Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

Peter Pan and Me	By : Neckar Category: M through R > Peter Pan Views: 3675 -:- 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
- 2
Part One: PETER PAN ARRIVES
He came upon me at night. The window was open, for air, for the room was small and the heat was on. My parent's home. They weren't there. Suddenly he stood there on a window sill too small for even the cat to sit on. Somehow he did. What a mix he was. A boy. A macho man. A pixie. Warm hearted through and through and yet there was stone in those eyes. Don't make him your enemy. He wore very little. Green leaves for pelvic covering. His navel stood out among a smooth ocean of sun kissed skin. When I was twenty something I thought this life could still be salvaged. Sexuality. Bills. Cars. Work. How I hated them all. Now it was snowing. The entire area outside was laden with snow. There would be shoveling of course. And sleeping. Lots of sleeping. HE would take me away from all that. Just by appearing there. He had hands on his hips and was staring, a big smile draped across his face. I was snug in bed, worries fading from real life into the nightmares of a life I never lived embedding into my mind. A darkness like no other. He had leaves draped over one shoulder, his right I think. His nipple on the right side shone through and the left side was completely bare. He had pipes like the mythical creature Pan used to play. They were hanging on his vine belt. He had no shoes, bare feet, bare legs, bare hips, bare belly, bare navel, everything was bare just about. And the room smelled good when he was there. Pine. Christmas Pine. And the air was fresh again and I could breath. There were no counselors, no therapy, no one telling me to grow up and act my age and be politically correct and...I know in this moment, the second I laid eyes on him, that I loved him. And he me. I'm not sure how he loved me but I knew I loved him with every ounce of me. Every part, everything about me loved the being. I couldn't swallow for I was so taken with him. Blonde curly locks, smooth hairless boyish skin, muscles...abs, a nice back. He alighted into the room from the window sill and landed gently beside the bed as I turned and saw the moonlight shining in upon him. For his light was lighter than the moonlight. His blue eyes pierced me, my eyes, my heart, my chest, my breast. I tingled with amazement that any one boy could be this perfect. I couldn't talk for a good long minute or more. Fuck. Good Grief he's gorgeous. He's fucking gorgeous. He put his hand out to me. I hesitated and for a second I could see a sternness and cold heartedness in him, in his eyes, the curl of his luscious mouth...he would leave me here and never return...but no, he was patient and kind and he smiled. I melted. I put my hand out and he pulled it. Yanked it. Delicately but then hard. Then a foot came up, impossibly for he seemed to be somewhat lifted off the ground. HE COULD FLY!!! He kicked my legs and I fell out of bed but he yanked my arm and lifted me up and then something came in and sprinkled me with dust. He took me into his arms and cradled me. I was bigger but that changed. I don't know how old I was once the dust settled but I seemed about the same age as he. I was shorter now and he hugged me and we twirled slowly as we rose up into the room, to the ceiling amid the moonlight. He let me place my head on his bony shoulder. He put his on mine. Good gosh!
To be what 14? again? What an awfully big adventure it would be or was that death? No, I seemed to be 12 or 11 again. I loved being 11, 12, 13 and 14. It was so much fun and I was so alive and vibrant then. I worried about things. I always seemed to worry but back then it wasn't so bad. Not like now. Then he had a big sword and he was saying something. The first time ever I heard his voice. Tingly sweet and manly scary. Tender and cutting. It was just there in his hand and he played with it as if it were just an extension of his arm and hand! He flipped it and caught it. He was so brilliant. "Do you want?"
"Come way with me?"
"Why yes of course! You're trapped here. Your car is on the blink, there is snow...everywhere, shoveling? Leave it all behind," this last was whispered. Enticing. Enchanting. Alluring. Pretty. He was the quintessential dream boy! LORD OF THE FLIES, THE NEVER ENDING STORY, and DOCTOR WHO all rolled up into one big Will Robinson, Barry Lockridge, Superboy package. And what a nice package it was too. I could have just licked him all over!
I didn't feel the cold at all. For he whisked me up in one arm. I was wearing no shirt and just underwear. I was out the window and up in the air, brisk, chilly night air but I could breath better than ever before. I was tucked in his arm, the arm with the sword and he sometimes dashed it from hand to the other, the eternal showoff that he was. Not that I'm complaining, I loved it and I loved him.
For what else could my answer be. I was close to 11 and although I had some sense of who was at that...that old age...I also detected a loss of something that I was. I didn't mind. I wasn't losing something I enjoyed. I was gaining something I thought only death....was this death? If so, bring it on! Was he death? Or an angel or a demon? Or both? Anyway I was gaining something I thought I'd only get when I passed on, passed away to a more saintly world afterlife. Well as we flew there was no tunnel but there was the effect one gets when riding a roller coaster. At one point, my lover let me go and I slipped out of his delicate hand, fingers sliding past my own, warmly. I yelled as I let go. He yelled, "DON'T LET GOOOOOOO!" It was more like a laugh than a real worry or concern to him. Did he really care about me? At times I was not sure. As I moved backward with the wind I knew I would soon fall but somehow I didn't. I sort of floated there. He came back for me and grabbed me around my bare waist and clung to me, holding me close, really me clinging to him. I had never had this kind of physical closeness to anyone and I can tell you this was warm and cuddly and sexy. His blue eyes were wide and he had a great smile, as he whispered, "Don't let go...but if you want to you can. You can do anything you want when you want, where you want...still wanna follow me...?"
