Back we go.
The tides were strong, hitting the rock with such intensity that it didn't matter how far she was, droplets of the cold water still got to her. It was way too much, way too overwhelming. The wind was almost cutting her body, the water was freezing her to dead, and she could feel it all.
But at the same time she couldn't.
She was looking at herself from outside, like you only do on dreams. She knew how she was feeling, cold and alone, without knowing what was happening… At some point, looking around, she noticed someone standing just below her. It was a boy, and just like you do on dreams, she knew his name was Aaron.
He was frowning; concentrating on something that must have been really important, like a task only he could do and it was so so so necessary that the world depending on it.
His face moved to his right side and there she noticed an iceberg. Or so it must have been. It looked exactly like ice but it wasn't, because the people standing there were not slipping like they should've been with the amount of water surrounding them. But it didn't matter, that wasn't what was important.
Aaron was trying to get everyone to the dry land on his left and just when he succeeded with the first person-
She felt herself falling. Not from outside but like if she was the one falling. And of course she was. One big tide had hit her and she felt from the rock, trying to gain balance or to, at least, hit the water in a good angle that wouldn't hurt a lot.
She closed her eyes just a few feet away from the black water, waiting for the big splash that was to come. Instead of that-
When Dayla woke up her side was hurting, like it would if she had actually fallen. She tried to get up, but her hand protested and didn't help her to push herself up; she had to stay there while she recovered.
When she let herself look around, a smile made its way to her mouth. She recognized her surroundings, every single plant and rock she could look at.
Ignoring the pain, she laughed. It didn't matter if all was part of a dream or if she really was there, but she was happy. It felt like home and even if she knew she couldn't be there for a lot of time, nothing mattered. Her laugh echoed through the forest, making it sound louder than it really was, happier to hear ears.
It almost sounded like she was screaming with joy. Joy of being away from the human world, from the normal world. Two years. Two years of feeling out of place at her school, two years of only being happy when she was reading at the exact same place she was at.
Neverland.
It was too much and so little at the same time. The only thing that she could think about was finding her Lost Boys. Her pack of humans that really acted more like wolves, but that had treated her like one of them when she was younger.
Last time she had seen them she was about to turn sixteen. Her womanly body was starting to show but she could still ignore it and act like the boy she felt she was on the inside. That was all she wanted now. To look at them and to loose herself in their dances and laughs, in their hunting parties and in their fighting trainings.
Oh God, she needed to star moving towards the camp. Where could it be these days?
She knew they changed places every few weeks; she would have to find them before dawn, when they would leave to do their various activities. She wondered what they were up to nowadays. They loved playing games and fooling around but Peter Pan always had a bigger mission in mind. Someone to get rid of or someone to bring to the island… He was always plotting something in the back of his mind and he rarely let himself completely enjoy the relaxing days Neverland had to offer.
She wondered again what could possibly be in his mind this time, and how would he react to her, now that she was near his age and that her body showed every single bit of her eighteen years. Except for the height. She was as short as the youngest Lost Boys, and they were fourteen.
Dayla stood up when the pain faded. It might have gone faster because she was so extremely happy and just wanted to walk.
There was no moon in the sky but she guessed it was something near midnight, and she also guessed Pan was in a bad mood. The clouds were thick and the humidity strong. Yeap, the boy was in a terrible mood.
She looked around trying to localize smoke. It was still early in the Lost Boys' standards and they must be dancing around the usual bonfire. Or so she guessed. She couldn't hear any music.
Not finding anything, she climbed the nearest and easiest tree she could find. It was a difficult ascent, not like she remembered it; but maybe it was because it had been long since she did anything like that. She still made it to the top after a few minutes without panting pathetically.
A column of smoke could be seen to her left, not as far as she thought it might be. Breathing heavily, she went down, trying not to hurt herself in her way, but scratching her naked legs anyway. She was still in her pyjamas: short shorts and one of her brother's t-shirts. She needed to change her clothes soon.
After ensuring nothing mayor had happened, she started to walk towards the camp. On her way there, she let her hands touch everything. The smells were strong and without noticing, she smiled, and smiled bigger. Closing her eyes when her hands sent shocks of memories to her brain. It was amazing how she could still remember everything after two years. She felt as if she had never left.
So absorbed inside her thoughts Dayla didn't notice that the bushes around her were moving; she didn't even register the sound until someone threw himself over her.
