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In the swirl of passion	By : Lywhn Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 35043 -:- 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
- 33
- 34
- 35
Chapter 34 – The Hidden Kiss

Never before in her whole life had Wendy experienced such anguish -- utter despair, icy fear and fierce fury, and a horrible pain that seemed to eat her alive. Neverland had vanished beneath her, and all she could see were the dark waves of the sea and the golden stars above her. Not far now, she recognized the golden red stardust, the portal to Neverland. To her world.
And they were flying straight for it.
Again the girl fought her well-wishing captors, but John and Nibs held her too tightly. “Please,” she begged, weakened by despair. “Please, don’t steal me away from him.”
John didn’t answer. He was concentrating on holding onto his sister and not losing the rest of the group, which had advanced some distance away. And refusing to look her in the face. He knew she was desperate, but he had convinced himself that it was the only thing he could do.
Nibs was silent as well. He was sickened by his own actions. The seed of guilt had grown to an almost unbearable level. He had never seen dear Wendy in such turmoil.
Wendy felt the telltale tingling of the approaching portal, and it woke in her the will to fight once again. If she were dragged through this portal, then everything was over. She would never know James’ arms again, would never feel his lips on hers. Never again would she be able to listen to his dark voice, to look in his forget-me-not-blue eyes. Never again would she experience the ecstasy of their lovemaking, and the glow of their aftermath, the freedom of the sea. If she were forced over this glistening golden threshold, she would never know peace and happiness again, never know the wholeness one can have only with your soul-mate. She would be lost, a rose in winter.
It had started already, she felt cold, sentenced to die. With all her might, she again struggled as she threw herself backward with a cry. She fought and kicked frantically, while she screamed hysterically for help, mingled with pleas to let her go.
“Wendy, stop this!” John shouted and got a hard kick from his sister in the leg. She was growing heavy now, the sadness, the fright – she’d lost her happy thoughts, and it was bringing her down. “Stop this! If I let go, you’ll fall to your death!”
“Then let me fall, John! It would be better for me to die than to be separated from him!” she replied forcefully, and John felt shock as he looked at her as though for the first time.
Wendy was deadly pale and her whole body was trembling. But what struck him the most were her eyes. There was such entreating fear and despair that he felt his mouth going dry. “Wendy, try and calm down!” he tried to soothe her, at last uncertainty beginning to gnaw him about his intention. He had known that she would be sad, irritated, but he had never thought that she would be lost and desperate. Big tears ran down her cheeks, while her gaze was unsteady and glassy. “Calm down,” he tried again to reach her. “Don’t you want to see Mother and Father again, and—“
“You don’t understand!” she shouted, and fought in the air, while a chain of iron seemed to squeeze her heart. “I love him! You’ll kill me by forcing me away from him!”
John’s face took on that insufferable expression. “Heavens, you’re not going to die--"
Wendy didn’t listen any longer. There was no time left for it. Seeing no other way, she attacked him, half blind with tears and rage. She heard Nibs calling out to her, but she didn’t hear his words. “I haven’t fought Blackbeard, risked my life and given my body and soul to James, only to be betrayed and stolen away by my own brother!”
John defended himself as best he could, but it was difficult to avoid her blows and kicks and to hold onto her at the same time. “It’s for your own good and--" he started and then tears shot to his eyes as her fist landed on his nose. “Ouch!” he screamed. “Stop this nonsense, Wendy! After all, I am wearing spectacles!”
“Don’t give me that blather, you bloody liar!” she sobbed furiously. “LET ME GO!” Her right foot hit his left knee, while her elbow met Nib’s shoulder, as he tried to steady her from below to prevent her certain descent, if John lost his grip.
Wendy didn’t even realize the danger she was in now. The only thing on her mind was the loss of the man she had begun to love the first moment she heard of him. And then she remembered the weapon James had given her before they parted. Of course, she would never shoot her own brother, but maybe it was enough to threaten him. Her fingers gripped the wooden handle of the pistol, as she suddenly felt two strong arms around her, which prevented her drawing it. She tried to kick backwards, then heard the familiar boyish voice at her ear: “Wendy, it’s me, Peter!”
She tensed a moment. One word from him about returning to London, and she would attack him as well. He must have known about this cruel trick. He must have known what John and Nibs had planned. He must have known—
“Wendy, calm down. You’re hurting yourself!” His voice was strangely soft and caring.
“The only one, who tried to hurt me behind any chance for health is MY OWN BROTHER!” she cried and looked wrathfully at John, which was near hate.
“John! What have you done?” Slightly appeared beside them, out of breath and obviously irritated. “Can’t you let her alone? Why can’t you accept that she loves Hook?”
Peter listened with only half an ear, as he held his friend tightly. Shocked, he couldn’t remember ever seeing someone so desperate, so out of control as Wendy. He could feel her trembling all over, heard her labored breathing while a bitter tear fell on his arm. It nearly burned him. Was all this part of the mysterious world of grown-ups? Instinctively he knew this was true. He thanked his Maker that he’d chosen the way of eternal childhood, because he couldn’t imagine dealing with so many intense feelings. He had tasted them only days ago, when he learned about the change in and around Wendy – and he never wanted to feel that way again. He swallowed and looked at John, whose nose had started to bleed. If Wendy was ready to hurt the brother she adored, then her feelings for the captain must be worse than what he’d felt.
Feelings! Again he was confronted with something he knew so little about, and had to make a decision, because what became of Wendy was up to him now. Yes, once he had wished she would stay at his side and to share his adventures and his fun. But she hadn’t. Instead, she had returned to London to grow up. And now, no longer a child, she wanted to stay in Neverland. Not at his side, that was impossible now, but at the side of his deadly enemy.
His former deadly enemy.
Wendy wasn’t the only one who had changed. Peter wasn’t blind. He’d seen how much the one-handed captain had changed, had discarded many of his old habits – most of all, how he was no longer consumed by hate. This last proof was given by the way Hook had taken care of him – Peter – leveled by a hangover, and Hook gave him is own place to sleep.
What they were doing was wrong.
Taking a deep breath, Peter looked around at the boys surrounding him, Slightly, Nibs, John and Wendy, all bewildered and questioning. He felt a tug at his hair, as Tink tried to get his attention. He glanced up at his tiny friend, amazed to see tears on her face, watching Wendy. Tink had always been jealous of Wendy, but the only thing Peter could see in her expression was concern. Was Tink even on the side of this … couple? She spoke to him in her fairy-language and the eternal boy frowned.