I knew it was yes. What a question. I'd follow this sexy boy anywhere, anytime into the jaws of hell itself...which is maybe where he came from or where he would be going. Not that he was evil, he wasn't. But he wasn't entirely good either. We flew on, seemingly past planets, stars, and comets, meteorites. "Second star on the left and straight on till morning..." The land below had changed from snow to dark rain...from suburbs to city to seashore community. Our bare feet passed over all.
We entered a kind of vortex, a tunnel of some kind. Perhaps I was dying. In my perfect form and in a tunnel with the most fantastic guide imaginable...this is what heaven must be like. At the end of the tunnel of clouds, for it was made of clouds, blue, black, red, white, fluffy, powder like vanishing with a bump from either of us. Peter kicked one just to let me see this and as he kicked one, it let loose and beyond I could stars and planets and angels. Lights. I gulped. We came to the end of the tunnel, spilling out. I gasped as I floated above a strange, dark enchanted forest and night became day. "I...you never told me your name..."
"Pan. Peter. Pan."
"Well Pan Peter, where to now and where are we now?"
Peter laughed loudly and crowed, "You are a funny one! I am Peter Pan this here Neverland knows it well!" He reached out to his sides as he crowed, his magnificent power showing. His legs spread, his arms out, his chest out further! To his side his hands clasped air. This was a boy who looked as though he were a sports boy: snowboard, skiiing, swimming, surfing, boogie boarding, roller skating, etc. Not one ounce of fat on him, some baby smooth skin though and a belly that was on a set of abs that were not fully developed. Oh, and he had all his first teeth. Perfect pearly whites that he would flash at adults in a major hiss. Did I mention he did not like most adults. Although he did in a way. He would...but I get ahead of myself.
Did I also say I loved him? And I think he loved me.
He was my whole world, even as I seemed to leave behind family who DID care about me. But back there, they were all I had. I had no lover, no significant other, no one to call my own, my lover, my sexual friend, or any of that. This one, even if there were never any sex involved, would do for me. But I did have to play his games. And boy, this boy did so love games. All kinds of games.
Part Two: I ALMOST DIE
Did I say he forgets things? He does. He has so many adventures that to fill an entire library would not cover them all. He must be incredibly long lived for one so young. He seems to have forgotten things that other dwellers in this Neverland know well: names such as Nibs, Captain Hook, Slightly, John and Michael, and Wendy...but this one doesn't even remember the name of the fairy that took to him: Tinkerbell. What's wrong with him? Well NOTHING in my book. The forest scares me. The caves scare me. The mermaids scare me. But with scares that also thrill. That butterfly feeling you get when you know what you're doing is dangerous and could cost you dearly but you do it anyway. I favored the mer boys more than the mermaids. For one thing, they were friendlier and prettier. No, not more than my Peter. For Peter was above all. He's just eye candy with a great inner strength as well and a mind so quick as to ...well I can't go on enough about him, can I?
He knew what I felt. And this night I felt scared...this is what happened...
A merboy grabbed me from the shore and took me into the water, pulled me under. Now I can swim but not well. But this one wouldn't let me go. Unlike the female mermaids, this one was not trying to drown me, if anything he wanted me to live. He just liked me. He kissed me underwater but my mouth filled up with the stuff and he didn't realize he was doing this to me. Apparently later I found out, with much jealousy and regret that Peter liked to play these games with the merboys as well as the prettier mermaids...but I was drowning and the boy's green tingling eyes were fading from my sight. I was going to die, being kissed by a naked half boy, half fish! Odd that!
I couldn't breath. Something flashed. I later learned it was Peter, coming straight out of the sky, turning impossibly....did I mention that he weighs nothing? Most of this I found out later. I was new in Neverland. Anyway, he flew straight down, hands out, arms straight, legs straight, past the sun, past the trees of velvet green. He turned a few inches from the water so that his feet were coming down first and he crashed into the merboy's shoulders and side, feet first. The merboy was put off me and a strong muscled arm wrapped around me and LIFTED me up, pressing me close to a smooth but tight body. I was lifted and then gently as ever laid down upon a matt of straw. Turned over onto my belly, water coming out of my mouth. Coughing.
I turned on my knees. "What...what happened?"
"Take it easy..." Peter turned me back onto my back and laid me down as gently as before. "My but you are delicate, aren't you?"
His voice went from sensitive kindness to one of a sarcastic arrogance within the space of a few words. I shook my head and sometimes when he said things like that I just wanted to go home where I could get abused in the confines of my own known safe environment. I looked and felt 11 years old but I had lived longer than that: not as long as him. I'm fooling no one. I liked it. His mix of sensitivity and macho superiority merely added to my love of him. He could do no wrong.
"I never should have left you alone."
Hard to know what he meant by that. It sounded sincere but again, it could be another dig at my many weakness, especially physically.
"You're new in Neverland."
"Just arrived," I corrected him.
"Do you want to go back."
Quick answer, "NO!"
Brilliant blond smile, white baby teeth, perfect dimples. Gosh, I could just die. My heart felt weak. Weak. I repeated, lamely, "What happened? Who were those..."
"It's the merboys..."
"They're sweet," I gagged on some residue of water, which was sweet in taste too.
Peter's voice became darkly monotone, "They'll kill you with sweetness if you get too close..." His eyes and tone also conveyed that somehow he liked killing and the lure of danger and the fact that the merboys were somewhat evil or something...but I didn't think they were evil...