Something she didn't know still was there clicked, and self-defence kicked in. She ducked and rolled on the floor, dodging the attack of whoever was there, only to find the person throwing himself to her again, not giving her time to stand up, and keeping her in the floor. Both her wrists above her head in someone's hand.
She tried to get free, kicking and moving to get the person out of her.
"Dayla?" The person asked. She recognized the voice and freeze in place. A wave of relief keeping her still on the floor. When she looked at her opponent she noticed that, indeed, she knew who it was.
"Felix?!" One pitch above her normal one, happiness made its way through her voice. Of course she remembered the boy, Pan's right hand and one of her best friends.
"Glad to see I can still beat you after all this years." He smirked, making her scowl and start to fight again. Pushing the floor with her legs as hard as she could, she made him roll and sat on his stomach, straddling him. She pinned his hands at his sides.
"I win." She said, smiling when the boy looked up at her. It was his turn to scowl. "Although, I give you points for surprising me. I didn't notice you until you were about this close to me." She let go of one of his hands to show him with her fingers how closed he had been from taking her down.
"I never thought it was going to be you." He shrugged. Looking at her with intensity. She had grown and it showed. Still as petite as always, he noticed how she looked prettier. Last time he had seen her she still could pass for a boy, now it would be impossible. It wasn't her body, but her factions. Her eyelashes were longer, her face thinner, her bone structure more defined. But beneath all that, he saw the Lost Girl that had played with him and tried to defeat him at every chance she had. Next thing he knew she was hugging him. "It's glad to have you back." He said in return, not holding her, but being as expressive as he could be.
"It's good to be back." She smiled, standing up and offering her hand to help him. He took it and went for his club. It was on the floor where he had thrown it before the fight. "Are we near the camp?" She knew it wasn't that far away; if Felix was there it meant he was on watch.
"Yeah, we are almost there. The boys are still dancing." He put his arm around her shoulders, guiding her through the trees between them and the camp, where all the Lost Boys where to be found.
Them, and Peter Pan.
Peter Pan was playing his pipe, his eyes closed but his mind recreating perfectly the scene before him. He had seen it thousands of times; the Lost Boys dancing around the fire, mad with the magic coming out of the Pied Piper's music.
He was so concentrated that he didn't notice the difference until it arrived at camp. Someone was laughing and Felix was laughing with them, instead of being on watch.
Opening his eyes, he let the magic stay in the air; the boys kept dancing without being bothered by the same interruption that bothered Pan.
His right hand came in sight with a little girl, someone he hadn't seen in years, someone he recognized instantly even though she had changed so much. He understood why Felix had interrupted his watch, as his breath left his voice with the word: Dayla.
Two years; it had been more than two years since the last time she had been on Neverland and this time, she didn't look like a Lost Boy. Oh no, she didn't look like she was going to join the boys in their playing parties. She looked older, like… No! He couldn't afford thinking like that; he couldn't afford losing his breath over someone who was part of his pack of Lost Boys. Over someone who had left his world to grow up.
Recovering, he walked over to the couple. "Felix?" His voice crushing every feeling inside of him. He sounded angry.
"Look who is back!" The blonde answered, excited, before noticing Pan's face. He wasn't excited at all, oh no, he was… angry, disappointed, he couldn't even place an emotion. "I'll… I'll go back to my watch." He said, turning around and leaving the girl with the most dangerous person in all Neverland.
"Aren't you going to say hi?" Dayla asked, ignoring Pan's serious face and trying to act confident. She hadn't been expecting a bad reaction but she surely wasn't going to let him scare her. It had taken her too much time to make him respect her, she wasn't going to lose that just because he was in one of his moods.
Peter Pan looked at her, head to toe and right back. His mouth went dry. She had changed a lot, her body behind the boyish clothes… her face… she didn't belong there anymore, and he was going to make that clear to her. "How did you get here?" was all he asked, his voice not even changing.
No emotion, she couldn't find emotion inside of him. "I fell?" It sounded like a question because, seriously? No one entered Neverland without Pan wanting them inside the island. "I was dreaming and I woke up here." She explained, not caring if he was paying attention or not. Her eyes travelled to the fire, and the Lost Boys around it. She wasn't hearing the music, not at all, but she could feel the pull of magic. It was one of the strangest things ever, and one of the things she had missed the most.
