Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

Awakenings	By : KimberlyA Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 16011 -:- 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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Author's Notes: Um ... no notes this time. No one has reviewed yet, so I am a sad and lonely author. But that's okay. I write anyway. :)

_____________________________________

~

Chapter 3

Asleep and Awake

~

In Neverland, age, like time, is a meaningless concept, dependent entirely on thoughts and feelings. Captain James Hook had always been old because he felt and thought nothing but oldness. The Lost Boys were always young because they felt and thought nothing but childhood. Age in Neverland was just that simple.
Peter, however, without realizing it, through his thoughts and feelings and actions since Wendy's thimble, had gradually entered some in-between place, where he did not think or feel entirely like a child, nor entirely like an adult.
His body therefore knew not quite what to be. It attempted to follow his thoughts and feelings, confused though they were, and so Peter had grown taller without even realizing that it happened. His limbs had grown longer and more sleekly muscular, his shoulders more broad and strong, his face more defined and less childishly soft in its lines. He was still, however, slender, and traces of boyhood still lingered in the green flecks of his eyes, in the soft curve of his lip, in the vulnerable turn of his golden-tanned ankle, and in the sun-kissed tousle of his light brown hair.
Peter himself had not noticed any changes, as they occurred so gradually, but Wendy found herself pondering them at some length in the days after his unexpected visit. Peter did not return the following night, nor the night after that, nor the night after that. In fact, Wendy at length began to wonder if he would return at all.
It was all so very perplexing. Why had he suddenly appeared after more than three years, kissed her in a way that made her knees weak and her breath fast, and then vanished again into the same starry sky from which he had first emerged? And why had he looked so much older, and been so very tall?
She found herself rather sheepish when she thought of the brazenness of her own behavior -- throwing herself at a nearly-grown man in her darkened bedroom while she wore nothing but a thin shift -- but at the time it had seemnly nly natural to kiss Peter again. Her kiss did, after all, belong to him, and always would.
This time, however, Peter had kissed her in return, rather than only receiving her soft kiss in surprise as he had done upon the deck of the Jolly Roger. This time, in fact, had been quite different indeed.
Sitting at her window and looking out at the night sky over the slate roofs of London, Wendy touched a wondering finger to the fullness of her lips, remembering the feel of Peter's warm mouth upon hers. He had seemed so different. So ... intense. His arms had held her so tightly to him, making her quite breathless.
She found herself thinking of him often, and dreaming of him in the night as well. In her dreams, he pressed his mouth to hers and their tongues touched once more, and she woke always with her heart beating fast, and an unfamiliar yearning ache in the depths of her body.
Wendy sat often at her window before retiring to bed for the night. But Peter Pan was never there.

* * *

The Lost Boys, though they had not commented, had most definitely noticed that Peter was in a very ill humor. He had more than once threatened to run one of them throwithwith his sword, always for some seemingly unimportant indiscretion.
The Lost Boys had grown very quiet, ever fearing that Peter's next threat might be acted upon, for they were well acquainted with his capriciousness. None of them wished to be spitted on the end of Peter's sword, and so they glanced nervously back and forth among each other and tried to stay out of Peter's way.

