Leaf | By : Mek Category: M through R > Peter Pan Views: 1607 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: This is an original work of fan fiction based on the original stage play: Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie. Any resemblance to actual people, events or similar fan fictions is entirely coincidental. |
Growing Up
“Peter.” Leaf exclaimed excitedly as she turned to see him standing erect on the window ledge, posed with hands upon his hips once more. That mischievous smile played upon his face and a drum was beating a rhythm within her heart. It may have been quixotic, beyond even her wildest imagination, but he was magnificent.
“If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree.” He continued. “Then I never want to grow up, not ever.”
“Adults climb trees all the time.” She replied with surprise. “My Dad’s almost forty and he still has lots of toys, builds models and plays games with his friends.”
“See Peter, it’s what I keep telling you.” The faerie added assertively. “Life here has changed. Even though people want to try to, they never really grow up. No matter how hard they try to be mature, they will always be a kid when they get hurt and cry.”
“No, it’s not just that. People don’t want to grow up anymore. Not really.” Leaf continued. “Adults want to stay children forever and have toys too.” She tried to think of something Peter might relate to. “Dad does this thing called Wargaming. It’s meant to be for kids, but loads of grown-ups play it. They dress up in costumes and everything.”
“I like a good game.” He replied thoughtfully as he stepped down from the window. “But once you grow up, you can never go back.” Peter retorted. “Odd things happen to all of us on our way through life without our noticing that they have happened. It’s like the ticking crocodile. Time is chasing after all of us.”
“Ticking Crocodile?” She asked, not following what he meant.
“Yes.” Peter laughed jovially, then shrugged. “I guess you had to be there.”
“Tic Tok’s a pleasant fellow when you get to know him.” Chrystabelle explained. “But he’s not the same since he’s been on social media.”
Peter shifted uncomfortably and blinked, as though burying some terrible memory deep inside. He remained like that for a long second or so until he blinked again. “Come along Tink, we can’t stay here all night, I really must find my shadow.”
“Peter?” Leaf began, but he had already swept past her, across the room and bounded towards her bed. “Peter, can you be quieter, you’ll wake…”
“No, don’t worry. No one can hear us in here” Chrystabelle cut her off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “A little pixie dust has taken care of it. Your brother will sleep for hours yet.”
“Oh.” Was all she could say in response as she looked from the faerie to Peter and back again. “Pixie dust?”
“Of course.” Peter called back as he stuck his head into her wardrobe. “All the world is made of love and trust, and pixie dust. It’s what binds the world together and makes things work.”
“I’ve never heard of it.” She replied following after him as he crawled along the edge of the room, sniffing the floor like a dog. There was something about the way he moved that she liked, even from behind she could see his confidence, the firm muscular curve of his shoulders, his legs and her lips felt so dry when her eyes fixed upon his behind. “So, when you left just now, where did you go?”
“Do you know why swallows build in the eaves of houses?” Peter asked over his shoulder by way of a response. “It’s not for the warmth or anything like that. It’s so they can listen to the stories.”
“Peter Pan, you are a very ill-mannered young man. Do you know that?” Chrystabelle shouted after him with her tiny voice full of annoyance as he leapt from the door to the bookcase in a single bound.
“I am youth.” Peter replied triumphantly. “I am joy.” He added as he reached down and pulled something out from behind the bookshelf like he was reeling in a fish on a line. “I am freedom!” The loud exclamation came just his arm slipped free and he fell backwards just as rapidly as he had climbed up there. Peter didn’t fall though, it was more like he simply floated back to the floor, victorious with his shadow clasped in his hand. “I am the best there ever was.”
She admired him, stood proudly there holding his shadow by its arm as though it were a trophy he had just won. For its part, his shadow seemed equally pleased with itself. It nodded, applauded and offered a hand for a high five that was mutually reciprocated. Leaf could not imagine giving a high five to her own shadow without slapping her hand against a mirror or a solid wall, or something of that kind. Either way, she figured it would do more harm to her hand than good. There were far better, more pleasurable things to do with her hand that she knew of, and Peter’s presence again in her room was stirring those desires once more. His broad, barely covered chest stood out and long legs in those tight green stockings went all the way up to the bulge of his crotch, which became even more pronounced as he sat upon the edge of her bed.
