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Atonement	By : Panymede Category: M through R > Peter Pan > AU/AR Views: 10484 -:- 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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Chapter 5

Hook awoke with a small grunt of protest, his eyes squeezing shut as he averted his face, unconsciously trying to escape the bright morning rays of sunlight that streamed through his open window to fall across his eyelids. But turning his face aside merely served to bury his nose in a mass of hair, a few strands of which tickled his nostrils. Hook snorted irritably and opened his eyes at last, grudgingly conceding defeat and surrendering further thoughts of continuing his pleasant sleep.

Peter still slept soundly, his cheek pillowed on the captain’s right shoulder, his breath warm and soft against Hook’s chest. The boy’s right arm was curled around the man’s torso and one of Peter’s legs was wrapped around the pirate’s larger one. Hook sighed as he contemplated how he was going to extricate himself from this clinging mass of boy without waking the little strumpet. Moving slowly but deliberately, Hook rolled the boy off of him and slid his right arm out from under Peter’s head. The youth grunted in response to being dislodged but did not awaken, and Hook sighed in relief at his small victory. The captain stood and stretched his cramped muscles, feeling immense satisfaction as several joints cracked.

This is becoming quite the habit, Hook thought as he slipped his harness on, fastening the buckles quickly while he kept an eye on Peter to make sure he stayed asleep. Since he’d begun sharing his bed with the boy, Hook had become strangely protective of his amputated arm. Peter had never seen the scarred stump and the captain had no intention of ever letting him… the very idea filled the man with unfamiliar anxiety and shame. He’d tried sleeping in his harness, merely unscrewing his iron hook from the cuff, but the leather straps chafed when worn too long, making that option temporary at best. It was becoming more apparent every day that their new sleeping arrangement was going to become long-term, and it left Hook in a bit of a quandary. He had no intention of kicking Pan from his bed – the boy slept better in his arms and Hook enjoyed having him close. It was just damned lucky so far that Hook managed to wake up first every morning, giving him time to don his prosthetic. If it hadn’t been for the sun this morning…

Hook frowned and turned to the window, his eyes widening in shock when he beheld the bright, blue sky. There hadn’t been honest sunlight since he’d captured Pan weeks ago, the island reflecting the boy’s dark, depressive mood. Hook’s shock turned to amusement, remembering events from the night before. Pan’s first climax… no wonder the boy was feeling better today. There was nothing like a good lay to ease any man’s mind. Speaking of lay, Hook mused, turning his gaze back to the boy. Peter was now stretched across the bed, arms and legs sprawled carelessly, the boy’s naked body lying so defenseless and wanton. Hook grinned, becoming aroused at the sight, and he quietly eased back into the bed to partake of the delightful offering.

He paused just a moment to unscrew the cruel hook from the cuff of the harness, disarming himself without having to expose his foreshortened arm. Once the weapon was safely stowed on the nightstand, Hook lay alongside the somnolent youth, propping himself on his right elbow to lean over the boy’s exposed form. Ever so gently Hook caressed Pan’s face with his fingertips, his touches feather-light as he explored Peter’s smooth, velvety cheek and jaw. His calloused thumb brushed across the boy’s rosebud lips. They parted in response, opening in unconscious invitation to be plundered. Unable to deny himself anything he desired, Hook claimed Peter’s lips in a soft, slow kiss, letting his hand wander down the boy’s vulnerable neck to caress his chest, fingertips lightly circling a nipple.

Peter stirred under the captain’s gentle ministrations, dreams of writhing limbs, caressing hands and moist lips slowly fading as he awoke to similar sensations. He moaned, his lips moving against Hook’s instinctively, returning the kiss even as he opened his mouth wider in invitation for more. A low chuckle brought him fully awake as the man’s fingers gave his nipple a playful tweak, and Peter couldn’t help but gasp and arch in surprised pleasure.

“Good morning,” Hook murmured, his mouth leaving the boy’s lips to trail licks and gentle bites along Peter’s jaw, down his neck and collarbone to fasten firmly upon the boy’s other nipple.

