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George Gets Laid	By : TickTock Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 5112 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-George Gets Laid
- 1
George could feel his throat twitching spasmodically, and he did his best to keep that twitch from migrating to his face. Fortunately, his new wife was nuzzled into his shoulder, and couldn’t see his silent agony, or was perhaps just kind enough to pretend she didn’t notice. They bumped along the cobble London streets in their rented buggy, for which George had gone without coffee for months in order to afford. But he had been advised that there was simply no other way to go about it, and the shame he would have felt at having to walk home with his bride would be far worse than those few weeks without caffeine.
His bride. The lovely - now Mrs. George Darling - Mary. His throat gave another lurch as his heart swelled and the buggy hit a pothole. He had won the woman of his dreams, the gentle Mary from the next street, with the cool, calm hands and lovely mouth, which currently turned up to smile at him. He smiled back as she leaned up for a kiss, which was broken sooner than he would have liked as they rolled through another pothole. The wedding had been small, but beautiful and loving, and best of all, he’d managed not to faint as he whispered his vows. After a thoroughly nerve-wracking, relative-filled reception, they were headed to their house; a bit smaller and older than he would have liked, but she assured him it was beautiful and perfect for just the two of them. He squeezed her hand, running his thumb over the plain golden band that matched his own. Pride blossomed inside of him, and she scootched nearer to him and whispered directly into his eao tho the driver wouldn’t hear, “George, love, I can hardly wait until we reach the home...” Her tone was lower and thicker than he’d ever heard it, and it surprised him. Before he could reply, she nipped his earlobe with her teeth, then settled against his chest once again, closer than before.
He blinked stupidly for a moment, before placing his chin atop her . T. The woman he loved just bit him on thrlobrlobe. And addressed him with a tone most, well, he supposed it would have been improper if they hadn’t just been married. He supposed he should reply in a similar fashion: “Nor can I, my own...” he attempted in his lowest and sultriest voice (not that he’d tried many variations of it...), and she squeezed his hand this time. He swallowed, and stared at the back of their drivers’ head, thinking.
He wasn’t completely naive. He’d been given a talk or two about the facts of life, and what married couples got up to. After all, they had kissed quite a few times, and were soon to be sharing a bed. Though it was entirely too early to even consider children, well, that wasn’t the sole reason for intimacy, was it? He swallowed again. A strange combination of fear and excitement began to coil around in his stomach as he thought of what they would possibly get up to. What if he did something wrong or foolish? What was she expecting of him? Could he manage it? The fear began to morph into terror as images of humiliation flitted across his brain. He was distractedm thm these dismal thoughts when Mary raised her head again for another kiss. “George, love,” she murmured in her usual tone, “I’m so happy to be with you,” and she smiled so calm and tender that he remembered why he married her, and his nerves ceased to jump quite so badly.
The sun was beginning to set over the housetops when their buggy pulled up and stopped in front of their modest flat. George held onto his hat and stepped out of the buggy, helping Mary out to him. He tipped the driver as much as he could bear, thanked him politely, and turned back to his bride. She treated him to a heart-stopping smile as he held out his arm and escorted her up the steps and through the front door.
He helped her out of her shawl, and hung up his own hat and coat. She stood there radiantly in her white gown, looking politely expectant. He didn’t know what to do. He began to stutter. “Well....here we are.....would, ah, would you like some tea, my love? Or perhaps, yes, coffee, perhaps, would be nice, or...uh..what can I get for you, my own?”
She smiled and walked towards him, raising those cool, confident hands to his tie. “George, love,” she cooed into his ear once again, as she took his tie in a deceptively gentle-looking grip. “I should very much lto gto go upstairs...to the bedroom...” The sultry tone was back, to his mixed elation and dismay. He licked his lips, and looked into her eyes, which looked darker than he’d ever seen them. As it was far too early to go to sleep, it dawned on him that she had something very different in mind. He couldn’t help but be shocked at what she was suggesting, even though he knew he shouldn’t be. “Well, George, old man,” he mentally encouraged himself, “they don’t call it married bliss for nothing. Stop gawking and sweep her off her feet.”
So he did.
It was more difficult than he had anticipated. Not that she was heavy, but he didn’t spend much time lifting objects larger than a pile of paperwork. Hee the their way slowly up the narrow stair, puffing a bit embarrassingly, and pleading to any listening deity that he keep his balance. He tried hard to ignore the way her hands were effortlessly working the knot out of his tie that had taken him ages to get right, her knuckles brushing his neck and throat more often than he thought was strictly required. Not that he minded.
George set her down near the bed, which some well-meaning relative had, unbeknownst to him, fixed up with comfy looking pillows and linens. He smiled and kissed her before turning and taking the matches from the mantel to begin lighting the lamps. When he finished, he turned to see Mary removing her engs ngs and necklace. He noticed that her eyes were focused somewhere lower on his person, before dragging slowly up to his eyes and staying there. She beckoned to him, “Love, can you help me with these buttons?”, and turned her back to him.
