The Original Neverlanders

by GrotesqueWaters

How Panfire came to be. The adventures of Peter Pan meeting Baelfire and what actually happened during his stay on the island as a child. **Includes smut, blood, and deaths**

The way this works is a banter between my writing and my significant other's writing. I write from Bae's perspective and he writes from Pan's perspective. We wrote this together, our ideas, our themes, our thoughts. Nothing's been stolen except half of the original story line of how Bae gets to Neverland after he's on Hook's ship, which I also altered a bit.

To read consistent Panfire check out: Panfire from the start and Pan / Bae's constant flow of daily Panfire.

Baelfire

The white sails splay frivolously in the wind, buzzing and flapping, overworking to keep the ship in motion. The evening air has a crisp scent of moribund sea life. It likes to lick any tongue that dares to speak and break the silence of this enchanting night.

The ship lulls the young boy's eyelids to slowly drift and close. Each wisp of the wind locks its grasp on his chestnut hair sending it flying and splaying about his cheeks. On occasion, pieces of it bat gratingly across the silky skin. Coarse waves and wooden planks are the two things that catch glimpses of his alluring brown irises, swimming with doubt, worry, and impenetrable fear.

The paradisiac silence is abruptly broken by a gruff and wafting accent, "Baelfire?" A voice murmurs from behind. The man's accent is thick, churned butter in a mill that's been sitting for days. The small body whirls around but his thoughts are on being alone, not a confrontation with a man that only carries deceit and unfettered lies. Furthermore, he wants to be alone right now; he just can't seem to get a break from these pestering buffoons.

"I'm here," the boy says, his voice much deeper than one would expect. He's matured quite a bit faster than most children his age. Some might infer it's his life experiences that have made him appear so old, or maybe it's just the way he carries himself; slowly, timidly, and confidently, ignoring as many around him as he can.

"We need to talk, lad, there's something—," Killian's voice cuts off, he seems to be searching for some words that just don't seem to want to come. The young boy waits for the Captain to finish his sentence, but his maw stays tightly pursed, and the child doesn't inquire further to what he wants to say. I don't want to hear it… "Baelfire, I want to change," Hook blurts out, adjusting his jacket nervously with his only good hand, "for you." The man finishes and feels a sudden surge of awkward unease between himself and the young boy. Bae doesn't look up, he doesn't look at the man he lashed out at earlier today, and he doesn't bother to give him his time. You can't change. You never will. You're the reason she left… You're the reason Milah left...

The boy can't blame the pirate, really. Pirates are notorious for stealing things. However, pirates are not notorious for stealing mothers, and Milah had left on her own, leaving Bae and his father stuck clinging together and hoping that everything would turn out habitable. And to find out his own father killed his mother, it's barbaric. Un—No. He must stop these thoughts and extricate them. Make sure they don't take over his mind. Hook's a blatant liar; that's all he'll ever be.

"You can't change," Bae replies flatly, apathetically drawing out his words. He stares while contemplating at the ocean; it lashes its ugly whips against the hull of the boat. And you certainly wouldn't do it for me. The boy's chin makes its way to the palms of his hands and he rests his head there for a moment careful to keep his gaze averted from the filthy pirate that keeps trying to convince him of his good nature and admirable qualities. Bae's not buying any of it.

"You were right to lash out at me, mate. You were right to hate me. But think of me as a step-father. I'm trying to look out for you. Your mother wanted the three of us to be together. To get you away from Rumplestiltskin and save you from him. We were going to be a family, Baelfire," the pirate moves his good hand towards the boy's face but Bae precipitously pulls away with a pernicious glare.

"I'm not going to think of you as anything but a filthy liar. I'm not here to be a part of your 'adventures' or your 'family'. I don't like liars. And I already knew I couldn't trust a pirate." His final word drags like a rusty razor into Killian's heart—he even steps back a bit. Not only does Bae not like people that slander, but he also hates the deceit that he hears in Hook's voice when he speaks of Milah. The last person he wants to talk about is Milah. His mother had left… Everyone leaves. Even his father let him fall through a portal into the unknown. The Dark One had chosen a weapon over his own son. Magic and power… Over his own offspring. Bae's starting to get used to being abandoned for petty reasons. He's no longer with the Darlings. He belongs to no one.

Killian tiredly draws his hand down his face and tries to think up something that will convince the boy of his sincerity, but he simply can't, nothing seems to be stirring within him. The cunning pirate's peripheral vision draws up a lanky figure that hops onto the boat and many blurs follow behind it. Killian instantly glances over at the figure and nods, "Felix," the crooked Brit immediately recognizes the hooded figure, "here he is." Killian's hook juts out and gestures to the boy that sulks on the side of the ship, lamentably contemplating what will happen to him once he leaves the seemingly safe rapture. He's chosen this path. Chosen the path to go with the Lost Ones to the island. To get off the ship that holds dreadful memories and the recurrent ghost of his cadaverous mother.

The blonde grabs a hold of the small boy's arm and sharply yanks him across the wooden planks of the ship's deck, "Always a pleasure, Killian," the haunting voice of the tall boy seeps from his gaunt cloak. Bae's eyes glance up and try to speculate what's beneath the caliginosity, but they're starting to show fear, and fear's not acceptable. Not now. Not ever. He's gotten so experienced at hiding trepidation; it's practically second nature.

'Felix,' or so Killian speaks of the blonde, drags Bae to a small wooden boat that's propped against the Jolly Roger, bobbing daintily with multiple other boys upon it. His eyes instantly avert from each one of them, and he begins to feel sick. Can I go home? Please can I go home…? I don't want to be here. Who are all of you? He keeps his mouth shut just in case. His eyes travel up the side of the ship and then things go black. Did I faint…? Baelfire deftly grips his arms and rubs the gentle fabric to try and warm himself against the defying mist of the evening waters.

Various mumbles come from the boys but Bae's not hearing distinct, dictated words. He listens very little in fact. Inside his mind are a trillion cogs. Each turns saucily and precariously, drawing deep thoughts into his neurons, shoving him away from this nightmare. Is this what if feels like to be kidnapped?

Killian had mentioned something about some person looking for a particular boy a few nights previously. Bae had aptly listened in on the conversation hoping that he wasn't the one that this 'Pan' was trying to find.

The wily ocean licks at the small vessel, drenching each plank that's dubiously submerged into the swallowing depths of the water. Words are no longer exchanged, and Bae doesn't bother to contribute to the dead conversation. Where are they taking me…? Can I trust these boys? What if they're all savages? Meager questions burst through his mind, swimming in the sea with him. The thought of jumping out of the boat and swimming to anywhere else crosses his mind, but he stays stagnant.

Calloused and rough hands brutally clamp around his wrists and force them behind his back. Straggling and irritating cord is meticulously tied around them securely to the point where he can't move the dainty things at all. The circulation in his wrists is partially being cut off completely within the first couple seconds of the bind. Don't hurt me… I didn't do anything. I promise. I'll give it all back… I didn't steal anything. Silently pleading to himself, he wishes he could taste the salty air on his tongue and feel the mist brushing against his face once again. Baelfire's entire body goes numb and frigid; a storm must be brewing. It's not easy to distinguish whether or not that's the truth; he can't look into the sky with the sack over his head.

The air within this reeking appendage is rather stale and malodorous. He wonders how long it will be until they reach land again; hoping it will be soon. The claustrophobia inside the sour hood is slowly turning his mind to madness. How far had they gone? When are they going to stop? Are they ever going to stop? Are they going to dive head first over a giant waterfall and plummet to their deaths? Bae won't be able to do anything about it. He's simply stuck here breathing in this rancid air, attempting to endure it without losing all the food he's eaten on Hook's ship. I should've eaten more… Those might have been my last meals…

Worry is the first thing to hit his susceptible mind. Who is this 'Pan' that's so aptly named after cooking ware? Is he the one this person wants? He sure as hell isn't going back to Killian; that's atrocious and absolutely not an option. After all, the man has fed him lies for days, and Bae finds that grudgingly repugnant.

A violent crunching beneath the boat ensues out of essentially nowhere. For Bae, everything seems a bit louder since he's lost the ability to see. He's sure they've hit the shore because the boat comes to a brusque stop and he jerks forward, nearly giving him whiplash in the process. His hand tries to go up and rub his neck, but they're firmly secured behind his back. The rope wrapped tied around them is starting to give his wrists a rash, it's scratchy and inconvenient. The boy just wants to be let go.

