Author's Note: Okay, I know that it has been FOREVER since I have updated any of my stories. I sincerely apologize.
Disclaimer: I do not own the story of Peter Pan.
Wendy awoke to the sound of a faint dripping noise and the rustle of fabric. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked about the dark room. The thin mattress – which she decided must just be a pile of wood planks covered in old canvas – sat uncomfortably beneath her, jabbing into her vertebrae. She groaned in response to the slight ache that had overcome her spine during the few hours of sleep. Squinting, attempting to adjust her eyes to the faint moonlight trickling in through the minuscule cell window, her eyes swept across the chamber, searching for movement. They settled on a patch of darkness that seemed slightly different from the rest. Slightly more…alive.
"Who is that?"
No reply met her quivering question.
"I know you're there. It's no use trying to convince me you're not."
Again, her inquiry hung alone in the stilted air of the holding cell.
"…Peter? Peter…is it you?"
A low chuckle emerged from the shadow and suddenly Wendy knew exactly who hid in the gloom. The dark figure crept toward her and towered above her as she lay in bed.
"Oh, Wendy, Wendy, Wendy. You still trust that adolescent to save you? You've grown to my age, yet you still depend on a juvenile. How…uncharacteristic of you, my dear."
As the shadow settled down near her face, she could make out the dark facial hair – the curling moustache, the slightly graying goatee – and the strong, prominent features of Captain James Hook.
Before Wendy could spit out a witty retort to his last statement, she felt something cold and metallic brush along her jaw line. She felt a shiver crawl throughout her body as the trademark hook of the captain trailed down to her collarbone.
"Darling, you will need to start relying on someone stronger and more cunning. Someone older and experienced."
She watched as a smirk crept across his face.
"And I suppose you think that all roads lead to you, hm?"
The smirk faltered at her comeback but stood strong.
"Oh no, Wendy. No, no, no. I don't think so. I know so. You've grown up. And finally, I'm beginning to see the parts of you that must've simply fascinated Peter when you were children."
She reached out a hand to slap him, but his real hand held hers fast. The hook made its way down lower, now dangerously close to her breasts. The hand he used to stop her own began to stroke the porcelain skin encasing her wrist. He let out an almost inaudible moan and leaned closer to her.
"So if you're wondering why I'm here, I suppose I should prove myself to be true gentleman and state the truth. I am here to retrieve that fascinating kiss you stole from me yesterday. That was rather discourteous and unladylike of you, and I'm here to give you a shot to redeem your courtesy."
He drew closer to her, his hands releasing her and pulling her head to him.
"So what'll it be? Will you give me what is rightfully mine? Or will you characteristically refuse and tell me that it was never mine to begin with, that you would rather rot down here than touch me?"
Wendy stilled in shock. He had stated exactly what she had planned to say, and it presented itself on her face. He laughed softly.
"Trust me, love, I am accustomed to your monotony. Your spontaneity, now that is what I would marvel in discovering."
Wendy hesitated before drawing her hands up and rising them up to rest on his. She heard him exhale in expectation and heard that one word echoing in her head.
Spontaneity.
Oh, she'd give him the unexpected. She pulled his hands down from her face and before he could object to what he thought she was doing, she did the absolute unforeseen. She felt for his shirt and started unbuttoning it, kissing his neck masterfully as his shirt fell to the floor. Running her hand through his coarse, masculine chest hair, she whispered mischievously,
"Was that uncharacteristic enough, Captain?"
Jane awoke slowly, letting her sleep encased eyes adjust to the sunlight filtering in through her eyelashes. She let out a small yawn and rubbed her head sleepily on Peter's chest. She rested there for a while, letting herself move with the rise and fall of his breath and eventually matching her own to match his every inhalation and exhalation.
"Morning, sunshine."
She jumped slightly, startled at the fact that Peter was awake. Looking up at him, she smiled genuinely.
"Hey."
They sat in silence, gazing at each other. Peter reached his hand down and brushed his fingers through her soft, chocolate-colored tendrils. Jane closed her eyes, savoring his touch, until a thought struck her abruptly.
"Mother…where is she?! Peter, we left her!"
She jumped to her feet and pulled him up anxiously.
"Oh my god. What could've happened to her?"
Peter stood in silence, thinking to himself and finally he realized.
"Hook's got her."
Hook caught Wendy's dress in his hook and tore a convenient tear down the center of the garment. Leaning in closer, he led a trail of kisses down her body, relishing the salty taste of her skin. As he pushed her back onto the bed, he mounted her, still kissing her breasts, still in complete ecstasy.
"Oh Hook."
She whimpered into his mess of black, curly hair. He stopped and raised his eyes to meet hers.
"My dear Wendy, I think at a moment like this, first names tend to be more proper. James, perhaps?"
He smirked and kissed her on the lips passionately. On one hand, it was quite romantic, the way he caressed her lips with his own, the way she felt his want for her screaming in his embrace. But, on the other hand, it was also quite villainous in that he bit her to the point of bleeding and that she could also feel his lust growing with every second of the kiss. As his tongue made its move on hers, his hand wandered, resting on her left breast. She left out a moan, feeling useless under the weight of the powerful captain of the Jolly Rogers.
