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NeverRememberLand	By : ClarySage Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Slash Views: 7729 -:- 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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NeverRememberLand8
By Cs

The underground dwelling had not changed much in the years since Peter’s abandonment. It had waited patiently, knowing he would return someday, and had regularly scoured itself with wind and rain, washing away the dust that would accumulate, and airing out the dank of the room. Now it shone proudly at the eyes that watched it, and it felt a vast relief, as a dog when its master is home at last.

Nap examined the nook where Peter’s large bed was, the furs on it still soft and shiny, and beside it, tucked into a corner was a small room with a curtain. Not really a room, more of a tiny box-like sectioning on a shelf. That had been Tinkerbell’s, Nap knew. Though he could not remember who she was, or where she’d gone. He pulled back the curtain on it and looked inside with interest. There was a piece of mirror, and a minuscule hairbrush, a diminutive pile of bedding, seemingly having been collected from everywhere, and a thimble. Not the kind of thimble Peter had shown him, but instead the thing Nap knew as thimble, the small silvery bucket. He picked it up, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Peter?”

“What?”

“Look,” he held up the thimble and Peter cocked his head to one side.

“What is it?”

“A thimble,” Nap handed it to him, and Peter examined it for a long moment, turning it this way and that in his fingers. At last he handed it back, shrugging his shoulders.

“I don’t see much point to it.”

“No, neither do I, it is most unlike kisses.” Nap went back to looking through the tiny cupboard of a room, delicately trailing his fingertips over the petite brush, and then with a sigh shutting the curtain. “Tinkerbell, she lived here once.”

“Who?” Peter turned from his perusal of the scattered toys lying about.

“I don’t know…” Nap shook his head and stared at the large bed in the opposite corner, a net basket hanging nearby it. “They lived here too I think.”

“The Lost Boys,” Peter said, knowing it was they, though remembering only half of them and their story. “There was a fairy too, I bet she was this Tinkerbell.”

“That would fit,” Nap agreed; glancing over at the tiny, empty room. He yawned then, and tried to stare in surprise at his own mouth, he couldn’t remember being tired before. “Wendy would say it’s bedtime.”

“A girl…she was here too?”

“I don’t know, I just remember a Wendy.”

“How is it you remember things I should remember? And I remember things I never remembered before? Only, I’m not sure I’ve remembered them at all. It’s very confusing.” Which was an impossibly long speech from the more action oriented Peter.

“I’m not sure, it’s as if, we share them, and you get half and I get half. Is that fair do you think?”

Peter considered mentioning the cave, he didn’t care to remember it, but it kept hanging around, clinging to his mind tenaciously. Then he wondered if Nap would be able to recall it at all, considering this newfound knowledge that “we can’t share a complete memory.”

“What?” asked Nap, who had sat down on Peter’s old bed, half curled into the furs already.

“But why would we share? I’ve never shared before. At least, I don’t think I have.” Peter’s face screwed up, an unusual expression of confusion and pain crossing his features. “This shouldn’t be.”

The whole place looked familiar and yet unknown. There were bits in Peter’s mind that seemed as if he should recognize them, quick glimpses into people that had been here before, adventures that had happened, and great big holes throughout it all. He felt something was amiss, or possibly missing altogether. Unable to complete the thoughts that circled in his head he sat down beside Nap, sighing and agitated. “We should visit the cave,” he said softly.

“The what?” Nap asked sleepily.

“We’ll do it tomorrow, when the day comes.”

