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
- 3
Part Four: THE FALL INTO GRACE
Peter often dreamt of nightmares. Of someone standing on the top of the steps or the open hole above the underground tree home...mocking him. In shadow only. Hands on hips. Rude smile. Threatening. Baiting. Luring. Much like Peter himself only in some kind of reverse, perverse way. Peter was never afraid but he was while having these dreams. Often I sat with him through these. Sometimes, in the beginning, I just watched. Unsure what to do. Wake him? Not wake him? What would he be like if I did this? Thankful or wrathful. In his dream, which I sometimes shared but without the fear for it was Peter's fear, Peter was facing the only boy that could beat him. The better. A monster? The alternate side of Peter. Later, I gripped him and slept next to him, arm draped around him. He was like a little boy most of the time, wasn't he? When he wasn't slaying dragons, fighting pirates and gladiators, monsters and devils. Sword fighting, flying...and generally making a nuisance of himself to anyone that opposed him. And even to those who didn't sometimes. Oh, and there were Vikings on the island now too. Great. More grist for his mill. His point. But when he was...and I must feel bad...for the dreams gave me the best of Peter and I felt guilty about this, apologetic for his suffering gave me what I wanted more than anything else; having him NEED ME. Having him to me. Having him in my arms. Close. And the more the dreams happened, the closer we became. Sometimes, most of the time actually, Peter didn't even know or remember the dream had happened. So even though he mostly forgot these, and deigned not to talk about them even when I tried to bring them up ("What do you mean? No dream can scare me away? I'm light hearted, I'm boyish, I'm the best, no one can beat me!"). And usually he was right.
But this dream did scare him and somehow it made him all the more human to me. He had a fallibility. He was something human after all, on some level. I liked it when he was like that. Of course I liked it when he was licking the Vikings, the Indians and the pirates and gladiators, sometimes all of them at once. But I liked it when he was in that dark warm chamber underground, enchantment all around us, and he wrestled with his demons in his mind in his dream, like most of us. And he was so...so warm and tender. I loved him.
I think it was there that I decided to never leave him. I am not sure. I knew I loved my family back home but somehow my life there was never as fulfilled as it was here. And I knew it wasn't the adventure, the pirates, the constant threat and survival, the fights, the strange and alien beings that lived it...it was just one thing...it was him. I thought I could drop in once in awhile to let them know I was alright but I don't think he would have liked that. Dang it, I would do it anyway. His ire is not as tough as it would be with others. On me, he just got over it. I could never let him down again, for I would of course, but I didn't want to. I wanted to be with him forever. I wanted to be him, be a part of his life, and mend his broken heart, have adventure after adventure...I didn't want him to forget or near forget me as he had done to so many others. Nibs. Michael. John. You know the rest. I'm sure they all got on with their lives and enjoyed the lives they got back when they left him, my dear Peter. But I wouldn't. I really really wouldn't. I didn't want it to be a choice between him and them. They would lose as much as I loved them. And they loved me probably more than he did. Maybe. He loved me with all his heart, that I knew. He's so fucking cute. It makes my heart beat faster than ever, it makes my breast flutter, my arms tingle. I'm in love. A major crush, eternal youth, eternal crush. Infatuation, where is thy end? They had each other to comfort them. Maybe just a note to let them know I was okay. I wouldn't want them to suffer my loss as they had enough loss lately. I could just fly there and...no, no. If I did, I'd be tempted to stay.
And to what? Sure our family had each other and were good to each other. Cared for each other. But they all had sex lives, they all HAD LIVES. I didn't. Until now. Anytime I think of it I get angry. To go back would mean endless "parties" that weren't fun but boring and stifling. Hiding who I was really. Gay. I had to say it out loud. Peter heard me on one of my tirades. I didn't mean for him to. I thought he was out sorting the evil witches in Haunted Forest. He came back early, having turned them all into good witches. He heard me say the word gay. He didn't know what that meant. "Of course, we're gay, we're all gay and happy and heartless in Neverland." He flew out of the house with me in his arms and landed us on a tree branch.
Fool that I was, I struggled in his grasp, "Leave go of me!"