"You shouldn't be here." It hurt. Like, well, she shouldn't still care about his approval but, once a Lost Boy… she felt the need of being approved. So the comment hurt, maybe he didn't want her now that she was older and looked like a girl…
Either way, she wasn't going to let him win, she wasn't going to let him know that he was hurting her. It was a nice try on his behalf, but she wasn't there to fight with the leader, not at all, she was there to enjoy the little time she had with the boys that made her what she was now. Who cared about Peter Pan when she had less than a night to get as much fun as she could before going back to the tedious life that was waiting at home.
"Well I am." Shrugging, she acted like she didn't care at all. "Care to let me play with my friends?"
He looked ahead, too. Both of them concentrating on the fire now. "Can you even hear the music anymore?" He knew the answer before asking the question. No, she didn't hear it. Even when she was younger, he had to adapt his tune for her, something he wasn't going to do now.
He was doing it for the same reasons he did everything, to get to a point. The point this time? Apparently piss her off. "I feel the magic pull." She gave. "Now, this can go in two different ways. I play, not listening to the music and feeling incredibly embarrassed; or I play, for one night dare I say, with the tune you've always played specially for me." The two ways this could go were extremely right or extremely wrong; Peter hated being told what to do, and Dayla wasn't exactly requesting. So, either he ignored the implication hide in her voice, or he was going to go ballistic.
The look he sent her way could make skin crawl in fear. She shivered, of course. "I'm not going to adapt my tunes. Do as you please." He wasn't going to help and she was bluffing about dancing without the music. No way was she going to embarrass herself, she was too shy for that, but freak she thought he still respect her enough to help a little. Well, that went well.
When she didn't move, Peter did what came best to him. He smirked. He loved feeling accomplished. Peter Pan always wins. That was basically the motto of Neverland and, in all seriousness, some little – he meant petite – girl wasn't going to change that. Even if that girl looked too womanly to be good for Peter's mind.
Still with the aura of superiority, Peter brought the flute to his lips and started playing the same music as before. The tune that only his Lost Boys heard and that made him feel so much in control. That was what he needed, stating the amount of power he had. Power enough to make people move to his tunes.
Dayla couldn't hear the song, and to hide her disappointed, she looked other way. Frustration and anger threatened to consume her and if she didn't get out of there she would probably cry. Fuck the stupid boy for ruining the only good thing she had left before the hell that was going to break lose back at home.
Yes, her best friend was there, and yes, they would still see each other; but it was not the same. She was in Neverland for a reason and even if it was unconsciously, Peter had let her in.
"I know what you're thinking." She heard his voice, relished his accent. The pipe all but forgotten. "If you were let in, it was simply because I never cared to close the door for you." Ah, there it was. The intentional-hurting-you-and-making-you-feel-like-you're-worth-nothing-so-you-run-away-and-fulfil-Peter-Pan's-wishes. She just didn't understand why he wanted her to go, for the first time ever.
Yep, she would definitely have to go if she wanted to stop Pan from seeing her cry.
"I guessed as much." She all but whispered, seeing to her voice and trying to avoid any cracks. "It's okay, I guess I'll go to sleep and wake up in my own bed." That was usually how she went back. She would just have to go to sleep before she had planned to.
When she started walking towards the boys' place, where she supposed she still had a bed – she couldn't see any new Lost Boy, meaning no one had taken her place –; Peter decided to talk again.
He knew he had hurt her, just as he had planned. What he didn't expect was to feel… something about it. He wouldn't call it guilt per se, but there was definitely something there and he hated that. Still, he wasn't about to stop himself for voicing the words that followed.
"Your bed is not there, neither in this realm anymore." That made her stop, but she wasn't going to look at him, oh no, he wasn't winning like that even if she had to pull her eyes out. Peter didn't wait for her question. "We didn't think you'll come back."
Great fucking explanation, she thought. Because, really? Her bed there was a constant. She liked constants when real life was so changeable and so… unstable. Now she didn't even have that. The safe place that was Neverland for her, well, it was gone.
"I guess that fucking explains it all." Again, her voice was low, just a murmur, that Peter heard because he was an amazingly good hunter. Also, he could even hear everything that happened in his land.
"You can go to my hut." His eyes were stabbing her back, which was curved slightly as if she was trying to curl into a ball and disappear. That was exactly what she wanted. "I expect you to be gone by the time I make it there to sleep."
Deep breaths. Deep deep deep deep breaths or she was going to jump him and punch him until his face wasn't pretty anymore. And maybe she was going to kick his testicles just for the fun of it.
