"I can see why you like your rum, pirate." Pan says slowly, from his position on his back on the forest floor, looking as disheveled as Hook has ever seen him. And Hook's seen Pan in a lot of different ways. He has seen the immortal with his back practically scraping the bark off a tree while Killian moves into him. He's held Pan's throat with his hook, seen him cry out both in pain and ecstasy; he's seen him sweaty and bare and writhing.
But it is an altogether different thing to see Pan drunk.
Killian is not even touching him (not yet), and the boy is a mess. Pan is usually in such careful control – even his displays of emotion are carefully calculated. Pan is the finest actor Killian has ever known. He only loses control in the midst of sex, and that is part of what makes him so alluring. To know that he is the one who can undo such a powerful little monster – the high has never been so satisfying with someone else. Maybe that makes Hook a sick man. Maybe he doesn't care.
"There's dirt on your face." Hook points out, arching an eyebrow. Pan grins back, lazily, stretching out his arms in a languid fashion.
"Well, you like to see me all roughed up, don't you, Captain?" He laughs. "Come here."
Hook obeys, because he always has, lowering himself to the ground next to Pan. The boy rolls onto his side and presses his lips to the corner of Killian's mouth. It would be a sweet gesture, were it anyone else's. "Can you taste it?" He murmurs. "If you stay here with me, Captain, I can give you all the rum you want. Endlessly."
Pan finally gave Hook the dreamshade poison he needs a few days ago. He has not yet agreed to let the pirate leave the island, and Hook has been procrastinating truly asking anyway. His desire to kill his crocodile is still there – but his desire for Pan is at war with it. Hook knows if he leaves the island all the pain of Milah's death will be there waiting for him.
"I have to leave." He says, half-heartedly, turning his face away. Immediately, Pan's hand latches onto his cheek, roughly dragging his gaze back.
"Will you come back?" He asks, tongue loosened by rum, vitriol barely in his tone.
"Yes." Hook says simply, because he will. It may take him years but he does not doubt that one day he will be unable to escape his need for Pan – or Pan's for him.
"I know you will." Pan smirks, half-cruel, but there's a happiness there that Killian is surprised to identify.
"Will you miss me?" He finds himself asking. He watches Pan frown, silent. He is just about to open his mouth and ask again when Pan dives forward, kissing him sloppy and hard. The pirate wants to protest and demand an answer, but his dick isn't cooperating.
Pan's definitely not taking it slow. His hand is down Hook's pants before the pirate can even touch him, and he is forced to chase the sensation with an arch of his hips.
"Pan – " He groans, and is silenced with another kiss.
With fingers less deft that usual, Pan begins undressing him, stripping leather and cloth from warm skin. He has trouble with the laces, and Hook suddenly feels his pants gone. Neverland. Always making the sex more interesting.
Pan can believe in anything after all.
"I'm feeling a little inequal here, Pan." Hook says, and repositions himself so he's hovering over Pan. He undresses the immortal while the subject of his attention just stares up at him, smirk languid and warm like melted butter, eyes vaguely unfocused. Hook is intimately familiar with that look: it's the expression of a drunk, and a horny one at that.
Hook grins, and begins divesting Pan of his own clothing, deliberately taking his time. After a moment the boy lets out a noise that is suspiciously close to a growl, and then he is naked too.
The pirate runs a hand over the other's body, touching the places Pan never allows anyone else to know, consuming him with a smug content. His skin is warm, soft betneath his hand, and infinitely addictive.
"Killian – do it, now –" Pan demands. This is how Hook likes him best, on the edge of begging, body crying for the pirate.
"I have to –" He moves his hand lower, to prepare the boy, but Pan shakes his head.
"I'll be fine."
"Pan –"
"Now!"
Hook doesn't hesitate again, but thrusts into Pan, rough and unyielding. Pan cries out, the sound setting Killian's blood afire. Slim hands grip around his shoulders. He can feel the short nails digging in as he rocks his hips into Pan. Their banter ceases entirely as both become consumed by the act of fucking. Perhaps the reason they are so enthralled with each other is that together, they can forget the world. Hook forgets his brother, forgets Milah, forgets the terrible things he's done even as he's sinning with Pan.
He can't speak for the immortal. But he knows the boy has regrets, has pain, or else he never would have become what he is now. And Hook watches him sometimes in the midst of their passion – and just after – and Pan looks almost…innocent. It is ironic, that Pan would finally seem like the youth he is just when Killian is buried inside of him. He'd feel guilty, if he could.
"I'm close," Pan hisses in his ear, and his breathy little moans as he comes drive Hook over the edge after him. They collapse together, sprawled and tangle and sweaty, leaves and dirty sticking to their skin. Neither of them bothers to move. After a short pause, Killian looks over at Pan. His eyes are half-closed, and there is the slightest of smiles on his face.
He's still a little drunk, yes, but there is more than that. Killian has made him happy. Not the cruel, satisfied happiness that Pan general thrives off but truly, peacefully happy. His heart pounds just a little bit harder, and he forces himself to look away.
Killian is about to drift off when he feels Pan's arm curl around his waist, and the immortal presses to his back. "Don't leave," Pan's voice says softly. "Don't leave yet. Stay another year. It's just a blink for the Enchanted Forest, you won't miss anything." His lips touch Killian's ear. "Stay."
He swallows thickly, wanting both to protest and to agree. After a long pause, he sighs.
"Alright, Peter. I'll stay."