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Peter Captured	By : lexyhamilton Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Slash Views: 19631 -:- 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
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Peter's illness took a turn for the worse shortly after he fell asleep, and by the evening of the next day Hook was losing hope for the boy's survival. Peter's lips were completely chapped, and his eyes had a frighteningly glazed look. Each breath was an arduous undertaking. Hook had taken off all the covers and would anxiously rub down Peter's skin with distilled alcohol every hour or so in efforts to bring down the life-threatening fever. The captain was just finishing another rubdown, as Peter's teeth began to chatter.

"Please stop," the boy's voice finally sounded, grown hoarse with disuse in the past several hours. "I'm very, very cold."

"You're not cold, you're burning up," Hook muttered. He could not decide whether he had lost faith in the boy's recovery yet or not. He felt anger at no one in particular. "Do you want to live, Pan?"

"Yes," The boy swallowed, trying to clear out his dry throat. "But not here. I don't want to be a prisoner any more."

Already irritated by his inability to save the boy, Hook's emotions were boiling up. "Oh, good. Go ahead and leave. You want to die in the woods, like a wild beast? No one is going to take care of you there."

Peter's thoughts were clouded by the fatigue and slight pain all over his body, but he still felt an emotional hurt coming on. "I guess so. None of my friends care about me. None of them even tried to rescue me. They just left me here alone, to die among enemies."

"I'm not your enemy, Pan. I'd tell you I love you, but you won't believe me." Peter turned his head slightly, face the captain more directly, but his eyes were still gazing oddly far away.

"Do you remember when you were hurting?" Hook said. "When you clutched at me, and cried into my shoulder? That was the best feeling anyone had ever given me. Had you no need to be afraid or in pain to do that... perhaps I would not need to hurt you to get pleasure."

"Even if I were to love you... it wouldn't be in the same way," Peter said sullenly. There was a long silence, during which Hook tried to avoid thinking about the impossibility of his nebulous wishes and the true bleakness of his life.

"If you really love me-- don't use me anymore," Peter said with a sudden forcefulness. This was easy enough to promise at the moment. The boy's saliva was almost frothing in the mouth, his entire visage and usually intelligent expression were disfigured by his feverish state into a melancholy stupor, and his naked body lay pale, limp, and disturbingly emaciated on the bed. Hook did not have carnal desires for the boy when he was so close to death, but he knew this was no good indicator of his real feelings.

"If I get better, will you keep me chained so painfully tight again, and use me when you want?" Peter's eyes opened a little wider, and Hook felt a shiver down his spine.

"No. If you get better, I'll treat you nicely." Scenes of wild abandon immediately weaved like a lightning bolt through Hook's mind. He saw Peter in all his healthy glory, both arms chained to the bed-- painted up with his mother's makeup just enough to accentuate his best features-- tantalizing him with undulating motions of his lower body only possible without the effects of gravity... Beguiling him to sink his fingers into the snowy skin... Lips parting, the tongue peeking through the pearly whites now and then ... And, most of all, his eyes, blinking ever so slowly, as if the eyelashes were too long and heavy to move quickly. Hook forced himself out of the decadent reverie. "And I won't defile you anymore. I'll swear it. But you better heal up. If you die, it will hurt a hundred times as much as it did when we cut you."

The very act of the promise made Hook eager to spread those thin legs and break his oath, here and now. But all of it was for the best, the captain decided. As a self-respecting gentleman, he had to rid himself of his addiction. It made him not only morally despicable, but vulnerable and weak. Besides, the boy had suffered enough. Hook renewed his rubdown efforts, as Peter could only moan in disapproval at how quickly the heat was whisked away from his skin, having no strength to try to squirm away.

Finished, Hook walked around to the other side of the wide bed and lay down side by side with Peter, wondering whether he was truly concerned about the boy anymore, now that pleasurable release was not his promised reward. There was no actual use for Peter on the ship, but Hook could not imagine setting him free. No-- he would at least keep him as a prized possession. Perhaps pamper him. Deck him out in the best jewels from his troves. Let him eat berry preserves by the jar. In short, spoil the child rotten. It would be alright, as long as he could hold Peter captive, and as long as everything that happened to the boy was under his control. This illness, on the other hand, infuriated Hook with its unpredictability.