* * *

Peter was afraid, and it was a feeling which he did not like one little bit. It made him very irritable. He refused to admit that he was afraid, but the feeling simply refused to go away.
Peter was afraid that Wendy now knew.
Peter was afraid that Wendy now knew that something was wrong with him. For, selfish as Peter was, he did know the difference between dream and truth, and he knew that the dream Wendy and the true Wendy were different creatures. Surely the true Wendy had never felt such strange stirrings, and certainly not toward him.
She had left him, after all.
And so Peter did not return to Wendy's window, though he longed very much to do so. Instead, he stayed in Neverland, where he tried to stop these strange feelings ... though his dreams tortured him with remembrances of how Wendy had felt in his arms.
Her body hadn evn even softer and warmer than he had imagined. The yielding press of her chest against his bare skin had been more than he had even dreamed. And the touch of her tongue against his ... the merest thought of that moist touch caused his body to harden wiongionging.
Given this profusion of new information, Peter's dreams had grown even more vivid, even more arousing. He took to sleeping away from the hide-out, lest one of the Lost Boys notice something amiss. Building himself a casual sort of nest high in a tree, Peter slept where he thought himself unobserved, and dreamed his dreams of Wendy.
In his dreams now his hands rose to touch the soft curves of Wendy's chest, sliding down to span her narrow waist, then down further to caress the curve of her hip. All this Peter had felt while holding her in his arms, and so his dreaming imagination supplied additional details.
He dreamt that he hovered over Wendy in her bed, just as he had often dreamed, but he now dreamt of unbuttoning the tiny buttons that held her gown closed in the front, unbuttoning them while she slept, so that shd nod not know of his guilty interest.
As his dream Wendy slept peacefully, her lashes thickly closed and resting upon her soft cheek, Peter unbuttoned her nightdress all the way to the bottom, and then reverently pulled the cloth aside to bare her body to his curious eyes.
Unfortunately, Peter had little idea what lay beneath Wendy's nightdressceptcept what he had felt when he held her, and so her body in his dreams was always hidden in shadowy curves. But with her nightdress open, he felt her soft skin against his as he moved nearer to hold her body close.
In his dream, Wendy always woke as his body touched hers, and she smiled a sleepy smile, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him down upon her naked body. Somehow, in the dream, Peter was always naked as well, though whether this occurred suddenlywhetwhether he had been naked from the start of the dream was never quite clear. But what was clear was that when Wendy pulled him down to her, their bare bodies pressed hot and smooth together as she moved sinuously against him, her bare legs tangling with his own.
Peter found that he dreamed of Wendy every night, and that he woke nearly always from a gasping, thrashing, throbbing lightning strike, with her name still on his lips and with the increasingly familiar milky substance upon his belly. His eyes were wide as he gazed at the stars through the branches of his tree, his heart pounding as if he had run a very far distance, a slight sweat cooling upon his skin.
Peter in the depths of night found himself often afraid, not knowing what he should do.