Now he allowed himself a full and exhilaratingly improper look at her backside, and the nervous coiling that had been in his belly snaked slightly lower. “But of course, my own...” he whispered in her ear when he reached her, and tried with slightly shaking hands to figure out the endless and minute clasps running from her neck to her bum. He kept staring at the bof hof her neck during his task, his thoughts vacillating between enchantment at how smooth and white the skin was, frustration at the ridiculous clothing keeping him from more of that skin, and fear at what would happen when he finished unbuttoning her. Finally he worked them free all the way down, and ran his hands back up to slide the white fabric from her shoulders. To his fascination, and intense disappointment, the fabric gave way to reveal an ivory-colored, rather tightly-laced corset. He was about to start work on that as well, but she turned around and slipped his undone tie from his neck with a swish, then pulled his shirt out of his waistband and began to undo the buttons. He was sure she could feel his heart thudding spastically against his chest, but she did nothing but smile at him with slightly heavy-lidded eyes. She stopped when hiess ess shirt hung open, exposing his clean white undershirt. He suddenly realized he wasn’t looking at her eyes anymore, and quickly looked up from the pleasing bulge of her corseted breasts. He was about to be embarrassed, but realized that she was appraising his own chest with no trace of shame. He felt a sudden rush of heat to his groin to see her looking at him that way, and he felt himself start to shrug out of his shirt when she stopped him.
“Leave it on,” she purred, and he dropped his arms immediately.
Taking his limp and quivering hands in hers, she stepped out of the heap of wedding gown at her feet, and backed him up till the back of his knees hit the bed, and he automatically sat down. She stepped back a pace or two, looking straight at him, and reached behind her back. He could hear the sound of laces unlacing as she pulled, and try as he did to keep eye contact, his eyes were relentlessly drawn to the gradually loosening corset. After an eternity, the last lace came free and the corset split and slid down her arms. She stood still and topless for a moment, then began to unlace her bloomers, still looking at his face.
George realized, somewhere in his brain, that he was gaping like a goldfish, and that it might be polite to close his mouth or perhaps breath, but either seemed impossible at the moment. And the way she looked at him made him think that perhaps she didn’t mind his staring. In fact, she looked quite pleased, and if he had been thinking in multiple syllables, he might even say predatory. She turned her back to him once again, did a little wriggle-shake and the bloomers slid to the floor and he thought his heart would stop. Mary turned to face him fun, an, and he suddenly felt extremely light-headed. Every drop of blood in his body seemed to have rushed to either his burning face or his impossibly hard erection. His pants were suddenly uncomfortably tight, but he was too paralyzed to attempt to adjust himself as she began to saunter towards him. She tilted his chin up to look in her eyes as he gulped furiously, and his blood-starved brain managed to discern a hint of worry in her face. She couldn’t possibly be embarrassed? It occurred to him that perhaps he should offer some encouragement...something romantic and charming. Wit, he had been told, was very fashionable.
“G-good show, my own....excellent.” he tried to keep his voice steady and confident, but it came out as a rather pathetic squeak. Her eyebrows contracted in the slightest of disappointment, and George gave up the show of machismo immediately. “You’re beautiful, Mary....” he whispered instead.
Relief washed over her face, and he smiled stupidly back. Before he knew what was happening, she reached her arms around his neck and slid onto his lap, straddling him. The sensation of her warm body pressed against his straining trousers made him jerk involuntarily upwards, and he was to unprepared to bite back a moan. With her gentle and sure hands, she removed his glasses and slipped them into the pocket of his undone dress shirt. Then she once again took his quivering hands in hers, and brought them up to her breasts as she leaned in towards his ear.
“Touch me, my love...”
He cautiously obliged.
Fascinated, he stroked her flesh, deciding he very much liked the way her breasts fit perfectly into his hands. He also decided he liked even more the way she was grinding slightly against him, and the tiny noises of encouragement she made. She tilted his face towards her again, and captured his lips in a kiss much deeper and more violent than what they had shared thus far. His hands began to move on their own accord, which was just as well as he didn’t know what to do with them anyway. They snaked down behind her, clutching her bum frantically and pressing her harder against his crotch as broke their kiss aeacheached her arms up to let down her hair. Helowelowed the same instincts that were leading his hands, and leaned forward to explore her throat with his lips and tongue. Mary leaned her head back farther to give him more access. She put one hand on his head, gently mussing his carefully combed hair, and guided him farther and farther down her neck till he reached her clavicle, then he nuzzled his face between her impossibly soft breasts. Her long hair fell around his face and he followed a daring impulse he didn’t entirely understand to take a pink nipple into his mouth, and was rewarded by a soft gasp and a “Yes, George...” from his bride’s lips. Pride swelled inside of him to know that he was pleasing her, and he went at it even more vigorously. He switched to the other side for a bit, before she grasped his jaw and brought him back up for another kiss.