Baelfire's harshly dragged to his feet and clearly not cordially invited to this island. His mouth remains closed and he can feel the heat of multiple bodies surrounding him, closing in even.

Grinding of soft sand beneath his shoes lets him know they actually have finally hit land, and he might live. A monstrous grip is wrapped around his bicep and it drags him onwards, finally ripping the potent fabric from his head. He can finally see. Drawn out before him are many boys, some encircle the prisoner and some meander in front. I'm a captive on this island… They're going to kill me… He doesn't accept defeat right away, though. But he automatically takes into account that this may be one of his last days.

His confused and fearful eyes trace the hooded figures, each boy concealing himself beneath a shield and cloak that licks toned muscles and daring complexions. The strenuous grip on his arm stops suddenly and holds him with enough pressure for him to feel a bruise ensuing. He almost asks the Lost Boy to let go, but the sea of teenagers slowly parts and his thoughts of speaking instantly diminish.

An older and taller figure strides toward him promptly, this boy doesn't wait for anything. Bae swallows but keeps his fearful eyes drawn to this leader; the other boys seem to be quite apprehensive of approaching and getting near this one, but Bae's not willing to follow their approach. The callused hand of the Lost Boy gripping his bicep savagely drags him forward in the sand. Don't hurt me. I haven't done anything. His brain wracks the sides of his skull searching for something—anything—that reminds him of home. Abandonment settles deep within his obscured thoughts. I shouldn't be here. Hook gave me up. Hook and Milah gave me up. Even Papa let me go… He's gruffly shoved down into the sand, both of his knees buckling upon impact. Dazzling green irises of this stranger penetrate deep into him, he feels unease before the boy even begins to speak.

Pan

"Well, this is just lovely. Another bloody dud." Pan's acid green eyes sweep dangerously over the newly captured prisoners displayed before him, a small collection of disappointments. Some of the abducted boys cower from the intense glare they're receiving, each pair of eyes filling with dread upon hearing they serve no significant purpose to the demonic being in charge.

"Felix should return soon," says an apprehensive voice in Pan's ear.

Pan crosses his arms over his chest, only marginally concerned with what his faithful minion is reassuring him of. His eyes are still focused on the line of boys kneeled before him in the sand, his gaze threateningly stalking their features almost as if he were suspecting one of them to be wearing a mask with the intent of fooling him. A frustrated sigh parts Pan's lips and his grimace hardens. He glances over at the lost boy hovering at his side. Just like the rest of his delinquent adherents the boy is shrouded in black garments and a cloak. The hood pulled over his head only reveals half his face, casting the rest of his uneasy countenance into shadow.

"The fact that Hook concealed the boy aboard the Jolly Roger from you has got to mean something," the lost boy speaks again, trying to provide his leader with a shred of hope. "It must be the boy you're looking for."

Pan narrows his eyes, the bitter memory of being tricked by the pirate only making his mood exceedingly more sour. "Yes," he mutters, his mind unwillingly wandering to the pathetic drunkard who likes to claim himself as captain of the pirates. "Seems he's finally come to his senses and recognized who the true leader of this realm is. I don't give second chances though. He decided to be compliant a little too late for my liking. Gather another group of lost boys and send them back over to the Jolly Roger to cause a bit of chaos. Do as much damage as you please. Maybe that will give Hook some incentive not to hesitate the next time I ask for something."

The lost boy obediently nods at Pan's orders and begins making his way down the beach. He chirps out a clarion whistle that echoes into the night, beckoning forth a group of his fellows standing nearby. They swarm to the boy like a pack of bloodthirsty shadows, ready to pounce and devour whoever crosses their path. Pan smirks to himself, knowing he can trust them to quench his thirst for revenge. They're sufficiently armed and skilled in battle courtesy of the ruthless training he's put them through.

When Pan's gaze returns to the set of trembling humans by his feet, he viciously throws a swift kick into the gut of the closest prisoner. The boy coughs out a pained groan and then collapses onto the sand, causing the others to scurry away as best they can on their knees. "Take these ones to the cages for now," says Pan to another shadowed figure nearby. The lost boy promptly follows orders and starts to herd the boys together, roughly shoving them in the direction of the camp. Pan casually steps over the injured body he's inflicted abuse upon and travels closer to the ocean.

Salty gusts of wind rush across the waves and fill Pan's nostrils. He perches himself at the very edge of the dark and eerie shoreline of Neverland's beach. His poisonous green eyes scan the pitch-black horizon for any sign of a rowboat that's captained by Felix. His foot shifts the damp sand below in impatience. He's eager to meet the boy that's been concealed from him by Hook and to finally see if his search has come to an end. He finally decides to agree with what his lost boy said earlier. The fact that Hook would hide the boy from him had to be some kind of indication that the boy was special. But if that was true, did that mean Hook was aware of his plan about the heart of the truest believer? Did Hook have other plans for the boy? And why had the pirate changed his mind, finally deciding to give up the boy? All Pan knew was that the pirate would suffer greatly if he received damaged or tampered with goods.

Pan clenched his teeth, irritably snapping his canines. He would not allow Hook to stand in the way of his scheme. Even if it meant having his followers murder him in cold blood. A sharp whistle suddenly slices through the night air and snatches Pan's attention. He alertly glances down the beach lit by numerous bonfires to see a band of his lost boys approaching, Felix at the head of them, leading the party. A bit of excitement flits across Pan's black heart like a butterfly caught in a storm. He sees a boy is struggling to keep pace with his minions that roughly drag him across the beach.

"Seems they got the job done," says a small voice in Pan's ear. The voice's high-pitched tone makes it sound as though a squeaky rodent is speaking to him. A bright green glow shines out in his peripheral vision telling him that Tinkerbell has just landed on his shoulder and is sharing the same view he's focused on.

"They always do," smirks Pan. "They take after their leader. I never fail."

Tinkerbell lets out small titter that sounds like sleigh bells.

"Fly back to camp and keep an eye on everyone there. Make sure they're doing their job with those prisoners," says Pan. "Give me the names of anyone slacking off."

The fairy winks her glow in salute to Pan before dutifully fluttering away back into the dense jungle blanketed in gloom. Pan returns his full attention to Felix, trying to catch a glimpse of his face underneath the shadow of his hood to see if he bears good or bad news. Unfortunately nothing is discernable until his right hand man reaches his side and they're staring each other in the face.

"He's not the one," Pan snaps in frustration before Felix can even open his mouth.

Felix tries to hold his composure, but apparently he's not very good at it if the small glimmers of distress in his eyes gave his leader the disheartening news before his mouth did. "No," he says. "But we will find him. We won't stop until we do."

Pan agitatedly huffs and suppresses the urge to brutally reprimand Felix with physical violence. The gears of his mind furiously start to turn. If the boy wasn't the one that held the heart of the truest believer, then why had Hook been guarding him? Moreover, how had the boy escaped the shadow that brought him to Neverland in the first place? The rest of the abducted boys had made it to the island without delay or disturbance, but not this one.

"Let me see him," Pan demands.

The group of lost boys part down the middle, creating a clear path for Pan that leads straight to the boy at the other end. A rather brawny lost boy grips the arm of the petite figure whose hands have been bound behind his back with thick rope. Pan aggressively approaches the prisoner until he's standing mere inches away.

"Tell me boy, how did you escape my shadow?" he testily interrogates, injecting his voice with authority to intimidate the captive. Before the boy can answer, Pan lets his eyes curiously wander over the boy's face. Timid, brown eyes peer up at him through tangles of untamable dark hair. The boy's features were fair and effeminate. Clearly he took after his mother. Black pirate garb dawns the slight figure of the boy, alerting Pan that Hook seemed to have tried to recruit him into the crew.

Baelfire

Reprobate green eyes dig daggers into him and he's so concentrated on why all these boys fear this one pretentious boy that stalks each one of them like some petty prey, that he nearly doesn't hear the question that's directed towards him. "Umm—," he diffidently averts his eyes, "fire." Obviously there's a bit more of an explanation than that, but he can't seem to speak any sort of comprehensible words to this prick. It's only because his voice slices like switchblades. Anyone would be afraid to talk to this… leader? Maybe even the Dark One. Baelfire's fearful enough of all of this going on but doesn't bother to ask questions, his mind can't seem to formulate words and it steals his small voice away.

He feels utterly violated by this teenager, he can almost feel the scrutinizing thoughts that the oddly clothed person is feeling. Tension rises considerably and if Bae were to say something, the earth might crumble in half.