“Oh, but how to attach it.” He groaned as he sunk into the soft memory foam mattress and the duvet curled in to surround him. “Tink, how does it go on?” Chrystabelle barely looked up, shrugged and otherwise ignored him.
“You shouldn’t call her that.” Leaf scolded, recounting what the faerie had told her. She had reached the bed where he had sat. “She doesn’t like it.”
“You don’t understand.” Peter told her. “She means more to me than anything in this entire world. But it doesn’t mean anything at all if I don’t have my shadow.”
“Alright.” She did not really see the logic of what he had just said as she crouched down between his legs where he was trying to press the shadow against his foot, but she was starting to understand what he meant about selfishness in children. To an adult she guessed it might have sounded heartless or even insulting, but she was no more an adult than he and as such she had her own selfish desires to contend with. “How did you attach it before?”
“It was sown on, I think.” He didn’t look sure about that, but of all the ridiculous things she had learned that night, it wasn’t the craziest idea. But for the want of a needle and thread, of which she had neither close at hand, it was no more possible than attempting to stick it on with a bar of soap.
“I could glue it on.” Leaf considered for a moment where she had left the glue she was thinking of, then reached under the bed and pulled out a small plastic box with a sealed lid. She lifted the catches on all four sides and delved inside for the glue. There were two half used rolls of gaffer tape, some electrical tape and at the bottom a bottle of glue. She shook it, listening to make sure there was plenty left inside.
“That’s not really made from gorillas, is it?” Chrystabelle asked curiously, pointing at the bottle that had a picture of one on the side and the words Gorilla Glue in bold text. The faerie had crossed the distance between the upturned toybox and the bed unnoticed, and was stood upon the headboard with her arms folded.
“I don’t think so.” Leaf replied. “No, I think they mean it is as strong as a gorilla. I guess they must be pretty strong.”
“Oh, they are.” Peter agreed with the sort of tone that claimed confidently that he knew from personal experience. “Very strong.”
“Good.” So was the glue, at least it smelt strong. Leaf could practically taste it’s pungent solvent aroma from the moment that she removed the lid. “Where should I stick it?”
“On the bottom.” He answered naturally. She stared at him for a second or two, searching his face to determine whether he was serious or not, and when she realised that he was she sniggered. In many of the ways that were important to her, he was a boy just like any other her age. But she had to remember that he was a wild thing, almost completely feral like an animal accustomed to living out on the city streets. He probably had no idea of the inuendo her mind drew from his response, and his blank expression confirmed it.
Peter was intelligent though, full of knowledge far beyond his youthful appearance. He had experiences and stories like no one else she had known, and yet she was certain he'd never sat an exam in his life. Leaf wondered whether the boy even knew how to read and write. Could it be possible that he had survived for so long without such basic skills. Or if he could, it begged the question as to how he had learned and who had taught him, for he held no desire for education. On the contrary, he openly rejected it again and again.
"I can't glue it to your stockings." She shared, stifling the urge to yawn. "It will damage them. Can it be stuck on somewhere else?" Leaf knew what she was asking. It was a less direct approach than she had tried before, slower, but more likely to acquiesce to his sensibilities. She surmised that if it would be his idea, or at least make him believe that it was, then maybe she would get what she wanted too. It was a selfish thought, manipulative even, but she wasn't certain if it was a childish notion or something more grown up.
"No, it has to be there or it won't work properly." Peter protested. "It would get all tangled up otherwise. I'm sure it’s the same with your shadow."
"I guess. I never thought about it." Which was true. She had given her own shadow no more thought than her elbows or toenails. It was simply a natural part of her. She knew how shadows were created of course. With the right light her shadow could make all manner of funny shapes on the wall. She pointed at the stockings. "You'll have to take them off."
"Must I?" Peter frowned, looking down at his stockings. By the look of them, they were more attached to him than his shadow had been. It was possible they had not been taken off in quite some time, but Leaf pondered whether modesty had more to do with his reluctance. She gave him a sideways look as she reached out a hand to hold his shadow. "Oh, but I do so need my shadow."
"There's nothing to be afraid of." Leaf told him encouragingly. "The sooner I do it, the quicker it's done."
