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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Author's Note: Now is when things start to get ... heated.

Many many thanks to tygris (whom I should have thanked sooner) wri writing the only review this story has received on AdultFanFiction.net. Thank you!

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Chapter 7
Show Me
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Silence reigned for long moments. The air was richly scented with tangy ocean salt, the musk of wild roses, and the clean scent of fresh green grass. A breeze dallied among the tall grasses, setting them to whispering and pausing to lift Wendy's hair here and there in ethereal tendrils.

Somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped insistently. Chirrup. Chirrup. Chirrup.

Wendy fought the sudden desperate urge to grab her nightdress before her and flee. She could not find her way home alone, even if the fairy dust had given her the ability to fly, and anyway she refused to behave with so little dignity. Having decided to take what pleasure she could from this precious time with Peter Pan, she would not now let missish modesty betray her. She stood firm.

And, anyway, in some small proud part of her heart, she rejoiced at the awe in Peter's eyes.

Peter stared mutely at the pale body which had haunted his dreams for so long. The curves were no longer shrouded in the shadows of the unknown, but instead were clearly illuminated and silvered by the moon and stars. Wendy's body. Wendy's body, revealed ast. st. Wendy's body, all graceful curves and hollows, all warm and sweet and naked for him.

Peter felt somehow honored. Blessed. Perhaps even unworthy, though he would never admit to the thought. For how could the great Pan be in any way unworthy?

His eyes traveled the length of her body, lingering curiously at the dark triangle of hair where her legs joined. He too had hair there, but she seemed to have more than he, and it was darker.

Quite forgetting their argument and its subject, Peter rose slowly to his feet and came to stand before Wendy, his body tall and lean beside her slim curves. He stood only inches away, and an intensity radiated from him, a humming energy as of power only barely contained.

Peter wet his lips, looking down into Wendy's eyes, and then hesitantly brought his hands to her waist, noticing curiously how his long fingers could easily span that narrow circumference. From her waist, he then allowed his hands to slide downward over her smooth skin, curiously caressing the gentle curve of her hips. Allowing his hands to wander once more upward to cradle her breasts, Peter at last moved slightly to close the distance between their bodies, and leaned his head down to tenderly claim Wendy's lips in a sweetly yearning kiss. With their bodies now pressed together, Peter slid his hands around to Wendy's back, holding her with his arms touching as much of her bare skin as possible.

When Peter trailed his mouth away from Wendy's so that he might nuzzle her neck and ear, Wendy -- still attempting to explain away the earlier confusion -- murmured breathlessly, "You see ... a woman's body ... is ... made to ... welcome ... a man's ... in the act of love."

Pulling away from Wendy's flesh reluctantly, Peter repeated, "Welcome?" Having quite forgotten their earlier conversation at the first sight of Wendy's naked skin, Peter was vaguely befuddled. What did she mean? And why did he care, when Wendy was warm and willing against him?

Looking up into Peter's eyes, their blue-green color now darkened by passion, Wendy whispered, "A woman takes a man inside her body."

Still distracted by the feel of Wendy's smooth skin subtly rubbing against his with her every slightest movement and barely registering what either of them was saying, Peter leaned down toward her, breathing huskily into her left ear, "Inside? Where?"

Pug bag back slightly, Wendy gently took Peter's hand in hers as he watched her quizzically. Holding his gaze the entire time, she guided his hand slowly downward until his palm rested against her triangle of curls, his fingers curving below to rest against some unexpected wet heat between her thighs. At that first gentle contact, Wendy jerked lightly, breathing a small gasp as if the touch of his hand upon her flesh had triggered some unexpected sensation.

Confused at what he felt against his fingers, and also by Wendy's surprised reaction, Peter held still a long moment. He wondered if this was the source of the moistness he had felt on Wendy's nightdress when he had first brought her here, and he decided that it almost certainly was. Confident that he at last understood some small part of what was happening, he relaxed slightly.

Watching Wendy's face for clues, Peter flexed his fingers, his eyes widening when she whimpered and her eyes fluttered closed. He repeated his slight caress, and Wendy's knees seemed to suddenly buckle beneath her, her eyes wide with confused need. Never having felt anything remotely like the intense sensations now thrumming through her body, Wendy wondered, Is this what Peter was talking about?