"Surely not...." I said, "He...well he even..." I sat up, "He even felt kinda friendly..."
"True he might have just wanted some, you know adult stuff off ya," Peter sat down next to me, cross legged, sort of floating.
"It's my fault," Peter said, "I should not..."
"I'm okay," I lied, "I can take care of myself."
"No," Peter shook his head slightly and smiled weakly as if not to offend me...again. "No....ohhh, you can't." I looked down, dejected...Peter put his hand on my little chin and lifted it up, "But...I will teach you...."
I finally met those marine blue eyes of his, "What?"
"EVERYTHING!" He held out hand and sword flew from an open hole in a hillside and into his hands, "Swordfighing! Fencing! Karate!!!" As he said this he expertly threw the sword up, caught it by its handle and jabbed at the air, floating a bit higher than before and then tossing his body up and around, "Feet fighting!" He kicked the tree he was near and as I watched, he twirled, "ISN'T IT WONDERFUL??? AREN'T I GREAT!!!"
The conceit...he really was. And as usual he managed to get to make everything about himself. But unlike people in the real world, the adult world, he made no secret of it, "I know I am great and I tell everyone. But that doesn't mean I don't like everyone! I LIKE ALMOST EVERYONE!"
I wanted to bring up the stories I heard about him but I decided this was NOT the time. He had a very long, very big, very sharp, very pointed sword. And I COULD make him mad...that we shall see in the future...anyway he went on and then dove at me. One of those tingling scary waves of butterflies hit me all over! Stomach, chest, arms. Neck. He dove at me, and for a moment I thought he meant to kill me, either with the sword, which he discarded into the sandy hill to our left...or with his bare hands which reached out to me. He was like some horror movie! Thrilling. You wanted to be scared. He grabbed me under my arms and heaved me up and threw me into the air as though I were the one who weighed nothing...(and OH I MUST WARN EVERYONE READING THIS, NEVER EVER NEVER EVER MENTION THAT WEIGHT THING TO HIM...IT MUST NEVER EVER BE TALKED ABOUT--He'd rather die AND ALMOST DID MORE THAN A FEW TIMES than reveal this secret, which, well I already have, good thing then he can't read, more on all this later, I hope). I flew in the air and the pixie dust was still on me so I could fly as long as I believed. And I did. But as I dove skyward, Peter got above me and somehow faster than his own throw of me, he was above me and he caught me in his body, wrapping me and dangling me! We danced in the air.
"I'll even teach you fighting on the fly! Or what I call fly fighting! Oh, it's wonderful and you'll love it!"
"I already do," I admitted. "I love it and Peter, I...I think I ..."
"Don't say another word..."
I was not sure what he meant by this.
Then he went on, "Let's start your training RIGHT NOW!" He tore a knife that was hidden impossibly in his fig leaves of green and he held it up to my face, vertically and I went wide eyed and wanted to drop from his grasp to the forest floor. I didn't though. His eyes were wider and the glee he felt infectious. I found I couldn't swallow. No, not an after effect of the merboy nearly drowning me with love but the constant effect of the presence of this god like boy so full of contradictions. What are you Peter Pan, I'm sure I wanted to ask. His other friends must have wondered this and even his enemies thought long and hard on it. What was he? Better still: where would hanging out with him in this land of savages, Indians, pirates, gladiators, mermen, dragons, imps, and fairies lead me to?
Part 3: TRAINING AND RAINING FROM THE EYES
Training was hard and so was I. My personal trainer couldn't have been better, more motivating, or meaner. Flying in the air. Flipping. Karate, ju jitsu, all forms of self defense and offense, fencing, jousting, every kind of sword play you can imagine, hours upon hours of this. I can tell you I have the scars to prove it but Peter just put his hands over them and removed them. So now, no, I don't have the scars to prove it. I was hit by a sword in the stomach, litely but hard enough to knock the air out of me and me out of the sky...Peter was very kind during these sessions, at least verbally. He never once called me a wimp, but somehow I don't think that word is in his vocabulary. Which was limited. But since he wasn't going to engage in putting me down, I would do the same for him. Did I mention again, how much I loved him. Every time I saw his face first in the morning, first morning's light, I melted. I couldn't speak for a few minutes. One time he thought I was dead with my eyes open. I stared, my eyes wide, my mouth unable to close, my throaty words stuck there...every day, every morning he was just stunning to my vision. It was like seeing him all over again.
My training. He flipped me, split me, spilled me, hit me, sworded me in the butt with his sword, nearly cut my throat, threw me to the ground and onto tree branches, kicked me in the shins, knocked my knees out from under me, fought with me on the ground, in the air, on clouds and under and above the surface of the water and by the way while training someone else, the mermaids and merboys would never have even dared to bother him or me, of course it wasn't me. They'd soon as kill me, the mermaids would anyway as look at me, the boys sort of liked me too, I could feel them all staring at us as we practiced above the surface and saw them actually while below the surface, where I couldn't stay long. Peter was more adept at breathing under there. I swear I could stay down there for more than ten minutes at a time. And sometimes he cheated. "Bad form," he'd say if I snuck up behind him but when he spit water into my eyes and jabbed his sword handle into my chest it was, "Fair in love and war." Love. Yeah right. Since when did he love anyone but himself? I don't know, maybe he loved me. The way he had loved Wendy. I still cannot believe he couldn't remember her. After days of this, I played a game with him, perhaps the one game he didn't like...