Wendy saw none of this -- only a brother she dearly loved betraying her, trying to destroy her whole life – everything she adored – as well as James’ life, who would suffer even worse than she. This hurt more than a bullet. She’d TRUSTED John, had felt happy at the thought that he could accept her love for James, and now she was crushed to learn that all of that had been a wicked deception. She’d been so blind! She paid no attention to the fairy-queen’s words, didn’t see Neverland’s warning in the two dreams. And now it was almost too late! Too late to scream, to beg or to fight! They all drifted still in the direction of the golden stardust, already playing around her feet, and it was only moments until they all vanished into the portal between Neverland and the ‘real world’.
In a last desperate attempt, she twisted around in the embrace of her childhood friend to pour out her heart into his blue eyes. “Please!” she whispered, spirit and soul draining away. “Please help me! Don’t let him take me away from the man I love. Please, Peter, please save us!”

It was gloomy in the captain’s quarters. A couple of lit candle stubs hopelessly prodded the shadows. White fog formed from his breath in the cold of the great room, chilled by the icy weather outside, the oven unlit. All of the usual noises of the ship had died away, as if the ship had fallen into a state of shock along with its commander. Even the parrots, which had been taken to the common room to leave the captain in peace, were both quiet.
Hook sat at his desk, and his glazed eyes resting on nothing. He felt nothing – not the bone-chilling temperature, not the tension in his shoulders knotted under his coat, and not the splinters in his hand from clinging to the rail as the clouds covered the last glimpse of the girl.
His girl-- Wendy!
He tried to think of anything else but her – and the only thing that came to his mind was Wendy. In front of him, on his desk, lay the sack with the flowers she had intended to use for their special evening. He had opened it only minutes before and the sweet, fresh scent, and their fragile beauty had instantly brought her bright smiling face before him. A thorn of one of the wild roses was still embedded in his index-finger – a pain he didn’t mind. It simply meant he was still alive, even if he felt dead.
A creaking in the riggings penetrated the haze, and he looked down on his lap. Soft white cotton was visible in the dim light, and without thinking, he stroked it. The wound from the thorn left a red trace on the material.
He never told Wendy that he had kept her ripped nightgown. It reminded him of their very first meeting, years ago, and of her return, and the magic they had shared the moment she stepped over the threshold to become a woman. This selfsame nightgown was his proof that he hadn’t imagined it, but that he had had -- for a few short weeks -- someone at his side who had loved him. The sight of it blurred as new tears sprang to his eyes. He thought he had cried all tears possible and that there were none left, but he was mistaken. His soul, which had begun to heal under the soft and loving ministration of Wendy, was deeply wounded, and, like any deep injury, it bled over and over again, this time in the form of tears now coursing down his face.
His eyes felt hot and gritty. His throat was dry, and hurt from sobbing – the sobs he’d cried out and the ones he’d swallowed. He didn’t care that the crew had seen him in his anguished state. He didn’t know when Smee had taken him to his quarters, but suddenly he found himself back in his cabin, and had found the ripped nightgown.
He buried his face in the gown and breathed the scent that still lingered in the soft folds. Taking a shuddering breath, he imagined for a wonderful moment it was she, but then cruel reality crushed him again. Wendy was gone – torn away from him by her own brother, exactly as he had dreamed the night before! Why hadn’t he listened to his dream? Why had he been so damned certain that nothing like this could happen – that the history wouldn’t repeat itself? If he hadn’t been so arrogant, so blind, she would be still here with him! Good God, she had begged him to taker her back to the ship! And that terrible premonition as he looked back at her one last time before returning -- Why hadn’t he obeyed his instincts? They had never misled him, but no! He had thought her safe with her friends and brothers.
Her brother. The boy, he knew, had loathed him from the very beginning. But John was only a child, and James never thought that this small boy would become a big problem for him. But it had turned out that he, John Darling, had been – and now WAS – a mighty threat to him. What had the dead Count said in his dream? That he would win again. Yes! The Count had won again – and had left him in a mind-breaking agony and a slow, cold, approaching death of everything that was him.
He could feel the warmth of his heart, of his body, leaching out, and a deadly frost creeping into his soul, coupled with terrifying emptiness and fatigue. He was just too exhausted by grief and loss to explode in rage. Was this really him, James Hook? Before, he would have dispersed this emotional pressure by an enraged outburst, tearing apart anyone who dared to come within arm’s reach – or pistol range. But -- not this time. Yes, he could feel his temper, deep under all this pain, but still he stayed atypically calm. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his head from the gown and looked into the dim light. And suddenly he felt, for the briefest moment, the urge to smash everything he could get his hand and hook on.
But he found himself incapable; because everything in his cabin reminded him of HER. His gaze fell to the desk – and he saw her ghostly self there, writing to her family. He glanced at the ottoman – saw her sitting there, altering the dresses he’d given her to her own size. His eyes found the Spanish wall – and he heard her yelping as he had pulled her back into the tub after she had pushed him under water. The dining table – and he remembered the evening he had brought her to his ship the first time, after she had become his in the Black Castle. Like a kitten she sat in his lap and drank from his goblet, exhausted from their intense lovemaking, while she looked at him wide-eyed as he told her of her gift of a full day at sea. And then his look found the bed – their bed, where they had fulfilled their desires, all of them, and the longing to be in each others’ arms for simple closeness and comfort. There he had told her about his past and there she had comforted him after Pan’s ‘prank’ and had shown him that he wasn’t the cold monster he thought himself to be. There he had felt his own humanity for the first time since he’d come to this place.
Sitting at the desk, gripping the torn gown, Hook fought for breath. Feeling unable to sit any longer, he rose and stepped uncertainly toward the dining table. The half bottle of rum seemed to wink at him, falsely promising to ease the pain in his throat – at least a little. His grip around the silken material of her nightgown grew weaker, until it slid out of his hand. Moistening his lips he glanced down at the gown, and another memory stabbed him. It was on this carpet that she had lain and begged him not to rape her. Exactly on this carpet, she had looked full of shyness and wonder at him, as he had kissed her, until she had started to relax, before she started to fight him again – but only half-heartedly. On this carpet he had first felt the warmth and compassion as the young girl – barely a woman – had clung to him with relief, as he had told her that he would never force himself upon her. Here everything had started!
Without realizing it, he went in his knees, and his fingers stroked the thick wool. Though impossible, he thought he could still feel the warmth of her body on it. He closed his eyes and listened to her soft voice in his mind – her laughter, giggles, her teasing and clever bantering, her embarrassed comments when she had found herself doing wanton things, her words warm with care and understanding and her sweet confessions of love.