Peter carefully lowered Wendy to lay again in the soft nest he had made for them, and took his place beside her, leaning close to watch every expression on her face, to hear any noises she might make. His heart was racing with disbelief and excitement that this was so similar to his fantasies and dreams. He had never dreamt of this mysteriously slick place between Wendy's legs, but he had quickly realized that it gave her pleasure when he touched it. He wanted to look, to see what it was he was touching, but felt vaguely as if this would be somehow inappiateiate. Worried that he might upset Wendy so that she pulled away from him, Peter instead resolved to ask Wendy later. For now, he would content himself with the sense of touch, which she seemed to welcome.

Uncertain exactly what he should do, Peter explored with tentative fingers, listening closely to the rising and falling of Wendy's soft gasps and whimpers, raptly watching the subtle writhings of her body. He attempted to repeat any of his actions that seemed to Wen Wendy more pleasure, but in truth he had little idea which of his blindly enthusiastic movements were successful and which were not.

Still, the increasing tension of her body and the heavy sound of her breathing seemed to indicate that he was doing something right. He wanted to watch her eyes, but they were closed, just as Peter's usually were when he pleasured himself. It was strange to Peter, seeing the signs he had learned to recognize in his own pleasure-wracked body, but seeing them in Wendy instead. He found it extremely exciting.

When one of his naively wriggling fingers unexpectedly slipped inside somewhere Peter had not even known existed, Wendy went rigid and her head fell back in a long moan, her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her face set in a grimace that Peter feared might indicate pain.

Peter froze. Had he hurt her when his finger went somewhere it shouldn't? He didn't know! He didn't mean to! The heat and wetness did feel rather like a wound, so it seemed possible. She hadn't told him what was right and what was wrong, so he had only been able to guess. It wasn't his fault!

But Peter realized that Wendy was now lying limp, her breath coming in rapid pants, her eyes still closed, and an expression on her face that might be described as ... bliss. When he started to move his hand again, Wendy whimpered briefly and closed her legs, nearly trapping him. Extricating his hand, he watched her face closely, remembering that Wendy had thought him in pain when in truth he had been experiencing great pleasure, and he gradually became convinced that something good had happened. It might not have been the same as his lightning strike, but it had been something good.

A smug grin creapt over Peter's face.

He stroked her hair away from her face, and eventually her eyes fluttered open to look at him. She looked sleepy and content, a slight smile curving her lips.

"Is that how you felt?" she asked in a hushed voice filled with wonder.

"I'm not sure," Peter admitted. "How did it feel?"

Wendy shook her head slightly. "I can't describe it. It ... it felt as if a ... a knot ... tied tighter and tighter inside of me ... only to suddenly fly apart."

Peter nodded, smiling, excited to finally be able to share this mysterious experience with someone else, particularly to share it with Wendy. "Yes! It feels ... as if you are sk byk by lightning ... and your whole body shatters!"

Wendy sighed and stretched with a contented grin. "Mm," she agreed languidly. "That is what it felt like."

Peter stroked her face gently again and then lowered his lips to hers, kissing her with a tender vigor that communicated the wordless strength of his emotions. He loved Wendy. He had shared his greatest secret with her. She had shared her body with him. He had no ability to communicate the intensity of his feelings, except through his kiss.

When Wendy gently pulled away, Peter chased her lips with his until she placed her hand upon his shoulder to hold him away from her. Peter, lying upon his side, straightened so that he could see her face more clearly, rather than the double-vision he got from being so close.

"Peter?" Wendy began hesitantly, nervousness obvious in her tone. Peter wondered why she might be nervous, after all they had shared. "Show me?"

Peter was, once again, befuddled. It was, as always, an unpleasant sensation. But Peter's voice was carefully calm when he asked, "Show you what?"

Wendy's hand upon his shoulder gently slid down over his rib cage and toward his waist, resting with a slight tremor upon the side of his body. She did not answis qis question, but Peter felt excitement stir within him in response to her tentative touch.

"Show you what, Wendy?" Peter asked quietly, hopefully.