We were in the underground tree home, for he had several homes (one was a little house, one was a little house in a tree, one was a Black Castle that the fairies told me belonged to Capt. Hook--whom Peter also could not remember!, and others I haven't even seen yet). Anyway the middle tree was being cut by me (of course--real work was done by others not by Pan). He laid in a hammock of green while I cut. He was swinging gaily and laughing. I loved it when he did that.
Finishing, I put the saw down and said, "Oh my Peter, look at this. I have a scale!"
Peter flew off his hammock and came to me, eager for a game, "Oh my. I will weight myself then."
"Yes, and look I weigh more than did a week ago! It must be the training you put me through."
Peter pushed me off and went onto the scale himself, his feet touching nothing but the ground, "And I..I weigh more than you. I have more muscle." Well, it was true. Although I think if he put me through more of this training I would have more muscle than he. I mean after a week I could already see in the reflections of the magic mirrors that I had become leaner, meaner, tougher, and more muscled. My Pan workout!
I was ready to make him pay for all his insolence and arrogance. It backfired, as most things do in Neverland. And at home. Are they so different. "Peeeeter, oh my look!" I removed from a hidden mushroom, for the floor of the underground tree home was littered with them, a real scale. I had stolen it from the New Pirates' ship in the forsaken grotto.
Peter's face grew red. His ears grew red. His cheeks rosy...well more than usual. His girlish features became almost man-ish and this made him angry too for he hated men, grown men. And yet...he had come to my room. "Why, I grow tired of this game, little one."
"Peter, why just how much do you really weight?"
"Have you been talking to those infernal gnomes again? They say the most terrible things about me." Peter turned his back to me and it was a lovely back, smooth and wing-ish. His back bone was so nice. He had no hair on his body. And those shoulder blades... "They say the that which must never be said."
I egged him on, "Oh look! I'm just ...don't you wanna see?"
"No!" Peter turned to me and he had picked up his sword, the shorter one, one that looked like he took it from Capt. Hook himself. It had a handle on one side and not the other and it was slightly curved. Now I knew he wouldn't kill me but he could hurt me. I knew he was not going to though. I knew he would never do anything that could permanently damage me. But he raised the sword. And lowered it. Then he went to a toadstool and sat upon it. He put his hands in his face.
"Oh Peter, Peter!" I ran to him and put an arm around his shoulder.
Peter looked at me, "GOT YA!"
I was red now. Angry! "You!" I wanted to run him through that pert little belly of his right in his navel! "You!"
"Okay, I'm off now to eat. Catch ya later!" He started to fly upward.
"You! Don't you even care about anyone! All you think about is yourself! I'm hungry too and I always get your food. All you ever do is get make believe food and that sucks! It isn't real so it doesn't fill me and make me strong and so that I can grow...." Those words stuck in my throat but not for long. He stopped flying and backtracked back down, at first he ignored my words but those last ones were pulling down as sure as a rope on his ankle was. I loved how his feet never got dirty no matter how much he was running around the dirt floor of the home or the forest ground. He was magical. But I didn't need think on that now. He came down, stomping the ground with a loud thump. Funny how he had no weight but he could stomp with the best of us stompers. He was mad! "You don't care about anyone but yourself! Why you don't even remember the Lost Boys or your mother!"
"Dang my mother! To the lake with her! She barred the window and another was in my bed!"
"Oh you poor baby! So what?!!!" I yelled louder than he now. "You big baby! Grow up, Peter! Grow up!"
It was as though I had stabbed him. He held his breast.
I went on as though I was twisting the knife. Which I wasn't. I wasn't thinking. "You self important, conceited..." He didn't know what those meant but it was my tone that conveyed the meaning. "YOU care about nothing but yourself. Why you wouldn't care even if I died and you'd forget me in a flash just like you forgot Tinkerbell so many years dead! Dead probably because of your lack of care for her!"
He sank a bit, on one knee now.
"And as for Wendy! I bet you didn't even love her! Come back for her? You didn't even know you were gone from her for two whole years! To you time means nothing because people mean nothing! You! I bet you didn't even love Wendy! She loved you, Peter! Loved you! I love you! Peter..."
"Wendy." Peter said, "You love me? You do?" He went to a giant rock and put his breast to it and kneeled next to it, put his arms on it, elbows first and his head in his hands again. Only this time, he cried, and great gasping cries. Tears flew from his eyes. Dripped down his cheeks.
I was stunned. My heart fell. "Why? What have I done?"
"Oh Wendy. How I did love you!"
"He...you...you do remember?"
"Oh Wendy how you loved me and I...I loved you more than life itself. I wish...I wish...I wish..."
"Peter, Peter!" I wondered for a split second if he were taking me again. Teasing me. "Why I do believe you're crying."
Peter held his face in his hands, "Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Too."
"Not."
"Too."
"Not!"
"Not!"
"Am too." Peter fell for it. Or did he? Maybe he wanted to admit this.
I came to him, knelt down behind him and put my arm around his stout, thick back. He was so hot. I wanted to just...I kissed his cheek, tasting sweet, sugar like tears. It was yummy. He was yummy. "I'm so sorry, Peter Pan. I am so sorry."
"You are."
"I am." I cradled him, took him in my arms and rocked him to sleep. And we were like that until nighttime and he stayed asleep all night and into the next morning. "You do remember," was all I could say all night. And me? I didn't mind nursing him all night at all.
He had a nightmare one night. More on that after I just enjoy cradling him all night.
