands stroking the flames until she gasped, flushing brightly as his busy fingers trailed down her softly rounded stomach and delved into her most hidden of secrets, parting her legs and caressing her where none had touched her before.
Her hands were everywhere on his body, her fingers trailing blazing lines of fire over him, his skin coming alive under her touch. A growling groan from deep in his chest made her arch against him, her hands sweeping up his back and down again.
She was liquid and hot, his fingers finding her core, delighting in her cries as she suddenly shuddered beneath him, his hand still buried between her thighs as she trembled and whimpered, her muscles twitching as she came undone in his arms.
While she lay boneless and sated, he shifted over her, positioning himself, hot and hard, where his fingers had dallied, his sex nudging at her opening as he braced himself over her. Flushed and rosy, Wendy blinked up at him, drowning in his eyes even as her body welcomed him, her legs opening to receive him as he slowly pushed himself inside her, his hardness stretching and filling her, his own body trembling as he paused, his sex reaching the obstruction of her virginity. Resting on his elbows, he hands cradled her face, his lips seeking hers as his hips drew back slightly, her body tight around him as he withdraw only to thrust back in stopping once more when he reached the barrier of her body.
Wendy mewed in frustration as he withdrew again, her hands clutching him to her, her shaking legs coming around his hips, her heels digging into the back of his thighs. Tilting her pelvis she dug in her heels and drove him forward, both of them crying out as Peter buried himself inside her, his hips jerking at the sensations of being encased in her silky heat. Wendy had thrown her head back at the sharp pain, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip as she rode out the dull ache, her chest heaving as she panted. Peter moved again, his body taking over control, setting up a steady rhythm as he claimed her mouth again, her hands moving up to bury themselves in his hair as her body started to move with him, meeting and withdrawing in the age old dance. She felt pleasure starting to coil again in her stomach, setting her heart fluttering as Peter drove himself into her again and again, his thrusts becoming less coordinated as he raced towards his climax. They were both shaking when he uttered a strangled cry, his hips jerking hard against her as he pulsed his essence into her heat, his whole body shuddering in his release. Wendy held him tightly against her as he rode out his climax, his heart thundering against her own.
Some time later, Peter raised his head from the crook of her neck, his lips pressing moist kisses against her soft skin as he shifted slightly, still sheathed in her body. Wendy had her head turned away from him, her hands laying palm upwards on the pillow.
"Wendy?"
At the sound of his voice, Wendy turned her head back to him, her eyes awash with tears.
"Oh Peter.....why did you have to come back." Her bitter tone sent a shaft of pain through his heart, his face falling as she turned her head away again.
"Wendy....I love you......I want you to come back with me...to Neverland....forever."
"You are such a child......I can't come back with you Peter...I'm too old....I've forgotten how to fly."
"Don't say that....you're not to old......I'll take you....we'll go together."
"I have a life here Peter......I have a good man who wants to marry me.....although now I don't know.....he may not want me now....."
"What are you talking about......why wouldn't he want you?" Peter shook his head. "I don't want him to have you.....you're mine," He jerked his hips, moving himself inside her, their bodies still intimately connected. "This makes you mine.....forever."
Feeling him still sheathed in her core, Wendy gasped as her body responded even as her mind rebelled. Seeing her eyes close as he moved within her, Peter grinned smugly, withdrawing slowly before thrusting back into her liquid center, his body more than willing for another bout of lovemaking.
"He can't have you.......you're mine......ever since you gave me... your hidden kiss....you were mine.....long before he laid eyes on you....."
With each pause he stroked in and out of her body, picking up the tempo when he felt her respond, her back arching to press herself against him, passion once more sweeping her away, her fingers curling around his arms.
He swallowed her cries as he brought them both once more to a shuddering completion, Wendy's fingernails leaving crescents on his skin as she writhed in her release, her limbs trembling as she sagged in his arms.
His body softening, Peter slipped from inside her and rolled onto his side, pulling her with him so she lay with her head resting on his chest, her hair spread over his shoulder and around his head.
Turning his cheek, he nuzzled the silky strands lying against the pillow, his lips curved in a lazy smile of contentment. Wendy was a warm weight against his side, her breathing slowing and deepening as she slipped into an exhausted slumber, her hand curled trustingly against his neck.