But no. Deep breaths and with a nod, she walked until she disappear inside Peter's hut, where the door was made of skins of the animals he had killed before. Fucking bastard and his Tarzan complex.
She wasn't even two steps in when she changed her mind. She wanted to curse and punch and trash everything but she wasn't going to. It was probably her last time in Neverland, forever, and it Pan wasn't going to let her have fun with most of the boys well, at least she was going to have fun with one.
Waiting a couple of minutes, she stepped outside when she thought he would be lost in the magic, tasting the power or whatever he did when he closed his eyes and looked as if he was receiving a blowjob. But of course, she was angry and in reality he simply closed his eyes to enjoy the music his flute produced.
She knew her way back to Felix, and she made it, finding him where he was supposed to be. The boy looked at her but didn't move, didn't smile. He just quirked an eyebrow. That was all she needed, the biggest invitation you could get from a Felix that had been told off by his leader.
Dayla sat with her back on a three nearby and draw a tic-tac-toe on the floor. Felix club was long enough to let him make the first move without actually moving at all.
Peter Pan always did what he wanted to do. He always won and he always chose the way he wanted to live his life. That's how it was, no one was ever going to deny it; but when he found himself stopping his notes… it was all her fault. She wasn't supposed to be back, she wasn't supposed to be consuming his mind like a poison. He proud himself in controlling everything and yet, he couldn't control his thoughts.
The way she was all grown up now. The way she looked more his age than any of the Lost Boys did. The way she had made him lost all kinds of thoughts with just her looks and her laughs. The way she acted, like it was all normal and it was okay for her to want to play with the boys, when in reality, she couldn't look more different and out of place even if she tried.
The hurt he had caused, evident in her voice even if she didn't talk aloud.
Peter Pan proud himself in hurting people and not caring at all, but this time… he was not going to accept he was feeling guilty but he couldn't stop thinking that, if she was gone when he went to sleep, she would hate him. She used to respect his every order, she used to be amazing at acting like a Lost Boy; that's why he had let her stay… Every time she came to Neverland he had let her stay, he had let her play, and he had let her go as she pleased, procuring to her safety and comfort. Even if she wasn't lost enough to hear his songs at first.
And now he was going to let her go, resenting the place she obviously loved most.
And he was going out of his mind. The Peter Pan he was wouldn't do such thing as caring. He had hurt her, just as he wanted and he should had been feeling proud. Not… different. Any other sentiment but pride and smugness was uncalled for and therefore, disposable. Or so he thought.
The more he tried to get rid of his thoughts, the more she consumed them. At first it was just discomfort, an image or two of her turning her back to avoid being seen; but when the fire was about to die, it was thousands and thousands of memories, images, sounds, touches. He could swear he felt her hands on his arms… urging him to move and laughing while a 'come on!' slipped from her lips.
It was plain stupid. He pretended like it wasn't happening, like he was deep concentrated on his music, maybe plotting something new, who would know?
He didn't notice how the sky had gotten darker and how the storm clouds he had form earlier that day, were now threatening to fall from the sky in pouring rain that would soak them all.
When he went back to his hut, hours later, after putting everyone to sleep, there was no sign of her. It didn't even look like she had been there at all and he had to lie to himself once more.
He lied to himself while taking his boots off, he lied to himself while he sat on his bed, elbows on his knees and his head resting on his hands.
He closed his eyes while he told himself it wasn't making him go mad. That Dayla – a little girl – wasn't making him go crazy and that her absence was not generating pain in his chest even though the only thing keeping him sane at the moment was the headache his fingers were creating by pulling at his blonde hair.
It was plainly stupid. Plainly stupid and if it was so stupid then WHY COULDN'T HE STOP THINKING ABOUT IT.
He knew she should be gone and yet he felt disappointed when he didn't find her lying on his bed.
Why the fuck was he feeling like this?! Peter Pan didn't feel, he didn't feel, didn't feel, didn't feel.
Didn't feel.
Didn't feel.
Didn't feel.
Didn't feel.
But after so much times repeating the same thing, it lost its meaning. He was feeling and it was killing him. He didn't know how to handle that and therefore, he didn't know how to handle himself. What did he need to do? He needed to forget her, she was gone now anyway. What did he need to do in order to forget her? He had no idea.
The pride and smugness he had felt before were long lost, long forgotten. He even considered the thought of having lost. Of having made a mistake. Even though Peter Pan always won.
