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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Author's Notes: In case anyone is confused, Wendy and Peter are both 16-17 years old at this point in the story, though age in Peter's case is sort of meaningless, since he has aged based on thought/feeling instead of time. Let's just say he looks 16-17. Jeremy Sumpter plus a year or two. :)

In England during this time (1900's), 16 was the age of consent, and so a 16-year-old girl or boy was considered old enough to make their own decisions about sex and marriage. In fact, 16 is still the age of consent in England today.

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Chapter 4
Among the Wild Roses
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Drunk with the joy that Wendy shared his amorous feelings, Peter soared through the night air with her in his arms, turning spectacular loops and dives to make her cling to him more tightly, which brought an even bigger smile to his face.

As Peter flew so fast and so far that London's slate roofs were left behind them, Wendy became concerned, asking Peter, "Where are we going?"

But Peter only smiled at her and pressed his lips to hers in a quick kiss. "Trust me."

And despite his familiar bent toward mischief, Wendy found that she did trust Peter. She knew that he would not do anything to harm her, nor would he steal her away without her permission. Even when she had decided to leave Neverland, he had respected her wishes. And so she trusted him, nestling comfortably against his warm body as they flew Wendy knew not where.

Wendy saw a river shining silver beneath them, and wondered if it was the familiar Thames, broken free of smoky London to stretch and bend unfettered among the fields and hedgerows. Wendy liked to think that it was, for she too felt that she had been delivered from some invisible restraint, and so she laughed with delight as the wind blew her hair streaming behind her like a silken flag. She had quite forgotten how thrilling it was to fly!

Peter at last landed upon a grassy hillside overlooking the ocean, setting Wendy gently upon her bare feet once more. Turning her within his arms, he showed her the water that extended as far as the eye could see.

Wendy's only experience with the seaside had been during her visit to Neverland, and so she gazed out upon the moonlit water with awe. The sound of the waves crashing was strange and beautiful to her, and she found that she could even smell and taste the ocean's salt in the balmy breezes that touched her skin.

"Oh, Peter! It's lovely!" She smiled up at him, and his arms wrapped more securely around her waist, pulling her back against his front.

Resting his chin companionably on top of her head, Peter pointed to the water. "See there?"

Wendy looked where he indicated, and saw a mountain that roseh ouh out of the ocean waves, and at the top of the mountain was a castle that gleamed in the moonlight, like something out of a fairy story. Wendy gasped with wonder.

Peter sat gracefully upon the ground, pulling Wendy with him so that she sat in the shelter of his crossed legs, her own legs hanging over his and her back leaning against his chest. Her long nightdress seemed almost to glow in the darkness, her toes barely peeking from beneath its hem.

The grass was tall around them, nearly as tall as Wendy's shoulder, and sown liberally with creeping wild roses that permeated the salty air with their own musky sweet scent. Peter leaned his chin upon Wendy's shoulder, looking out at the water and the mysterious castle, holding her closely to him. The fear excitement had tightened in his belly again, seeming to anticipate something Peter could not identify. He did not know what might happen between them in this beautiful moonlit place, and so he had pulled Wendy into his lap such that she could not see his uncertain expression.

Wendy tilted her head slightly to the side, so that her cheek touched Peter's as they both looked out toward the ocean. The way Peter held her made her feel cherished, but it also stirred a nervous excitement within her. She watched the waves lapping at the base of the fairy tale mountain, and she listened to her heart beat loudly in her ears. She wondered if Peter could hear it.

The tension between them grew thick as the silence extended far past what was comfortable. At last Peter, unable to bear the suspense any longer, put his hand gently upon Wendy's cheek and turned her face toward him, leaning awkwardly so that he could press his lips to hers. Wendy, seduced by their romantic surroundings as Peter had hoped she might be, turned sideways in his lap, so that her legs now draped over his left thigh, and tilted her face to grant him better access.

Peter, however, his hand still resting upon Wendy's cheek, slowly pressed numerous gentle kisses to her lips, traveling from one side to the other, as if he were exploring every tiny crevice and curve of that exquisitely sensitive surface. He then pressed a soft kiss to each of her eyelids, her eyes fluttering closed to accommodate him as he tenderly smoothed her hair back from her face.

His heart aching in his chest, Peter felt that he had never seen anything so exquisite as Wendy in his arms at this moment, her eyes shining in the moonlight, the grasses and roses surrounding them like a fragrant thicket of green and white. He felt almost as if Wendy had somehow caught his breath. Or caught his heart. His eyes uncharacteristically solemn, he again pressed his lips worshipfully to the right-hand corner of Wendy's mouth, the corner that held his kiss.