Nap yawned and tugged at the furs, pulling them over his head and snuggling deep into their velvety hold. A moment later he felt Peter climb in as well, skin brushing his own and then soft breathing next to his face. He reached out and laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing it before sighing deeply and falling down the endless black hole of sleep.

~~~

Whenever Peter dreamed, he dreamed of what had been, never of what could not be. Even now, as the night crawled on his eyelids like a diminutive black bug, the dreams crept into his mind and swarmed around him, crowding one another out. He found himself in a familiar place, his own bed. At his side lay Slightly, curled into a comma and eyeing him with a gaze he couldn’t begin to decipher. As the glazed happy expression seemed one he’d never seen before, he wanted to ask what that look was. But his lips did not move, and his dream went on.

Slightly had always been the most attractive of the Lost Boys, both in mannerism and looks. He was often nearly as clever as Peter, and sometimes, though Peter would of course never admit it, he was even cleverer. He’d liked Slightly, quite a bit. Though he could never put a finger on why, and so that Lost Boy had come as close to a favorite as any of them had ever been. Up to the point that Peter had even invited the boy to sleep in his bed with him, touch him when he slept, look at him, as he looked now, curious and joyous all in one go. Slightly had known things the others never had, he’d been the first lost boy, and perhaps that too leant to his place as favorite or, at least the next best thing.

“You won’t forget will you, Peter?” Slightly asked in the hazy, watery way of dreams, his hands clasping Peter’s shoulders as if to hold him in place lest he fly.

But Pan had merely smiled his cocky smile and hadn’t said anything; after all, memories never mattered. His fingers had drifted to coast along Slightly’s face, unashamed and inquisitive. He’d pinched the tip of his nose, petted his dark hair, stared into his infinite rust eyes, and had let his smile slip into something rarely seen, a predatory sort of expression perhaps more suited to a wolf than to a boy. “I never forget anything,” he’d said confidently.

Slightly sighed, closing his eyes. “Of course you don’t.” And he’d inched closer, nuzzling Peter’s neck and heaving a breath of such great force that the golden hair at the nape of his neck trembled in it.

Peter had liked the feeling of nearness with Slightly; it felt pleasant to be held for a change. Cautious fingers had stroked his skin, and stealthy lips had stolen kisses from his mouth, and he’d only wanted to return the feeling of it. So he had. Quite easily delving his hands into Slightly’s hair and pressing his mouth fully against the other boy’s until he felt no breath could ever escape. At first he merely held his mouth there, and then he’d moved back, before quickly diving in for another kiss. In this way he learned to kiss, behaving as a pearl diver, coming up for air, before plunging in once more.

He grew hot beneath the furs; sweat trickling between his shoulder blades and dampening the hair around the edges of his face into a darker hue. Everything began to take on a more desperate tint as the kissing progressed into petting, the petting into stroking, the stroking into out right gripping. He would never forget this he told himself, and yet, when the light of the dawn had come, he had forgotten it all as easily as anything before.

He never wondered what the look was in Slightly’s eyes when they turned to follow him, until the night came again and he was reminded. Yet every day, it was always erased anew.

~~~

Peter awoke to the feeling of being still within his dream, and then jolted slightly in place when he realized he remembered the dream, and remembered that it had been reality at one point. The arms that were so possessively holding him were not Slightly’s, the tan of them and the blond head of hair on his shoulder giving the game away. He lay quietly, staring up at the tree roots above his eyes, and absently caressing Nap’s shoulder.

He could remember kisses now, not as thimbles, but as kisses. Slightly had whispered to him often about kisses, telling him about them each night, reminding him when he’d forgotten. Peter glanced down at Nap’s face, his eyes following the slack mouth, one of his fingers itching to trace the same path. He wondered if Nap recalled kisses like those of Slightly.

It was then Peter realized he still recalled not only the dream, but the day before as well. He still remembered the house with the two boys in the window. Those two boys had made him think, forced him to recall in his dreaming. He glanced again at Nap’s mouth, interest nearly making him vibrate. Slowly, careful not to wake Nap, he bent his head down and pressed a kiss to one corner of his mouth.

Nap squirmed and pressed closer to Peter, one leg flinging itself over his hips, the arm over his chest wrapping itself tighter around. His mouth moved in a sound like as if he’d tasted the kiss, lips smacking together softly. An eye opened, slitted and wide of pupil, as if it remained in the dark of dreams still. It shifted and focused, centering on Peter’s face and the look of shameless interest he had on. Then he stopped just on the verge of waking up as Peter kissed him again, this time aiming for a more direct contact and meeting his lips with increased pressure and meaning.

It was just as Peter recalled it being with Slightly, only now, in the light of the morning it seemed more profound. Though he could not explain whether that was because it was Nap or not. What he did know was that it was bliss, this strange euphoria that took him over, gliding up his limbs and sizzling softly in his belly. His hands gripped Nap’s face on either side, holding his head steady as he eagerly stole one kiss after the other.

Nap’s body twisted, his hands sliding uselessly over Peter’s shoulders and neck, and then down again impatiently, his legs slid restlessly, only his head held still, mouth soft and compliant as Peter kissed him.