He felt light, as if something had broken free inside him and lifted him above everything in the world. His body felt more relaxed than he'd ever known, his heart still racing, his lips unable to stop the smile curving them. Lifting his head he gazed down the body of the girl in his arms, his eyes drifting over her enticing curves and hollows, painted gold in the gaslight. He felt complete.
There was no turning back now, she had to come back with him to Neverland.
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(sooooooo whatcha think? do I keep going? too smutty? not enough? LOL......I'll be back!)
Title: Whither By Moonlight
Author: Squeezynz
Chapter: One - Love under glass
Rated: R15 - for adult situations(sex)
Synopsis: What do you do when the past arrives and kidnaps your future.
Pairing: W/O, W/P.
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Author's Note: There were several comments that my last story was rather "tame". So hang onto your socks, my muse decided to spice things up. Not entirely sure where I'm going with this smut biscuit, but I'm sure my muse has something up her sleeve, else why put this scene into my lust crazed brain in the first place. Fluff, smut and angst abound.
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The dark figure peered around the window frame, his strangely luminescent eyes narrowed as he tried to see within the room through the chink in the curtains. On this moonless night he was invisible against the soot stained brickwork, his long fingers gripping the rough edge of stone as he leaned further forward to see better.
Hissing in frustration he placed one hand against the glass, his breath fogging the pane as he pressed closer. A flicker of movement was his only warning before someone pulled the curtains back wide, light flooding out of the room and spilling over the figure hurriedly backing away. The next moment the window was opening and sound, which had been muted before, washed outwards, carrying with it an assortment of strange perfumes. Candlewax, flowers and sweat wafted out to the figure now flattened against the outer wall, his nose twitching as he breathed in. Music spilled out and teased his senses, the rhythm lilting and almost irresistible, his toes involuntarily tapping as the strains of a waltz drew him back to the opening and the room beyond. The sound of voices, indistinct as individuals, also reached out to him, his ears straining to filter one voice from the many, his head tilting as he closed his eyes to concentrate better. It was the same technique he used when hunting animals in the jungle, his ability to shut out the sound of the wind and birds and hear the creature breathing or treading delicately across the forest floor netting him a successful kill every time. Now his acuity was focused on finding just one voice, its timbre as familiar to him as his own heartbeat. As he listened the music drew to a stop and a polite round of glove-muffled applause sounded before the rustle of clothes as people left the dance floor, crossing the polished parquet to obtain refreshments in readiness for the next set. The level of chatter rose and the listener knitted his brow in a vain attempt to find the voice. Suddenly he felt a quiver run down his spine as the one he'd been seeking approached the window, his eyes opening as he turned his head to see two shadows fall across the window sill. The woman's gauzy scarf fluttered out a little way, carrying with it the scent of its owner. Breathing deeply Peter edged closer to the embrasure, his fingers twitching to reach out and grasp the delicate fabric but the voice halted him, freezing him to the bricks as if he'd been nailed there.
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"Thank you Steven.....a drink would be most appreciated, I don't think I've had time to pause since I arrived."
"Little wonder.....you are the prettiest girl in the room, and the best dancer, no surprise that every male present wants you for a partner," the man leant down, his lips close to the woman's ear, "but they court you in vain, my love...for I have already claimed you for my own."
Looking up, her eyes shining, Wendy Darling accepted the light kiss that her betrothed pressed on her lips before he left her to procure a drink for them both. As she watched him thread his way through the crowded room, she sighed and snapped open her fan to cool herself, the window behind her letting in some much needed air into the hot assembly rooms. She sighed again, turning her head to look out of the window to the stars just discernible beyond the rooftops, the sky like black velvet scattered with diamonds. At nearly twenty, Wendy had fulfilled the promise of her youth, growing into a lovely young woman, her shapely figure currently encased in a stylish evening dress, her hair dressed on top of her head, tendrils of honey-coloured curls teased out to soften her face and neck. Her wide blue eyes and generous mouth drew glances of admiration from old and young, her poised exterior the very model of a proper young lady of her age. Raising a gloved hand to pat her flushed cheeks, she felt the hard edge of the ring under the thin cloth on her left hand. Spreading her fingers she could see the bump and her lips curved into a smile. She had been expecting Steven to propose and his declaration, after duly expressing his intentions to her father, was all that she could want. He'd proposed in the back parlour of her Aunt's home, getting down on his knee on the well-worn carpet, his slender fingers clasping hers, his dear face earnest as he declared his love for her and asked her to be his wife. Without a moments hesitation Wendy had agreed, his speedy rise to take her in his arms as satisfying as it was expected. Her family had wished them both happy and now, two weeks later, they were planning a June wedding, her mother and exaltant Aunt helping her organise everything necessary.