“Good…oh!” Peter tried to reply, his newly awakened mind overwhelmed by the captain’s pleasurable assault. When Hook began suckling at one nipple, tongue teasing one hardening nub while the man’s fingers continued to squeeze and rub the other, Peter gave a choked cry. His hands grasped at the larger man’s shoulders so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Hook? I… please…” he continued to babble, confused by this strange awakening but unwilling for it to stop.

Hook chuckled again and raised his head to observe the boy’s flushed, glazed expression. “Shh,” he soothed, letting his hand run down the boy’s chest to his abdomen, rubbing slow circles along the way. “Lie back, wake up, and enjoy,” he suggested, his voice low and amused. He leaned forward once more, capturing Peter’s lips in another kiss as his hand found its way to the boy’s groin. Hook swallowed Peter’s gasp of surprise as the captain’s fingers closed about the youth’s lax member and began to awaken it, just as the man had recently awakened its owner.

In no time at all, both the boy and his arousal were fully alert and eager for Hook’s touch. The captain did not disappoint either, his strong hand stroking Peter’s erection with slow, steady motions. Peter arched into his hand, his hips grinding upwards in instinctive need. He whimpered with every caress, his hands clutching desperately at the man’s arm and his eyes clenched shut in concentration. This pleasure, this overwhelming need was one of the last things he remembered from the night before, and awakening to that same all-consuming sensation was both delightful and terrifying. In some distant corner of his mind he recognized just how helpless and dependent he was in this moment, and that part of him was deeply afraid of his utter lack of control. But the far greater part of his mind couldn’t care less, happily surrendering every inch of his body to this man atop him so long as this mind-blowing pleasure never ended.

Peter’s whimpers soon turned to moans, which soon became sobbing gasps as his body began to writhe more frantically against the captain’s, quickly building towards climax. Hook left off kissing and nibbling the boy’s lips and raised his head to stare down at Peter, reveling in how responsive the youth was to his ministrations. Pan was so damned pliable, so eager to be touched, that it amazed the captain that the boy could still be unspoiled. My touch is the only touch he’ll ever know.

He felt a sudden desire to see the boy’s eyes, to catch every flicker of emotion and, most of all, to ensure that the boy knew exactly who it was that was making him feel this way. His hand slowed its stroking, taking the tempo down to an agonizingly soft caress. Peter growled in protest, hips thrusting in an attempt to reestablish what had been lost. Hook laughed aloud this time and threw one of his large legs across the boy’s own thinner ones, pinning them down.

“Open your eyes and look at me, Pan,” Hook commanded. Peter obeyed immediately, much to the captain’s approval, and stared up at the man with his wide, emerald-green eyes. Hook smiled down at the boy. “I want to see your eyes; I want you to watch me while I pleasure you.” His hand increased its strokes along the boy’s length, and Peter’s eyes immediately took on a glazed expression, his lashes fluttering as the boy struggled to keep them open and focused on Hook’s face. Peter’s heaving breast, shining eyes, scarlet-flushed cheeks, and lips swollen from kisses, made for a sinfully exquisite picture of debauchery.

Peter stared up into the captain’s deep blue eyes, one of his small hands sliding up the man’s shoulder to twine in his hair. The all-consuming need wracking his body was steadily building into an overwhelming pressure that threatened to crush him if he didn’t achieve release soon. “Hook,” he gasped, “please.”

“Call me James,” Hook offered with a smile of amusement. No one on his ship ever dared to be so informal with him, but Hook desired to hear his given name fall from the boy’s lips. It was an intimacy he’d not allowed anyone for far too long, and given what he’d shared with the boy – and given what he planned to do to Peter later – it seemed fitting to allow the boy that familiarity. “Say my name, Peter; beg me for more.”