Part One: PETER PAN ARRIVES
He came upon me at night. The window was open, for air, for the room was small and the heat was on. My parent's home. They weren't there. Suddenly he stood there on a window sill too small for even the cat to sit on. Somehow he did. What a mix he was. A boy. A macho man. A pixie. Warm hearted through and through and yet there was stone in those eyes. Don't make him your enemy. He wore very little. Green leaves for pelvic covering. His navel stood out among a smooth ocean of sun kissed skin. When I was twenty something I thought this life could still be salvaged. Sexuality. Bills. Cars. Work. How I hated them all. Now it was snowing. The entire area outside was laden with snow. There would be shoveling of course. And sleeping. Lots of sleeping. HE would take me away from all that. Just by appearing there. He had hands on his hips and was staring, a big smile draped across his face. I was snug in bed, worries fading from real life into the nightmares of a life I never lived embedding into my mind. A darkness like no other. He had leaves draped over one shoulder, his right I think. His nipple on the right side shone through and the left side was completely bare. He had pipes like the mythical creature Pan used to play. They were hanging on his vine belt. He had no shoes, bare feet, bare legs, bare hips, bare belly, bare navel, everything was bare just about. And the room smelled good when he was there. Pine. Christmas Pine. And the air was fresh again and I could breath. There were no counselors, no therapy, no one telling me to grow up and act my age and be politically correct and...I know in this moment, the second I laid eyes on him, that I loved him. And he me. I'm not sure how he loved me but I knew I loved him with every ounce of me. Every part, everything about me loved the being. I couldn't swallow for I was so taken with him. Blonde curly locks, smooth hairless boyish skin, muscles...abs, a nice back. He alighted into the room from the window sill and landed gently beside the bed as I turned and saw the moonlight shining in upon him. For his light was lighter than the moonlight. His blue eyes pierced me, my eyes, my heart, my chest, my breast. I tingled with amazement that any one boy could be this perfect. I couldn't talk for a good long minute or more. Fuck. Good Grief he's gorgeous. He's fucking gorgeous. He put his hand out to me. I hesitated and for a second I could see a sternness and cold heartedness in him, in his eyes, the curl of his luscious mouth...he would leave me here and never return...but no, he was patient and kind and he smiled. I melted. I put my hand out and he pulled it. Yanked it. Delicately but then hard. Then a foot came up, impossibly for he seemed to be somewhat lifted off the ground. HE COULD FLY!!! He kicked my legs and I fell out of bed but he yanked my arm and lifted me up and then something came in and sprinkled me with dust. He took me into his arms and cradled me. I was bigger but that changed. I don't know how old I was once the dust settled but I seemed about the same age as he. I was shorter now and he hugged me and we twirled slowly as we rose up into the room, to the ceiling amid the moonlight. He let me place my head on his bony shoulder. He put his on mine. Good gosh!
To be what 14? again? What an awfully big adventure it would be or was that death? No, I seemed to be 12 or 11 again. I loved being 11, 12, 13 and 14. It was so much fun and I was so alive and vibrant then. I worried about things. I always seemed to worry but back then it wasn't so bad. Not like now. Then he had a big sword and he was saying something. The first time ever I heard his voice. Tingly sweet and manly scary. Tender and cutting. It was just there in his hand and he played with it as if it were just an extension of his arm and hand! He flipped it and caught it. He was so brilliant. "Do you want?"
"Come way with me?"
"Why yes of course! You're trapped here. Your car is on the blink, there is snow...everywhere, shoveling? Leave it all behind," this last was whispered. Enticing. Enchanting. Alluring. Pretty. He was the quintessential dream boy! LORD OF THE FLIES, THE NEVER ENDING STORY, and DOCTOR WHO all rolled up into one big Will Robinson, Barry Lockridge, Superboy package. And what a nice package it was too. I could have just licked him all over!
I didn't feel the cold at all. For he whisked me up in one arm. I was wearing no shirt and just underwear. I was out the window and up in the air, brisk, chilly night air but I could breath better than ever before. I was tucked in his arm, the arm with the sword and he sometimes dashed it from hand to the other, the eternal showoff that he was. Not that I'm complaining, I loved it and I loved him.
For what else could my answer be. I was close to 11 and although I had some sense of who was at that...that old age...I also detected a loss of something that I was. I didn't mind. I wasn't losing something I enjoyed. I was gaining something I thought only death....was this death? If so, bring it on! Was he death? Or an angel or a demon? Or both? Anyway I was gaining something I thought I'd only get when I passed on, passed away to a more saintly world afterlife. Well as we flew there was no tunnel but there was the effect one gets when riding a roller coaster. At one point, my lover let me go and I slipped out of his delicate hand, fingers sliding past my own, warmly. I yelled as I let go. He yelled, "DON'T LET GOOOOOOO!" It was more like a laugh than a real worry or concern to him. Did he really care about me? At times I was not sure. As I moved backward with the wind I knew I would soon fall but somehow I didn't. I sort of floated there. He came back for me and grabbed me around my bare waist and clung to me, holding me close, really me clinging to him. I had never had this kind of physical closeness to anyone and I can tell you this was warm and cuddly and sexy. His blue eyes were wide and he had a great smile, as he whispered, "Don't let go...but if you want to you can. You can do anything you want when you want, where you want...still wanna follow me...?"