He's so invisible, fearful, and unsure of the island. Is it some sort of boy-infested land where adults aren't allowed to come? Wendy spoke of the Shadow taking children to 'Neverland', but surely this can't be the place. The way she speaks of it; it's beautiful. It's an escape for children. There's no torture from various boys. No rope that's rubbing vexatious rashes around wrists. Just fun for children when they sleep; this certainly isn't fun. He instantly assesses this tall and assertive one that's standing before him, feeling much like a peasant in front of his king.

Each one of the hooded boys cowers back from the deadly glare that this virulent being gives Bae. However, his eyes don't falter from the misty greens that gaze into him. Everyone else seems to be incredibly tepid and nervous around the being; but Bae's not about to blend with these boys. Why is this one treasured over the rest? What makes him so important and powerful? Why did all the boys move when this one stepped in front? Why does he feel like there's more lost prisoners on this island? There are too many questions at once; it's starting to give him a headache.

Pan

Pan impatiently waits for the prisoner to answer. Fear and confusion seem to run rampant through the boy's mind, crippling his ability to speak. A flicker of amusement lights up Pan's eyes. It was always entertaining to be able to dishearten his victims without even lifting a finger. His presence alone could make someone's blood run cold.

"Fire?" Pan indignantly repeats the boy's answer. The delight in his eyes quickly vanishes as if someone had gone in and blown out two candles sitting within his glowing irises, letting darkness fill the void. The glare is so unnerving that a few of the lost boys take cautious steps back, away from their leader.

"Search him," Pan finally demands. "I want every single pocket turned out!"

Four or five lost boys automatically swoop down and begin searching through the boy's clothing for any concealed items. Pan crosses his arms over his chest as he watches, standing closely beside Felix.

"Did you divulge a name from him yet?" Pan inquires.

Felix shakes his head. "No. But I can if you wish me to." A wry grin spreads across his crooked mouth and he grips the handle of his weapon with more ardor.

Pan lets out a small laugh at Felix's enthusiasm. "I'll do it."

When the lost boys have completed their task they hold up a single item out to Pan. He snatches it from their grasp and holds it eye level. Moonlight dances off the curves of the small lighter. Pan now understood where the 'fire' had come from that scared away his shadow.

"What's your name?" Pan asks the boy with a hint of genuine curiosity. The boy had proven to be craftier than the other prisoners and Pan found that fascinating.

Baelfire

In response to his meek and trifling one-word answer, he gets a defying glare that makes him feel like he's bleeding on the inside. Each organ's screaming out to gain some sort of relief, but the poison inside is just starting to be injected; there's certainly more to come. More injections. More misery. More pain.

The superior boy demands that his 'followers' search Bae, and it instantly makes him tense up. He fears the worst; the boys will rip him from the garments and force him to reveal everything he has. Unfortunately for this God-like boy, he has few things on him. And by few; there's only one. Obedient boys poke, prod, and violate Bae in front of all of these unaccustomed faces. His gaze timidly drops; he's feeling as though they've stripped him from his clothing and left him bare and skittish in the battlefront of a very strenuous war. He doesn't speak a word throughout the ordeal, but cautiously tries to worm against the rough grip that's still holding onto his upper arm, keeping him kneeling on the ground. His gaze stays very sheltered beneath thick bangs that coat his forehead and hide the pricks of fear that drift within chocolate eyes. He's trying so desperately to conceal this fear. It's imperative that he fights it.

The small boy's questioned again, but this time the question is personal. This… teenager? If he can even call the blunt and ignorant being before him that—demands to be told his name. He carefully readjusts his hands that are still tied behind his back—they feel like large chunks of solid brick from the lack of blood flow to them. At first he doesn't answer. His eyes don't reach out to the green ones that stare at him. They stay dormant in the darkness; no flames are ignited within them. They're burnt to the cinders.

It takes a long impatient moment for him to finally find his voice, "Baelfire," he whispers, as if ashamed to be bestowed with such a name. Like the name is poison on his lips. His brow furrows in dismay, the boy's eyes draw to the ground and glance at the shadows that are cast onto the sand. There's a strong feeling of being cornered and abused. He's trying his best to will it away, but it seems to want to stay, no matter how uninvited it truly is. At last he brings his eyes up to the monarch before him, "But I prefer Bae."

Pan

Pan wrinkles his nose when he hears the strange name slip off the boy's tongue. "Baelfire?" he tests it out, his nose wrinkling even further in distaste. He wants to ask what kind of a parent would name their child such an odd thing, but he could answer that question on his own. His doppelganger, that also shared the name Peter Pan, had called his child Rumpelstiltskin, an equally bizarre name to Baelfire. The thought of Pan's identical counterpart running around and producing spawn, smearing his image and breeding with humans made him sick to the stomach. The story behind creating a duplicate of himself was one that he found most deplorable.

Long ago, before Pan had taken over Neverland, he'd been living in the demonic realm with other demons. He was still very young at the time and just beginning to learn the way of his dark powers. It was an accident when he created an exact duplicate of himself with a mind all its own.

Magic spawned and bent on having it's own life, the doppelganger escaped. Pan was on edge that the twin was still out there, using his identity to create chaos. He found the damage already done to his name insufferable. Now he had to endure the torture of strangers claiming to be his relations. But all of them were wrong. He was pure demon, hiding behind the mask of human flesh. Now having matured into a full-fledged demon, he ruled a spit of land with other devilish minions that called themselves the lost boys. Unfortunately the dark magic that sustained their life in the imaginary realm was running out and Pan needed to hunt down the heart of the truest believer in order to stop it.

Pan gazed at Baelfire for a long while, his eyes involuntarily darting to the softened features in the boy's face that seemed to be missing from the other gruff and rather unsightly lost boys. He eventually knelt down in front of his new prisoner so their eyes could meet on the same plain. His fingers danced around the lighter in his hand, skillfully rolling it across his knuckles.

"You might have heard of me," he says to the boy, his lips pulling back into a chilling grin that reveals his pointed canines. "I'm Peter Pan. And this is my domain." His smirk abruptly vanishes when he states his claim over the island. "And do you know what that means? It means that everything and everyone in it belongs to me." He holds up the lighter once more so the soft brown eyes that are apprehensively studying him will focus on it. "No more clever little tricks. You'll soon learn I have zero tolerance for obnoxiously cunning prisoners. Step out of line again and I will not hesitate to slaughter you." He throws the daggers of his gaze into the boy's eyes and silently threatens him. As if that weren't intimidating enough, in an explosion of magical flames he suddenly incinerates the lighter in his hand to ash and dust. "Do you understand?" he asks as the black ashes drift down into the sand below

Baelfire

The feral rolls Bae's name on his tongue like he's downing a bit of repulsive medicine. He knows the feeling; he's been often inquired about his peculiar name and doesn't bother to explain the rest of it to this confused king since he doesn't seem to want to waste the time on gaining knowledge in regards to his ethnicity.

It's not long before fear's shackling him to the ground making it even worse that he's a prisoner to this god forsaken island. Regrettably for this 'Peter Pan' guy—who seems to be unfortunately named after kitchen necessities—Bae has never heard of him. The name's never hit his ears until now. He doesn't make a comment on the way this 'Peter Pan' is behaving, but he certainly wants to. Fortunately, Bae keeps his mouth closed and doesn't say anything while the boy speaks to him. He knows better than to fight against this sort of authority especially when there's a boy with a boa constrictor grip on his arm. Not to mention the fact that he's much smaller than nearly all the strangers that are sprawled out around the two of them in the sand.

His eyes glance at the lighter that's placed skillfully in this devious boy's hands; he focuses his eyes there so he doesn't have to glance into the spectacles that shoot daggers through his chest. Bae distinctly doesn't like the idea that everything and everyone belongs to this young teenager who seems to find that the only way to keep his power is to have his subjects live in constant fear of him. Truth be told, this Peter Pan guy is a bit of a tyrant. Bae's eyes flick up to wander with the lighter as the tyrant holds it up at eye level. The fact that they're both on eye level makes Bae even more exceedingly uncomfortable. He's immediately referred to as 'obnoxiously cunning' and then threatened with death. Is Peter Pan giving him an open threat? I don't think you'll actually kill me. Or is he receiving a real death threat where he specifically needs to watch his every move? Bae's indecisive so he carefully lifts his eyes to glance through his bangs at this devilish dictator.