Wendy. His Wendy. How lovely and how precious she was. And though he had denied it in the past, Peter knew in his heart at that moment that he loved her.

Wendy seemed puzzled by his odd seriousness, tilting her head curiously and opening her mouth to say something, but Peter pressed his finger to her lips and smiled softly, leaning forward then to press his lips to hers with a banked passion which had been only waiting to flame brightly once more.

His lips were warm and demanding upon hers, and this sudden intensity, especially following such a gentle and beguiling seduction of soft kisses, caused desire to curl within Wendy's belly, caused her to want much more than kisses from Peter Pan, though she was not quite certain what that more might be. She knew the basics of how a man and woman fit together, but what she felt in her body now was far more primal than the clinical descriptions she had heard.

Finding herself quite overcome by this sudden searing heat, Wendy struggled to her knees beside Peter, watching him with wide, hesitant eyes as she pulled out of his arms. Her shining hair streamed about her, dark against her nightdress, and her hands were trembling. Drawing labored breaths, she moved to sit beside the baffled boy, gazing out at the ocean once more, and then abruptly lay flat upon the ground, comfortably cushioned by the grasses as she watched the sky above her, dense with far more stars than were visible in London. She pressed one hand to her racing heart, willing it to slow.

Perplexed by Wendy's sudden withdrawal, and wondering if he had done something wrong, Peter watched her for a long moment before at last lying upon his back beside her, so that they were now entirely hidden within the tall grass and flowers. After several silent minutes had passed, Peter asked tentatively without looking away from the stars, "Why did you stop?"

Sighing softly, Wendy, also still staring at the sky, admitted, "I was afraid."

"Afraid of me?" Peter had turned upon his side to face her, leaning up on one elbow with a worried frown.

Turning her head to look at him, Wendy said very quietly, "No, Peter."

"Then what? Maybe I can fix it."

Wendy smiled slightly at that, but explained in a soft whisper, "I was afraid of how I felt."

"How you felt? Why? How did you feel?" Peter thought he might have an idea of what she had felt, if it was anything like what he himself had been feeling, but he wanted to hear what Wendy would say.

Wendy blushed in the moonlight, turning her face up to once more gaze at the stars. "I like it when you kiss me," she replied softly, avoiding the full truth.

"I like it, too," answered Peter readily, impatient with her refusals to speak openly. Of course, in truth he himself had been no more forthcoming, but it has never been said that Peter Pan was entirely fair in his expectations.

Peter watched her for a long silent moment, frustrated that she would not look at him. At length he asked frankly, "So, since we both like it ... shall I kiss you again?"

Despite her fears and reservations, despite her fleeting thoughts of what Mother would think, Wendy followed the pull of her heart and her body, and shyly nodded.

Peter grinned.

Scooting his body closer to hers, Peter lay still upon his side, facing Wendy with his head supported on his hand as he gazed down at her with innocent eagerness gleaming in his eyes. He licked his lips, and seeing his action Wendy licked her own lips nervously. A mischievous smile flitted across Peter's face, as if they had been playing a game and he had just realized that he had won.

Rising onto his hands and knees, Peter crawled to loom over Wendy for a moment, just drinking in the sight of her, with her hair spread out upon the grass and her pink lips shining wet in the moonlight. The heady scent of ocean and wild roses surrounded them, and her eyes gazing up at him were very very blue, just as they had always been in his dreams. His body began to thrum with excitement as he knelt there, before he had even touched her.

Peter flew some little distance above Wendy's body and hovered there, his body aligned with hers, so that he could leave both his hands free to cup her face as he slowly lowered his head to kiss her lips.

As if a match had been set to tinder, their kiss flamed quickly, perhaps because they had been so slow to begin. W rea reached up to twine her bare arms around Peter's neck, just as she had done so often in his dreams, pulling him down toward her so that their bodies touched all along their lengths. As he felt his skin come to rest against Wendy's thin nightdress, Peter moaned into her mouth, his kiss suddenly growing harder and more urgent.

He felt as if he was burning, as if his entire body was on fire. He felt restless, wanting to move his body, but unsure what might frighten Wendy. He did not rest his weight on her, but instead floated so that their bodies were just barely touching. But as Wendy returned his kisses with equal fervor, their tongues eagerly tangling and tasting each other, her tongue stroking the inside of his lips, the roof of his mouth, touching everywhere everywhere everywhere, Peter began to lose his tenuous grip on his own control.

He pulled gently away from Wendy's mouth, allowing his lips to trace a trail to her neck, to the soft place just below her ear. Licking and nibbling her skin, he allowed his hands to tenderly grasp her waist, spanning it easily with his fingers. Wendy sighed at his ministrations to her neck, arching her back slightly, restless for more sensation.