He thought he could feel her hand on his face and her lips on his cheek, kissing away his tears and sorrows. He heard her angelic voice, telling him that she loved him and that she would never, ever leave him. He thought her silken hair covered his sight and her slender body seemed to envelope him. For one long beautiful moment he thought he could feel her arms around him, while she tried to calm and comfort him like only she was able to do.
Taking a deep breath he opened his eyes and lifted his head – ready rise, struggling to remember that he was the commander of a PIRATE-ship –
And saw her before him.
She stood on the sill of the open window, her face pale and tear-stricken, her huge eyes full of compassion and pain, her hair fluttering in the icy wind. The image was so clear he thought he would lose his mind. Silently he cried out to any deity that would listen to stop these torments, to show him at last a bit of mercy, to make this hallucination go away, but the deities did not seem to listen. He closed his eyes again, as this hallucination was unbearable to him. “Please, go away!” he whispered. “Please, whoever can hear me, stop this torment!”
The answer came, but in a way his fogged mind didn’t catch first. “James!”
He lowered his face and squeezed his eyes shut. “I know I’ve lived badly, and that I don’t deserve her, but PLEASE STOP THIS TORTURE!”
A low noise from the window again took his attention, and through his blurred sight, he saw Wendy’s image climbing down from the sill, her whole body trembling. “James, I am here!”
He blinked several times, but her picture remained. There she stood: his Wendy, in all her shining beauty and revealed love … Could it be? Was this no hallucination, but reality? Was she REALLY here?

Wendy looked upon the fallen man in the middle of the opulent cabin – her man. His face was ashen and wet with too many tears. His normally proud and elegant bearing was shrunken and crushed, as if someone – or something – had completely beaten him into resignation and submission. Nothing of the mighty, dangerous pirate-captain appeared to remain. And as he lifted his head and she saw his eyes, her breath caught in her throat. Those beautiful forget-me-not-blue eyes, which had always shimmered with so much passion, fire and ardor, were only two blank glassy orbs, no sign of life in them.
The girl felt her heart breaking. This man she had come to know and to love beyond anything else in the world -- was dying. With an anguished cry she stumbled from the sill into the cabin and ran toward him, threw herself beside him and wrapped her arms around him. Forgotten was the iciness of the piercing wind outside. Forgotten was her wrath against her brother and her gratitude to Peter, who had chosen to take her back to the Jolly Roger, before he returned to his friends to lead them to London – showing a compassion and thoughtfulness she never thought he possessed. Forgotten were the words she had wanted to say to James upon her return. She only wanted to comfort him now, and to show him that he would never be alone again – that she was truly and eternally his, until the end of time.
She buried her face in his messy curls, rocking him like a child – like she had done before, when the nightmares gripped him, while she whispered words of love in his ear.
James felt himself tense, as she almost knocked him over, and then as she embraced him as if there were no tomorrow. It couldn’t be! She couldn’t be really here! She had been tricked and forced away from him, back to the world from where she had come and where he could never reach her. They were separated, parted for ever –
But still, he could feel her arms around him and her words at his ear, while her warm breath danced over his skin. And then – finally – he began to realize that this was no cruel imagination, sent from some crueler higher being to make him pay for his sins. She really was here, with him. She wasn’t a vision of his desperate yearnings, but true lover, in flesh and blood. “Wendy?” he whispered, with the timorous voice of boy.
The girl stifled a sob and kissed his cheek. “Yes, my love, I am here!” Slowly, as if weighed down, he lifted his head and their gazes found each other. Frightened by his lack of response, Wendy looked into his eyes, searched fearfully for any signs of life in them – and then – there! deep under the agonizing hopelessness – she saw the dim spark of the fiery spirit she loved so much. Cupping his face in her hands she kissed him, over and over again, soothing him with her declarations, that she was indeed there, and that they were safe now; that there would never again be someone who would try to tear them apart and that they would start their new life together now.
Slowly, the words sank into his paralyzed consciousness. He could taste her, feel her, smell her. She was here, with him, at his side! Somehow, she had managed to escape and had found her way back to him, before she had crossed Neverland’s threshold. He could feel life returning to his soul – slowly at first, like spring coming once again to Neverland, but it returned. The man deep inside him, who had taken the deadly wound, regained strength enough to fight the emptiness away, even if he was more exhausted than ever before in his whole life. “You’re here,” he whispered hoarsely, his burning eyes taking in her beloved, sweet face. “How?” He gulped for air, as though the blow of her loss had driven his breath from him. “I saw you dragged away. I saw you fighting, but-- the clouds were there and than the snow -- Pan isn’t here. You were with them, and--" His voice died away.
Wendy smiled under tears. “Peter! He brought me back. John and Nibs -- they tricked me and tried to force me away. I fought until I thought I would fall from the sky. But Peter stopped them and-- And he brought me back!” She pressed her face to his throat. “I thought I would die. Every inch farther away from you, I felt life leaving me.” She sighed, as she felt his arms encircling her – hesitantly first, but then with growing strength. “I will never ever go away from you again,” she whispered and repressed a sob. “I love you so much, it hurts!”
He pressed her closer to him and held her tightly against him. He felt so much relief it was dizzying, but he didn’t let go, but held her. They sat like this for a long time -- minutes, or an eternity. They didn’t know and didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was being in each others’ arms, and that they were now together for ever. So they didn’t hear the door open and the quiet gasp from the entrance.
Smee stared at his commander, who sat in the middle of his cabin on the floor holding the slender girl in his arms, who clung to him like a life-line. He could hear the soft whispers – words which weren’t meant for his ears. Looking down at the bottle of whisky he had intended to share with his captain to help him through his misery, a grin started on his face, and suddenly he looked like a much younger man. He closed the door behind him. Instantly, the cold wind tore at his clothes, and grimacing, he looked down on the snowy deck, but he really didn’t mind at the moment. He felt only happiness for his captain, and thanked God for the mercy He had shown this man.
Opening the bottle he took a good gulp of the golden drink and headed toward the companionway to bring his comrades the good news of the return of their little Missy. It was only a short time before the whole ship seemed to wake up from its deadly sleep, as the crew started to cheer Smee’s message. Without asking their captain for permission, they opened a barrel of rum and gave a toast ‘fer t’e miss’, ‘fer t’e cap’n’, ‘fer t’e two love birdies’ and then ‘fer t’e ship’, ‘fer t’e ocean’, ‘fer t’e wind’ and finally ‘to be a pirate’, ‘to be free’ and ‘fer all t’e nice lasses in all t’e harbors of t’e world’.