The lighter is cremated—no doubt by magic—and Bae instantly glances away from the green eyes that he's been trying to focus on this entire time. He hates magic. More than anything. It's ripped his father, mother, and every person that he's ever cared about away from him. The ash scatters across the sand and blows into the soft evening wind, lifting up and gliding into who-knows-where towards the atmosphere. The final question of all is a comprehension check. To make sure he's been listening and takes heed to this boy's warnings, "Okay," he says—essentially—inaudibly. He wants to ask if this tyrant will do one good thing in his life and order his servant to let him go. His arm's throbbing with the bruise that this brute is inflicting and Bae's not too keen on being in pain and constant fear.

Pan

Pan's eyes flicker to the boy's lips when a singular word pops out of them. Receiving instant compliance isn't exactly what he's expecting. If Baelfire had the audacity to threaten his shadow with a lighter than he anticipated that there was still some hidden, and possibly reckless sides to the boy's personality that he had yet to experience. He secretly vowed to keep a close eye on the boy, observing him with more wariness than the rest of the prisoners. Felix seemed to be on the same page as Pan, giving Baelfire an overly suspicious look.

Pan draws out the silence to let his threat sink into Baelfire. Their eyes are still connected and Pan hopes the malice swimming in his daunting gaze is enough to send chills down the boy's spine. "Take him to camp. Lock him in a cage like the others," Pan eventually orders.

Once again, the shadowy figures of lost boys instantly swarm over Baelfire, grabbing at all of his limbs, plucking at them as if the boy were a puppet on strings. He's forced to his feet and dragged off to be unjustly imprisoned. Pan doesn't even realize that he can't take his eyes off the boy until he feels a heavy weight slap down onto his shoulder, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He glances over to see Felix closely studying him, drumming his fingers on his shoulder.

"What is it?" asks Felix.

"Nothing," Pan lies, shrugging Felix's hand off, despising his minion's overly observant gaze.

Felix gives him a rather sarcastic bow before taking his leave to join the other lost boys headed into the jungle. When Pan feels he's finally in the safety of solitude, he glances back up just in time to see the small figure of the struggling boy disappear into the thick and exotic foliage of Neverland's forest.

When Pan catches up with the others he takes a position at the front of the line, guiding his lost disciples back to camp. The location of the encampment isn't exactly easy to find in the winding labyrinth of the jungle and if it weren't for Pan's constant guidance the lost boys would indeed be very lost.

Pan is careful to keep from glancing back at Baelfire during the trip through the tangled jungle. He can feel Felix's gaze burning into the back of his skull and for some reason he doesn't want the lost boy to suspect he has some kind of interest for Baelfire. Because he doesn't. He instantly squashes any falsities swimming through his mind that are trying to convince him he has some inexplicable fondness for the boy. The only reason he felt differently about Baelfire was because the boy was bold enough to fight against his shadow. That was it.

Pan slices through the last of dark green and cobalt trees with his dagger. His ever alert and watchful sentries instantly jump out and aim their loaded bows at him, thinking someone has invaded their territory. The moment they recognize their leader, they lower their weapons and retreat back into the shadows of their hidden positions within the depths of the trees.

Pan confidently strides into the encampment, pleased to see a dozen or so wicker cages littered around the massive bonfires that light up the area. He's even more pleased to see that each cage is occupied with a very frightened human boy. As if one of the stars has plucked itself out of the night sky and come to greet Pan, Tinkerbell's glowing form flies over to report to him. It seems as though the other lost boys have done their job with no slip-ups. As Tinkerbell rambles on, Pan can't help but steal a glance at Felix who is roughly trying to coerce Baelfire in to the last empty cage.

Baelfire

Bae's—quite literally—dragged back to the camp. "No!" he yells, struggling against the many boys that grip him and force him to make his way through treacherous trees and brambles that block the path through the woods. "What are you doing?!" he shrieks, biting down on one of the boy's hands that dives for the bruise that's worsening on his arm—he doesn't even have to see it to know how bad it is. The boy grimaces and shrinks back flicking his hand like its covered in beetles at the ground, "You little brat…" the brunette grumbles. The injured boy begins to start trailing behind the other boys that manhandle Bae towards a towering grouping of trees. He's so rampantly kicking and screaming that the tallest of the boys—all of which are considerably larger than him—decide to hoist him off the ground and carelessly let him flail his legs like a madman, "Put me down! Where are we going?! WOULD YOU PUT ME DOWN!" he roars at the four boys that are attempting to transport him—the kicking and screaming prisoner—back to the hidden cages that lie inland.

The young boy's energy doesn't wane as he fiercely lashes at the boys that grip and pull him towards the cages that are now not too far off. "Would you just be cooperative!?" one of the boys complains. His cheek's emblazoned with a streaking of claw marks from the new delinquent that's been added to their brigade. The boy traces his fingers over his lacerations and narrows his eyes at the short prisoner, "You're going to regret this," he spits as he storms off from the other boys with a brisk and bitterly mumbled, "Good luck with that kid."

The boys drop Bae to the ground; now it's down to one against three. He glares up at all of them murderously. The tallest of the three of them shakes his head, "He better lock you away for good." The boy leans down and forcefully yanks Bae back to his feet. He grabs the kid around the waist and drives him over his shoulder. "NO!" Bae wails, kicking and flailing his legs, "I'M PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF WALKING! LET ME DOWN!"

The boy who's swung Bae over his shoulder lets out a small chuckle, "I'd rather be reprimanded for anything else. Letting a prisoner go—especially you—Pan would kill me." Bae groans at the boy's words and kicks his legs out, squirming against this boy's grasp, "LET ME GO!" his throat begins to throb at how loud he's shrieking. He can't imagine the sort of ruckus he's causing in the forest around them.

The Felix guy is standing next to an empty cage and the boy that's handling Bae shoves him off his shoulder and lets him drop to the forest floor. The young boy braces himself for the fall and feels little jolts of pain in his shoulder that lands awkward on the ground. Felix grabs the already progressing bruise and forces Bae back to his feet. He gives the boy a frustrated glare, "You're warming up quickly," Felix jokes. He doesn't find it funny at all. The blonde attempts to force the little brunette into a cage, but he's not complying, "No! I'm not getting in there! I'm not some sort of animal! Isn't there someone watching over you? This isn't fair! You can't lock me in a cage!" he stamps his foot in protest and locks his gaze on the towering blonde, "I'm never getting into this cage!"

Felix seems to think differently and he attempts to scoop Bae up and force him in, but the boy's struggling and writhing too much for him to get any sort of a grip on the child's body and steadily shove him into the thatched trap. The blonde slowly lets his efforts draw away, but keeps his grip on the boy's bruised arm just as harshly as the Lost One who'd given Bae the bruise from previously, "I'm not getting in there!" he protests, "And you better release all of these other boys too!"

Pan

It was remarkable really, the amount of noise that could be generated from such a small body. The racket Baelfire was making was loud enough to disturb every soul in Neverland. Pan suppresses the urge to slap his hands over his ears to block out the incessant screeching. He would have liked to stuff a bushel of Dreamshade down the boy's throat if it meant getting him to shut up, but despite his lust for murder, Baelfire had once again infuriatingly succeeded in stirring Pan's fascination. Pan distinctly remembered the threat he made to the boy down on the beach. A threat stating that if Baelfire stepped out of line one more time he'd be slaughtered and yet here he was, openly defying those orders without the fear of consequence.

"Felix, step back!" growls Pan, leaving Tinkerbell behind to approach the uncooperative prisoner. Baelfire's last words are a daring command that strikes Pan's nerves, igniting his temper by a hundredfold. He marches up to Bae, leaving minimal space between their bodies.

"Release all the other boys too?!" he incredulously barks in the boy's face. He looms over the young human, snapping at him like a rabid dog. "Just who the fuck do you think you are?!" The rancor in Pan's glare is so powerful that no one in the camp would be surprised if Baelfire spontaneously combusted from its intensity.

Pan's hand suddenly strikes the boy across the face. The blow is strong enough to send Baelfire flying to the leaf strewn ground. However, it wasn't just a mindless attack. Pan was secretly testing Baelfire to see just how far the prisoner would go to challenge his authority. An unnatural curiosity was rapidly growing inside Pan. None of the other boys behaved this way and Pan, who never failed, was failing to grasp why this boy refused to bend to his will.