She was as happy as any girl in her situation had a right to be, she had a loving family, a betrothed who adored her, a future that beckoned with open arms.
Sighing again she snapped her fan shut and stared blindly out the half open window, a tiny crease appearing on her smooth forehead as a small pain stabbed her breast. For a girl who had everything, she was remarkably melancholy.
As she continued to stare, her eyes suddenly focused on something on the glass itself. Leaning forward, she narrowed her eyes and peered a little closer. If she was not mistaken there was a handprint on the window, very clear, as if recently made. Raising her own hand she pressed it against the glass, rubbing at the print. It didn't smear, so it must be on the outside. Spreading her hand she found that the handprint was broader than her own, obviously belonging to a man. Resting her hands on the window sill, she leant outwards, looking down the two floors to the road below. There were no balcony's for anyone to stand on, only the awning covering the entrance at street level. Her wrap was fluttering in the cool breeze funnelling up the building and a sudden gust tugged it away, the silk unravelling from around her arm and floating out of the window, up towards the dark sky above.
"Oh no......" the puzzle of the hand print forgotten, Wendy reached out for her scarf, nearly falling out of the window, only a hard arm around her waist preventing her.
"Wendy what are you doing?"
Pulled back inside and against the hard wall of Steven's shirtfront, Wendy laughed a little breathlessly.
"My scarf got caught and its gone over the roof tops."
"Hardly a good enough reason to throw yourself out the window sweeting."
"Silly.....I was doing no such thing." She turned in his arms and raised her eyes, smiling up at the handsome man who would soon be her husband. Grey eyes twinkled down at her, his grip on her waist turning into a caress as he dipped his head to kiss her.
"Steven.....stop, people are staring."
"Let them stare........you're my fiancee, not theirs."
Surrendering, Wendy gave up her lips to his kiss, his own teasing hers, her body quite inappropriately pressed the length of his. It was only a quick kiss but it set Wendy's senses tingling, her eyes bright when they parted. Steven handed her a glass of punch as they turned to survey the room and the dancers twirling around the floor. Several people were indeed staring, but they were indulgent rather than critical, well aware of the handsome couples' impending nuptials.
With their refreshments consumed, Wendy was once more led out onto the dance floor by her betrothed, her focus all on him, the handprint on the window forgotten.
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Peter heard the couple move away and he pressed the back of his head against the brick wall. His eyes tracked the path of the silk scarf as it twisted and turned, still caught in the air currents wafting over the roof tops. With a push, Peter launched himself after it, his slim body like a dart as he chased the scrap of material. Before it could touch any of the sooty tiles or greasy chimney pots, he snagged it out of the air, looping back and landing on the roof of the building he'd been outside of only moments before. In the dark, he couldn't see more than a pale blur, the fabric like water running through his fingers as he pulled it back and forth across his palms. Lifting it to his nose he breathed deeply, the perfume of its owner strong and sweet, overpowering the smell of smoke that was ever present in the London air. He sat there for long moments with the scarf covering his face, revelling in its soft feel and sweet scent. For a few seconds it blotted out the pain of what he'd heard and seen, his heart still hammering from being so close to her, nearly able to touch her when she leaned out, his hand halfway there when the man had returned and pulled her back inside. He closed his eyes to bring the image back, of her hands pressed to the window sill, her hair glinting with highlights as she leant forward.
If what he had heard was the truth, she had already forgotten about him, her love now given to another, her hidden kiss given away as readily as if Peter had never existed. His fist clenched, the scrap of material fluttering as his hand trembled. Peter screwed his eyes tight shut, his teeth bared as a hated feeling welled up inside him, its insidious tendrils making his heart beat erratically, the blood pulse in his veins. Of all the feelings Peter Pan could now feel, jealousy was the hardest to deal with, its by-product, rage, making him lash out a whatever or whoever was unfortunate to be near him when the feelings struck. Lately the rages had become more frequent, usually a direct result of his visits to the human world, the creatures and peoples of Neverland keeping well clear when Peter returned, the weather their only indication of when it was safe to approach him once more.