* * *

The situation, of course, could not last, for Peter had only so much restraint, and brooding wary pry poorly suited to his personality.
And so Peter left Neverland to fly once more toward Wendy's window, his skin gleaming in the moonlight from the vigorous bathing he had given it. Suddenly self-conscious, fearing whether Wendy would find his body pleasing as he found hers, conscious of how much of his skin was visible, Peter had washed beneath the waterfall with a determination he usually reserved for fighting pirates.
He did not, however, intend to confront Wendy. He wanted only to find whether her window was latched, for he had pondered this question many times since he had flown from the window so hastily after their kiss. He feared greatly that she would have once again latched the window, in hopes of barring his entrance. And so his heart pounded with hope and uncertainty as he at last approached the Darlings' home.
Peeking in at the nursery window again, Peter saw the many boys in their many beds, snoring their many contented snores, tired from a day of school and games.
Stopping again at Wendy's parents' window, Peter refused to admit that he was delaying. Instead, he insisted to himself that he was merely verifying that all was well. And, indeed, Wendy's parents slept soundly in their bed, their two different snores weaving together as if to form a long-practiced music.
At last, Peter cautiously approached Wendy's window, making every effort to remain concealed from any possible view from within. He need not have bothered, however, for the window was once again open, and Wendy lay where sleep had found her, her head resting upon her arm on the windowsill.
Hovering quite near to her, Peter peered at her face as she slept. Her hair spread out upon the windowsill, and Peter reached out a finger to stroke it ever so lightly.
Why was she at the window? Had she been waiting for him? This seemed by far the best explanation, which left Peter feeling quite arrogant indeed. It was a feeling that suited him far better than uncertainty or fear would ever do. His old familiar cocky grin spread across his face and he tilted his body upward, floating horizontally so that he might more easily put his head into the window and press a soft kiss to Wendy's cheek as she slept.
The light touch, of course, woke her, and she raised her head sleepily as Peter hovered, his leaf-clad body vertical once more, outside her window. He grinned at her, and he looked so like his younger self that Wendy was sure she must still be dreaming. As she had done so many times in her dreams, Wendy reached out to hold Peter's head between her two hands, her fingers sinking into his tousled hair, and she pulled him toward her, pressing her lips to his in a gently passionate kiss.
Peter's eyes flew open wide and round at this turn of events, for -- though he had been pleased that Wendy's window was not only unlatched but open, and not only open but supporting a sleeping Wendy who had surely been waiting for him -- he had never expected that she would simply grab and kiss him without even speaking a word.
He quickly recovered from his surprise, however, and eagerly twined his own fingers into Wendy's silken hair, slanting his head to the side so that their mouths met more fully as his tongue once more ventured in hopes of tasting hers. Wendy moaned softly into his mouth, careg hig his lips with her own tongue and attempting to pull him even closer, but his body was blocked by the windowsill.
As the kiss continued and their tongues tentatively explored each other, Wendy gradually became drowsily aware that she was not, in fact, dreaming, but was kissing a real, true, enthusiastic Peter Pan at her window. She pulled away suddenly, her lips still moist and parted, her fingers still tangled in his hair. She looked at him with dark eyes, her pupils dilated with passion just as Peter's were, and absently licked her lips.
His eyes on her mouth, Peter growled softly at the provoking sight, and twined his fingers more tightly in Wendy's hair, boldly pulling her once again toward him. Wendy smiled slightly, pleasure in her eyes, and went willingly to him, leaning eagerly out her window, their mouths meeting witheatheated fervor.
When, after a time, their kiss gradually waned, changing to a series of gentle kisses, as if they could not bear to part entirely, Peter thought to himself that he was very lucky to be hovering outside the window, instead of pressed to Wendy's soft body, for between his legs he had grown quite hard indeed. In fact, he felt quite as if the slightest touch at this moment might send his body shattering with the lightning strike, and so he pulled reluctantly away from Wendy and the window, hovering near enough to hide his problem, but far enough to pre tou touching. His hands placed arrogantly upon his hips, Peter made his best attempt at pretending that his blood did not still race in his veins, and that his chest did not move with his rapid breaths.
Wendy blushed, the color making her look only more beautiful, and said quietly, "I did not mean to do that. I was sure I was dreaming."
Unconsciously, Peter hovered closer to the windowsill, his face lit wiondeonder. "You dream of me?" he asked softly, his voice filled with unexpected hope.
Wendy nodded, her face suffused with an even deeper blush, which seemed to extend into the neck of her nightdress as well. Her eyes were downcast, and Peter wanted to see them again.
"I dream of you, too," Peter confided in a hushed voice, his hands now touching the windowsill.
The admission brought Wendy's eyes up to meet his again, and she looked quite as surprised and pleased as Peter did. "You do?" she whispered.
Peter nodded. "All the time."
Wendy smiled shyly. "Me too."
Peter returned her sweet, glad smile with one of his own.
"What do you dream?" he asked softly, his hopeful eyes watching her face.
But Wendy did not answer, instead pulling away slightly and looking down at her hands, her blush rising again. "What do you dream?" she asked him by way of reply.
"Oh!" Peter gasped, his hand rising to his mouth as he realized what he had done. "Um. I dream ... about..." What could he possibly say? Should he lie? His heart was pounding now not with passion but with nerves.
"Yes, Peter?" Wendy's eyes were large as she watched him expectantly. She looked so beautiful framed in the window like that, the moonlight shining on her skin.
"I dream about kissing you," he whispered hesitantly. "And ... other things." This time it was he who looked away.
"What other things?"
Peter kept his gaze averted, not wanting to see if she became disgusted or angry. "Holding you," he admitted quietly. "And ... touching you." Then, his head coming up stubbornly, Peter asked, "What do you dream?"
Wendy looked down again, which was beginning to irritate Peter slightly. She bit her lip in hesitation, making Peter want to lick her lip where she had bitten it, wanting to test the feel of her teeth and lips and tongue upon his mouth and skin. Peter Pan had always been, after all, quite easily distracted.
"The same," Wendy breathed.
"The same?" asked Peter, confused. "The same as what?"
"The same as you," Wendy explained, looking up into his eyes.
"The same as me?" Peter's eyes were very round, and his heart thumped as if it might burst through his chest at any moment. "You dream ... the same as me?"
Wendy blushed again and nodded. "I doubt it is exactly the same, of course."
Peter nodded numbly, barely hearing what she had said. Wendy dreamt of him as he dreamt of her? Peter flew away from the window far enough to turn several exuberant somersaults and swooping circles in mid-air, laughing joyfully as he did so.
Wendy grinned at his antics, even as she nervously shushed him lest he wake her family.
"Come with me!" Peter flew to hover before her again, his smile wide and engaging.
"Come where?" askeddy, dy, surprised by this sudden demand.
But Peter only smiled, extending his hand to her. "Let's fly!" His grin grew even more charming, tempting her most awfully.
"I have forgotten how," Wendy hesitated.
"I'll hold you," Peter replied promptly. "I'll keep you safe. Come with me, Wendy. Fly with me!"
And Wendy found that, though she triede coe could not deny him. With a smile that echoed his own, she took his proffered hand and allowed herself to be pulled into his arms, against his warm body.
And with their arms thusly around each other, their smiling faces close together, away they flew over the slate gray roofs of London.

________________________________________

Author's End Note: 3 chapters down ... 8 more to go!
- 2
- 3
- 4
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

Awakenings