I knew it was yes. What a question. I'd follow this sexy boy anywhere, anytime into the jaws of hell itself...which is maybe where he came from or where he would be going. Not that he was evil, he wasn't. But he wasn't entirely good either. We flew on, seemingly past planets, stars, and comets, meteorites. "Second star on the left and straight on till morning..." The land below had changed from snow to dark rain...from suburbs to city to seashore community. Our bare feet passed over all.
We entered a kind of vortex, a tunnel of some kind. Perhaps I was dying. In my perfect form and in a tunnel with the most fantastic guide imaginable...this is what heaven must be like. At the end of the tunnel of clouds, for it was made of clouds, blue, black, red, white, fluffy, powder like vanishing with a bump from either of us. Peter kicked one just to let me see this and as he kicked one, it let loose and beyond I could stars and planets and angels. Lights. I gulped. We came to the end of the tunnel, spilling out. I gasped as I floated above a strange, dark enchanted forest and night became day. "I...you never told me your name..."
"Pan. Peter. Pan."
"Well Pan Peter, where to now and where are we now?"
Peter laughed loudly and crowed, "You are a funny one! I am Peter Pan this here Neverland knows it well!" He reached out to his sides as he crowed, his magnificent power showing. His legs spread, his arms out, his chest out further! To his side his hands clasped air. This was a boy who looked as though he were a sports boy: snowboard, skiiing, swimming, surfing, boogie boarding, roller skating, etc. Not one ounce of fat on him, some baby smooth skin though and a belly that was on a set of abs that were not fully developed. Oh, and he had all his first teeth. Perfect pearly whites that he would flash at adults in a major hiss. Did I mention he did not like most adults. Although he did in a way. He would...but I get ahead of myself.
Did I also say I loved him? And I think he loved me.
He was my whole world, even as I seemed to leave behind family who DID care about me. But back there, they were all I had. I had no lover, no significant other, no one to call my own, my lover, my sexual friend, or any of that. This one, even if there were never any sex involved, would do for me. But I did have to play his games. And boy, this boy did so love games. All kinds of games.
Part Two: I ALMOST DIE
Did I say he forgets things? He does. He has so many adventures that to fill an entire library would not cover them all. He must be incredibly long lived for one so young. He seems to have forgotten things that other dwellers in this Neverland know well: names such as Nibs, Captain Hook, Slightly, John and Michael, and Wendy...but this one doesn't even remember the name of the fairy that took to him: Tinkerbell. What's wrong with him? Well NOTHING in my book. The forest scares me. The caves scare me. The mermaids scare me. But with scares that also thrill. That butterfly feeling you get when you know what you're doing is dangerous and could cost you dearly but you do it anyway. I favored the mer boys more than the mermaids. For one thing, they were friendlier and prettier. No, not more than my Peter. For Peter was above all. He's just eye candy with a great inner strength as well and a mind so quick as to ...well I can't go on enough about him, can I?
He knew what I felt. And this night I felt scared...this is what happened...
A merboy grabbed me from the shore and took me into the water, pulled me under. Now I can swim but not well. But this one wouldn't let me go. Unlike the female mermaids, this one was not trying to drown me, if anything he wanted me to live. He just liked me. He kissed me underwater but my mouth filled up with the stuff and he didn't realize he was doing this to me. Apparently later I found out, with much jealousy and regret that Peter liked to play these games with the merboys as well as the prettier mermaids...but I was drowning and the boy's green tingling eyes were fading from my sight. I was going to die, being kissed by a naked half boy, half fish! Odd that!
I couldn't breath. Something flashed. I later learned it was Peter, coming straight out of the sky, turning impossibly....did I mention that he weighs nothing? Most of this I found out later. I was new in Neverland. Anyway, he flew straight down, hands out, arms straight, legs straight, past the sun, past the trees of velvet green. He turned a few inches from the water so that his feet were coming down first and he crashed into the merboy's shoulders and side, feet first. The merboy was put off me and a strong muscled arm wrapped around me and LIFTED me up, pressing me close to a smooth but tight body. I was lifted and then gently as ever laid down upon a matt of straw. Turned over onto my belly, water coming out of my mouth. Coughing.
I turned on my knees. "What...what happened?"
"Take it easy..." Peter turned me back onto my back and laid me down as gently as before. "My but you are delicate, aren't you?"
His voice went from sensitive kindness to one of a sarcastic arrogance within the space of a few words. I shook my head and sometimes when he said things like that I just wanted to go home where I could get abused in the confines of my own known safe environment. I looked and felt 11 years old but I had lived longer than that: not as long as him. I'm fooling no one. I liked it. His mix of sensitivity and macho superiority merely added to my love of him. He could do no wrong.
"I never should have left you alone."
Hard to know what he meant by that. It sounded sincere but again, it could be another dig at my many weakness, especially physically.
"You're new in Neverland."
"Just arrived," I corrected him.
"Do you want to go back."
Quick answer, "NO!"
Brilliant blond smile, white baby teeth, perfect dimples. Gosh, I could just die. My heart felt weak. Weak. I repeated, lamely, "What happened? Who were those..."
"It's the merboys..."
"They're sweet," I gagged on some residue of water, which was sweet in taste too.
Peter's voice became darkly monotone, "They'll kill you with sweetness if you get too close..." His eyes and tone also conveyed that somehow he liked killing and the lure of danger and the fact that the merboys were somewhat evil or something...but I didn't think they were evil...
"Surely not...." I said, "He...well he even..." I sat up, "He even felt kinda friendly..."
"True he might have just wanted some, you know adult stuff off ya," Peter sat down next to me, cross legged, sort of floating.