“J-James,” Peter groaned, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly in pleasure, loving the way Hook’s eyes had lit up when he called the man’s name. “James, more,” he continued, his voice taking on a desperate whine as the hand pleasuring him faltered for a moment. “Please,” he gasped, arching against the man again, “need more. Please, let me…”

“Not yet,” Hook purred, enjoying his absolute power over the boy beneath him. “You haven’t convinced me yet that you truly want to come.” He laughed at Peter’s small whimper of frustration and gave the boy a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. “Let me hear how much you need me.” With that, Hook began in earnest to reduce the boy to a writhing, sweating, begging mass of flesh. Pleading moans turned to sobbing gasps, gasps to incoherent babbling, babbling to resounding cries, before finally he allowed Pan to climax, the boy screaming as his orgasm slammed into him. Hook crushed his lips against Peter’s as he came, continuing his strokes as the youth’s body convulsed. After a seeming eternity, rigid muscles slowly relaxed, until the boy lay boneless, gasping and completely sated.

Peter lay still for a while, eyes closed, savoring the feeling of pure, unadulterated bliss that suffused his entire body. That had been, without a doubt, the best wake up he’d ever had in his entire life. He was tempted to give into to the lethargy creeping over him and let his body slip back into sleep. It would be lovely, he mused, if Hook would wake him up that way again. He hazily recalled drifting off to sleep in such a way last night, and decided that this time he ought to at least thank the man for making him feel so nice.

With a contented sigh, Peter opened his eyes to see Hook propped on his elbow, leaning over him. The man was watching him with an amused, nearly predatory smirk on his lips. Peter smiled impishly in return. “Good morning,” he murmured, rolling onto his side to face the man.

“Good morning, indeed,” Hook agreed. “Either the heathen gods have answered the savages’ prayers for sunshine, or you’re feeling much more cheerful today.” Peter stretched lazily, his lithe body writhing and contorting in such a way that, watching him, Hook felt his own arousal heighten into a burning need. The captain’s desire to possess the boy’s body in full coalesced into a vow – today, perhaps this very morning, he would take his full pleasure from Pan.

“Well, I do feel nice,” Peter replied, leaning forward to kiss the man. To the boy’s confusion, Hook drew back, evading the contact.

“Nice?” the captain gasped, his tone filled with mock indignation. “After all my effort, you only feel ‘nice’?”

Peter felt a moment of uncertain worry, thinking that perhaps he’d offended the man. But he’d lived with Hook for weeks now, so it didn’t take the boy long to realize that the captain was merely teasing him. Feeling rather mischievous, Peter laid his hand upon the man’s chest and began to idly stroke one of the Hook’s nipples with his thumb. “Well, you could try again… maybe you’ll do better next time.”

Is he flirting with me? Hook blinked at Peter, rather shocked by the boy’s unexpected audacity. Pan had been depressed and withdrawn for so long that it was almost strange to see his old confidence and playfulness again. His cockiness last night… sunshine and smiles today… I do believe the lad is feeling better after all. Hook’s surprise intensified when he realized the boy’s happiness pleased him – he’d never have thought he’d care for his old nemesis’s well being. I never thought I’d have Pan on his knees, sucking me off either – it just shows that anything is possible in this hellhole called Neverland.

“Perhaps not,” Hook sighed, playing along. “If you considered my attentions to be sub-standard, then I’ll not embarrass myself again by failing to perform up to your expectations.” He moved as if he was going to get up, but the boy’s thin fingers grasped a strap of his harness and tugged him back down.

“I was only teasing,” Peter said urgently, not wanting the man to leave him just yet. He liked having the captain’s warm presence beside him, and he was rather hoping for more touches and kisses before they had to get up and face the rest of the day. “You were magnificent,” he continued, placing a small kiss on the man’s chest. “I’ve never felt anything so wonderful in my entire life. I never knew touching could be so much fun, or I’d have told Tink to shut up.”

“Tink?” Hook asked in bemusement, lightly running his fingers through Peter’s unruly hair. “What does that bothersome pixy have to do with touching?”

