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Give and Take	By : Panymede Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Slash Views: 6986 -:- 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
- 1-Give and Take
- 1
Give and Take

“That’s it, Pan,” Hook’s voice is low and rough above me. “Just relax and take it.” With that he presses against me harder, forcing more of himself into me while I try to stifle back a cry, in vain. It shouldn’t still hurt, not after so many times. Not after the amount of time and effort he devotes nowadays to preparing me. He calls me a slut when he’s angry, but it’s not like he gives me a choice. It doesn’t matter how gentle he is with me or whether or not I cooperate; it’s still rape.

I want to tell him to go to hell, but he’d probably enjoy that little bit of defiance too much… mistake it to mean I want him to be rough. So instead I keep my head down, face buried in the mattress, sheets balled in my fists, with my knees beneath me and my ass in the air, letting him fuck me again. I could fight him – the leash of gold that attaches my silver torque to his headboard is ridiculously easy to snap – but really, what’s the point? We left Neverland a long time ago, and I’ll never see it again. I’ve grown up too much, despite my efforts to resist.

Taking deep breaths, I make myself relax, allowing my muscles to unclench and accept the penetration. I gasp when Hook takes advantage of my lack of resistance to ram himself home. The pain lessens when his cock slides across that sweet spot inside me, and once he’s fully sheathed he stops moving, waiting for me to tell him I’m ready. To be honest, he doesn’t hurt me nearly as much as he used to, but I’m beginning to doubt I will ever learn to enjoy it as much as Hook says I will. The coming pleasure won’t make up for the pain of being breached, the pain of submitting to him, the pain of letting him take his pleasure from me. He’s taken so much, and yet he continues to take from me daily and I let him. My pride suffers now where once my body did, and I don’t know which hurts me more.

I feel his hand caressing my back, running over the scars, and I smile. I know how he feels about those scars, and I take my own pleasure knowing the guilt he’s feeling right now. It’s the real reason I insist he take me on my knees instead of on my back - not because it hurts me less but because it hurts him more. His fingers lightly trace the worst of the marks, the one on my shoulder, and the touch soothes me further. He’s remembering, seeing what I see in my nightmares. I know this because he confessed it once, after an aborted rape that left me in tears and him hovering anxiously over me. He claims to care about me now, but I don’t believe him. He’s just trying to trick me into giving in to him more.

Slowly I raise myself up, bracing my arms beneath me for support. He leans over me and places a kiss on my shoulder, his mustache tickling my skin as his tongue traces the ridges of the scar.

“I’m ready,” I tell him, shrugging my shoulder to make him stop. I don’t want his affection. I just want him to hurry up and finish this so he’ll go to sleep and leave me alone.

“They’re fading,” he murmurs, his hand still rubbing my back, lips brushing my spine.

Involuntarily I close my eyes, trying to fight the feeling of warmth and peace the gesture stirs within me. I don’t want his affection. I don’t need it and I don’t need him. Anger fills me, anger and disgust, and I can’t resist the urge to lash out at him. “You’ll just give me more scars when they’re gone. Hurry up and get on with it, you perverted old bastard,” I snap, wriggling my bottom for emphasis. “Take what you came for and leave me alone.”

I immediately regret my words. Hook’s growl of anger scares me, and the gentle hand on my back is replaced with an iron grip on my hip. I wish he’d taken the claw off before he’d begun, because now the cold steel is resting where his lips had been, serving as a chilling reminder of how I’d gotten those scars in the first place. “Fine, Pan. If you won’t let me be gentle, then I’ll treat you like the little slut you’ve become.” And with that he begins, and I don’t bother stifling my cries as I hold on to the bed for dear life.

I’ve provoked him and now he’s slamming into me angrily, no longer concerned whether he hurts me or if I’m getting any pleasure. Each brutal thrust sends a burning, ripping pain through me, eliciting another choked sob every time he rams hilt-deep inside. There’s pleasure there too, enough to make me rock against him despite the tears prickling my eyes. It’s enough to make my own sex harden in response, but not enough to mute the pain. I could have let him kiss me, I could have played along and let him be gentle and let myself enjoy it too, but I’ve done that before and it’s caused me more pain in the end. When he’s angry and punishing me, I know where I stand. I hate myself less this way, knowing I made him take me instead of giving myself willingly.

I glare at the golden chain, watching the links sparkle and dance, bouncing in time to Hook’s thrusts. It’s purely symbolic, really, and Hook only continues to use it at my request. Once it delighted him to keep me chained, to make me powerless beneath him, but now it serves as a reminder to me of why I’m here, of what I really am to him. I keep trying to forget, lately. I keep trying to believe he cares about me and that I care about him. I won’t forget! I won’t let myself forget what he’s taken from me! But it hurts, and it’s starting to hurt worse.

“Pathetic little whore,” Hook snarls. “You’re nothing now! I’ve won! You’re mine, to fuck and kill as I please!” He pounds into me harder and his words become crueler, saying things to me he hasn’t said since his early days of raping me.

It hurts too much, and now I deeply regret spurning his gentle touch. It’s too much like before, and against my will the memories begin to arise. The pain, the awful things he’d say to me, his laughter when I cried… his hook, red with my blood…

“Stop!” I hear myself scream, echoing my pleas in my memories. I try to pull away, to flee the assault on my body and mind, but his hand and claw hold me in place. “Hook, stop!” I scream again, but he merely laughs at me, reveling in my pain. That laugh, that cold, cruel laugh… “NO!” I have to get away! I lunge forward, twisting in his grip in a desperate bid to get free, and am rewarded by a flare of agony across my back as his claw slices into my skin. I’m pulling at the chain as I roll away, trying to get free.