There had been a long period when Peter had not returned to the world he'd forsaken, too caught up in the changes his body was going through to venture beyond the boundaries of his world. He had wanted to return to the Darling house, if only to ask for help to understand the changes he was going through, but each time he'd made a start on that journey, his own fears had swamped him and he'd halted before the barrier, his maturing body keeping him fully occupied with its propensity to change its appearance along with other unsettling issues. Now it appeared to have halted its alarming changes, his voice had stopped squeaking and changing, his body had stopped growing.
With the cessation of his preoccupation with his body, he had turned his attention inwards, his feelings and emotions starting to take centre stage until he felt torn apart by conflicting desires and needs with no-one to tell him what was right or wrong, normal or abnormal.
All the turmoil had become focused on one objective, to find Wendy and ask her to help him. Afterall, she had started him on this journey, it was only right that she should help him complete it. The only problem was surmounting his own insecurities and fears born largely of ignorance. He had come back to London only a few days before, his reconnoitre of the Darling house quickly telling him that she was no longer living there on a permanent basis. By listening and following, he established where she was living but again his chaotic feelings kept him from taking the final step and approaching her. He felt awkward and unsure, desperate to make contact but fearful of rejection, maybe even denial. It had come as a shock when he'd first seen her, his mind at first refusing to believe that the graceful creature was in fact his Wendy of the Hidden Kiss. In the years since he'd last left her at her window, he thought of her often, but as she was then, a girl nearly thirteen. Now she was a grown woman and she took his breath away.
He'd followed her to this house, his curiosity piqued as to what she did when she went out. This night she had been accompanied by a man that Peter knew wasn't one of her brothers, his teeth gritting when the man had handed Wendy into the handsome cab before climbing in himself. Now he knew why the man had such a proprietary air around Wendy. The man was going to be Wendy's husband. Again the rage welled up in him, his body thrumming with anger and helplessness. All that Hook had taunted him with was coming true. She had forgotten him, had closed the window to him, had taken a husband.
But no, she hadn't taken him yet, there was still time.
Wrapping the silk around his forearm, Peter scrambled to his feet and launched himself off the tiles. Like a shadow he flew over the roof tops, his arms outspread, his long lean body dipping and swooping like a seal in the ocean as he made his way back to the house where Wendy lived.
Once there, he quickly found the window that opened onto her bedroom, his thoughts and plans still unformed but a kernel of an idea starting to curl around his brain. Her room was in darkness, her night dress and negligee laid out on the bed in readiness for her return. Cautiously he used his knife to jimmy the catch before pushing the window up, the curtains flapping around his face as he climbed through. He feet sank into the thick carpet, his toes curling as he padded across the floor to the bed, his fingers trailing over her belongings, smoothing the bed covers, picking up the book left open on her bedside. His fingers grazed over her night dress and again her perfume rose to meet him, his fingers sliding over the soft material, raising goosebumps on his arms as he gather it up and buried his face in the silky folds. It smelled of her. Dropping it back to the bed, he searched the room, briefly opening the door and poking his head out to find the corridor silent and dark. Back in her room he opened drawers, rifled her clothes, lifted the lid of the jars arrayed on her dressing table, sniffing and tasting as he explored the world Wendy inhabited. Against one wall stood an escritoire, its surface neatly arranged with ink pots and pens, crisp sheets of paper to one side waiting to be used. Opening all the drawers he found several bound sheafs of paper, like books without covers, Wendy's neat hand on the front-piece. Unable to read them in the dark, Peter could only run his fingers over the black lettering before returning them to the drawer. He found himself back at the bed and decided to lay down on it to wait. There was a decorative screen in the corner which he would hide behind when Wendy arrived home. His plans were still unclear, but he thought that he'd come up with something appropriate when the time came. As he settled into the downy covers, he crooked his arms behind his head, feeling enveloped by Wendy, his body relaxing as his thoughts ran along pleasant lines. Peter imagining her welcome when she saw him, her eagerness to go with him back to Neverland, her asking to give him a thimble again, only this time he'd know what she was asking and give her one back. With these delusions curving the corners of his mouth, Peter slipped into an untroubled sleep.
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Unaware of the surprise awaiting her, wendy lingered on the front steps of her Aunts house, her mouth happily engaged in kissing Steven goodnight, her body melting against his as he held her in his arms.
"I wish I could come in with you," Steven breathed, pressing kisses to her cheeks and nose, his heart beating a rapid tattoo, echoed by Wendy's as she returned his ardent embraces.
"Only a few more weeks my love.....be patient."
"I know.....I just.....I want..."