“She said that no one was allowed to touch me,” Peter responded, looking up at Hook wistfully. “It’s forbidden, she said. I never understood why, but I believed her… no one, not even my lost boys, was allowed to touch me unless it was necessary.” Peter scooted closer to Hook so that he could press his entire body against the captain’s warm flesh, wrapping his arm about the man in a hug, his cheek against Hook’s breast. “I like this,” the boy continued, and Hook shivered at the warm breath that ghosted across his skin. “I like it when you touch me; I want you to always touch me… I don’t want you to ever let me go. Why didn’t she let me have this? Why did she keep me away from everyone? It feels so wonderful; what’s so wrong about it that Tink would say it’s forbidden?”

Hook wrapped his arm around Peter, gently running his palm across the boy’s back as he returned the embrace. He could think of at least one reason the pixy had sought to keep the boy isolated from human contact, considering what he knew of the bothersome fairy. It was likely she feared that if he knew what it was, he’d desire physical contact, something she would not be able to adequately provide, and eventually leave her behind in order to seek it out. Or perhaps it had to something to do with the magic that surrounded the boy, and by touching Pan he was interfering with whatever spells the fairies had used to bind him to the island – the dark magic he’d heard whispers of from the mermaids when he’d questioned them about the boy. Hook really didn’t care what her reasoning was and he enjoyed Peter’s talents too much to worry about it. He didn’t care if Neverland itself was destroyed because of what they were doing, he wasn’t about to let Pan go.

“There’s nothing wrong with touching,” Hook lied, knowing very well that most civilized people would consider what he was doing with Peter to be a heinous crime. He ran his fingers through the boy’s hair again, gently massaging his scalp and eliciting a soft moan of pleasure. “It feels good, so why should we stop? Forget about Tinker Bell and her silly rules. I’ll touch you in ways you haven’t dreamed of before, and you’ll love every moment of it.”

Peter smiled at the reassurance and took the man’s advice, letting go of all thoughts of Tink and concentrating on the one holding him. He noticed a hardness pressing into his hip, and he immediately recognized it as Hook’s erection. Grinning mischievously, he slid his hand down to the man’s groin and began lightly stroking the captain’s phallus. “The way you made me feel last night and today… is that how good you felt when I’d suck you?” he asked, genuinely curious.

Hook grunted when the boy’s hand closed about his erection, small bolts of pleasure coursing through him in response to Peter’s soft touch. “No, lad, not quite. I merely stroked you… sucking feels much better than stroking.”

Peter found that very hard to believe. Considering the intense explosion of sensation he’d felt earlier when he came, he thought that he might not survive anything that felt much better than that. “Maybe you could show me?” he asked hopefully. The thought of Hook sucking him sent shivers down his spine and straight to his groin, causing his sex to stir.

“Not hardly,” Hook laughed, dashing the boy’s hopes. “Remember, boy, you’re atoning for your sins by pleasing me, not the other way around.” He reached down and grabbed Peter’s wrist, pulling the talented fingers away from his member to pin the boy’s arm to the mattress by his head. “I don’t mind stroking you, if I feel you deserve it, but I won’t demean myself by sucking you off.”

“Demean?” Peter repeated, confused by the man’s words. He remembered that he’d been pleasuring the man as punishment, as a way to make up for something terrible, but he couldn’t quite remember what terrible thing he’d done. He just knew he’d felt awful for it before. But demeaning himself somehow? It didn’t quite make sense.

“Whores suck men off, Peter,” Hook said softly, nuzzling the boy’s hair. “You’re whoring yourself to me, buying forgiveness with your body. It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“I… suppose so,” Peter replied, still confused. He didn’t know what whores were, but it did sound like it fitted with his arrangement with Hook. “Do you want me to suck you then? You’re awfully hard.”

Hook rolled over the boy, pushing Peter onto his back so that he lay atop him. “No, not this time,” he decided. “I think its time I taught you something new… something I’ve desired to teach you for quite some time. It will feel so much nicer than sucking, and we both will enjoy it immensely.” Oh, how he’d longed for this, and now he was finally going to have it. He felt the boy’s half-hard sex against his belly, felt his own member pressing against the Peter’s thigh, and his desire to be inside the boy’s body became an all-consuming need. “Spread your legs, Peter,” he ordered, shifting his weight so the boy could move his legs apart.