"What did I tell you!?" snarls Pan , reaching down and grabbing a fistful of the boy's clothing. He yanks him up by his collar so their faces can meet. There was a slight pause in which Pan wasn't sure if he actually wanted Bae to answer his question or not. Previously he told the boy he wouldn't hesitate to slaughter him and now here he was, hesitating. Pan tried to swallow back some of his blind rage to bring back his rational thinking. Felix was still standing by and Pan hoped to god that the head lost boy didn't notice his reluctance to kill their overbearing prisoner. He needed to think quickly before his minions suspected weakness.

"I told you that I'd slaughter you if you defied my will! I don't give second chances! Your blood is mine!" Pan furiously shouted. His hand went to the dagger resting on his belt and he withdrew it from its sheath. He placed the blade just below the boy's jawline, threateningly pressing it against the tender flesh. He effortlessly yanked the boy to his feet, spun him around and pulled him close up against his body to restrain him, keeping the blade in position. Pan began hauling the boy away from the scene toward the other side of the compound. He thought he was going to make a clean getaway, but he was unfortunately stopped.

"Where are you taking him?" Felix asked, stepping in front of him to block his path.

"Don't question me, Felix," Pan snapped.

Felix's eyes turn pensive, looking as though he was about to back down, but he presses the matter. "If you're going to kill him, wouldn't it be much better to have a public execution?" he suggests, his crooked grin widening.

"I can deal with him! Go help the others hoist the cages up into the trees so the prisoners will be less inclined to escape!" Pan impatiently orders while wrestling with a struggling Baelfire.

Felix reluctantly nods, but then swiftly turns on his heel to return to the others with the new orders.

Once all watchful eyes are off of Pan he roughly slams Bae up against his body, holding him much tighter and closer than before.

"You think you can make a fool of me in front of them, don't you?" he hisses into Baelfire's ear. The edge of his blade flirts with the boy's velvet skin, giving it sharp kisses. He drags the boy further into the shadows until they're at the edge of the encampment. Pan's eyes quickly scan the area for any sign of his lurking sentries that guard the border of the compound. To his relief, he and Baelfire are alone, but just to make sure no one would spot them, Pan drags his prey into a camouflaged crevice hidden in the depths of the trees.

Barely any moonlight filters through the leaves of the jungle into the corner that Pan and Baelfire now occupy. Their bodies violently tangle with each other, scuffling further into the darkness. A strange sensation begins to take over Pan's mind and body as he tussles with the prisoner. Something about having the diminutive and defiant boy squirming against the restraint of his arms made his dominance stir. Deep seeded predatory cravings make his thirst to overpower the boy foam at the mouth. He wasn't accustomed to anyone challenging him and he wanted to assert his authority over the boy by any means necessary.

Pan's free hand begins to wander during the fight…sliding off the boy's arm and onto his waistline. He grips at the flesh, aggressively forcing Baelfire against him to subdue all the boy's struggling, but mainly to show him who was in control. Pan's brow furrows in confusion at his own actions and he abruptly shoves the boy away from him. He shoots Baelfire an accusatory glare as if the boy had cast some kind of wicked spell over him, causing him to behave inappropriately. He holds his dagger at his side, waiting to see what the boy's next course of action will be. Would Baelfire flee the area? Would Pan's curiosity drive him to chase him down and force more tantalizing wrestling upon the boy? He trails his tongue across his bottom lip, silently intimidating his prey.

Baelfire

His lordship decides to stalk over and he clearly is trying to act macho as always. Bae nearly rolls his eyes at the boy, but he's frustrated and fumbling to escape this locked in area from being his new home on the brutal island. The tyrant roars a—what seems like—rhetorical question in regards to Bae wanting the other boys to be released as well, "Yes! Let them go! This isn't some sick sort of prison! They didn't do anything to you! You're just a jerk and you think you're better than them! Just because you 'own' everything and everyone on this island doesn't make any sort of king! You just use fear as your power! You're no better than any dictator. You're just a coward that's afraid to be alone!" he thunders back. Honestly, though, he's afraid to be alone… This boy isn't a psychopath after all. He has a small sliver—maybe—of humanity to him. "I already told you who I was! So thanks for not remembering. Maybe you shouldn't round up so many boys all at once. You might realize that you're just wasting your time since you still haven't found the one you're looking for." His gaze narrows, Unless it is me… And you're just not telling me. The boy's yelling is sending absolute fear to grind at his bones and force him to instantly shut his mouth after his last words. Little floods of red are kissing his ears, but he still can't push his hair out of his eyes. The rope remains tightly bound around his wrists, rubbing against the soft flesh and momentarily distracting him from this battle scene.

The boy's viciously smacked across the face and it sends him hurtling to the ground. He can't stop himself without his hands, and he writhes against the leaf strewn ground looking up defiantly, "I'm not getting in that cage. And that's final!" He doesn't get much time to think because a scoffed hand reaches down and drags him back to his feet. Their eyes meet, but Bae's already decided his words are done. The proximity of their bodies and this tyrants hands on him frustrate him, but a wave of timid dispute floods his veins and causes him to step back before causing anymore damage. He expects the boy to brutally ram him into the cage, slam down, magically lock the door, and then hoist it up into the tallest tree just so Bae—who seems to be one of the smallest boys on the island—can dangle there in fear. Thankfully, he's not shoved in. But the latter isn't any more desirable than the previous.

This 'King' starts to bark out the consequences of Bae's actions. There's enough of a serious tone to his voice that the small boy's heart stops inconsequentially in his chest cavity. I'll stop… Don't kill me… The luminescent shine of a blade scampers up under his jaw, his heart begins to pound even more vigorously. Maybe I should've stayed with Hook… There's no time to think, and he instantly feels the demon's hand shoving the dagger into his skin. Not a sound emits from his lips, but rather his entire body begins to panic, "If you're going to kill me, just—" he's cut off when he's forced to march forward on the debris covered ground. Instantly, this cuts his voice almost automatically, and he's sure this brute is planning on actually cutting his voice out so he can't rile around anymore.

They advance forward, but the towering blonde steps in Bae's path and he abruptly stops, which doesn't help the fact that Pan's body is already pressed right up against his. Felix's comment about having a show for the other boys disgusts Bae. He can't believe that these children were such savages. When Pan declines, it only makes the sinking feeling in the small boy's chest drop by the tenfold. He wants to ask to be let go, but keeping his mouth shut—with this blade so precariously placed—seems like a much better idea than speaking. He tries to slip away while the demon's momentarily quarreling with this Lost Boy, but he's instantly reprimanded and the blade is shoved savagely deeper into his nearly bleeding skin. Thus in turn, the blonde leaves. If the older boy were to flick his wrist just slightly, he'd be able to kill Bae with one small drag of the weapon. In the process of the blade's intensity increasing, he's also rammed into the taller boy's body, sending a jolt of pain through his hands that are still begging to be untied.

A cringe instantly takes over his limbs when he hears Pan's voice slink dangerously close to his ear. His limbs begin to struggle, he's attempting to yank his wrists from the rope and get out of this deadly bind. They saunter into the woods, each step taken in sync as this dazzling weapon begins to caress his skin. Why it hasn't shredded beneath the pressure—Bae's just grateful for that. His wrists are on fire, but he remains to struggle against the boy's grasping hands, attempting to break free from this ridiculous bond.

He does everything in his power to avoid the blade that's pierced deafeningly against his soft flesh, but it's not stopping him from trying to ward this boy off of him. His hips are shoved deliberately backwards, this makes him want to fight more because he feels something from that gesture that he's never experienced before. It doesn't take long for him to be shoved away, but not before his eyes view an inglorious glare sliding across those deadly green eyes. "So much for slaughtering me!" he replies hotly, keeping his distance as he speaks. He waits for the boy to lunge at him.

Pan

It's futile to resist that powerful surge of acrimony that courses through Pan's veins. It both surprised and irked him that the boy could generate that amount of anger within him with a few simple words. Where did the boy get the nerve to still test him? Was he really that foolish or did he have a death wish?

Pan holds up the blade, letting beams of moonlight glance off the silver. He brings it to his mouth where his tongue slithers out and licks the length of the dagger. "Who says I'm through with you yet?" he questions, displaying a bloodthirsty grin. He hopes his façade is believable. He has no intention of killing the boy and that only aggravates him further. It's taking all of his self-control to not pounce on Baelfire again. He's instinctively drawn to the doe-eyed boy before him, like a ravenous panther stalking a deer.