It really wasn’t a miracle that Smee, Cecco and Cookson were singing in the most disharmonic tones, as they prepared a lot of warm water to ‘get t’e bot’ up t’ere warm’. Sighing, Wendy watched a very drunk Cecco and a foolishly grinning Smee as they filled the bathtub. Even after James had started a fire in the oven, it was still chilly in the cabin, and he had insisted that she warm up in bed until the bath was ready. And now he lay beside her and held her in a tight embrace, almost as if he was afraid to let go for even a second.
And she loved the feeling of being cuddled against him. She looked up into his pale face and his still swollen eyes, even as they glanced with a frown at the men, who tittered with the oddest giggles and comments in the most slurry and unintelligent form. Swallowing her own giggles, she snuggled closer into the arms of her beloved, and for a moment closed her eyes, tired but at peace.
After they had clung to each other for minutes on end, and found peace in each others’ arms, they had sat together on the carpet and Wendy had told him about John’s deception. Her brother had argued with Peter, as the eternal boy could see what he had to do. Michael had tried to comfort her, obviously shocked about his sister’s reaction. Of course, Slightly had been on her side as well, and all the other boys had finally argued for letting her return. Even Nibs switched sides and apologized for helping John in the whole matter. But he really had thought he was doing the right thing. Wendy, whose nerves had frayed apart, had only nodded at him, unable to say anything intelligent.
Peter had finally declared he would take her back to the Jolly Roger. Oh yes, she saw the sadness in his eyes as they had neared the ship, and she knew the reason why, but she hadn’t the strength to soothe him, and he, on the other hand, was too young to understand these intense emotions, so he simply remained silent. Before they parted, he looked at her – both knowing that this time it was a final good-bye. Somehow, he had come to accept of her being a grown-up now, and that she had chosen to be with his enemy. But still, there was something between them they had to talk about.
“You said once: ‘This belongs to you, Peter, and always will’!”
Wendy reached out and cupped his cheek her hand. “And that will never change!”
“But-- you thimbled Hook. I saw it. Now this thimble belongs to him as well.”
He had looked so forlorn in this moment, she simply had taken him into her arms, stroking his sandy-gold locks and, to her surprise, he didn’t shrug her off. “No, Peter. This special thimble, my first hidden kiss, has and will always be belong to you. You only can give the first kiss one time – and I gave it you. The thimbles I give James are different, and you can’t compare them to the one special kiss you received. As a child, I didn’t have them, but now as woman, they came to me and I give them to him as a woman.”
He glanced up at her, his eyes questioning and uncertain. “But – it is still there.” He had dared to brush his dirty fingertips over the right corner of her mouth. “I can see it.”
“Yes, you will always see this special thimble there, which is only for you. James will see another one.”
Curious, he had cocked his head. “How so?”
She had smiled and had bent forward, placing a gentle kiss on the perplexed boy’s lips. He had blushed from his toenails to his hair roots and the mischievous sparks had returned to his eyes. “See?” she had asked mysteriously. “It is still there.”
Peter grinned broadly and set her down on the window sill, bowing deeply after doing so. “Good bye, Wendy-lady. And don’t worry about the other boys. I will take them safely back to London.” Then, after a long glance, he had taken up again into the dark skies and clouds, and seconds later he had been out of sight. Only his crow had echoed through the icy air.

“Ready for a warm bath, my sweet?” James’ dark voice broke into her thoughts, and she looked up at him with an ardor that caught his breath.
“Thank you,” she whispered and kissed his cheek, only just realizing that the two crewmen had completed their work and left the cabin. They got up, and Wendy started to unbutton her dress, but his hand cupped hers and she met his gentle gaze. He was yearning for her nearness, both in body and soul. And so she let him peel the silk from her skin – an action that was so familiar for both of them, yet thrilling and wondrous over and over again. At a slight flinch, Wendy looked down she saw the small spot of blood on the part of the dress he’d just handled. “What happened to your hand?” she asked, and ignored his typical manly protest – that “nothing’s wrong” and “just a scratch, nothing to bother about” – she lifted his fingers to her eyes, her intake of breath hissing when she saw the angry marks of the remaining splinters and the thorn in his hand. Making a noise full of pity in her throat she rushed to her sewing kit and took out a needle, ready to pull out the nasty little ‘demons’ in his fingers.
“That is not necessary!” His voice sounded oddly rash and almost – fearful? She looked up and saw his eyes fixed on the needle, wide as saucers – a look that she remembered very well on a certain boy sitting on the floor in a nursery in London, when she had offered him to sew his shadow back on him. Heavens, boy and man were so similar!
“Oh, it can’t be true!” she said with amusement in her voice. “Please don’t tell me that you’re afraid of a NEEDLE!”
He glared at her and frowned. “OF COURSE I am not afraid of a needle. But you need to get warm as soon as possible and--"
She stepped nearer. “And you will catch a cold if you don’t get into the warm bath now.” Still she approached him. “And, by the way, it really isn’t that bad. Only little splinters of wood. Hey, the whole ship is made of it.” She reached him and he took a step backwards.
“And after all I am--"
“And after all, you are the great, mighty, dangerous and wicked captain of said ship, so keep still and stop acting like a boy!” The tone of her voice gave her hidden smile away. Not waiting for any response she took his hand in her left and brought it closer to have a better look. “Keep still!” He swallowed and looked at the needle as it if would be a snake, ready to strike. Wendy giggled and shook her head. “I don’t believe it!” she murmured and started to carefully remove the first splinter. He tensed, and she could tell that he held his breath. There he was, a powerful and fearsome pirate-captain, who would dare the devil to a duel, and he was afraid of a needle! Men could really be odd – and she loved him even more for it. “How did you get your hand full of splinters?” she asked as she worked to remove the second ugly wooden intruder.
“When I saw you up there -- leaving me-- I climbed the rail and-- I don’t know how, but suddenly--" he shrugged and grimaced as his movement forced the needle deeper into his flesh.
“I said keep still!” Wendy insisted and raised her eyes. She knew instantly what had happened to him – that he had clung to the wooden rail so tightly that the wood had broken and the splinters driven into his skin. She stopped after she removed the third ‘intruder’ and cupped his cheek with her hand, the needle pointed safely away from his face. “My poor James!” she whispered and kissed him lovingly. “I only can imagine the hell you’ve gone through the last hour.”