"Please cover me. I'm so cold," Peter begged. Hook grudgingly pulled one sheet over both of their bodies, unwilling to allow the fever to continue rising. The captain hated feeling so powerless. He wanted to share Peter's illness, even take it on completely for a time, just to see the boy stop breathing so heavily and smile for a change. Peter's teeth were still chattering, and his skin was all goose bumps. His eyes were directed at the ceiling and were so empty that Hook doubted whether the boy was even aware of him anymore.

"Sometimes, I wish I had a mother... " Peter suddenly confided. Funny that he occasionally had the absolute opposite sentiments, Hook thought wistfully. He hated to see the boy in such a delirious state.

"You must have had one, my boy."

"No," Peter shook his head ever so slightly. "I tell stories about her. But I don't really remember a mother at all. Maybe I never had one."

Hook smiled. "Well there's a very easy way to verify that," his hand sliding along Peter's chest, down to the sunken in abdomen, just below his ribcage. "And here we have the unequivocal evidence."

"Where?" Peter lifted his head up with a jerk, pulling the sheet off, frantically searching his stomach. Hook chuckled, and put his finger to the navel.

"What does it mean?" Peter looked up, his eyes more focused than before, but with a fevered frenzy dancing in them, so that Hook could not be sure which of the two was healthier.

"Shh, lie down," The captain gently pushed Peter's head back into the pillow. "It means that that's where you were tied to your mother."

"So she cut me off? She didn't want me?"

Hook smiled at this profound gap in the boy's understanding of the world and his utter insecurity. He suddenly felt ashamed at how selfishly and childishly he had been acting these last few weeks. He ran his fingers through Peter's hair. "Who wouldn't want you? This," Hook touched the navel again. "Consider it the first kiss you got. When a baby is born, he gets a kiss from his mother right there. It means she loves you very much." Peter's unmanacled hand was exploring the token of love he had paid no attention to before, while his eyes stared at nothing in particular. He was mouthing inaudible words, now that the tooth chattering had subsided.

"And I suppose this is my mark of love on your body," Hook ran his fingers over the tripartite scar near the boy's right hipbone. "I sure did a number on you lad."

Hook suddenly felt something moist on his hand. He leaned over to examine the cut more closely, and to his horror discovered that he could see pus seeping out from most of the incision between the stitches. Without second thoughts, Hook leaned over and applied the suction of his mouth to Peter's wound. The taste was horrible, and the captain felt himself retching as he sucked more and more of the milky substance out. Some of it was congealed, and slid into Hook's mouth in slimy globules. He spit the contents of his mouth onto the floor, and proceeded to extract yet more of the infectious gunk from Peter, who was only partially aware of what was being done to him. When no more could be sucked out, Hook rushed over to find a bottle of something-- anything-- alcoholic. Yet before applying his mouth to the neck of the bottle of gin he found on the floor of his closet, the captain remembered to suffer a little longer and first douse Peter's poorly sealed wound with the drink while it was still untainted. This made Peter hurt greatly, but his most vociferous disapproval possible at this point was a feeble groan. Hook finally rinsed his mouth with gin before swallowing it down, eager to wash out the nasty bitter taste. He lay back by Peter's side, dismayed by the heaviness of the boy's breathing.

"Looks as if we did get dirt into you, lad... " He said after a long silence. Peter no longer gave discernable reactions. Hook gently pressed his lips to his charge's neck, and wrapped his arms around the motionless frame-- only the continuous heaving of the ribcage assuring him that the boy was still with him. He attempted to close the boy's eyelids, but they flew open again immediately. Perhaps the boy could not sleep, but Hook was immensely tired.

He awoke to find Peter completely still and disturbingly cold. This time the eyelids did not fly back open after being closed. Hook suppressed his emotions. He took up the corpse's legs and raped it particularly forcefully one last time, finally bursting into tears upon climaxing into the unresponsive, pallid cadaver.

Peter awoke feeling hot and stifled. One of Hook's arms lay across his chest, and his other came under Peter's neck before the hand locked together with the metal hook he had neglected to take off, resulting in a lax embrace around his shoulders. Peter could not help but feel uneasy about the hardness he sensed pressing up against his lower thigh and rubbing itself in with great fervor and regularity. The man was still asleep, as Peter saw, but the rubbing was becoming a tad rough, while Hook's face became progressively more pain-wracked.