That's how she found him.
The image was pathetic but she would never see it like that. His hands were still pulling at his hair and she had to move, towards him, as if there was a gravity force pulling her inside the hut.
Peter looked up when she took a step, making her stop. His eyes were wide and he forgot everything about the evil child hiding within the walls of his chest. When he stood, his name wasn't Pan, it was Peter, and… the gravity force was pulling him towards her. Dayla.
Who was still frozen in place.
He had hurt her, and even though she knew his darkness was too much for him sometimes, she couldn't help but being scared. He was probably going to threw her away, or tell her off for not being gone by now.
Peter noticed the hesitation in her eyes and his legs locked, too. He just kept looking at her.
When the silence was too much, Dayla forced herself to talk. "I just came to say good bye." She cleared her throat in order to eliminate the raspy-ness. "I'm going to sleep outside and I'll be out of here in no time." But that wasn't what he wanted at all, he wanted to tell her to not go, he wanted to apologize. But that was never going to happen, even if they darkness wasn't accessible at the moment. And when he didn't say anything, she had to continue. "You know, I'm sure this is the last time I'm going to be here." Her eyes averted, looking at anything except Peter. "I just wanted to enjoy it. I guess we can't always get what we want." She turned around ready to leave.
And that's when he recovered his voice. "Neverland is an escape." He voiced his thoughts, his mind racing with what she had just said. "Meant for those who need to get away from their homes, it opens to the lost. Why did it opened to you?" She stopped, her back still at him.
She could feel the intensity of his eyes when she answered. "University starts tomorrow. I'm leaving home, going to another country, and I'm- I'm not good at new starts. That's all."
"It let you in so you could have a constant before everything else left you…" A whisper. Dayla hadn't heard him whisper unless it was intended. He just seemed to be surprised and that was a first. She had to turn around.
What she saw in his eyes made her took a step towards him. Just one, but it was enough to make the gravity return. He was by her in an instant, breathing her air, almost touching her. He was going mad but he didn't care. Not when her breathe was fanning his face, making him close his eyes just to taste… No!
He opened his eyes and then turned around. He couldn't be feeling anything for her. Not now, not ever and specially not when she was about to leave. It would only hurt her more if he did anything.
Her hand found his shoulder, even though he was way taller, and it was a comfort for the boy. She was there. A message enough to make him close his eyes, take a breathe, then another one, and turn to her, his eyes still closed until he felt her touching his skin.
Dayla was improvising. She didn't even know what she was doing until her palm was against his cheek and she felt him lean against the touch. His hands finding their way to her waist and staying there.
He came closer again, just enough to make their eyes stay closed, just enough to let them breathe each other. Nothing big, or sexual, just contact, and relishing the moment, the company of one another. She wanted to be with him, to look at him, to stare at his angles in the candles' light. He wanted her to be there, just there, for him, with him, acting as if he hadn't hurt her at all.
When he leaned in, he didn't ask for permission, he asked for forgiveness. He was hesitant because if she accepted, it meant she didn't resent his previous behaviour. He needed her to accept.
And she did. When their lips touched… It wasn't supposed to feel that good. Not when you were kissing the devil. But it felt, oh so great.
His lips were soft against hers, moving along hers but never demanding anything just… contact. He tasted like passion, and she lost her concentration for a bit, trying to identify the flavour. Grapes and chocolate. He smelt like musk and danger. But of course that was just who he was. Peter Pan, the boy who lived in the middle of a jungle.
His hands moved her closer to him, and she was back to just feeling. Dayla remembered kissing but it never felt like this, like she wanted to be closer and closer until they were one entity, like fire and ice were running through her veins at the same time. She knew she would need to breathe soon, but she didn't want to.
Peter was taking his time, rushing was out of the question when he was enjoying just kissing so much. He wanted more, of course, but although he wasn't normally patient, he waited; pulling her closer until their chests were touching completely and then stopping to nib at her lower lip, asking for permission, asking for more.
And she was gone, so gone she opened her mouth for him to take without any hesitation and let him explore. Her hands made their way to his neck, tangling in his hair, playing with the locks that shouldn't feel so soft when he probably didn't use conditioner.
That she would let him do that, that he could feel her tongue next to his, both tracing patterns and playing around… it undid him.
He breathed in her mouth, before starting to walk backwards. The distance between their bodies never more than a few inches and their mouths staying together until his knees touched the bed. Then he broke the kiss.
