Pacifier | By : lexyhamilton Category: M through R > Peter Pan > Het Views: 5311 -:- 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. |
Title: Pacifier
Pairing: Peter/Tinker Bell. Um, yeah. *hides* This is a weird one.
Written: 12/04
He lay on his bed of leaves, staring up at the gnarled tree branches, probably regretting how wasteful he had been with his most entertaining enemy, and how easily he had let the girl take all his boys away. Tink stared at him from her small boudoir, only her own light illuminating the room and making Peter’s thin limbs cast horrifically distorted shadows across the walls. If only he would regret his true mistake—bringing the wretched Wendy to the island. The Wendy had not known how to deal with him and had only served to confuse him, and now he lay there miserable and alone. Tink herself was not one to comfort him. His tears may have brought her back from the dead, but jealousy overwhelmed gratitude in her tiny body. So she continued to lounge, staring down at him, seeing the reflection of her light start to dance in his open eyes as he was beginning to cry.
“Aren’t you going to make me feel better?” Peter finally said, pouting.
He looked younger suddenly—seeking solace from a creature the size of one of his fingers. She fluttered down and landed on his chin. He lay for a while avoiding meeting her gaze, but finally took her up gently and slid her body feet first into the cavernous heat of his mouth. His obscenely large lips locked closed around her waist, and she shivered in pleasure from the hot moisture to which her legs were now subjected. And then came utter bliss. The mouth started working, wonderful suction pulling her even further in before the tongue launched her out again. Back and forth she went as he sucked rapidly, almost frantically. She was soon lost to sensation, her wings trembling as the massive tongue slid across her legs and bottom. Its surface was rough but not to the point of being unpleasant. The teeth dug in a bit but only served to heighten her excitement because it felt just that much more dangerous to be inside him in this fashion. She turned to look at his face-- nose still sniffling, blowing her hair back and forth chaotically, tears falling now, but all diverted to one side because he was no longer on his back. Such a pretty boy he usually was, but not from this strange angle. It all seemed rather grotesque up close. She parted her legs and shuddered as the tongue inadvertently swept across her inner thighs. Peter was rather oblivious to the change, or its implications, lost in his feelings of loneliness and need.
Sucking. Sucking was something pleasant and comforting out of a past he could not truly recall. In any case, sucking was safe. He felt some of his worries washing away.
He had left his mother quite early, Tink recalled. Though the fairies fed the baby ambrosia there was at least one thing he missed, and his thumb constantly gravitated toward his mouth in feeble attempts to reproduce what had been lost. Tinker Bell remembered the first time she had ventured to replace that thumb. That a mouth so small and soft could produce such powerful suction amazed her, and she spent more and more time with him until the two had grown inseparable. Slowly, Peter had aged, the fairies intent on letting him retain childhood but still be capable of fending for himself in the sometimes perilous environment of Neverland. He grew, and so did his need for companionship. He sought out beings like himself— crass and loud boys—though he was always careful to remain leader supreme. Gone were the infantile days, though Tinker Bell knew Peter still harbored longings that confused him. He had merely diverted them to what he thought was the answer. Wendy. Wendy, who did not want to become what he had sought in her, and yet asked him to give in and change. And Tink had been convinced that he had-- forever ruined and intoxicated with large and vulgar girls.
A vocal sob suddenly wracked his entire mouth. Tinker Bell pressed her open legs up to the tongue one last time, and flew out.
“Oh Tink,” Peter mumbled, clumsily rubbing in his renewed tears with a fist. “It’s the second time a mother didn’t want me.”
Mother... She looked at the rest of his body. While she was intensely aroused, his own body showed no signs of excitement. Still chaste as a baby. Her baby, and no one else’s. Perhaps Wendy had a smaller impact than Tink had surmised. She flew into Peter’s reach again, signaling with little subtlety that he could comfort himself all he wanted. Wet sucking sounds continued well into the night until the boy succumbed to sleep, only superficially mollified, while Tinker Bell was too lazy to fly up to her boudoir and lay intoxicated near the boy’s face, feeling his breaths sweep past her and half-heartedly reprimanding herself for being lazy enough to risk getting smothered during the night.
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