Baelfire

"You seem to be too apprehensive to even follow through with your threat," the boy retorts. Unfortunately for Bae, he's scared shitless. The threat is now about to ensue, and he's weaponless, defenseless, and he has no idea of the island's layout. His eyes trace the momentarily dampened blade, but finally find their way back to the shadows where an outline of the cunning tyrant lies, "I don't think you're going to kill me," he replies boldly, testing the boy to see if this is actually a possibility or not.

Bae can't determine why the boy keeps coming after him or even how he's still alive. He must be doing something right, but his hands are still locked tightly behind his back, so this 'Pan' has quite the advantage. He grinds his wrists against the binds, "Like I said, you can only work well," the boy frustratingly pulls at the binds, but they don't give free, "when your prey is afraid of you. Otherwise you're just a pathetic coward that can barely stand on his two feet. No doubt with his superiority complex showing. You're weak."

Pan

Pan's features harden into a glare. The boy isn't buying his threats or attempts at terrorizing. He feels that soon he'll have to back up his hollow words with physical actions. Maybe giving the boy a slice or two would put him in his place. To be honest, he wouldn't mind leaving a permanent scar on Baelfire. A small mark that, in Pan's mind, meant he eternally owned him in some way. The scar would forever rob the boy's attention whenever he looked at it and he'd be forced to think of Peter Pan.

Pan's eyes flicker to the boy's hands that continue to try and break free from their bonds. He listens to Bae's words and feels a smirk slinking back across his lips. He unexpectedly decides to return his dagger to its rightful place on his belt. He saunters over to the boy and begins leisurely circling him like a vulture. "I can only work when my prey is afraid?" he asks, his eyes wandering up and down the boy's body. "You don't seem so afraid, lashing out at me when you know the consequences, fighting against me when I have a blade to your throat." Pan deliberately said these things even though he knew Baelfire was utterly petrified. He could see it in the boy's eyes. But when he saw an opportunity to verbally shut someone down he would take it and prove them wrong.

Baelfire

A pink brush dusts the tips of Bae's ears and his cheeks. He feels utterly violated by this, and the tyrant's begun to circle around him like he's some sort of easily attainable prey, "I'm not going to be shoved into a cage. And since you still haven't 'slaughtered' me like you said you would; I'm not afraid of you." It's not entirely a lie, but every piece of him desperately wants to beg this boy to stop circling around him. And stop the threats too. Bae doesn't bother to keep his gaze following the oddly dressed demon. Instead he lets out a small sigh and starts move out of the ingrained circle that the dictator is making around him. "So since you seem to be doing nothing about these said 'consequences', I'm going to get out of here. Now that I don't have to be in a cage and you can just go back to your regular life without me," Bae's eyes trace over to the encircling king, the boy doesn't seem too keen on his words. He's about to do anything it takes to convince this jerk that he's not deathly about to start shaking like a wimp.

Fear's radiating off of him like a buzzing aura and anyone stupid enough not to notice it would have to have the IQ of a kitchen appliance. It bangs around inside him; he's utterly surprised he can suppress it from his voice. This 'Pan' boy isn't going to get any sort of reassurance that his tactics work. Bae withdraws immediately and shrinks into himself. Not physically, but his mind shuts down to help him maintain composure and not stress or explain the amount of unease that indulges itself, settling in his vulnerable mind. "I'm not afraid of you…" his voice falters in just the slightest but he's hoping this boy can't read him. He's done everything he can to stop himself from reading like an open book.

Pan

Pan repeatedly hears claims from the boy that he's not afraid. However, he hears the slightest wavering in Baelfire's voice. If the boy was going to test him, it was now his turn to test back.

The boy starts inching out of the circle Pan is creating, but Pan won't allow that. He steps up to the boy, domineering vibes radiating off his body. Baelfire is about a head shorter than the demon so his eyes barely scrape Pan's neck. Pan looks down at the younger boy with a bit of smugness. They're bodies are so close together that parts of their clothing are brushing up against one another.

"Are you afraid now?" whispers Pan. He suddenly bites his tongue after he speaks to punish himself. His voice had almost faltered as well, but not because he was afraid. Being this close to Baelfire was doing odd and unstoppable things to his mind. He was getting urges again to…he didn't even know what. Grab him? Take him by force? He just felt the overwhelming desire to break him. And in more ways than one.

For a moment Pan was worried that Baelfire would suspect he was having these kinds of thoughts and call him out for them, but fortunately, as the silence dragged on, Pan seemed to realize more and more that the boy was oblivious to the dark thoughts plaguing his mind. This sparked another thought in Pan's head, something far more twisted and slightly vile. His eyes slinked over the boy's soft looking neck and trailed their way down to his collarbones. He wondered if Baelfire had ever been intimate with anyone before.

Pan angrily clenched his jaw, immediately wanting to blast the thought out of his mind. Why the hell was he even thinking these things anyway? He thought back to his previous…relationships? He'd never actually experienced the conventional relationships that humans liked to participate in, what with him being a demon and all, but he had taken quite a few humans to bed with him in the past. But never a boy. And never someone so…young. For some reason this peaked his interest even more. To lie with someone so inexperienced and timid was driving his dominance wild with thirst.

Baelfire

Bae swallows carefully and forces himself to look up so he's not staring at this boy's neck. However, it takes him a while to coax them up. For some reason they want to train to the pulsing that's ignited there; the droning thudding in the older boy's veins. Their bodies are awfully close; he's really unsure of the boy's tactics. What are you thinking…? "No," he whispers flatly. That one's a blatant lie. Anyone with a brain can read the short brunette. His voice shakes to the effect where it's incredibly difficult to even contain his own composure. What is this demon doing? Why is he doing it? How? His shy and withdrawn personality replaces the fiery anger that once sizzled against his spitting hearth. Words don't sink into his mind anymore. He's not sure what to say, so he just remains close. The smaller boy's hands nervously fidget against the rope—he draws his attention to that to meander away from whatever this is that's happening between them. Bae can't decide, but maybe Pan's the type of person that likes to be able to connect with people on a certain level. That level including—no… Whatever this boy is doing is powerful, because it's starting to seep into crevices in Bae's mind and body..?

If he were thinking, and bold, he'd press his hands into this tyrant's chest and jut off; inquiring about what the hell is going on. He's not even sure if he's feeling anything, but he sure as hell is afraid. But, the boy will never admit it. He's not giving this creature any sort of in that he's won. "Stop that…" Bae's voice fluctuates. It's not about the fear… There's something else that's going on that he can't explain. He backs away from the trap and shakes his head while slowly stumbling over his feet, "What are you doing…?" he questions puzzlingly. The boy's palms turn ice cold, he glances around the forest, but the blackness has taken them and his mind keeps flashing back to when the knife was to his throat. When the boy's body was pressed up against his and—no. He has to stop this. What the hell does all of this even mean? The most frustrating part for him is… why doesn't he understand it? Why is everything such a mystery right now? "Stop that…" he repeats, glancing at the demon while he continues to struggle against the bonds that still hold him. The boy's eyes drop, there's no use in eye contact, the older boy will get it if he wants.

Pan

Pan nearly laughs when Baelfire lies through his teeth. It's painfully obvious that the boy is terrified to be accosted in such a way. A powerful appetite to take his advances to the next level overwhelms Pan. The boy was so deliciously timid and naïve, a monumental contrast to the cunning and unpleasant minions that dwell in Neverland.

Pan glances down when he feels a light brushing of fingers against his body. The boy is fidgeting with the rope shackles around his wrists again, probably to distract himself from the unpleasant predicament he's got himself into. Thoughts of the boy's wrists being tied down to other things slink into Pan's mind, tainting it.

Baelfire abruptly demands that Pan stop. At first, Pan guiltily averts his eyes, thinking that the boy was demanding he stop thinking his perverse thoughts, but then he realized that was foolish. The boy couldn't see into his mind.

"Stop what?" asks Pan even though he knows all too well that his advances were making the boy uncomfortable. And yet…the boy wasn't fleeing the area. Was there the tiniest possibility that Baelfire also held a bit of curiosity too? "You're free to go," says Pan rather bitterly, gesturing his arm out toward the forest. He didn't want to let the boy out of his sight. Not until he figured out what was going on between them.

Baelfire keeps pleading for him to stop, and quite honestly, Pan wants to say the same thing to the boy. How is this insignificant little prisoner so effortlessly dredging up his lust? The boy doesn't even host the heart of the truest believer. He was a worthless troublemaker that had been nothing but a burden and complication to Pan ever since he set foot on the island. So why was infatuation setting in Pan's mind so rapidly like some kind of disease?