"It's my fault," Peter said, "I should not..."
"I'm okay," I lied, "I can take care of myself."
"No," Peter shook his head slightly and smiled weakly as if not to offend me...again. "No....ohhh, you can't." I looked down, dejected...Peter put his hand on my little chin and lifted it up, "But...I will teach you...."
I finally met those marine blue eyes of his, "What?"
"EVERYTHING!" He held out hand and sword flew from an open hole in a hillside and into his hands, "Swordfighing! Fencing! Karate!!!" As he said this he expertly threw the sword up, caught it by its handle and jabbed at the air, floating a bit higher than before and then tossing his body up and around, "Feet fighting!" He kicked the tree he was near and as I watched, he twirled, "ISN'T IT WONDERFUL??? AREN'T I GREAT!!!"
The conceit...he really was. And as usual he managed to get to make everything about himself. But unlike people in the real world, the adult world, he made no secret of it, "I know I am great and I tell everyone. But that doesn't mean I don't like everyone! I LIKE ALMOST EVERYONE!"
I wanted to bring up the stories I heard about him but I decided this was NOT the time. He had a very long, very big, very sharp, very pointed sword. And I COULD make him mad...that we shall see in the future...anyway he went on and then dove at me. One of those tingling scary waves of butterflies hit me all over! Stomach, chest, arms. Neck. He dove at me, and for a moment I thought he meant to kill me, either with the sword, which he discarded into the sandy hill to our left...or with his bare hands which reached out to me. He was like some horror movie! Thrilling. You wanted to be scared. He grabbed me under my arms and heaved me up and threw me into the air as though I were the one who weighed nothing...(and OH I MUST WARN EVERYONE READING THIS, NEVER EVER NEVER EVER MENTION THAT WEIGHT THING TO HIM...IT MUST NEVER EVER BE TALKED ABOUT--He'd rather die AND ALMOST DID MORE THAN A FEW TIMES than reveal this secret, which, well I already have, good thing then he can't read, more on all this later, I hope). I flew in the air and the pixie dust was still on me so I could fly as long as I believed. And I did. But as I dove skyward, Peter got above me and somehow faster than his own throw of me, he was above me and he caught me in his body, wrapping me and dangling me! We danced in the air.
"I'll even teach you fighting on the fly! Or what I call fly fighting! Oh, it's wonderful and you'll love it!"
"I already do," I admitted. "I love it and Peter, I...I think I ..."
"Don't say another word..."
I was not sure what he meant by this.
Then he went on, "Let's start your training RIGHT NOW!" He tore a knife that was hidden impossibly in his fig leaves of green and he held it up to my face, vertically and I went wide eyed and wanted to drop from his grasp to the forest floor. I didn't though. His eyes were wider and the glee he felt infectious. I found I couldn't swallow. No, not an after effect of the merboy nearly drowning me with love but the constant effect of the presence of this god like boy so full of contradictions. What are you Peter Pan, I'm sure I wanted to ask. His other friends must have wondered this and even his enemies thought long and hard on it. What was he? Better still: where would hanging out with him in this land of savages, Indians, pirates, gladiators, mermen, dragons, imps, and fairies lead me to?
Part 3: TRAINING AND RAINING FROM THE EYES
Training was hard and so was I. My personal trainer couldn't have been better, more motivating, or meaner. Flying in the air. Flipping. Karate, ju jitsu, all forms of self defense and offense, fencing, jousting, every kind of sword play you can imagine, hours upon hours of this. I can tell you I have the scars to prove it but Peter just put his hands over them and removed them. So now, no, I don't have the scars to prove it. I was hit by a sword in the stomach, litely but hard enough to knock the air out of me and me out of the sky...Peter was very kind during these sessions, at least verbally. He never once called me a wimp, but somehow I don't think that word is in his vocabulary. Which was limited. But since he wasn't going to engage in putting me down, I would do the same for him. Did I mention again, how much I loved him. Every time I saw his face first in the morning, first morning's light, I melted. I couldn't speak for a few minutes. One time he thought I was dead with my eyes open. I stared, my eyes wide, my mouth unable to close, my throaty words stuck there...every day, every morning he was just stunning to my vision. It was like seeing him all over again.
My training. He flipped me, split me, spilled me, hit me, sworded me in the butt with his sword, nearly cut my throat, threw me to the ground and onto tree branches, kicked me in the shins, knocked my knees out from under me, fought with me on the ground, in the air, on clouds and under and above the surface of the water and by the way while training someone else, the mermaids and merboys would never have even dared to bother him or me, of course it wasn't me. They'd soon as kill me, the mermaids would anyway as look at me, the boys sort of liked me too, I could feel them all staring at us as we practiced above the surface and saw them actually while below the surface, where I couldn't stay long. Peter was more adept at breathing under there. I swear I could stay down there for more than ten minutes at a time. And sometimes he cheated. "Bad form," he'd say if I snuck up behind him but when he spit water into my eyes and jabbed his sword handle into my chest it was, "Fair in love and war." Love. Yeah right. Since when did he love anyone but himself? I don't know, maybe he loved me. The way he had loved Wendy. I still cannot believe he couldn't remember her. After days of this, I played a game with him, perhaps the one game he didn't like...
We were in the underground tree home, for he had several homes (one was a little house, one was a little house in a tree, one was a Black Castle that the fairies told me belonged to Capt. Hook--whom Peter also could not remember!, and others I haven't even seen yet). Anyway the middle tree was being cut by me (of course--real work was done by others not by Pan). He laid in a hammock of green while I cut. He was swinging gaily and laughing. I loved it when he did that.