Neither noticed the flames, as they did not burn them, but instead surrounded them in a nimbus of liquid fire. It seemed nearly invisible from the inside, just a vague wavering as of heat on the water. But from the outside a sphere of flame encircled them as it began to singe the roots of the tree and the toys scattered on the floor. Only when the crackling of the fire as it began to toast the bed crept into their ears did they notice it at all. Then, instead of flailing or running, or even flying, they both smiled, comprehending instantly that the fire could not hurt them, only what was outside of them. They did not worry about the roof collapsing on them in a heap of timber and ash, they knew that whatever caused the fires would not let them hurt within it.

They kissed again then, and Peter found he couldn’t seem to keep track of his own hands, noticing only when they tingled that they were roving over Nap as if he were a Braille map that should be committed to memory. Peter could not remember this bizarre tingling from his kisses with anyone else, though, that was nothing new as he rarely remembered much at all. Yet even so, he knew that what was happening was indeed something freshly found.

In a stab of movement they turned together, Nap sliding into place like a puzzle piece on top of Peter, legs to either side, hands falling easily to his shoulders. They fit far better than a puzzle; limbs nearly glued together, mouths inseparable. Nap made a whining sound in the back of his throat that was echoed almost immediately by Peter and they melted together, eyes closed and lips clinging all the more.

It was extraordinary, and more than slightly addictive. And it became more so when they discovered what happened if they rubbed together from thigh to shoulder. There indeed was something new, at least, from what Nap could remember. A spark gathered in his stomach and meandered in broadening paths radiating outward, like little fingers of lightning, sizzling as it coaxed his insides into a trembling mess of needs and wants.

Between them little literal flames licked at skin, raising the hair on the back of their necks and sending a pins and needles feeling throughout. Nap gasped, his eyes going wide at the sensation that writhed straight to his groin, and in surprise he glanced down, breaking the chain of kisses.

This was what Peter had been waiting for, knowing in the back of his tangled mind what was to happen. He smiled, reaching down to give Nap’s erection a squeeze. He grinned when eyes closed, entranced as a groan emitted from the heavily kissed mouth. He remembered this much from his time with Slightly, the heavenly feelings his body was capable of. He figured if Nap was Pan then not much could differ, so he went on, trailing the fingers of his other hand, smoothing them down Nap’s shoulders, tangling them in his hair.

They rolled once more in smoothness of motion to rival a wheel, Peter unable to keep his eyes from closing in commiseration as their bodies slid firmly together. His skin fairly sang with tension, tuning itself like a fork, quivering as if it’d been struck to set the pitch of a vast and varied instrument that he held no name for and had never seen. Something broke with the shaking of him, splintering and releasing a thing unexpected, passion.

It bloomed inside Peter as only a flower could do, spreading its crimson petals wide and offering all while accepting only light and nourishment as its needs. Within this opening came an animal, a feral beast that knew more than any beast ever could, it woke in Pan’s eyes, a jade monster with its jaws wide. He felt the need to devour, to conquer, hold, and claim with a fierceness that terrified the boy within.

Only when he caught his reflection in the wide dark eyes of Nap did he notice the beast looking back from inside himself. And if he looked past it, into the wells of the eyes that reflected the image, he could see Nap, staring back at him with the same hunger, the beasts equal, as were they. In an echo of the fiend within they came together once more in a frenzy of tangled legs, and desperately wriggling flesh. Their bodies pushed together as if they could fuse into one being, hands melting into the pockets of hips and the soft dents behind knees.

They discovered they had tongues, and pushed those together as well, winding them about one another, trying so hard to merge that they ignored the clack of teeth on teeth, desperately seeking a combination of closeness that would unify them into one. Peter shuddered as he at last found what his body had been seeking, his thighs and fingertips tightening and clinging to Nap as if he’d die if he were to let go before the end. A wash of sapphire went through his eyes, as if the unseen sky above reverberated with his climax.

Around them, the underground home blazed; chunks of root and roof falling to the floor, toys giving tiny pops and exploding in showers of sparks and ash. The tree was a pillar of blazing scarlet and golden flames with a deep center of blue in the morning sky. And Neverland trembled.

tbc

as of April 23rd 2005 I've started this project again. Give me time, and I will post the end for you.

Cs
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NeverRememberLand