The boy is standing right in front of a very tall tree. The wide trunk is adorned with a tangle of vines. Pan nearly smirks. Baelfire has positioned himself right into a trap. All Pan has to do now is close the space between them.

Very cautiously, Pan takes steps toward the boy as not to scare him off. He didn't want to have to chase him down or for this to end up in another wrestling match just yet. A few twigs snap underneath Pan's shoes and he pauses after each one breaks, eyeing the boy to see if the noises will alert him to bound away. Fortunately, the boy remains standing there and Pan is able to regain his original spot in a few strides, leaving mere inches between their bodies.

To create the cage, Pan leans in, placing only one hand on the tree beside Bae's head. They're in such close proximity that his other hand wasn't necessarily needed to complete the cage. In fact, his free hand has plans of its own.

"I said you're free to go," whispers Pan, staring directly into the gentle brown eyes that are undeniably attractive. With every passing moment, Pan is finding himself more appreciative of the boy's soft features. Long moments of silence pass in which the two boys just stand there, staring at one another. The rising tension electrifies Pan's bloodstream, turning it into an energized fuel that pumps his heart faster. His focus slowly descends to the boy's lips. Curiosity possesses his body like an evil spirit and takes control over his free hand. Very slowly, his fingers start to move forward. Pan's eyes flicker back up at the boy's eyes as his hand moves below. His heart starts hammering full throttle just as his fingertips brush the front of Bae's pants. They glide across the fabric until they feel a small bulge. His hand pauses there, waiting to see if the boy will explode into panic and try to force him to stop.

Baelfire

Pan asks him questions, but his mind's already shut off. It lets him carelessly look up, but the once lively orbs are not full of anything but fear of this unknown that's heightened in his system. It feels like a warm flashlight inside his stomach has been ignited after years of neglect. Colour jumps to his cheeks, flooding the Red Sea dauntingly over his soft complexion. The boy's eyes timid glance down at the space between them and it begins to close. He swallows hard.

The demon creates a deafening cage around him, cornering him into the tree that's not far behind. His upper back splashes against it; his hands still toying, trying to get free. Bae's eyes shoot up to watch the boy's hand begin to enclose him; their proximity is erotically close. A fearful whimper escapes his lips, but his timid nature refuses to let him speak against these acts of seduction. He hasn't been told anything. The boy knows so little about what's going on with his body that the questions start swimming. However, Pan must know something. He keeps ensuing this behavior and whatever he keeps doing, it's speeding up Bae's heart and he feels blood pound in typically lucid places.

Free to go? When his mind's drawing out question by question; demolishing everything else in his path? "Pan—," he finally, but still apprehensively, speaks to the taller boy. It's the only word that's willing to come out. Everything else is stuck in his throat, or stuck swimming around in mush; it's what's become of his brain. Being free to go isn't so easy when he's cornered up against a terribly uncomfortable tree.

He's been sheltered his entire life. Every choice was tepidly made for him. Each decision was final without his consent. He was taken away from all the other boys and girls because his father was afraid. Afraid of what? Losing him. Losing him like he'd lost Milah. Milah, if she were alive, would've told him. Would've answered his every question. Maybe… He knew so little about her, he did his best not to let his mind wander too far about his mother. She was dead. In his mind, he needed her to stay that way. Just like all the other people that have decided to abandon him throughout his life.

Silence drags on. Neither of them speaks a word, and the only sounds to be heard are the soft humming of the forest and their clashing breaths that lick the air. The younger boy blushes at the intensity of their locked eyes and averts his shortly after their connection, just missing Pan's devious glance at his lips. Had he saw that, he would've ran. And then he feels it again. That haunting warmth that seems like something that can instantly take him under. He drives his little teeth into his bottom lip, biting down to the point where he's about to bite right through it. Bae shakes his head just so slightly, whatever this haunting clenching in his organs is, it feels really, really right? He should know more about it. Why it's happening.

The boy's hand's so close to him, his whole body tenses; prepares itself. He shoves his hips back into the bark of the tree to avoid this boy's… whatever he's doing. Unfortunately, that warmth goes away, leaving Bae starving for it again. Trying to figure out why he got it and why he's tingling and feeling incredibly uncomfortable within his clothing. Everything appears to feel a couple sizes too small. Even when, moments before, it was all almost too big. His eyes glance back up at Pan's, "I don't understand…" the younger boy's orbs bleed constant fear. He feels stupid and inadequate for even mentioning it. What if he doesn't get any answers? The boys hips beg to go back to their original place, right up against this demon's delicate fingertips. Why is just a small brushing of the boy's hand bringing him this sort of… pleasure? Is that the word?

Pan

Pan's eyes dilate at the sight of the crimson blush blossoming across the boy's cheeks. He's drawn to the red color, drawn to the blood. Not only because of his predator-like nature, but because it means he's succeeded in flustering the boy. He'd finally obtained some power over the disobedient little brat.

The words "I don't understand…" are like music to Pan's ears. It means he'd be the boy's first. That Baelfire's body was unclaimed territory. Pan intended on taking full advantage of it, but unfortunately his greed was also making his temper rise again. The overwhelming need to seduce the boy, to bend him to his will was becoming futile to resist. Maybe he wasn't even interested in Baelfire, maybe the boy had just crossed too many of his lines and now he wanted revenge by whatever means necessary. He wanted to see the boy writhing under his grasp, to succumb to his power and finally admit that he was superior. Or maybe he was slipping into denial, trying to conjure up excuses for his abnormal lust.

Pan wasn't the least bit put off by Baelfire's slight retreat. If the boy really didn't have any experience with intimacy it was almost guaranteed that he'd withdraw from the unknown. Pan did his best to keep his confidence a solid mask of composure. Advancing on another male was new to him and he was fighting off the jolts of uncertainty. He tried to focus on the fact that this would make taking advantage easier. His hands were full of knowledge of how to provide pleasure in all the right places.

"What don't you understand?" whispered Pan, but his voice was devoid of all concern. It was more of a taunt considering he knew perfectly well what the boy was confused about. He leaned in closer to Baelfire who was now fully pressed against the tree. The boy's hips couldn't back up any further. Pan barely left a pause for the boy to reply to him. He closed in on his prey again, lightly brushing the front of Baelfire's pants with his body to give the boy the same kind of teasing stimulation that his hand did.

Upon contact with the prisoner, Pan stiffened below. He glanced up into Baelfire's eyes to see if the boy had felt it or if he was even smart enough to know Pan was becoming aroused. He gently pressed further into the boy, testing Baelfire's boundaries.

Baelfire

Bae can't figure out what's going on. His mind feels like it's swimming in maple syrup. His hips are begging for the boy again, and he feels too many sensations all at once just underneath his waistline. Bae's seldom felt this way before, and when he did only a few times previously, he didn't know what it was or why it was happening.

When directed a question, Bae looks away and tries to dull the blush on his cheeks, but he still feels stupid for even mentioning that he didn't understand. Whatever these feelings are, he likes them. However, questions are still flying in and out of his mind. He's too afraid to ask them. Especially with the boy's tone. Pan seems to know a lot more than he does about this taboo and unexplored area, it worries Bae. He knows he'll likely be taken advantage of because he barely knows anything about himself—especially when it came to sexual festivities. Not once did his father mention why there were nights when… well… uncontrollable things happened to him. "I—," he pauses and sinks his teeth into his lip when their hips are slowly brushed against each other. What's happening… Why do I feel this way? Why do I keep wanting more…? "Wh—Why does this feel really good?" he asks, instantly scolding himself for such a stupid question. His eyes draw quickly away and he recedes back into himself, letting his shy nature win the game once and for all. He's afraid of what Pan will say. He hates not knowing what's going on, when clearly, this leader knows exactly what he's doing.

He instantly feels himself gaining… Uncomfortable feelings. He can't tell if it's because his clothes seem to have gotten too small or if it's because their bodies are pressed against each other. He lets out a small whimper, frustrated that he can't figure any of this out on his own.

There's a hardening between his legs. Not only his, but he feels another one that isn't his own. His blush darkens excessively and he squirms a bit under the older boy as his heart furiously pounds in his chest. Blood's sinking… down… And he's not sure he can stop it, but it's going fast, and he feels himself drawing up and pushing against the fabric of his garments.