"Show me ... how?" Wendy licked her lips and slid her hand down, down toward the body part that looked nothing whatsoever like Michael's. She stopped just short of touching it.

"How?" gasped Peter, tantalized by Wendy's hand upon him, tantalized by her hand's nearness to where he most wanted to be touched.

Wendy's hand trailed hesitantly down so that it rested with the lightest possible touch upon the hardness between Peter's legs. His entire body seemed to tremble in reaction.

"How to ... touch me?" Peter guessed, uncertain if Wendy was asking what he hoped she was.

Wendy only nodded, her hand petting Peter's extremely sensitive skin with a light, teasing touch. Groaning, Peter turned onto his back, urging Wendy to follow him so that she now lay on her side as he had done previously. With no pretense of hesitation, he eagerly covered her hand with his own, and showed her what to do.

It was very different from the times when he touched himself, so much more intense, for even though he guided Wendy he still could not predict every squeeze and caress. The sense of unpredictability, the sense of being in Wendy's power, lent the experience an edge of excitement unlike anything he had ever felt before, causing his tension to mount more quickly than it had ever done when he was alone.

The grass was cool against his back, and the ocean breezes around them were mild, but Peter's skin where Wendy touched him was burning as if he were truly on fire, as if his skin was made of flame. Lost in sensation, he was not even aware of the archings of his body, the tossings of his head, the small desperate noises he made in his throat, the occasional insistent bucking of his hips. He was, in fact, insensible to everything but Wendy, beautiful and warm at his side, and the excruciatingly wonderful feelings coiling tighter and tighter inside him.

Such sweet tension could not last long, of course, for the greatest pleasures are those which last but a brief time, like the fleeting beauty of the wild rose. And, so, with a theatrical arch of the back, with a loud sob of Wendy's name, with a frantic grasp of her free hand in his, Peter found himself once again touched by the lightning strike, once again taken into the stars and scattered among them in a sudden rush of ecstasy.

For long moments, he was aware only of the pounding of his heart and the rhythmic throbbing of his body, but he slowly became aware of Wendy lying beside him, watching him with uncertain but hopeful eyes. Peter tried to find his way to the surface of the lassitude swamping him, and smiled. Wendy smiled in return.

Looking down, Peter saw the milky white substance lying upon his belly ... and also upon Wendy's hand. Embarrassed, he quickly sat up, though the sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness through headhead, and attempted to use grass to clean Wendy's hand. Wendy watched him in mild confusion as he next used his fingers to wipe the substance off his belly and then wiped his fingers against the grass. He was blushing furiously.

Wendy, of course, having been told the basics of how men and women copulate, was not surprised by this product of Peter's organ. She was only surprised that it was also apparently produced outside of the actual act of making love, outside of the woman's body. And, to be honest, she was surprised by its odd consistency, quite different from anything else she had ever encountered. Perhaps a bit like rice pudding. Raising her hand to her mouth to taste the traces that still remained upon her skin, Wendy grimaced. It certainly didn't taste like rice pudding. She wiped her hand on the discarded nightdress that lay within easy reach.

Satisfied that he had cleaned himself and Wendy as best he could, Peter lay down again upon the bed of woven grasses, and gently pulled Wendy to him. Resting her head against his shoulder, pulling her so that she lay half on top of his body with her bare legs twined with his, with his arms wrapped around her securely and her arm lying across his chest, Peter Pan fell asleep. And Wendy soon followed him.

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Author's End Note: In most love scenes in fanfic, both partners reach orgasm simultaneously and everyone's bodily fluids taste like ambrosia. That's fine in the world of fantasy, but I'm trying to be a bit more realistic, here, even though Peter Pan is not a particularly realistic story. Heh. Still, if the point of this fic is to explore sexual awakening, I prefer to do it as realistically as possible, instead of taking an idealized view.

4 more chapters to go.

I'm finding that readers on AdultFanFiction.net don't write reviews. As of today, this story has 59 hits, 1 review (yay tygris!), 0 ratings. That's disappointing, because fanfic authors' largest source of encouragement comes from readers who enjoy their work. I hope people out there are enjoying this, even if you aren't reviewing.
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Awakenings