"I'm thirsty," was the phrase that awakened Hook out of his unpleasantly fitful sleep. Peter was still safely in his arms, and the usual sparkle in his eyes had returned. The boy's slight alarm subsided when he saw that Hook, once awake, thankfully made no further moves other than wiping off the moisture that suddenly spurted out of his eyes as he opened them. The fever was apparently down, and every strand of Peter's hair, the sheets, and even the sleeves of Hook's coat, were practically drenched in the cold sweat. It was a far happier scenario than what Hook's dreams had portended, and it was all the man could do to try to maintain his dignified reserve instead of laughing for joy at this small triumph over fate.

***

Peter sat on the deck very quietly. It had been several days after the height of his fever that they dared to reopen the muscle and extract the string from his guts. Hook had given him a bit of painkiller before the light operation, but not nearly enough to make it truly bearable, so Peter had to be restrained anyway. Now, a whole night later, Peter's side was still throbbing. The captain decided his charge could use some fresh air every day, and had taken to bringing the boy out to sit on the deck as soon as the fever let up-- bidding him to expose his wound to the sunlight for faster healing. Peter did like the sea breeze better than the usually stuffy cabin, but the wide expanse of sky above him was often a bitter reminder of his confinement. The intensity of pain in his side on this morning banished all thoughts of escape, however. His entire concentration was directed internally, and the travelogue he was supposed to be reading was open to the appropriate page, but lay on the deck.

The captain considered it an abomination that someone of Peter's apparent age and capabilities should be illiterate. In fact, Peter had always assumed he could read-- only that he never tried. What prompted Hook to start teaching the boy the alphabet was the completely blank stare he received when he commented with a laugh that the scar on Peter's body resembled an ‘H' from the side. The first such tutorial session took place when Peter was well enough to be bored lying in bed all day, and it ended in tears on Peter's part while Hook stormed out of the cabin, not even the entire alphabet covered. The boy had never aimed to please Hook, but the latter's comments about Peter's incompetence were hurtful when no one else was present to give a differing opinion. It was when Smee came in to clean the cabin, and tried to calm the stifled crying of the boy chained to the bed, that Peter grew determined to learn to read-- if only to spite Hook. Smee, who maintained that his reading had grown weak over the years, was a far more patient teacher, and after seeing the fast improvements in the boy's reading, even the captain approved of the interaction.

The shore was unfamiliar. Peter wondered how far away from the cove Hook had sailed. He yearned for more of the painkiller, as the nagging pain returned with renewed intensity, feeling as if it were pouring out of his side. Peter picked up the book, knowing that Hook expected him to read at least a couple of pages from it, but shuddered and felt his face become numb as soon as he looked down at the text. Nausea swept over him as the ship rocked up and down on a rough bit of sea. Even if he could stand up, Peter estimated that the chain would not let him approach the edge to sick overboard. It was just as he was contemplating the possible consequences of heaving onto the deck, that he spotted a small sparkling light over the water, growing nearer. Peter's heart skipped a beat. The light was headed straight for the ship, and before long the boy's suspicions were confirmed when he could finally discern a small fairy figure in the light. The creature flew up to the upper deck, poking around into crevices, peeking into some coiled rope on the floor before fixing her gaze onto the eyes that were studying her motions. She cocked her head, turned and was about to fly off.

"Don't go... " Peter said.

The fairy turned back towards him, but remained a cautious distance away. By all appearances, she was even of the same fairy race as Tinker Bell.

"We fairies don't talk to humans."

"I know. I was raised by fairies." Peter smiled, trying to push the pain out of his mind. The fairy was looking at him incredulously. "I'm Peter Pan."

The name was apparently unfamiliar to her. "Don't you know? The flying boy? The... " Peter was about to append his former title as he always did before being captured. Peter Pan, Ruler of Neverland. His present condition rendered the claim somewhat ridiculous. "The boy who fights-- fought-- pirates and... "

"I've never heard of you. But I know about pirates. The other fairies were talking about this pirate ship being in the neighborhood. Are you a pirate?"

"No... "

"Then what are you doing on their ship? The others said pirates are dangerous." The fairy looked over him, noticing his chained ankle for the first time. "Are you their prisoner?"

"No," Peter answered rather sharply, to his own surprise. "Listen, do you know a fairy called Tinker Bell? She was my friend."

"No," the fairy was still looking at him suspiciously. "What did you say your name was?"