Finishing, I put the saw down and said, "Oh my Peter, look at this. I have a scale!"
Peter flew off his hammock and came to me, eager for a game, "Oh my. I will weight myself then."
"Yes, and look I weigh more than did a week ago! It must be the training you put me through."
Peter pushed me off and went onto the scale himself, his feet touching nothing but the ground, "And I..I weigh more than you. I have more muscle." Well, it was true. Although I think if he put me through more of this training I would have more muscle than he. I mean after a week I could already see in the reflections of the magic mirrors that I had become leaner, meaner, tougher, and more muscled. My Pan workout!
I was ready to make him pay for all his insolence and arrogance. It backfired, as most things do in Neverland. And at home. Are they so different. "Peeeeter, oh my look!" I removed from a hidden mushroom, for the floor of the underground tree home was littered with them, a real scale. I had stolen it from the New Pirates' ship in the forsaken grotto.
Peter's face grew red. His ears grew red. His cheeks rosy...well more than usual. His girlish features became almost man-ish and this made him angry too for he hated men, grown men. And yet...he had come to my room. "Why, I grow tired of this game, little one."
"Peter, why just how much do you really weight?"
"Have you been talking to those infernal gnomes again? They say the most terrible things about me." Peter turned his back to me and it was a lovely back, smooth and wing-ish. His back bone was so nice. He had no hair on his body. And those shoulder blades... "They say the that which must never be said."
I egged him on, "Oh look! I'm just ...don't you wanna see?"
"No!" Peter turned to me and he had picked up his sword, the shorter one, one that looked like he took it from Capt. Hook himself. It had a handle on one side and not the other and it was slightly curved. Now I knew he wouldn't kill me but he could hurt me. I knew he was not going to though. I knew he would never do anything that could permanently damage me. But he raised the sword. And lowered it. Then he went to a toadstool and sat upon it. He put his hands in his face.
"Oh Peter, Peter!" I ran to him and put an arm around his shoulder.
Peter looked at me, "GOT YA!"
I was red now. Angry! "You!" I wanted to run him through that pert little belly of his right in his navel! "You!"
"Okay, I'm off now to eat. Catch ya later!" He started to fly upward.
"You! Don't you even care about anyone! All you think about is yourself! I'm hungry too and I always get your food. All you ever do is get make believe food and that sucks! It isn't real so it doesn't fill me and make me strong and so that I can grow...." Those words stuck in my throat but not for long. He stopped flying and backtracked back down, at first he ignored my words but those last ones were pulling down as sure as a rope on his ankle was. I loved how his feet never got dirty no matter how much he was running around the dirt floor of the home or the forest ground. He was magical. But I didn't need think on that now. He came down, stomping the ground with a loud thump. Funny how he had no weight but he could stomp with the best of us stompers. He was mad! "You don't care about anyone but yourself! Why you don't even remember the Lost Boys or your mother!"
"Dang my mother! To the lake with her! She barred the window and another was in my bed!"
"Oh you poor baby! So what?!!!" I yelled louder than he now. "You big baby! Grow up, Peter! Grow up!"
It was as though I had stabbed him. He held his breast.
I went on as though I was twisting the knife. Which I wasn't. I wasn't thinking. "You self important, conceited..." He didn't know what those meant but it was my tone that conveyed the meaning. "YOU care about nothing but yourself. Why you wouldn't care even if I died and you'd forget me in a flash just like you forgot Tinkerbell so many years dead! Dead probably because of your lack of care for her!"
He sank a bit, on one knee now.
"And as for Wendy! I bet you didn't even love her! Come back for her? You didn't even know you were gone from her for two whole years! To you time means nothing because people mean nothing! You! I bet you didn't even love Wendy! She loved you, Peter! Loved you! I love you! Peter..."
"Wendy." Peter said, "You love me? You do?" He went to a giant rock and put his breast to it and kneeled next to it, put his arms on it, elbows first and his head in his hands again. Only this time, he cried, and great gasping cries. Tears flew from his eyes. Dripped down his cheeks.
I was stunned. My heart fell. "Why? What have I done?"
"Oh Wendy. How I did love you!"
"He...you...you do remember?"
"Oh Wendy how you loved me and I...I loved you more than life itself. I wish...I wish...I wish..."
"Peter, Peter!" I wondered for a split second if he were taking me again. Teasing me. "Why I do believe you're crying."
Peter held his face in his hands, "Am not."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Too."
"Not."
"Too."
"Not!"
"Not!"
"Am too." Peter fell for it. Or did he? Maybe he wanted to admit this.
I came to him, knelt down behind him and put my arm around his stout, thick back. He was so hot. I wanted to just...I kissed his cheek, tasting sweet, sugar like tears. It was yummy. He was yummy. "I'm so sorry, Peter Pan. I am so sorry."
"You are."
"I am." I cradled him, took him in my arms and rocked him to sleep. And we were like that until nighttime and he stayed asleep all night and into the next morning. "You do remember," was all I could say all night. And me? I didn't mind nursing him all night at all.
He had a nightmare one night. More on that after I just enjoy cradling him all night.
The play Peter Pan and its characters are trademarks of and copyright J.M. Barrie

The play Peter Pan and its characters are trademarks of and copyright J.M. Barrie
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Peter Pan and Me