Their proximity is lessened when the older boy presses himself farther into Bae. He stiffens, and in more places than one, but he's still confused beyond belief. Bae worriedly looks up, fear and uncertainty is clouding his vision and he's so unsure of this tyrant's advances… he's not sure what to do. Whines cling to his lips; the older boy barely has to push into him to get them to escape. He can't tell if he's asking for more or just too confused to understand and… still asking for more.

Pan

Pan's eyes lustfully roam all over the boy's puzzled and reddened face. Something about Baelfire's confused and timid state is making him grow harder by the second. A flood of erotic thoughts suddenly enter his mind and produce images of the boy gripping at the sheets of his bed, begging him to stop the pleasure being forced upon him. The images conjure up a wave of heat that radiates down Pan's spine and lingers around his neck. It slowly trickles down to the front of his pants causing him to become profusely hard. He abruptly and involuntarily thrusts his hips further into the boy, suddenly unconcerned about being cautious. The friction he feels of the small bulge against his own makes his lips part and a few of his muscles tense. He suddenly realizes the boy is getting hard too from his dominant contact. It takes all of his self control to not slip his hand down the boy's pants and grip at the hardening warmth provoked by him.

"Why does what feel good?" whispers Pan in mock concern, intentionally trying to get the boy to be specific. He wants to hear the boy plainly ask him why his dick is hardening, why he's getting aroused, why he wants to be touched more… Pan teases his prey further by bringing his fingertips up to Baelfire's chin. It seems the blush is deepening and the boy is becoming more confused. Pan slowly glides his fingers underneath the boy's jawline to keep him from looking away. He brings his parted lips close to Baelfire's, drawn to the whimpers that he plans on turning into deafening moans. "Do you want me to touch you?" he whispers, grabbing a hold of the boy's mind and forcing it into a dark corner. He restrains it there and slowly starts to grind against it with his questions. No matter what answer came out of the boy, Pan wasn't going to stop.

Baelfire

Both of their dicks grow hard against each other, and Bae's so lost he frustratingly digs his nails into his hands that are still writhing against the restraints. He's even worse off when the boy savagely shoves their hips together. That's when things start to get uncomfortable because the blood's excessive and he can't grow past the fabric or the pressure of this demon against his hips. The next whine from his lips is from discomfort. He can't stop this, and it's starting to get painful since his body's fighting against the boundary of clothing. It's begging for this boy. But why? Why does he want the boy's hands all over him? Why's he suddenly becoming erect with just the heave and trickling fingers that Pan's provided on him?

More questions make Bae even more uncomfortable because he doesn't know how to explain what he's feeling, "Whatever you're doing…" Bae says, timidly, letting the reticence cloud over and stay there, "I keep—," he pauses, instantly hating himself for his next words, "begging for you… I think…" his nails dig deeper into his hands; any second now the skin's going to break because he's trying to suppress this pleasure, pain, and frustration all at once. "Why do… I like you rolling into me?" he asks, not sure if he's even brushing the vocabulary of whatever this is.

Bae huffs in anger, still trying to fight that he's completely in the grey and that Pan's not helping him at all by just asking him questions right back. He swallows hard against the boy's fingers on his chin, and he tries to force his gaze away, but it's practically impossible with the green irises gazing into his own. His teeth clamp around his bottom lip; their faces get closer too, and Bae's even less sure of what to do. He's seen some of the villagers do this thing called 'kissing' but two boys had never done it. It always seemed out of place too, and Bae isn't sure if that's what Pan wants or if he just wants them to keep visual contact while he tortures Bae with all of this.

He's asked another question, and this frustrates him further since he's still not getting answers; the tips of his ears are burning scarlet as well, "I—I don't know… Will it make this worse…? It's getting really uncomfortable…," he frowns suddenly, not sure if that's the answer the boy wants but he can't tell if Pan's fingers will do more or if the rubbing of their two pelvises together will. He quickly averts his eyes from the demon's even with his chin carefully kept in place by caressing fingers, "If you touch me, will this pain go away?" he asks softly, letting another flood of red drive into the skin of his cheeks.

Pan

Pan finally decides it's safe to cut the boy loose from his bonds. Or maybe he just wants to free him so that when he starts to get rough he can feel little nails pierce into his flesh. He wants to feel the boy grip at him and struggle against him. He wants to feel just how much Baelfire can't handle the amount of pleasure he intends to inject him with.

Just so he doesn't elicit too much fear in the already nervous boy, Pan slowly reaches for his belt, very carefully drawing out his blade from its sheath. He brings the dagger forward to the thick rope, slowly cutting each string. He holds eye contact while he does this, silently insinuating a number of suggestive things that the boy will probably never catch on to, but eventually he hears a soft thud when the severed rope hits the ground.

Pan doesn't even glance down at the rope. The dagger in his hand is the next object to fall to the ground where it lands beside the broken bonds. Now that his hand is free again he starts to consider stroking Baelfire again. He can feel how hard the boy has become and he wants to cajole him into becoming even more erect. The growing pleasure in his stomach makes his muscles lurch in ecstasy at the thought of the boy moaning as he teases his tip.

The boy questions Pan's interest in grinding up against him. Baelfire was beyond naïve and Pan would rather just demonstrate instead of having a conversation. "I like it because it makes me feel this," he whispers. His hand slowly creeps down, descending between their bodies. He backs up ever so slightly to make room for his fingers to glide down across the front of the boy's pants again. He nearly moans when he fully grips the boy's dick through his pants. He struggles with composure, squeezing harder than he means to. The heat waves return and Baelfire's exposed neck is looking particularly appetizing.

"It won't take away the pain," Pan breathes close to the boy's lips. "It'll get worse before it gets better." At this point he wasn't going to try and fool the younger boy. He fully intended to go all the way and slaughter the virgin. His fingers dug into the fabric of the boy's pants in attempt to grip more of him. He kept his lips hovering nearby so that Baelfire would be persuaded to touch them with his own.

Baelfire

Bae nervously shoves himself into the bark of the tree while it pinches into the skin of his back. The boy brings the dagger to his wrists and he instantly tenses… but finally, each strand is cut and the rope falls to the ground. His wrists feel like they're on fire from the amount of struggling he's done against the restraints. He can't figure out why he's set free, but he instantly lets his hands drop seamlessly to his sides. Red rings have burned around his wrists and they hurt more than ever now that he's not struggling against that bond. He jumps a little bit when the blade thuds on the forest floor, but there's no reason to be afraid now that it's not right up against his throat.

When the older boy speaks, Bae stiffens at just the words, and even before the boy's hand slides between his legs, they slowly create a break—an entrance—for the older and clearly more experienced boy. He feels it again. That light that settles in his body and makes him want to beg for this demon to never let go. To keep going. No matter how hard his body's pushing to get out of the bonds of clothing. Bae whimpers when the boy squeezes him. He's young and delicate and he's never had anyone else draw their fingers to such a sensitive place, "Ouch…," he jumps ever so slightly, "That hurts…" However, the younger boy's body is instantly disagreeing with his mind that's telling him pain. The boy's body—without his consent—draws forward into the older boy's hand, asking for him to continue; practically starving for it.

He's never felt this way before. He barely knows Pan. But there's something about the ruler that keeps him from running. Maybe it's the solid pounding between his legs or something more. He's being pestiferously taunted; he's not sure what to do with his hands, because he feels like he should be returning the favor… He gets exceedingly more nervous and another wave of even deeper blush crashes onto his skin, flooding his complexion.

He's told the pain won't go away and that causes his eyes to connect back to the acidic green ones that practically bore into his soul, "Why does it hurt?" he asks. Curious as to this sort of thing and why anyone would actually want to be in pain. He knows some of the question, and it's making him want to curl up in bed naked to get the pain in his groin to go away. He needs some relief from the tightening clothing that's getting worse ever since the boy put his hands back around him. His breath gets caught in his throat, a small content murmur bubbles from the boy's lips. How's this tyrant getting these sorts of unexplained noises to erupt from him?

More uncomfortable gripping occurs on him, he cringes and averts his eyes once again. Bae squirms beneath the older boy who's got him so easily in his grasp, "I don't think boys are supposed to kiss…" he says, hoping that this is what Pan's implying. If he's wrong, he's never going to forgive himself. Maybe the older boy just likes being really close to people. He doesn't know. He slowly licks his lips in ultimate discomfort, but his tongue reaches the older boy's lips ever so slightly and he tries to pull away… but the tree's in the way, and the boy's got his chin in his grasp.