Wendy pulled back a little, smiling at his disappointed face. "I know...I want it too..."
"I'll see you tomorrow......at the regatta?"
"Pick me up at two...I'll be ready."
With a final kiss, Wendy turned to go, her hand lingering in his as she opened the door before parting from him and closing the door.
Steven stared at the wooden panels for a second before swinging around on his heel and jumping down the steps, whistling jauntily. Climbing into the waiting cab he instructed the driver to take him home.
Wendy walked tiredly up the stairs, stripping the gloves from her hands as she went. She'd enjoyed the evening, having danced every dance, more often than not with Steven holding her in his strong arms. With a smile curling her lips she paused outside her room, reaching up to raise the flame in the gas lamp before putting her hand on her door knob and twisting it open.
As she did so the door further down the hall opened and her Aunt's head appeared, her hair done up in papers as she pulled a woollen wrap more firmly around her narrow shoulders.
"Oh Wendy dear......you're back. How was your evening?"
"It was wonderful Aunt.....I danced every dance."
"That's nice dear......and Steven?"
"He was wonderful too....I'm going with him to the regatta tomorrow, so I won't be in for the afternoon. Was there anything you needed me for?"
"No..no, everything is running smoothly. Get yourself to bed dear, you must be tired."
"Thank you Aunt....I am. Goodnight, I hope you sleep well."
Impulsively, Wendy let go of the door and walked the few steps to her Aunts room, leaning forward to kiss the older woman on her wrinkled cheek before turning back to her own room and pushing the door open wide. For a moment she paused on the threshold, her fingers reaching up to unbutton her cape, her eyes unfocused, then she stepped purposefully into the room and reached for the matches to light the lamps. As the room brightened she closed the door and pulled off her cape, opening the cupboard door and hanging it on a hook. Turning around she stopped to toe off her shoes before sitting down at her dressing table and starting to pull out the pins holding her hair up. As she did so she hummed the strains of the waltz, her eyes staring off into the distance as her fingers sought and found the pins. As her hair tumbled down her back she reached for her brush and started to smooth the unruly locks into their usual gleaming selves, so long they reached almost to her waist, curling slightly at the ends. Satisfied that there were no tangles, she rose and started to unbutton her dress, requiring her to twist and stretch to reach each one before being able to step out of the it and drape it over the back of the chair. In just her chemise and petticoat, she sat on the end of the bed and lifted her knee to roll down her stockings. Leaving those filmy items on the floor she spent a few moments massaging her feet, working out the tendons in her toes, waggling her ankles to help relax her legs. Standing up again, she undid her petticoat and it dropped to the floor revealing her silk drawers. Scooping up the petticoat and stockings, she draped them over the back of the chair as well. Reaching her arms up, she stretched again, glad to be free of the clothes. She was wearing a light corset that laced at the front, her slender form not requiring the heavier whale bone contraptions. She slowly untied the ribbons until the corset was loose enough for her to shimmy it over her hips to the floor. Bending over she picked up the uncomfortable article of fashion and pushed it into a drawer, shutting it with a grimace. Free at last, Wendy padded over to her bed and inelegantly flopped down on her back, her limbs outspread over the coverlet, unwilling for the moment to finish her toilette.
She closed her eyes, allowing her tired body to relax into the softness of the bed, her fingers coming up to stroke the pillow beside her head as she revisited some of the highlights of the evening. She sensed a movement and opened her eyes. The curtains were moving and she felt a frisson of alarm shoot through her before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and padding towards the window. Pulling the curtains wide she felt a shiver run down her back as a breeze washed over her bare arms.
"Now who left this window open..I'm sure I closed it." Puzzled, but not unduly upset, Wendy pulled the sash down with a thump before pulling the curtains closed again, shutting out the night. Facing the room, she started to notice other things. Her book beside her bed was closed, when she knew she'd left it open at the place she was up to. Her nightdress was all higgledy-piggledy at the end of the bed when she knew that Sara would have left it laid out neatly for her return. Turning her head she noticed that several of the jars of cream and perfume on her dresser weren't in their usual place, something she'd not noticed when she'd been taking out her hair pins.