He avoided her gaze, clearly embarrassed. “You’re here,” he murmured and finally met her eyes again. “That’s all that matters.” Looking at each other for a long moment, Wendy returned to her work of freeing him from the painful foes.
When finished, she laid the needle on the dining table and beckoned him to come to her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she took the bottle of rum, “but it prevents worse from happening.” James knew what she meant and remained silent and calm as she poured the gold-brown liquor over his fingers.
Yes, it burned, but it was nothing compared to the icy fire that had almost killed him when he thought her gone – nothing compared with the inferno that raged in his soul and mind, ready to break his body with the ache to feel her again. But, to his amazement, he felt in the same time such all-consuming tenderness that it even soothed the flames of his desire. He was so happy to have her back, to have her near and to know that she was finally and utterly his. They had passed all the tests and threats of their relationship, and they would be together from now on. This knowledge was enough to chase the weariness away, and to waken the desire to be close to her as possible. And one look at her face deepened this longing even more.
He loved the way her full pouting lips curled up into a warm smile, while her big grey-blue eyes sparkled with warmth and joy. He loved the way her hair fell down her shoulders and framed her delicate features like a curtain. He loved the way her breasts rose when her breath quickened and he loved her gentle hands when they touched his face like they did now – A soft, loving stroke of his cheeks and cupping of his chin, while her thumbs danced over his lips. She was an angel, sent to him to find salvation and love, beautiful and strong, wild and soft, innocent and passionate in one. She had saved him, not only during the incident with Blackbeard, but now his very soul. She had remained at his side when everything seemed lost. She had shown him a better way, led him away from hate and vengeance, straight to the miracle of giving and receiving love. She had been his only light in the darkness that had surrounded him so long.
She had changed him from a cold, unfeeling caricature, who regarded himself as a monster, back into a human being. Heavens, she even had managed to win the whole crew – those murderous, merciless and uncaring dogs, and changed them into men again. Right, they were still wild, uncivil, but they were men again, not lost souls on a lost ship. She had done so much simply by being herself – Wendy Darling, whose family-name described the determination of her life. You can only love her, never hate her, because she simply was a ‘darling’.
Taking her in his arms he pulled her closer, and she willingly snuggled against him. Their bodies fit so well together, as if they had been made for each other – maybe this was the simple truth. His warm arms were a sharp contrast to the chilly air in the cabin and she shivered for a moment. Of course this didn’t slip his attention. “Into the warm water with you, my beauty!” he murmured at her ear. “Or shall I put you into it along with your dress?”
She giggled. “You would, too!”
A low chuckle escaped him while he undressed her, relishing every moment as he exposed her slender, creamy white body. Her hands were busy doing exactly the same to him, and moments later they both sank into the bathtub, sighing happily as the warm, soapy waves closed around them.
“Heavenly!” Wendy moaned and smiled, as his arms encircled her, while she lay her back against his chest. His hand took the washcloth and stroked gently over her stomach and breasts, up her shoulders and arms and back again. Wendy closed her eyes and enjoyed the care he showed her. He washed her wholly, even her hair, even if it was difficult using one hand. But she knew that he not only loved to do this, but that he needed it. He had so much love to give and now – finally – he found the courage to do it and – even more important – she wanted it, too.
“All done,” his gentle voice whispered and the girl turned around carefully, kissing him tenderly.
“Thank you,” she said softly and took the washcloth. She could feel that the cabin had finally warmed, and so it was almost pleasant to sit there, even wet. “Close your eyes,” she murmured and James obeyed without hesitation.
For a few minutes, she made certain he received the same gentle ministration he had given to her. She took her time washing his face, removing the last tracks of his desperate outburst; then she massaged his chest and shoulders, washed his hand – which still bore the marks of the splinters – and then his right arm, before she finally worked her way down to his legs and feet. She could hear his deep contented sighs, and held onto a giggle.
He lay there like a large relaxed lion, and she couldn’t take her eyes from him, as the water glistened on his chest and she saw the play of his muscles beneath his smooth skin when he shifted. A warmth -- which had nothing to do with the room temperature -- spread through her and biting her lips she stood up.
He opened his eyes to look at her. “Already done with bathing, Wendy?”
“Me, yes. You, no!” He lifted one brow, as she stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around her. “Stay here. I won’t be long.” As if alarmed, he straightened into a sitting position and she recognized the apprehension in his eyes. Bending down she kissed him softly. “I am here, my love, and I’m not going anywhere. I want to prepare something that I promised you.”
His hand cupped her cheek. “Wendy, don’t think me foolish, but--"
She silenced him with another kiss. “Peace, James. I’ll be right over there,” she pointed to the Spanish wall. “And when I call you, please come. You will hear me the entire time!” She turned, vanished into the cabin and started to hum the first melody that came to her. Then she stopped for a moment – why not? – and cleared her throat, her soft voice reaching out to him as she started to sing.
Surprised, (Wendy had never sung before), he lifted a brow, and closed his eyes while he listened closely. He didn’t know the first song, and the second one was strange to him, too, but they were beautiful, not only the melody and lyrics, but because of her clear heartfelt voice as well. He felt himself relaxing, which was no miracle, considering the stress and the release, and now the warm anodyne soapy water that surrounded him. And so he was taken by surprise, as suddenly two soft lips brushed over his, and he realized that he almost had fallen asleep in the tub. Wendy leaned over him and smiled down on him. “Tired, ‘darling’?”
He saw the laughter in her eyes, and remembered he had teased her with the same words. “Hm,” he grumbled.
“Very tired?”
“Mm.”
“Too tired?”
He hid the smirk that pulled at his mouth. “Never!” he answered and lifted his arms to pull her back into the tub, then stopped, staring.
She wore a pale blue silk negligee, only loosely tied, exposing more of her curves than it concealed. Beneath it, she wore only a shimmering camisole in the same color, and a white rose decorated her damp hair. Her full lips glistened, as she’d moistened them with a touch of honey, and her eyes shone a smoky dark blue he had never seen before. “Are you ready to leave this watery element?” she smiled and he swallowed hard as he heard her husky tone.
Instantly his drowsiness was chased away by the fire that ran through his veins, while the yearning to feel all of her flamed up. “For you, always,” he murmured and rose, water running down his tall form. He stepped out and let himself be wrapped in a big towel she held for him.
She dried him and even rubbed down his curls, very aware of his admiring gaze. Her heart and desire leaped. She knew he would like the ensemble, and did not need to look to see how much it affected him. When he was dry, she took his hand in hers and led him back around the curtain.