I fell. Peter dove at me from the branch. I fell. I kept falling. I couldn't get out of it. Did I try? Did I want to get out of it? Thoughts of dead young boys came to my mind. Jonathan Brandis, dead at 27; Christopher Petteit, dead at what age? Was he even past 24? Both beautiful young things. I know why the Greeks held boys between ages what 12 to 14 exalted. They are great. But they are fleeting. All except this one, my savior Peter. For he dove at me and grabbed my ankles. I caught my breath, dangling in the air, not far from the ground that would have flattened me flat. I recovered my tears.
Yes, I'd have to hide the fact from them that I was gay. I always did. I hated it at one time, being gay. Still do if truth be told. It was self imposed I guess but society treats one like a criminal and one tends to stay that way and if one grows up conservative, one tends not to go to gay bars, clubs that one can get...well whatever one wants.
I didn't have to do any of that now. I had what I wanted. He edged down my body, upsidedown as we both were and he rubbed against my flesh, mostly unknowing how I felt. And how good he felt. He smelled of roses and pine and boy and fem. He floated in mid air, mid air now for he sort of made us ascend upward toward the tree branch again. Not that we ever made it. He kissed me, "Wendy once taught me this. It's called a thimble."
How could one so innocent be so deadly? One so macho be so sensitive? He kissed my cheek, kissed my tears and kissed my eyes. Water flowed from his mouth. He was so tactile too. Every place his body touched mine tingled and felt energized. I wanted to explode but in a good way, from so many places in my body. I couldn't speak. I cried.
He cried with me. Not a phony cry but one of joy and emotion and tenderness. I'll never forget it. "I love you," he said with that sing song voice of his, that mix of frail boy tenderness and gusto warrior. Youth. Ahh, he gave it back to me and gave me courage and tender love all at once. I didn't think a human being could feel this good. My body electrified from within and without, all due to him, my feelings for him in me, and his touch outside of me. I thought I might go into a kind of shock but I didn't. As we passed the branch, we rose up higher and he tilted us rightsideup and pointed. Night had fallen and so had we.
It was a velvet blue sky with the moon shining brightly. Stars twinkling. Faires dancing. Meteors flying, falling stars passing. Wood nymph boys played beneath our feet but Peter kicked them to the ground. They bellowed and left us. Peter sat on a cloud with one arm around my upper back and draped to the other side. He pointed, "That's where I used to live. Kensington Gardens. Do you know I know a girl who lives in the moon."
"Everyone knows it's a man who lives in the Moon."
"Oh no, it's a girl and she's very nice. Not as nice as Wendy but nicer than Indian girl Tiger Lily."
"Peter, you do remember. Remember them all, don't you?"
Peter looked downcast again, "I do. Michael, the little sod. I loved him. John. He was a good boy. And a bad one," his face became alight with mischievousness. And serious again, "Toodles, he had great honor. And Slightly...." Peter let out one of his great big boyish laughs...a laugh I've seen him use when attacked by Pirates and Vikings at the same time, nearly knicked by arrows, spears, and gun fire. "Slightly would make me laugh so. He tried SOO hard. He didn't kill anyone ever."
"I say? Did you?"
"You know the answer to that one." Peter's voice became harsh again but dipped out of it. "And Nibs. He was a great second in command, he had hair as blond as mine, you know."
"Yes Peter. It used to be black or brown your hair?"
"Yes," Peter said, "You know a lot of me, don't you?"
"Then why...."
"Do I sometimes forget them? And sometimes don't?"
"Cause you are pained that they all left, aren't you?"
Peter looked to the side as a comet passed the Neverland, "You...you wouldn't would you? Leave me?"
I had my own question. "Peter, did you ever, well want to want to sleep with me?"
"Of course, in the underground house!" Peter said and he pointed downward. The moonlight shone at us and illuminated his every pore, his perfect skin. I fell asleep there, cradled in his arm and a cloud beneath me, his leg wrapped around my lower body as I did. It was so calming. He was so protective. Could there be a better life than this? Peace and quiet....
That was when it all exploded around us!
The play Peter Pan and its characters are trademarks of and copyright J.M. Barrie
- 1
- 2
- 3
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