"What the....." suddenly feeling afraid, Wendy took a step back until her shoulders hit the wall, her heart starting to hammer in her chest as she put the small clues together. Someone had been in her room, someone had disturbed her things, fingered them, moved them. With horror she glanced back at the window. Someone had come through the window into her room. In a sudden move she darted away from the wall and ran for the door. There was a crash behind her and she found herself suddenly tackled from behind, a muscular arm encircling her waist so that she fell just short of the door, her first instinct to scream muffled by the grubby hand clamped over her mouth. She struggled against the iron arm holding her hostage, her bare feet kicking the legs that strove to pin her to the carpet, her nails coming up to gouge at the face of the man behind her.
"I won't hurt you.....just stop fighting.....I don't mean to hurt you."
The voice was a trifle breathless, his warm breath close to her ear as she stilled her movements, her chest heaving as the man withdrew his arm around her waist only to spin her around beneath him, his legs straddling her, his hand still over her mouth, the other capturing her hands and pulling them over her head.
Effectively pinned, Wendy could only star wide-eyed up at her captor, his body looming over hers, completely in control of her.
What she saw froze her into immobility, all the fight going out of her as she took in the naked, bronzed torso, sun kissed curls and thickly lashed, sea-green eyes of the beautiful Adonis above her. Feeling her relax, Peter lifted his hand from her mouth, her lips parting as she panted from her exertions. His eyes swept over her face, his fingers tracing lines down her cheek, over her jaw and down her neck.
"You're beautiful..." He whispered, releasing her hands, which stayed where he'd held them, her rapidly moving chest drawing his attention as her breasts strained the thin fabric of the chemise to the extreme.
"Get off me...." the sound of her voice startled him, his body complying before he realised what he was doing. Free of his weight, Wendy rolled to the side and pushed herself upright, turning to sit with her back against the wall, regarding her attacker with disbelief.
"Who are you.....and what are you doing in my room?"
Peter knelt on the carpet in front of her, his hands resting on the thick pile, his head tilted to the side as he looked at her.
"So you have forgotten me.....I had hoped...."
"Forgotten you...I don't know you.....we've never met before....."
Peter shook his head. "Wendy........it's me....Peter...."
For a long moment Wendy stared at him, then she started to laugh, the sound not the least bit mirthful.
"I'm afraid you didn't do your research very well.....Peter is just a boy....you are......well, you're not a boy."
"Research? What's that?"
"It doesn't matter....you can't be Peter.....you just can't....be....."
As Peter continued to stare at her, Wendy lifted her fingers to her mouth, her eyes starting to well as she stared back.
"You are....aren't you......you're.....Peter Pan."
"Didn't I tell you so?"
"But......no it's not possible....you can't do this, not now...not after all these years!"
"Do what?" Peter asked, not sure of her meaning.
"Come back into my life.......you can't do this." Scrabbling to her knees, Wendy started to push at Peter, her hands trying to shove him to his feet, her breath catching in her throat as tears threatened to choke her. "Go away Peter.....go back to Neverland......go away!"
Catching her hands again, Peter climbed to his feet and hauled her up with him, Wendy still trying to push him towards the window despite not being able to move him an inch.
"It's too late," Wendy was sobbing now, her efforts to move him, turning into pummelling blows, her small fists striking his chest and arms, her breath leaving her lungs in gasps as she fought to evict him from her room and her life. Fending her off, Peter wrapped her in his arms and held her, her struggles lessening as she found herself once more immobilised, her hands coming to rest, curled against his chest, her head falling forward to rest against his shoulder.
"Shhhhh Wendy.....it'll be alright...I promise." Speaking softly, Peter scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her gently down on the covers, his hand smoothing away the hair that had tangled over her face as the tears continued to flow, her lips trembling as she fought to bring her emotions under control once more. Crawling onto the bed beside her Peter continued to speak softly to her, as if calming a wild animal, his hands stroking her hair, as Wendy started to calm herself, her hand coming up to cover her eyes as Peter bent over her to place a light kiss against her forehead. That small caress proved his undoing. As Wendy continued to relax under his ministrations, he kissed her again, his lips finding her hair, her temple, her cheek, her finger tips, even her nose. Gently he lifted her hand from her eyes, his own alight with emotion as she blinked up at him, her own awash with disbelief and bewilderment. Infinitely slowly he bent his head to hers, his lips touching hers so lightly she almost didn't feel it, only the caress of his warm breath as he pulled back, his eyes holding hers, trying to read her reaction to his boldness. Seeing nothing but a strange bafflement in her eyes, Peter bent his head again, this time pressing his lips to hers in a proper kiss, his hand finding hers where it rested on the pillow and entwining their fingers as his lips moved over hers. Wendy could only close her eyes and drown in the sensations coursing through her body, her mind telling her to stop this madness, to bite and kick and rail at the impropriety of his actions, but her body sang a different tune. It welcomed his gentle caress, her lips parting as his tongue swept over her lower lip, her body starting to melt under the onslaught of emotions sweeping all common sense away.