James was curious – he couldn’t deny it – but at the same time most comfortable with the whole situation, even though she herself took the initiative. And then the promise of that negligee--
His eyes widened as the stepped from behind the Spanish wall, because NEVER before his quarters had looked like this.
Every candlestick and lantern glowed and shimmered in a golden light, the most elegant in the middle of the table, surrounded by red and white flower petals. And the gentle reminders of spring and summer weren’t only at the table. They seemed to be everywhere. A path of petals led from the Spanish wall to the bed, and the rest of them were spread all over the carpets and the furniture, sending their sweet scent throughout the room and mixing with the smell of the warm wax, tobacco, well-cared-for wood, and the sea. The whole cabin demonstrated evidence of the loving, gentle hand of a woman, and more. It was as though the fairies had whirled through the room to decorate as their own domain – or as though friends had prepared it so that a newly-married couple would enjoy the best atmosphere possible for their wedding-night.
James breathed deeply and, for a moment, closed his eyes. When he saw the flowers in the sack, he had guessed what she had in mind for them, but the result was incredible and he felt a wave of deep tenderness washing over him.
She had done it again: she had surprised him AGAIN, and if this was only the beginning of this ‘special night’ she had promised, then he was very eager for what would come next.
“Do you like it?” she asked almost shyly, betraying her youth again.
He embraced her and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “It is beautiful – like you, Wendy. A sweet surprise from my sweet kitten.”
She returned his embrace. “I know that you like flowers and music, and so--"
“You have a remarkable voice,” he murmured. “What were those songs?”
“From operas I’ve seen with my parents in London. They are by Gounod and Verdi.”
“The names are not known to me, but the men must be gifted composers.”
Wendy laughed, “They are very popular.”
“I can see why.” He looked down into her wide eyes, nearly lost in their depth and purity, until she stepped back.
“Lie down, my love. This night is for you.”
He shook his head. “It is for us,” he corrected her, but Wendy laid her index finger on his lips to silence him.
“Later, perhaps, but just now, it is for you. Lie on your stomach.”
With new curiosity, he obeyed, then stifled a groan as his heavy limbs finally relaxed on the soft mattress and pillows. Under hooded eyes, he looked at the nightstand and saw a red rose beside an open bottle with red wine and two glasses. Oh yes, the promise of this night grew better and better, if that was even possible – because the best thing was, she had found a way to come back to him.
No! That boy had shown his affection for his childhood-friend once again, and had brought her back. Peter Pan, of all people, had saved his life – again, and this time in another way. By all the falling stars of heaven, he now knew that he could never hate nor loathe the boy again. Of course, he would never really like him, but the rest of his resentment died away – and it felt good to finally banish that bitterness. It was as though a boil had been lanced, and all infection and poison washed out, and the wound could now heal. Or even, like a back room had been opened, and all the rubbish, dust, and rot swept out, washed clean, the windows opened and a fresh wind sweeping out the musty smells. His heart felt a strange new lightness, as if it were now prepared for something altogether new.
All this took only a moment before he felt Wendy straddling him, and brushing his hair aside, but before he could ask, a warm fluid was poured on his back and her gentle hands started to give him the back massage of his life. She kneaded his muscles and stroked his skin, worked the sweet-smelling oil into his skin, and the tension and knots out of his muscles, until he sighed with pleasure. But she wasn’t done, because she continued onto his arms and finally his legs and rubbed the oil with great care onto the base of his right arm. He could feel the sensitive skin prickling and – if it wouldn’t have sounded so odd – thirsting for more. For the first time, his old wound didn’t itch or bite, and he realized that he could have avoided most of his distress if he had long ago taken care of the seemingly useless limb. But it always disgusted and angered him, and had hated it deeply. Perhaps this had been a mistake. If he had found peace sooner, if he had accepted the loss of his hand and had born the sight of it --
But – again – it had been Wendy who had finally shown him that. James heard himself sighing, as his whole body relaxed as never before. It was Heaven. Yes, he definitely needed a good body massage, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had gotten one. And so he relished it completely. He even lost sight of the flaming lust which had risen only a short time ago. He was fully at peace in these moments, and relaxed even further.
Suddenly it came to him that it was not a well trained man kneading his backful of tense muscles, but a small girl, barely a woman, and that she hadn’t the strength to go on forever. Carefully he turned around and met her gaze. “Thank you, kitten,” he whispered and his left hand tangled in the hair by her neck, and pulled her down to him. Her soft damp strands stroked his bare chest as she leaned down and kissed him, her own fingers buried deep in the wild curls at his temples, her lips moving over his and savoring his familiar taste and the tickling of his moustache.
His warm breath danced over her skin and as his right arm was wrapped around her waist, she lay now upon him. His kiss deepened and his fingers found their way down to her waist, stole themselves between their bodies and worked at the knot of the silken belt.
Wendy had to giggle and felt him grinning at her lips. Breaking the kiss, she straightened herself into a sitting position and smirked down on him, as she saw him pouting. “Come here!” he murmured and tried to pull her down to him again, but she resisted with a teasing smile.
“Patience, great Captain!” She reached over to the nightstand and filled their glasses. She felt him bracing on his right arm, while his hand cupped her waist, his gaze followed her movements. She offered him the glass and the heavy crystal goblets met with a rich sound after he took one of them. “To us!” she smiled and felt a wave of warmth as she saw the tenderness in his eyes.
“To the most beautiful and angelic girl in the whole world.” She blushed, her eyes sparkled from under her lowered eyelashes, while she drank from the sweet, heavy liquor. He emptied his glass completely, and after she took it and set it back on the nightstand, she found herself suddenly on her back beside him. She squeaked, but her mouth was sealed with his, while he used the chance to slip his tongue deep into her mouth, sweet with the rich wine, intoxicating with her own perfume. His fingers brushed slowly over her breast down to her waist, then over her belly and higher, lingered for a moment on her skin between her breasts, before they started to tease one of her hard nipples.
Wendy moaned into his mouth, as the familiar but so thrilling sensation washed over her. God, she would get never enough of him. She needed him like the air to breath. Her hands danced over the skin of his arms and back, the delightful scent of the oil mingling with his own personal aroma. Without realizing, she slipped one long leg over his, and arched against him, seeking his nearness, while their tongues stroked, teased and fought each other with an urgency that was almost frightening.
Wendy didn’t want to think about what would happen if she really had been forced away from Neverland. She couldn’t imagine life without him – and this! He was her life, her very reason to live, and her soul.