"Peter Pan," the boy said somewhat dejectedly. This was certainly one of the most empty-headed fairies he had ever met.

"Should I tell the others that Peter Pan is chained up on the pirates' ship?" The very sentence made Peter cringe, but the fairy continued her high-pitched babbling. "Maybe they know you. I am still quite young, you know, so I don't know about everything."

"No, forget about this. Don't report anything about me."

The fairy flew in much closer. "I've never seen a real human before." She touched her tiny hand to his nose. Peter's eyes, each a good deal larger than her head, were following her every move, blinking from time to time, the pupil inside the green iris noticeably expanding and constricting. Being a young fairy, she still inadvertently spilled a lot of dust from time to time. Peter sneezed violently after one such dust flare-up, spooking the fairy enough to make her threaten leaving.

"Please stay," he pleaded. "I'm not always very careful. I'm sorry."

"Yes, the other fairies have told me some things about you humans... "

"Oh?" Peter said curiously.

"They say you humans are the deafest and blindest creatures in the world. That's why you always make so much noise and can never catch anything."

Peter grinned. "I bet I could catch you. At least I can fly."

"Not all humans can fly?"

"No-- not most, actually."

The fairy alighted onto Peter's shoulder, naively confident that the boy would not try to pull some mischief and slap her off. Indeed, this was farthest from Peter's thoughts. She was eerily similar to Tinker Bell in some respects, and now that she was sitting on his shoulder, he had to remind himself that she was not, actually, his oldest of friends.

"What a terrible existence it must be without flying! Humans sound like the most miserable creatures on earth."

"At least we don't have flimsy wings that can be pulled off with two fingers," Peter winked, and a chuckle born deep inside his chest, rattled up to his throat-- vibrating the shoulder bones the fairy was sitting on quite strongly.

"I think we're the perfect size," the fairy squeaked indignantly. "You're too big to even move around much!"

Peter's grin shrank somewhat. "I was only kidding. I think you're the perfect size too." He desperately wanted the chain and the ache to be gone. To fly into the sky and show off the speed that rendered him the fastest creature in Neverland. But there was no use in bragging about it without demonstration.

"Which part of Neverland is this, anyway?" he asked, still not turning his head so as not to frighten her with a loud voice. Surely even someone like her would know the answer to this question.

"Neverland?" The fairy jumped off his shoulder, and proceeded to explore the exposed wound she had just spotted.

"Yes, Neverland. This island you live on is called Neverland."

"Must be a different island," she shrugged her shoulders. Put off by the unfamiliar smell of blood, she jumped to one of his knees.

Peter's irritation was growing. "No, this is Neverland! There are no other islands!" The fairy looked at him with a blank expression.

"You humans are even stranger than I've heard tell. I'll come back and visit you again when I have time. Good-bye!" She headed out across the water back to land.

When she'd have time, Peter smirked. As if fairies were ever truly busy. And with the ship moving at this speed, he guessed he would probably never see her again. At least she had kept him somewhat entertained. Peter gathered his legs up closer to his body, and grimaced when he heard the disheartening jangle of the chain as he moved his ankle. He wished to be as far from the ship as the ball of light was by now.

Peter resumed reading, but soon heard footsteps on the stairs to upper deck. The boy could discern that they were neither the captain's nor Smee's, so he buried his face deeper into the book, feeling tension already building.

"Hello, Peter," the boy looked up at the two leering faces above him, and felt self-disgust at how fast his heart was beginning to beat. Robert crouched down and unsuccessfully tried to pull the book out of Peter's hands. The pirate's hand then traveled around and squeezed Peter's behind playfully. "What's the news from the Cap'n? Will we be getting another taste of this any time soon?"

The boy's fist suddenly whipped out against the pirate's face. Robert jumped to his feet, a tiny stream of blood running out of one nostril.

"Idiot!... " Robert cursed.

"We'll kick your kidneys in if you don't start behaving yourself better," Alf snarled, and Peter involuntarily shrank back from the two menacing pairs of legs in front of him.

"Go ahead. Hook will do worse to you later." Peter hated to be forced to use someone else as his protection, but both he and the pirates knew this was an effective threat.

"We should do something that doesn't leave marks," Robert smirked, rubbing his still smarting nose.

"Yeah, he's probably still healing on the bottom there, but his mouth looks alright," Alf laughed. "Can you suck, girlie? Hmm?"