Peter was on fire, his body trembling as he devoured wendy's mouth. Since she'd first come into her room, unaware of him behind the screen, he'd been yearning to be this close to her. As she'd peeled away the layers of her civilised life, he'd revelled in each new treasure revealed to his curious gaze. Hidden as he was, he only had a narrow view of her room, centred on her dressing table. He'd wanted to let her know he was there from the first, but as soon as she sat down and started to unpin her hair he was frozen in place, his body starting to quiver as she brushed out her crowning glory, the strands catching the light of the gas lamps, alive with gold highlights. When she'd started to remove her dress and underclothes he thought he'd die from the surge of adrenaline in his blood, his heart rate soaring as her body revealed its hidden delights, her new curves so tantalisingly and unconsciously displayed for his eyes alone. It was only when she approached the window and paused there, that a prickle of fear started to make itself known, his muscles tensing when she turned from the window and started to appraise her room. He saw the moment she chose to flee, his body already poised to stop her, the screen crashing to the ground when he leapt after her, tackling her to the carpet and pinning her writhing form with his own body.
Now she lay pliant and warm beneath him, her mouth open and wet for his explorations, her tongue tentatively meeting his, stroking and dancing as he gave chase, a moan deep in her throat making him shudder as she moved against him, pressing herself closer.
They were both lost in the thrall of passion, Wendy's hands reaching up to cradle his face, her fingers combing through his hair, angling his head so that he could deepen the kiss. His hand left her fingers on the pillow to roam down her side, brushing over her ribs, his thumb stoking the side of her breast before curving around her slender waist, pulling her closer until they lay hip to hip.
Wendy moaned again when his fingers grazed over her hip and down to the sleek length of her thigh, her leg lifting as he pulled it up to wrap around his legs, his callused hand skimming back up to caress the swell of her backside, hot and wicked against her skin through the silk.
Her own hands were busy measuring the expanse of his shoulders, kneading the muscles that flexed and pulled under the satin skin, her nails dragging over the hard points of his shoulders before wrapping around his upper arms.
Peter's busy fingers had trailed up her body and were cupping a breast, his thumb brushing over the peak causing sparks to ignite behind her eyelids, the combination of his mouth and hand leaving her liquid with want, her breath leaving her mouth on a gasp as his mouth moved from hers to kiss his way down her neck to her chest where he took her nipple in his hot mouth right though her camisole. Wendy's body arched off the bed as he sucked and laved the hard flesh, the silk turning transparent with each brush of his tongue. Wanting more, Peter tugged the fabric up until her breast was exposed, his mouth latching on once more bringing Wendy to a state of incoherence as he feasted on her.
Peter was being guided purely by instinct, being as much a virgin as Wendy in the games of love, but in this he was ahead of her, having none of the restraints of civility to hold him back, his passionate nature giving full rein to his senses as he licked and suckled, his own level of arousal as urgent as hers for fulfilment. He knew the basics of human anatomy and reproduction, but had no practical experience except in his own ability to pleasure himself. Now he was able to bring that pleasure to Wendy as well as himself, it was as close to heaven as he could imagine.
Wendy couldn't believe the level of excitement building in her body, her only desire being to somehow absorb Peter into herself, become one with him until there was no division, no part of her untouched by him, inside or out. She was so focused on the new sensations sending sparks and flames down her limbs and within her body that she hardly noticed when Peter used his knife to slice through the thin barriers of her camisole and knickers, the silk parting like a the petals of a flower. All she knew was that now his hands could touch her everywhere, his heat could sear her and douse the flames that threatened to consume her.
His mouth was once more on hers, his heated skin melding with hers, no longer a barrier between them of clothes, his own shed a laying in a crumpled heap by the bed. Now they were only skin on skin, hot and urgent, his hands stroking the flames until she gasped, flushing brightly as his busy fingers trailed down her softly rounded stomach and delved into her most hidden of secrets, parting her legs and caressing her where none had touched her before.
Her hands were everywhere on his body, her fingers trailing blazing lines of fire over him, his skin coming alive under her touch. A growling groan from deep in his chest made her arch against him, her hands sweeping up his back and down again.