As he ended the kiss and pressed butterfly light kisses on her nose and cheeks, her chin and forehead she closed her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered, and then gasped for breath as his fingers kneaded the tender flesh of her breast through the silken material, before they slipped beneath it. To feel his warm hand on her skin woke fire in her, and passion mixed with the tenderness that had consumed her whole. It seemed impossible, but with each kiss, with each gentle fondling and demanding ministration her hunger for him grew. “Help me with these clothes,” she whispered and he happily obeyed.
“Let me,” he demanded gently and started to undo the hooks of the camisole, kissing every exposed spot the silken material freed. He smiled as shivers ran under her skin and she sighed, while her fingers were busy reconnoitering his back, down to his muscular bottom, stoking the fire in his veins into an inferno.
He heard her heartbeat quicken and her scent of roses and of arousal made him dizzy with desire. Alas, what should have become of him if he had lost her? He could never go on without her. He knew this now. It wasn’t only the passion and his fear of being alone again that bound him to her, but the wholeness and peace that filled him whenever he was near her.
He lifted his head and looked down on her, looking with longing and love at him, her big grey-blue eyes darkened in her passion. Yes, she was a grown woman now, but still he could see the girl-child Wendy in her; her heart full of fairy tales and an utter belief in the good of the world and that love was the key to any problem.
He interlaced their fingers in her hair, and brushed his lips over hers. “Do you have an idea how much I love you, my sweet storyteller?”
Wendy smiled up at him. “And? Do all my stories end with a kiss?”
He grinned. “Only with a kiss?”
She chuckled. “Hey, I was a child! How should I know about these indecent“ – she kissed his shoulder – “shocking” – her hands cupped his hips – “animalistic” – she squeezed him softly – “wild” – she arched against his hard length, which elicited a grown from him – “incredible” – she kissed him again – “mind-numbing and savage feelings and urges, my fairytale-pirate-captain with his eyes blue-as-forget-me-nots would be able to awaken in me?”
He chuckled and pushed the silk from her shoulders, pulling the negligee impatiently away from her. “Aye, I know what you mean. And how should I’ve known that this mutinous, brave, proud and irritatingly collected little girl, who defied me and dared to raise a weapon against me, almost killed me with her demoralizing chants and tricked me completely” – he took one of her hands in his and pressed it at his chest – “would wriggle her way into this black heart and set it free?” A gentle smile tugged at his mouth, as her saw her eyes widening. “You do know that you have changed me completely, my dear, don’t you?”
She cocked her head, her other hand still stroking over his backside. “And? Do you regret it?”
He thought for a moment about it. “It has it advantages and disadvantages. Perhaps I should list the pros and contras, and then decide, if the old grim and hateful Hook should return--“
“Which I know how to prevent!” she interrupted with flashing eyes, and grinned, as he gasped after she pressed a kiss on his chest and her tongue darted out to tease his skin.
“- or if I should give in this damn tempting vixen beneath me, who does her best to drive me mad!”
Laughing, Wendy wrapped both arms tightly around him. “I so love the fierce James Hook – when he loses all control in bed!”
Groaning he shook his head. “I have to agree that your aunt has failed in her efforts to turn you into a lady.”
“And consider the benefits! How should a real lady satisfy a big bad pirate?” she teased him.
James started to smirk. “I can see it all now -- you, fainting at the sight of a bare chest and sinking unconscious to the floor at the mere thought of a kiss without a marriage proposal!”
Wendy laughed again. “I hope you haven’t written anything indecent to my parents.”
“Of course not. I’ve only informed them that their daughter is a passionate, insatiable, fiery animal in bed.” Her mouth fell open. “And that her nails are sharp like claws – regarding my back.” Her eyes grew wider. “And that she likes rum and wine, and has enjoyed getting drunk.”
“Oh no, you didn’t write that!” she gasped.
“And did I tell you that I wrote to them about your escapades in the galley, and that you have partied with the crew, and even gambled?” he continued, deeply amused by her red cheeks and the daggers shooting from her eyes. Unable to suppress the laughter any longer, he guffawed and rolled over, holding her tightly to him as she came to lie above him. “No, wildcat,” he smirked. “Of course I didn’t write those terrible but true things!”
Wendy grimaced. “You are certainly capable of it. I know you that well.”
A low chuckle escaped his throat. “After all, I am still a pirate, my love.”
She bent down, love shining in her eyes. “Thank God you are!” she whispered and kissed him with growing hunger. Then her lips wandered over his throat down to his chest, over his shoulders and arms and back again. Her fingers stroked and massaged his skin most gently, and followed her lips where ever they went.
Hook closed his eyes again, and tried to control the raging fire in body and soul. The feeling of her hair and fingers on him was so good, but the soft fondling of her lips and tongue was pure heaven, while her warm breath tickled him, and he held himself in check, knowing that the longer he waited, the better their coming together would be.
As she reached his belly and her silken strains touched his standing length, he gasped and his hand caressed her small back. She looked up at him with dark eyes and smiled. “This is the promise I made myself when I freed you from Blackbeard’s clutches and cared for your wounds,” she whispered and met his hazy gaze.
“What did you promise yourself?” he asked hoarsely and took a sharp breath as her fingers touched him. “To kiss every inch of you as soon as you were well again,” she answered and gave him a mysteriously smile. “I mean, EVERY delicious manly inch of your sweet body.”
His eyes grew wide as he realized what she meant. “Wendy,” he whispered. “You don’t have to do this. I know that you are still very young and--"
“-- and I think it must be as pleasurable for you as it is for me, when you pleasure me in this way. I love your mouth on me, dear James.” Without waiting any longer – before she could lose her courage – she slid further down and kissed him in the most intimate way, amazed how incredibly smooth the skin felt. A throaty shout escaped James, and magma seemed to roar through his veins, flamed in glaring gold before his closed eyes while he heard the blood in his ears.
Of course, he had had experience with this kind of intimacy – after all, he had “a woman in every port,” and the whores knew how to please a man – but this delicious pleasuring by his beloved Wendy was nothing like the other times. He could feel her hesitation and innocence, and also that she very much wanted to do this for him, because she loved him. And then all sane thoughts left him, as her hot little tongue darted out and caressed him again and again. Her hands explored every part of him, and he felt her mouth surrounding him, her teeth – oh God, her teeth -- He wanted to stroke her, to pleasure her as well, but found himself unable to anything but relish her ministration.