“No, please no, please not again! No more, don’t cut me again!” I can hear myself begging him to stop, shamelessly pleading for his mercy, but I don’t care. The memories are too much and I can’t tell what’s real anymore. There’s nothing left but the pain…

… the pain as his claw tears into my calf when I try to fly away after yet another duel, this time catching me. He flings me to the deck, laughing at the sight of my blood. His men leap upon me, chaining me down…

… the pain as I watch the shores of Neverland slip over the horizon. He’s saying that I’ll never see my home again. I scream as I pull at the manacles about my wrists, cutting into my skin as I try to free myself. I scream again when Hook tosses Tink’s lifeless body overboard, laughing that I’m the only souvenir he wants from Neverland…

… the pain in my leg as I limp across the rolling deck, the wound from Hook’s claw infected and hot. Smee says they might have to cut it off…

… the pain as he claws my back, over and over again, shouting obscenities, cursing my name. I don’t know how we ended up back at the island! It’s not my fault! Please stop! …

… the pain, throbbing and aching throughout my entire body, intensified by the fever that is boiling my blood. Water, please… I’m sorry, I don’t know why… I didn’t do it…gentle words now, cold cloths and soft touches. He says he’s sorry, he says he didn’t mean to hurt me so bad. It hurts that he’s so nice after being so cruel; I can’t understand how he can be so nice…

… the pain as he rapes me the first time, breaching me without preparation, making me scream. I’m too weak to fight him, I’ve only just now gotten well and I’m not strong enough to get away. It hurts, it hurts, please stop it hurts! He’s laughing as he takes my innocence, boasting while I cry that Neverland won’t want me anymore. That I’m not a child anymore… we leave again at dawn…

… the pain of yet again watching Neverland disappear below the horizon, my body aching from Hook’s attentions the day before. He’d raped me several times before we set sail, and raped me again while we were underway… for good measure, he explained as he laughed. More pain exploding within me when Neverland is gone, something within me snapping as my last link with the island is truly and completely severed. I fall to the deck, screaming, my body convulsing, blinding white agony engulfing my senses…

… the pain won’t stop, nothing but pain… my head my stomach my back my legs and arms and inside and outside please make it stop kill me please kill me kill me kill… it’s gone suddenly without a trace, and I open my eyes to find myself in Hook’s arms. He’s holding my hand, pressing a silver cross into my palm as he prays, his voice shaking, saying he’s sorry… the silver, why is it that silver makes the pain go away, but iron makes me sick? Why does it have to be a silver collar? Torque, not a collar… but I don’t want to wear it, why not a ring or a bracelet? His perversion hurts my pride when he uses my weakness to chain me to his bed and I discover why he’d rather me wear his collar…

“Shhh, lad,” his voice is soothing again, warm yet shaking slightly. It pulls me from my memories, aided by the feel of something metal against my chest, held there by his now-gentle hand. “I’m sorry, Peter, I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “It was an accident. It’s just a scratch, I promised you I’d never carve you up like that again and that’s one promise I’ll be damned if I don’t keep.” He’s rocking me softly, like a baby, his cheek resting against the top of my head. I’ve been here before and I’m so tired of it all.

“I’m going to get sick again,” I remind him, lying passively against him. It’s true, Smee’s the one who noticed first and Hook has since verified it: every time his claw draws my blood, the wound becomes infected. Smee thinks it’s because the hook has iron in it. Fairies abhor iron, and I spent so much time with them.

“No, lad,” Hook replies, placing a heavy silver ring in my palm and lifting his hand to caress my cheek. “The silver will keep you well, remember what Smee said: it gives you healing and protection. You pulled your torque off - you broke the clasp and ripped it off. Why? You know the pain comes back without the silver.” He sighs and squeezes me tight, his fingers digging into my shoulder almost painfully. “You keep fighting me and you keep pushing me into hurting you. Why do you make me hurt you? Why won’t you let me take care of you? I don’t want to cause you pain, Peter, and I don’t like to see you cry. Why won’t you believe me and let me show you what I can give you?”

I can’t answer him. I don’t know why… I did once but now I’m just so tired of it all. I’m tired of the pain, I’m tired of being sick and afraid, and his arms around me feel so warm and safe and good… Sliding the ring onto my thumb, I turn my face into his chest and wrap my arms around him. My tears dampen his shirt as I begin to sob, and in response he kisses my hair again, running his hand along my back. Soft, gentle, loving words wash over me, telling me that I’m safe, that I’ll never be harmed again if I just give in and let him take care of me. Give in… I’ve nothing left to give so what difference does it make? But he’s offering something to replace the aching emptiness inside; he’s offering me comfort and hope – things I thought I’d lost forever. Somehow I know I shouldn’t trust him, that despite his best intentions he’ll always end up hurting me. But I have nothing left to give, nothing more that he can take, and I just can’t stand the emptiness anymore.

“Yes,” I whisper in response to his question, and let him lay me back onto his bed. He smiles at me as he slides the silver bangle up my forearm until it fits snug, and I try to return his smile at his extra precautions to keep me safe. Then he’s kissing me, touching me, licking and sucking, and I arch into his touch, suddenly needing more. When he enters me I wrap my legs around him, trying to take as much of him within me as I can, trying to fill my emptiness with his essence. I have no choice. There’s nothing left for me to do but to take what he is willing to give me.

“That’s it, Pan,” Hook’s voice is low and rough as he thrusts, filling me with warmth and pain. “Just relax and take it.”
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Give and Take