Peter raised his chest slightly away from her, his lower body thereby pressing into her more firmly. Wendy instinctively moved her legs slightly apart so that he might settle between them, and Peter gasped in shock at the jolt of pleasure sent through his body by that touch. Wendy lay beneath him, her hair spread about her like a silken pillow, her blue eyes dark with desire, her lips swollen with his kisses, her body arching subtly as if to offer herself to him.

Peter swallowed nervously, and then leaned to press another kiss to Wendy's lips, his hands meanwhile coming to hover, trembling, just over the curves of her chest. He hesitated, heart racing. And then Wendy arched her back again, and suddenly his hands were filled with warm, soft flesh covered in only the thinnest of fabric.

Wendy's eyes opened wide at the feel of his hands upon her. She saw that Peter's eyes were wide, as well, as he watched to see whether she would flee again. But her body ached for him to touch her, and her mind was drunk with longing, and so she deliberately closed her eyes again and pulled him down for another fevered kiss.

Peter sank into the kiss as if he were drowning, his hands gently stroking the firm curves of Wendy's breasts, his body reaching highs exceeding anything he had felt before this. Not even knowing that he did so, he rubbed and ground his hips against Wendy's as their kisses grew fast and deep. Both of them made small wordless noises into each other's mouths and against each other's flesh, for Wendy too licked a trail upon Peter's skin, finding that it tasted faintly of salt and sunlight. She gently tested her teeth upon the skin of his neck, and Peter bucked helplessly at the sensation, his control abruptly shattering>
His hands still filled with Wendy's warm breasts, her small teeth pressing to his neck, his hardness pressed tightly to the space between her legs, Peter suddenly felt himself unexpectedly splinter and fly apart into a thousand stars, struck by the lightning when he had not even realized it was coming. In the blindness of his pleasure, he ground himself harder between Wendy's legs as his body exploded and he arched his back, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and crying out sharp and loud as if he were in pain.

When his body and mind slowly began to gather together from the tiny pieces into which they had shattered, Peter found himself slumped upon Wendy, who lay very still. Suddenly embarrassed, he raised his head to look at her. She was watching him with a very worried expression, and she asked uncertainly, "Did I hurt you?"

Peter blushed. He couldn't help it. "No," he replied. But he couldn't bring himself to explain what had happened. What if there really was something wrong with him? What if she saw the strange milky substance now uncomfortably slickening the inside of the leaves he wore? Peter abruptly rolled off of Wendy's body, terribly self-conscious.

"Peter, what happened? Is something wrong?" Wendy was beginning to sound hurt, which tore at Peter's heart. He bit his lip, not wanting to explain, but not able to tolerate hurting Wendy.

"Nothing is wrong," he mumbled, lying flat on his back to stare up at the stars once more. "This happens sometimes. When I think about you."

"What happens?" Wendy was growing increasingly concerned that something was terribly wrong and Peter was just refusing to tell her. The lingering excitement that had thrummed through her body had cooled quickly when she realized that something was amiss.

Peter swallowed audibly. Wendy lay on her side now, raised up on one elbow to look at him where he lay. He wished she wouldn't look at him. It would make it easier to explain.

"I ... I feel ... it feels ... good ... and then ... it's as if lightning strikes me."

"Lightning? Does it hurt?"

"No, no, it doesn't hurt. It feels ... it feels ... good." It was a ridiculous understatement, but Peter found himself quite unable to explain.

"So, when you cried out, while we were ... that felt good?"

"Oh, yes!" Peter responded quickly. Again, ridiculous understatement, but he had no idea how to rectify the situation.

He did not know how best to explain, even if he had felt comfortable doing so. He could not show her, for he had noticed when pressed to her body that she had nothing between her legs. Strangely, though, her nightdress there had seemed wet when he pulled away from her, even though his own liquid substance remained within the leaves he wore.

He wondered at the source of the moistness between Wendy's legs. He wondered at what lay beneath her nightdress. He wondered if there was any way to make Wendy feel the lightning strike, so that she might understand.

Peter smirked at his thoughts. His unwelcome and unwonted self-conscious nervousness vanished into the soft night air, accompanied by the scent of ocean and wild roses.

He was quite determined to discover the answers to all of his questions, if Wendy let him.

And he had the distinct and decidedly pleasant feeling that she would.

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Author's End Notes: The place Wendy and Peter visit in this chapter is called St. Michael's Mount, and it is located in Cornwall, in the southwest of England, quite near Penzance (of Gilbert and Sullivan pirate fame). I've never been there, but I have visited its very similar sister castle at Mont St. Michel in France, which is simply incredible. I highly recommend a visit if you ever get the chance.
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Awakenings