He felt the pressure in his loins growing with the pleasure, and gasped for air, while he arched toward her. Lifting his head, he looked helplessly down on the brown-golden shock of hair and the small back, the only part of her he could see. He wanted to stop her before he lost any last remaining control, but he couldn’t find his voice to speak. Ecstasy raged inside of him, and with the last strengths he pulled her up to him, flipped her on her back and slipped deep inside her, remembered too late that he hadn’t known if she was ready, or not. At the edge of his mind, he recognized how wet she was, and that she welcomed him eagerly into her arms and into her body, and he started to move and set into a quick rhythm.
Wendy fought for breath as he entered her and took her with a needy urge that brought tears to her eyes – not of pain, but of pleasure and sweet emotion. She wanted him there more than anything else. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, forced him deeper into her and cried out in rapture. She could feel his welcome heavy weight on her, and she pressed him even tighter to her, while she arched against him, working, thrusting as if she wanted to melt into him, to be one with him for ever. She felt her breath labor in her throat, while his hard member left and conquered her, “killing her over and over again” – hard, demanding and merciless, but still giving.
His mouth closed over hers and swallowed her whimpers and moans, seemed to draw them into his very being. Fiercely she returned his kiss, even gently bit his tongue. She was close now, but she didn’t want to give into the bliss of release. She wanted to make it last as long as possible. Desperately she clung to him, broke the kiss and begged him to take her wilder, harder.
He released all control now, and surrendered to the scorching passion in him. Her nails raked over his back and shoulders, her slender thighs embraced him with strength, and her breasts rose and fell with her effort to breath. She tightened her inner muscles and squeezed him and he felt himself slipping away, beginning to splinter. He saw her eyes close and her head falling back, exposing her tender throat, and bit gently into it. She screamed and climaxed violently, dragging him with her over the edge up into the all consuming bliss of orgasm, as he shot his seed deep into her, roaring like a unleashed lion. He withdrew and pressed in again and again while she cried out, the lioness singing with the lion.
As the waves of ecstasy ebbed away and left them out of breath and spent, James lay a long moment on top of her, unable to move a muscle. Wendy didn’t mind; still flying off somewhere in the warm and glowing aftermath. Finally James braced himself on his forearms and glanced down into her glassy and wet eyes. “I love you,” he murmured, but with a honesty that woke her full attention. “I love you with my whole being. Everything that is me, Wendy, is yours. Without you I am nothing.”
She looked up into his face. She had seen him watching her with adoration, passion, warmth and love for many days, but what she saw now took her breath away. The whole man seemed to glow, warmth and love radiated from his countenance like a rich aura. She felt her heart going out to him as never before. All worries and all doubts left her forever, and seemed to flee from the cabin like dark shadows chased by the sun. Only utter trust and mind-shattering love remained. She thought she would burst if she didn’t seal his confession with her own lips. She pulled his head gently down to her.
For the slightest moment she waited, almost as if she wanted to taste this special moment, to find and enjoy its special perfume, then her lips closed over his as she gave him the sweetest and purest kiss she had ever given. They both felt something lock in place; as if two separate parts were finally reunited, as if the empty places in their hearts had now been filled. Something in them bound together – immortal and everlasting, as their souls touched each other. For in the wonder of a single breath of time, not more than a wink of the eye of the eternal universe, two beings became one. And the stars began to smile while they sent the message over the skies in form of a golden track --the next day every newspaper in the world remarked on the giant comet that appeared at the horizon, but no scientist would ever be able to explain where it had come from, and disappeared to so suddenly!
As Wendy and James finally drew apart, they looked at each other with wonder – and then the young woman saw it: Her hidden kiss like a soft breeze on his lips, before it vanished. She smiled and hugged him, felt the first time in her life really whole and content.
“I love you,” she whispered and realized at last the full meaning of these amazing words. They weren’t only a confession for the flattering of the heart, or the expression of peace being in the other’s arms, but the statement of something so great and miraculous that you only find it once in your life, a statement of binding, of covenant, of promise and a future.
James rolled on his side and pulled her along with him, still inside her, and buried his face in her hair. He knew what she had given to him – something he had been so jealous of as the girl-child Wendy had given it to Peter Pan. It was something he’d never thought he’d receive – or DESERVE. Something he had yearned for his whole life – and she had given it to him finally. “Thank you,” he murmured and felt the tingle of her hidden WOMAN kiss on his lips. “Thank you so much!”
She smiled and snuggled tightly against him. “This one is yours – for ever, my ‘darling’.”
He took a deep breath and his eyes drifted slowly shut; completely at peace and high as a kite. “I will keep it safe forever, ‘darling’,” he murmured.
Wendy sighed and felt herself drifting away. “You know that this is only the beginning of our special night?” she murmured and heard a lazy chuckle from him.
“I hope so.” He sighed. “Someday you will be the death of me ...”
“Possibly, in some far off future, when we both are old and grey.”
“A lovely thought – to grow old with you,” he whispered and pressed a kiss on her forehead.
“Yes! And with children, and grandchildren and--"
He lifted a little bit his head. “Children? Why do you say that?”
She looked at him and started to giggle. “James, must I tell you how children come to the world? Believe me, dearest, it has nothing to do with the birds and the bees.” He pinched her at her waist and she squeaked before she glanced at him, questioning. “Would you mind?”
“The birds and bees?” She punched him on the arm and he grinned, before he turned serious again. “Why do you ask?” Suddenly his eyes widened. “Are you--"
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “It’s certainly possible, after our many, um, wild rides and long passionate hours together.”
He glared at her almost shocked, then he rolled his eyes. “We probably couldn’t send it back.”
She slowly shook her head. “No. And, to be honest, I want never to lose anything that comes from you.”
Warmth spread through him and calmed him with the thought of being – someday, for certain – a father. “Well, then I think I’ll have to teach him how to sail a ship.”
Relief flooded Wendy, before Red-Handed Jill awoke in her again. “Or her to fight properly with a sword.”
“It would be enough if I could teach that to her mother – if it will be a ‘she’.”
Excited, Wendy sat up. “You REALLY want to teach me to fight properly with a sword?”
He grimaced. “Knowing you, you’d throw yourself in the middle of a fight at your next opportunity. So I have no other choice than to instruct you how to use a sword so it doesn’t look like you’re trying to peel potatoes.”
She forgot her passion-induced exhaustion, taking up her pillow and whacking him with it. “You-- you PIRATE!”
His roar of laughter echoed through the ship, mixed with her giggles and shrieks, as he started to tickle her, until their voices quieted down and changed back into soft sighs and moans, only for the wooden walls of the captain’s quarters to hear—
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In the swirl of passion