"I'm not afraid." He replied defensively and he reached for the hem of his stockings. "I'm not scared of anything." As he passed over his shadow. Leaf wasn't sure what to expect from the texture of the shadow and with it in her grasp it was difficult to describe. It was like holding onto air, but a kind of air that she could feel fidgeting and squirming as she held onto it. Perhaps she could best describe it as hanging onto a strong gust of wind as it danced on a blustery day. Like the wind, his shadow seemed to be playful, teasing and full of energy. She gained the impression that if she gave it some attention, it would eagerly roll over or play fetch with a stick like a puppy. But her focus was drawn entirely to Peter.
She could see the contours of his gentiles contained within the tight green material more clearly as he lifted his shirt. Two round marbles and a longer mound above. Leaf had meant to look away, to offer him some amount of decency as he undressed, but she couldn't peel her eyes from it. The way she was knelt and the way he was sat positioned his crotch level with her gaze, and so it was that she saw the instant he pushed the stockings down and his penis sprung free. Leaf gasped audibly in expectation of what she was about to see. In her expectation of that moment she had been prepared for him to have been wearing another layer of underwear beneath the stockings, but she had been wrong.
Her eyes followed the tip of his finger like appendage as it appeared between his legs until the stockings were past his knees. Before she could move closer or get an angle for a better look though, he planted his hands over it, weaved his fingers together and gripped his parts tightly. Peter used his feet to kick the stockings the rest of the way off, then sat back and held up his right foot in front of her. For her part though, Leaf did not notice. She had only seen the very tip of it, but she was fascinated and longed to see more. His was not the first penis she had seen, far from it.
She had seen the shrivelled little example belonging to her infant brother several times. Leaf had peaked at it with curiosity when helping change nappies for the baby boy still soundly asleep in the cot behind her. Her father's one she had seen too, having stolen glances at it while he was changing. That was a thick hairy rod of a penis that hung in her approximation longer than her outstretched hand. What Peter possessed did not resemble either of those though. Indeed, it looked as though it was somewhere between the two, but she needed a better look at it. Her entire being was filled with curiosity for what he was hiding from her and she was determined to see what it was. A plan was forming in the forefront of her mind as she frowned at the shadow in her hand.
“I can’t stick it on your bottom when you’re sat like that.” Leaf complained, realizing he was sat upon the very part of him that she was about to attach it to. The shadow was difficult to hold onto it as it was, for it was constantly sliding between her fingers. She wasn’t sure that the shadow was attempting to escape exactly, but it didn’t appear to be very comfortable and probably wasn’t enjoying the experience either.
“My bottom?” Peter asked, sitting almost bold upright in shock. “No, not there. The bottom.” He corrected. “The bottom of my feet.”
“Oh, oh right. Sorry.” Leaf blushed. She had misunderstood, chastised herself for making such an error and felt the embarrassment of it keenly. It was of course still late at night, perhaps well past midnight and she was tired, but she wasn’t about to admit defeat or use it as an excuse. Instead, she grabbed the foot he was holding up for her, applied some of the glue and pressed what she took to be the shadow’s foot to his. It was only after she had done so that she wondered whether shadows had a left and right, or whether it would matter which way around it went. Neither of them seemed to complain though, so she took hold of the other foot and carried on. “Hold still, it won’t take long.”
"Is it working?" Asked Peter tentatively with a hint of impatience seeping through his voice. With her fingers pressed against the soles of his feet, she could feel him trembling even as she held his shadow in place. The glue was starting to work but it would take a few more minutes before it was fully dry. Peter's hands too were starting to shake as they continued to cup his genitalia like a makeshift codpiece.
"Yes, I think so." She answered him and he smiled back. She felt the smile in her fingers and in the soles of her feet. It invaded her like a blithe spirit and Leaf shivered. Her mind was wandering, pondering things more relevant to what his hands were holding rather than what she held in hers. The thought excited her and gradually her plan was starting to take shape. She furrowed her brow in a mock attempt at surprise, or a close approximation of it and asked, "Peter, are you wanking yourself?"
"Pardon?" He asked blankly, not understanding her.
"Are you… masturbating?" She continued undeterred by his predictable response, hesitating only slightly over the pronunciation of the longer word, but he shook his head. "You can masturbate, can’t you? It’s my favourite thing. Anyone who says they don't is a liar."
"I guess I must then." Peter conceded in confusion, but he was too stubborn and self-confident to let it show on his face for more than a moment before proudly declaring. “I can do anything.”
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