Panting heavily, Dayla kept her eyes closed. She didn't know what was next, barely understood what was going to happen… but she wasn't going to stop. If it was her choice, Peter Pan was going to do everything she wanted him to do, and her mind was being very explicit at the moment.
His mind was walking dangerous paths, too. The last time he had seen her she was about sixteen, and he never felt anything about her, he liked to pretend she was just part of the pack of Lost Boys but this time… he wanted to do things to her, lustful things that maybe she was too innocent for but that wasn't about to stop him. He wanted her under him and having her so close to his bed... God, she needed to stop this before it was too late for him to stop.
"If you don't want this-"
She didn't let him finish, her lips taking possession of his, her hands roaming his chest and hating the vest and shirt he had on. It was entirely improvised, but she managed to keep him there, just kissing her, while she undid his clothes. She knew how to, and her brain took control of her hands.
Peter was on a trance, he felt the magic pull of her hands and mouth and his muscles locked. His hands still on her waist but unable to do anything but let her play. The trance only broke when the first garment hit the floor.
His hands moved up only to be stopped by her pulling away. Breathing hard, he looked at her and saw her smirk. "Shirt off, lay down." He knew she couldn't be experienced enough, but even if she wasn't, her taking of control made his knees weak, something that he was going to pretend never happened, and he obeyed.
His chest… it was everything and nothing she asked for. The light of the candles was too dim but it created beautiful shadows on his body. She just looked at him, not moving, not attempting to touch, just looking, appreciating the beautiful creation that was Peter Pan, the boy who had once been her leader, and that was her equal now.
"Are you going to stare all night?" His voice sounded thick and raspy, her gaze was making things to his libido and he needed something, anything, from her.
Her eyes moved to his, and she smiled sensually. Who would have thought she was capable of doing such a sexy thing intentionally, when she had never tried.
Dayla's answer was to straddle him, her knees by his hips while her hands supported her upper body, framing his face. She was in all fours and yet, she was the one in control. Her hair fell down around them like a curtain, it wasn't extremely long, but long enough to surround them. Their breaths tangled again, her lips barely touching his, and when he thought she was going to kiss him, when he closed his eyes…
She left butterfly touches down his jaw, her little kisses making a path in his neck and demanding for his head to go back and grant her access. That's exactly what it did. As if natural reaction, Peter's hear moved, his eyes closed tighter, his hands finding her hips. She was still fully clothed.
While she nipped at his neck, he tried to take the shirt she had away, he pulled it up a bit but she refused to move for him and he wasn't trying very hard, knowing that it would meant losing the great feeling of her mouth on his skin.
It was almost funny, how she could undo him so easily. Yes, he didn't do this as often as normal eighteen year olds, but he never had felt the need before, and yet just thinking about her, just her little touches, made him feel on fire. His mind puddle and his animal instincts in charge. He hoped and prayed for her to never stop this, because for a reason he couldn't explain, he needed her.
What he didn't know is that it felt equally amazing to her. Her blood still feel on fire and her heart was probably going to take off her chest at any moment, but she was on top, powerful and in control of the body underneath hers. It felt so good. She had always had a crush on Peter, but it was always categorized in her mind as a not-real platonic thing, along with her crushes for other celebrities… She let him took her shirt of, but was back at his neck in a second. He wanted her, and that, feeling wanted, was one of the most amazing things ever. It was exhilarating.
When her mouth moved to his chest, her tongue tracing little circles there, he actually growled. He felt so hot and her tongue was so cool against his skin… fuck he was lost in sensation.
And then her thumb was at his nipple and he growled again and he couldn't take it slow anymore and he needed to move.
One minute she was on top and the next she wasn't anymore, he had rolled them to her back; she had him trying to accommodate between her legs and she gave him space. Their stomachs touched, his weight partially on her. It was his turn to make her feel amazing. She let him bite, kiss and lick because honestly? It felt too good. His skin felt smooth to her fingers and she felt like this was heaven.
Incredible didn't begin to describe it. It was slow, sensual, and they both were going out of their minds, relishing in each other's touches and smells. She guessed it should be a sad encounter, their first time together when she wasn't going to stay very long in Neverland, and yet she couldn't start to feel unhappy, every cell of her body was singing an amazing rendition of Highway to Hell even though she felt floating in the clouds.