Peter complied hesitantly, unsure of what was going to happen now. He enjoyed Hook’s touch, yes, and the promise of more pleasure was enough to make him agree, but he didn’t like not knowing what to expect. “What are we going to do?” he asked as the man settled himself between his knees.

Hook smiled down at him, putting his first two fingers in his mouth and coating them with saliva before lowering his hand to probe the boy’s nether regions. “We’re going to fuck, Pan,” he purred, fingers lightly circling the boy’s opening while his thumb brushed the base of Peter’s re-awakening sex.

“Fuck?” Peter repeated, unable to keep his voice from hitching in response to Hook’s touch. Having the captain’s fingers there unsettled him, evoking memories of how he’d felt last night when those same fingers had slipped inside. It had felt nice after a while, but for the most part it had been painful and uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure if he wanted a repeat of that experience. “It sounds like suck. Is it much the same?”

Hook chuckled in amusement, delighted by Peter’s enduring naivety. “I’ll show you,” he promised, easing one finger into the boy’s entrance. Peter gasped at the distressing intrusion and tried to move away, but the man merely moved with him, keeping the finger firmly in place. “Let me, Pan,” he warned, draping his right arm across the boy’s pelvis to hold him down, “or I’ll have to make you let me. Trust me when I say you won’t like that at all.”

Peter whimpered at the threat, his discomfort warring with his fear of Hook’s ire. He felt oddly helpless lying beneath the man, almost as if that one finger inside him was enough to hold him pinned to the bed. But when the captain bent his finger and began to stroke, finding and manipulating that magical place inside the youth’s body, Peter felt his doubts melt beneath the heat of his awakening desire. Moaning and gasping, Pan spread his legs wider and lifted his hips, allowing the man greater access to his most sensitive places.

As much as the captain enjoyed Peter’s enthusiastic reaction to his touch, Hook couldn’t help but frown as he contemplated how to proceed. It was his intention to thoroughly prepare the boy to receive him, so that when he breached Peter’s virginity he’d do so with a minimum of discomfort. He wanted Pan to enjoy this, wanted to hear Peter cry out his name again in ecstasy. But he needed oil to do this properly, and the bottle sat on a table across the room. He considered pausing in his activity for a few precious seconds to cross the cabin to retrieve the oil, but as Peter bucked and writhed at his touch Hook felt a growing reluctance to leave off what he was doing. I could use spit, he thought hopefully, having used saliva for lubrication when he’d buggered the ship’s cook (who made a comfortable living by selling his services to his shipmates). But what works for a whore isn’t likely to work for a virgin…

Hook was spared from choosing between Peter’s comfort and his own lust when the door to his cabin flew open and a very agitated bosun barged in, yelling “Cap’n!” The sight of his captain naked and lying atop an equally naked Pan, the younger gasping and moaning in response to the motions of the elder’s hand between his thighs, was enough to bring Smee to a dead halt. “Cap’n?” Smee choked, his face blanched and his eyes wide with dismay.

“Fetch me the oil, Smee,” Hook ordered without looking up. “It’s on the table beside you.” The captain had no doubts as to the thoughts running through the bosun’s mind right now, but he didn’t particularly care, either. He was certain that Smee disapproved of his captain molesting a boy, but he also knew that the old man was too much of a cowardly sycophant to even voice a protest, much less try to intervene. When Smee didn’t jump to obey Hook raised his head to fix the man with an annoyed glare. “Come, come, Smee, the lad’s just begging for it,” he crooked his finger viciously, making Peter yelp and jerk. “Surely you don’t want me to hurt him?”

Smee opened his mouth to speak, but no sound issued forth. After several more attempts to say something, the bosun finally looked away and fixed his gaze upon a painting on the wall. “Injun’s, Cap’n! There’s a good dozen canoes fulla savages headed this way, and they’re all in war-paint! They’ve shouted out that th’ Chief jus’ wants a powwow, sir, but it looks to us like they’ve come for a fight.”