It was she who broke away, and moved slightly off of his lap. George felt slightly bereft, until she knelt down between his legs and began to stroke his thighs. He watched through heavy eyes as her hands moved in to his inner thighs, then up towards his aching crotch. Now that he’d finally remembered how to breath, he was making up for lost time by practically panting, and let out a little cry when she squeezed him through his trousers.
“Take off your shirt, my lovely,” she ordered, and he looked down to see her smiling at him from between his trembling legs. With much effort, he shrugged out of his dress shirt and tossed it lightly to the floor. His undershirt proved a bit more difficult, as she began to rub his penis through his pants as he lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it aside as well.
“Oh, Mary......” he gasped, wriggling helplessly, his hands clenching the bedspread convulsively.
“I want to see you, dearest,” she purred, and undid his fly with those sure hands, patting his thigh, signaling for him to lift his hips up enough for her to slide away his trousers and undershorts. For an instant he was embarrassed as his erection sprung free, and felt it waver a bit as more blood shot to his face. He suddenly felt ridiculous, sitting there on the bed, more aroused than he could ever recall being, wearing nothing but his nicest shoes and socks and sock-garters. He tapped off his shoes and was trying to roll his sock garters down when she stopped him. “Leave them on, my lovshe she smiled playfully at him, and crawled up from between his legs back onto his lap, kissing him thoroughly and caressing his chest. He couldn’t recall a more wonderful feeling as she smiled against his lips and murmured, “So handsome, my George, darling....”and giggled at her joke. He let out a rather strained laugh in return, which ended in a sharp intake of breath as she moved as close as possiblressressing her breasts against his bare chest, and his revitalized erection into the curls at her groin.
The warmth emanating from her shocked him, and he groaned into her mouth. His hips thoughtlessly answered her tiny thrusts and he could feel slickness from her mingling with the moisture beginning to leak from his own erection. It occurred to him that he wasn’t going to last very much longer if they kept this up, and he wondered if she was feeling as good as he was. He broke away from her kiss and pleaded, “Mary...show me what to do.....teach me, my own....”
She grabbed his hand and brought it down between them, turning his palm up and into her. He felt a hard and tiny nub above the origin of all that moisture, and she helped his fingers rub circles around it. She made a guttural noise he’d never heard before, and her other hand clenched his shoulder. After a bit, he’d got the hang of it, and she moved her hand away up his chest and beganng dng delightful things to his nipples as he rubbed her furiously. Just as he thought his aching spine could no longer support them, she leaned her forehead against his and pushed him backwards onto the bed. “Now, my love...” she growled against his neck, “I want you inside of me.” His eyes popped in mingled horror and lust, and he found himself laying there dead-still on his back while she raised herself slightly directly over his turgid member.
He made a choking sound as she oh-so-slowly lowered herself onto him, encasing him in unimaginable heat and softness, squeezing his hips with her strong thighs. “Ah, George...” she crooned, running her hands along his torso, tracing the lines of his hips, “..just how I imagined... you’re perfect.” He tried to thank her for the compliment, but only a hoarse grunt came out. His bride moved on him, slowly at first, then growing gradually faster, and he gawked at the way her breasts bounced and her hair swayed. Desperately he grabbed onto her hips and rutted as fast as he could, feeling his orgasm rushing closer. He looked down to see her fingering her own clit, and she moaned something he couldn’t quite understand through his pounding ears, but what sounded extremely naughty. The idea of his sweet beloved writhing nude on top of him, complimenting his most private partroveroved too much and he squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his head back into the linens. “Yes, George, come for me!” she cried.
And he did.
He felt his testicles contract, forcing his semen into her, and the thought of his love receiving his seed made him whimper and release another spurt. He managed to open an eye when he heard her give a keening wail, and felt her jerk repeatedly, bucking her hips into him. “Oh, God, Georrrrge!” she moaned, and her strong internal muscles milked him until she fell forward onto his chest.
Mary nuzzled into his throbbing neck, one hand on the pillow beside his head, the other gently stroking and soothing where their bodies were still joined. Staring straight up at the ceiling, George could feel the sweat beading his forehead start to dry, and his legs gave a small aftershock twitch. His heart rate began to normalize, and he suddenly felt very sleepy and more relaxed than he could ever recall being. He noticed offhandedly that one of the lamps had burnt out. He thought vaguely he he should go fix it, but he just didn’t care. Not with his love draped across his body, smiling sweetly into his neck, still caressing his softening member. She looked up into his face, and gave him a kiss on the nose before raising off of him and grasping a rather homely, but warm, looking quilt to pull over them. “One moment, my dearest,” he murmured, and reached down to unbuckle his socrterrters and toss them to the floor.
“Oh, I’d quite forgotten...” she blushed, “...that you might not want to sleep with those on..”
He grinned and held open his arms to receive her, and before long he could hear her breathing steady and suspected she’d fallen asleep. George sighed contentedly and nuzzled his chin against her hair, noticing for the first time in his life, how beautiful the stars outside their new window were.
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George Gets Laid