She was liquid and hot, his fingers finding her core, delighting in her cries as she suddenly shuddered beneath him, his hand still buried between her thighs as she trembled and whimpered, her muscles twitching as she came undone in his arms.
While she lay boneless and sated, he shifted over her, positioning himself, hot and hard, where his fingers had dallied, his sex nudging at her opening as he braced himself over her. Flushed and rosy, Wendy blinked up at him, drowning in his eyes even as her body welcomed him, her legs opening to receive him as he slowly pushed himself inside her, his hardness stretching and filling her, his own body trembling as he paused, his sex reaching the obstruction of her virginity. Resting on his elbows, he hands cradled her face, his lips seeking hers as his hips drew back slightly, her body tight around him as he withdraw only to thrust back in stopping once more when he reached the barrier of her body.
Wendy mewed in frustration as he withdrew again, her hands clutching him to her, her shaking legs coming around his hips, her heels digging into the back of his thighs. Tilting her pelvis she dug in her heels and drove him forward, both of them crying out as Peter buried himself inside her, his hips jerking at the sensations of being encased in her silky heat. Wendy had thrown her head back at the sharp pain, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip as she rode out the dull ache, her chest heaving as she panted. Peter moved again, his body taking over control, setting up a steady rhythm as he claimed her mouth again, her hands moving up to bury themselves in his hair as her body started to move with him, meeting and withdrawing in the age old dance. She felt pleasure starting to coil again in her stomach, setting her heart fluttering as Peter drove himself into her again and again, his thrusts becoming less coordinated as he raced towards his climax. They were both shaking when he uttered a strangled cry, his hips jerking hard against her as he pulsed his essence into her heat, his whole body shuddering in his release. Wendy held him tightly against her as he rode out his climax, his heart thundering against her own.
Some time later, Peter raised his head from the crook of her neck, his lips pressing moist kisses against her soft skin as he shifted slightly, still sheathed in her body. Wendy had her head turned away from him, her hands laying palm upwards on the pillow.
"Wendy?"
At the sound of his voice, Wendy turned her head back to him, her eyes awash with tears.
"Oh Peter.....why did you have to come back." Her bitter tone sent a shaft of pain through his heart, his face falling as she turned her head away again.
"Wendy....I love you......I want you to come back with me...to Neverland....forever."
"You are such a child......I can't come back with you Peter...I'm too old....I've forgotten how to fly."
"Don't say that....you're not to old......I'll take you....we'll go together."
"I have a life here Peter......I have a good man who wants to marry me.....although now I don't know.....he may not want me now....."
"What are you talking about......why wouldn't he want you?" Peter shook his head. "I don't want him to have you.....you're mine," He jerked his hips, moving himself inside her, their bodies still intimately connected. "This makes you mine.....forever."
Feeling him still sheathed in her core, Wendy gasped as her body responded even as her mind rebelled. Seeing her eyes close as he moved within her, Peter grinned smugly, withdrawing slowly before thrusting back into her liquid center, his body more than willing for another bout of lovemaking.
"He can't have you.......you're mine......ever since you gave me... your hidden kiss....you were mine.....long before he laid eyes on you....."
With each pause he stroked in and out of her body, picking up the tempo when he felt her respond, her back arching to press herself against him, passion once more sweeping her away, her fingers curling around his arms.
He swallowed her cries as he brought them both once more to a shuddering completion, Wendy's fingernails leaving crescents on his skin as she writhed in her release, her limbs trembling as she sagged in his arms.
His body softening, Peter slipped from inside her and rolled onto his side, pulling her with him so she lay with her head resting on his chest, her hair spread over his shoulder and around his head.
Turning his cheek, he nuzzled the silky strands lying against the pillow, his lips curved in a lazy smile of contentment. Wendy was a warm weight against his side, her breathing slowing and deepening as she slipped into an exhausted slumber, her hand curled trustingly against his neck.
He felt light, as if something had broken free inside him and lifted him above everything in the world. His body felt more relaxed than he'd ever known, his heart still racing, his lips unable to stop the smile curving them. Lifting his head he gazed down the body of the girl in his arms, his eyes drifting over her enticing curves and hollows, painted gold in the gaslight. He felt complete.
There was no turning back now, she had to come back with him to Neverland.
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(sooooooo whatcha think? do I keep going? too smutty? not enough? LOL......I'll be back!)