Hook froze at the news, his face darkening in anger. It was bad enough that those savages had dared to interrupt his much-anticipated deflowering of the boy, but to have the audacity to mount an attack against his ship… against him? The captain rose from the bed and stalked across the room, finding his clothes and pulling them on with violent awkwardness. How dare they? This had best be good, or I’ll kill every last one of them and feed them to the sharks! “Smee!” he barked, fumbling one-handed at the strings of his breeches. The bosun jumped to his side, quickly tying the strings and helping his captain dress quickly and efficiently, but he kept his eyes averted both from his captain’s own eyes and from the figure lying in the bed.

“Get the boy dressed, quickly, Smee,” Hook ordered lowly as he tucked a brace of pistols into his belt, “and then I want you to join me out on deck to interpret.” The captain turned his attention to Peter, who had regained some of his composure and was now sitting up in the bed, watching with a mixture of curiosity and disappointment. “Stay in the cabin, Peter. This might turn into a battle, and if it does I don’t want you in the middle of it. Understand?”

“A battle?” Peter gasped, his disappointment turning to excitement. Battles meant adventure, and the promise of a coming adventure kindled something inside him that had been dead for far too long. It was like getting a breath of fresh air after months of languishing in the brig. “Can I come?”

Hook finished screwing his deadly claw into the cuff of his harness and pointed the weapon at the boy sternly. “You will stay here!” he yelled, his anger finding focus on his former enemy. “If I see so much as a glimpse of you on the deck, I will give you a spanking that you won’t enjoy… and no touches for a week!”

Peter blinked in alarm at the threat, the possibility of no more hugs and intimate touches enough to chill his desire for battle. “Yes sir, I’ll stay right here.”

Hook nodded in satisfaction, quietly delighted that he’d managed to make Pan so deliciously submissive without having to shed a single drop of blood. Filing away that threat for future exploitation, he turned away and left quickly, slamming the door to the cabin behind him.

Smee hurriedly gathered Peter’s clothes and began to help the boy dress, so unsettled by the scene he’d witnessed that he still couldn’t bear to look the lad in the eye. It was wrong, he knew, but it wasn’t his place to object. He’d enthusiastically helped his captain try to murder Pan for a number of years and never had qualms about the right or wrong of it, why should this bother him so? And Pan had indeed seemed to be enjoying himself, so it surely wasn’t as bad as all that…

“Mr. Smee?” Peter asked as he pulled his shirt over his head, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What’s fucking?”

Smee froze, his face going deathly pale at those foul words spoken with such innocence. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing away dark memories of his own boyhood. “I ‘spect th’ Cap’n’ll show you soon enough,” he said gruffly, crossing the room to push a window wide open. He looked at the boy then, deciding that just this once he’d follow his own conscience instead of his Captain’s interests. “I suggest ya go home, lad, afore ya learn that lesson. Trust me when I say it’s not somethin’ a man should be teachin a boy.” He pointed out the window, towards the island. “Go home or stay, its yer own choice. But if ye stay, I wash my hands of what he does to ya.”

“Go home?” Peter echoed, looking out the window doubtfully, dreading the thought of going back to the island. “I can’t… I have to…” he trailed off, trying to remember why he thought he had to stay. It all came back to that bad thing he’d done, that terrible thing he couldn’t quite remember doing. He shook his head, searching for another excuse to stay with Hook. “I like it here. We’re having fun.” He didn’t understand Smee’s warning, but he detected the man’s undertone and felt a small coil of fear tighten in his belly. “Is there something wrong with fucking? What is it exactly?”

Smee shook his head, his sense of loyalty beginning to reassert its dominance over his conscience again. Further conflict was avoided when he heard Hook yell for him to hurry up and join him on the deck. “Stay or go, lad,” he repeated as he made his way to the door. “I wash me hands of ya.” And with that he was gone, closing the door behind him and leaving Peter alone to decide between his desires and his fears.
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Atonement