Peter couldn't taste enough of her, not when her little hands were tracing the muscles at his chest, arms and back. He knew an experimented girl would be tracing lines in his back with her nails, but Dayla just left feather touched, graving at his bicep when he bit her neck, eager to leave a mark.
The animal inside of him wanted to mark territory, because she was little and she was leaving and he wouldn't be with her to keep leaving marks in the future; still, he tried to be gentle, soothing the pain with little kisses and licks that instantly converted it in pleasure.
"Too. Slow." She forced out when he didn't move pass her neck. Fuck she needed him in the rest of her skin!
"I thought girls liked boys who took their time?" His hands supported his body far enough of hers so she could see him smirking. God, an hour ago she wanted to punch the smirk out of his face, now she loved it. It made him look beautifully wicked.
She knew it was her turn to make a move and she unclasped her bra before she could lose her courage. The smirk of Peter's face disappeared. His hands went to remove the piece of cloth; when her torso was completely naked…
He couldn't wait any longer and what happened next was a rush of things. They undressed each other without shame, they bodies melting and becoming sweaty with anticipation and feelings. They wanted this to last and be over at the same time, the pleasure so close to their reach it was painful.
Their naked bodies moved in search for something, anything, that was hiding in each other's skin. She ground, moaned, and closed her eyes in ecstasy, while he growled, touched and looked at her beautiful face, all lost in pleasure and they weren't even started.
When it was too much, he prepared himself to make her feel good, knowing it wouldn't be entirely pleasant for her, but trusting himself enough to not hurt her.
"Are you ready?" His voice sent chills down her back. It was deliciously husky.
Her nod was eager, something that pleased him. He took her hands in his and joined their fingers by the sides of her face.
With a kiss he finally united them, swallowing her gasps of pain and waiting until she felt better. His lips still next to hers, but his hands comforting her with sweet touches of their joint hands. It was enough to make her feel well. She wasn't ready but she couldn't take the stillness. She moved, creating a friction that didn't reassemble to pain, but pleasure instead.
Pleasure for the both of them.
Peter moved, slow at first, then faster, answering to Dayla's pleads and doing whatever she asked him to do. Faster, slower, harder. He was there to serve her and be happy about it. And he did.
When her orgasm came in felt like a train wreck, too much explosions inside of her and his name rolling past her lips again and again and again.
He made it last for her, enjoying so much the look in her face, of pure abandon and happiness. He liked being the reason behind it, and that, more than anything, brought him closer to the edge and undid him.
And then it was him looking amazing on top of her, her name being moaned and yelled past his lips.
It took all his strength not to collapse on top of her, and yet he didn't move enough to separate their bodies. It had been a long time since he had felt real happiness. He never wanted the night to end and when his breathing slowed a little, he opened his eyes to make sure she was real.
Her eyes were open, too. Looking at the ceiling, a little smile on her features. She looked like a goddess, her hair all over the place, her cheeks blushing and her lips swollen… she should always look like that, it was good on her.
Dayla could feel Peter's head on her shoulder and she touched his hair, still looking at the shadows of the ceiling but seeing nothing. She was happy, so incredibly happy. It didn't matter that she was not going to be there in the morning, because she had given her virginity to the only person she had truly admired, respected and loved through years. Her smile grew bigger and she tried to hide it biting her lip.
"You are glowing." She couldn't help but smile even brighter at that. He smiled along, a real smile. "Am I crushing you, love?"
When their eyes met, he felt his heart. Like actually felt the organ her had forgotten about. "You are not crushing me."
"Stop biting your lip." He said, and she closed her eyes when his thumb touched her lower lip. "It makes things to me."
"Shut up." She whispered.
Peter woke up a couple of hours later, his hand around Dayla's waist. He was really tired but he wanted to stay awake, like a kid who knew something bad was going to happen, he didn't want to let her out of his sight. The problem was, he was exhausted.
When he woke up again in the morning, the side of the bed Dayla had been lying in was cold to the touch. She was long gone.
Oh, um... Hi?
I wrote this like a month ago, when I was in need of some Peter Pan love. It took me lots of time and slaps in the head from my best friend, but I finished and finally decided to publish it.
It's just going to be this one shot because uni already started and *spoiler* Peter Pan in dead (thank you stupid writers).
Anyway, Aaron belongs to my friend Mariana, whose Tumblr you can find on my profile, it's just one of the characters she has created, and one I love.
The cover photo belongs to Peter Pan's tag on Tumblr, too.
:)