Peter had never been forced to do this, but could guess what they meant easily enough. He felt his limbs go stiff, and the blood begin to pound in his ears. His face grew so dark that the pirates suddenly felt less than eager to go through with the punishment.

Alf looked at Robert uneasily. "So you're the one who's going to do this, right? Because you're the ‘offended party,' as they say."

Robert laughed weakly, staring at Peter's mouth. "Not if you want to... "

Alf shook his head. Peter was frightened, they could both see. But his violently desperate defensive stance was intimidating in itself. He was taking short, aggressive breaths, his teeth and hands clenched, and the pirates could not be sure if it was a trick of their eyes, but even the hair on his head appeared to almost bristle.

"The Cap'n must make him do it somehow. What else is he keeping him in the cabin for?" Robert muttered to Alf, keeping his gaze fixed on the boy. "How does he tame the little brat?"

"Probably starts by putting his hook up the other end," Alf laughed.

"I don't know... it's a nasty set of his teeth he must have," Robert sighed. "I don't think I'd trust him even with a finger. And I don't want to do be doing this if we can't beat him senseless for pulling mischief, you know?"

"Yeah, it's annoying. He must whore himself pretty terribly for how much the Cap'n fusses over him," Alf said, and turned to Peter. "You know he's been making one of us go to shore every day to get you your damn fresh berries?"

Hook had indeed decided to accommodate Peter and spoon-fed him berry puree with every-- mostly liquid-- meal.

"An out-and-out princess, you are," Robert smiled. "I'd love to see what you do to earn it. Does Hook stuff you both ways at the same time when he's feedin' ya?"

Peter tried to block out the sickening images the pirates were continuing to conjure up. He was feeling nauseous all over again, and yet very grateful that all Hook ever did lately was kiss his neck and shoulders. When would the man come to take him back to the cabin? Peter was no longer listening to the pirates, putting himself at risk by being less alert, but calming himself in the process-- fantasizing about the captain threatening to slit Alf's throat with his metal prosthesis, and picking Robert up and flinging him across the deck with it. They would shut up at last then.

Alf suddenly wiped his finger across Peter's nose. "What the hell is this?" He rubbed the fairy dust between his thumb and fingers, glaring at the boy with his one eye.

"Look, there's more." Robert crouched down again, examining Peter' shirt. "Looks like fairy gunk to me. You entertaining visitors here, sweetie?" Peter averted his eyes.

"If we catch you with your fairy friends, they'll all be played with. Perfect size, too, to shove up your... " Robert dodged Peter's fist this time, while Alf fell into raucous laughter, and gave Peter a light smack on the rear.

"We'll find a way to amuse ourselves with you sooner or later." Robert concluded the torrent of verbal abuse, and both left to go about their morning duties. Peter's spine slowly relaxed. At least the fairy had not been present to witness this humiliation.

He resumed reading, finding it hard to concentrate on the boring text after so much agitation. He had finished with less than half a page before he heard something heavy drop into the water, and the rattling of a heavy chain. He guessed it was the anchor being lowered. Peter noticed a large rock outcropping had come into view on shore, and suddenly recognized the surroundings. He had rarely explored this part of Neverland, and then only superficially, seeing it from afar while flying somewhere else. At top speed, he could be home before evening even began. Peter sighed and buried his face into the bent arms on his knees.

"How do you like my other treasure hold?" Hook's voice suddenly sounded above Peter. The boy looked up with slight apprehension, surprised that he had not heard the captain walk the creaky stairs to the upper deck. "You didn't know about this far one, but it's grander. I used it before I even met you on this cursed island."

Hook sat down on the deck next to Peter and put his arm around him. "Would you like to come with me when I visit it? I thought you'd appreciate a little foray off the ship."

Peter nodded. The monotony had become almost physically painful, and any change of scenery was welcome at this point. And, Peter thought with a smile, travel always increased opportunities for escape. In spite of himself, he began to imagine how he would be home before dark that day-- how everything would return to normal, somehow.

"Why aren't you keeping your wound uncovered, as I told you?" Hook's harsh voice made Peter start. He hurriedly picked up his shirt again and felt the direct warmth of the sun off-set the metallic chill from the hook pressing into his neck with the blunt end, as Hook continued to take in the scenery with the boy at his side.
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Peter Captured