Warning: Smut and sexy times and stuff.
For the bittersweetness of this chapter I suggest listening to Shake it Out (Weekend Remix) - Florence + the Machine while reading.
They were inside Skull Rock. Anna could barely see, if it wasn't for the moonlight streaking in through the nose and eyes of structure it would have been pitch black. In the corner, like some alter of a deity, was a giant hour-glass. The golden sand inside it slipped away languidly, perpetually dropping into the bottom of the glass.
Anna figured it out, that was all the time Neverland had left before the magic ran out. She turned towards Pan whose hand was still clutching her arm.
Henry was stood basking in the glow of the hour glass, dwarfed by its size.
"Is it time?" The boy asked, seemingly oblivious to her presence.
"It's time Henry," Pan said, dropping Anna's arm and stalking towards Henry, "it's time for you to save magic,"
Anna watched dumbfounded as Pan closed the gap between them. He stared confidently at Henry.
The younger boy nodded and heroically drove his hand into his chest, clawing at himself until he produced a red, glittering heart, a gold aura surrounding it.
"No," Anna breathed, "No!"
She sprinted to Pan, intercepting the gift Henry was giving him.
"Peter you'll kill him!" Anna begged, holding her hands out to protect the child.
"And you tried to kill me," Pan snapped, "What's the difference really?!"
"Because he doesn't deserve this, there are other ways," she pleaded futilely with him.
"Anna," Pan sighed, taking her shoulder, "If magic dies, so do I,"
Anna stiffened, not realizing how much that effected her until this very moment.
Still she shook her head, "There are other ways, I promise there will be other ways. If you kill Henry then you lose everything,"
Pan moved backwards, thinking as Anna shielded Henry beside her. Pan knew that by everything, she meant the Lost Boys, she meant her.
"Let's make a deal Anna, if I leave the boy," Pan asked, looking out at the silvery moon dancing across the bay, "You have to come with me,"
Anna watched him, perched on the ledge, she knew what it was like to be lonely. In a way, she knew what it was like to be him and that scared her. It also drew her to him.
"Let's go," She replied.
Pan looked back at the hour glass, at Henry, at all his hard work. Then he looked at Anna and her strange beauty and worried, chapped lips.
The boy could wait, the game couldn't.
He held out his hand to the girl, standing on the edge of the skulls eye socket, he looked like a ghost in the light.
Outside, it was beginning to rain, a slow smattering that was swirling up into a storm. It never rained on Neverland.
Anna looked back at Henry and mouthed 'I'm sorry' to him. Then, she came over to Pan and placed her tiny hand in his.
"Come on Lost Girl," Pan smirked.
"Wait!" She cited out as he stepped off the precipice, "How will we fly?!"
Pan put his face closer to her ear.
"Believe,"
And she did.
They flew through the rain storm, Peter Pan's wet hand held tight onto Anna's as they were soaked to the skin y the torrential downpour that wracked through the island. They spent the whole journey in silence, Pan leading the way as they reflected on their choices.
The trip ended at a large tree, a huge tree with twisting gnarled vines wrapped around it, in the branches of the tree, high up, there seemed to be an alcove.
Pan took her inside it, guiding her in silently with his hands and watching her intently as she sat, bunched up, at one side, he squeezed in beside her.
There was no light now, just the blue of night. Anna shook with both anticipation and the cold, she stared at Pan, blonde hair plastered to his face and a bead of water hanging from his nose like a drop of mercury.
He crouched in front of her, just watching. Anna saw nothing in his face and she feared she never would, her heart beat hopelessly in her chest.
All she heard was the wind crying outside and the steady drip of water from Pan's clothes.
Their conjoined body heat made the alcove warmer than it should have been.
She stared at him staring at her and then suddenly, he shuddered, teeth chattering in cold.
"We should probably get closer together," she suggested but neither of them moved.
Pan shivered again, trying to resist the cold's thrall.
So Anna kissed him, she threw her sopping wet body against him and crashed her lips down. Surprised, he didn't react until her hands were wrapped around his neck and her chest was pressed against him.
He placed his hands on her waist, squeezing the moisture from her top as her mouth moved over his.
Her hands grazed over his shoulders, pushing the wet, dark green material from his arms and to the floor.
Hands swept gracefully over slick bodies, the warmth radiating off them and their rain soaked figures.
Pan pulled Anna's top up and over her head, breaking their kiss. It landed with a slap on the ground. Revealing her round, pale breasts and tightened waist, spilling out to the large hips and her jeans.
Anna's hair was plastered to her face in long coils of knot, twirling down over her shoulders and chest, sticking to her breasts and obscuring her nipples.
She looked scared at Pan, whose mouth was curling into a beautiful smile, like two school children on their first time.
Pan moved to her, slowly laying her down, his hands drifted over her shoulders, cradled her chin and the full, curve of her bottom lip. His thumb traced the dip in her throat and slid down between her breasts.
Beautiful skin and beautiful teeth and smiles and beautiful movements and slow and longing kisses that glided gracefully into each other. Everything was slow and nighttime and every touch was a discovery and a worship and an act of care.
Anna heaved in a broken breath and Pan smiled again. He leant down and kissed her neck, smiling into the juncture between her jaw and her throat.
Anna's hands grappled with Pan trousers, the smell of him, her face buried in his shoulder. He was raw and primal and real.
She pushed his trousers down to his shins and he used deft fingers to roll her stiff and dark blue jeans from her body.
Pan's hand was caught in her hair, they were even hotter now, the moisture of their bodies rapidly turning to steam.
Anna's hands drifted from Pan's sharpened collar bones to the irresistible dips of his spine while he placed his mouth back to hers, biting her lips as his hands eagerly explored her.
"I can feel you breathing," Pan informed her and it was only then that she realized she was whimpering quietly, her chest heaving at the quiet rumble of his voice. Soft and terrifying. He placed a slight kiss on her mouth as he entered her, "You don't have to be frightened anymore,"
She moaned into his mouth as his hand slid down over his damp skin and gripped her thigh, spreading her right leg farther apart, pushing deeper into her, desperate to be close to her.
Her hands slipped over his shoulders, glistening with the remaining rain, she found purchase as she dug her nails into him.
He was breathing heavily into her shoulder., so close to the previous bite marks.
The outside was cold but inside the tiny alcove was so warm.
Pan looked at Anna as he rocked into him, mimicking the bucking of her hips, his bones struck hers and ached beautifully. Peter was smiling, letting out an imperturbable laugh as his gaze trailed down her shining body.
Anna held Pan close to her, their chests meeting and her eyes rolling back at Pan's hand pressed between her legs.
Afterwards, they lay together in silence. Naked and trembling and scared.
Pan looked up at her, his hand stroked her cheek and Anna nuzzled into the gesture, her eyes flickering closed. Pan placed his hands in either side of her head and moved up her body.
Anna was a baby bird, desperate and fragile and so easy to break.
Pan kissed her forehead and watched a tear drop from her eye.
"I thought I could be with you" Peter Pan rolled off of her and hitched up his trousers. Anna curled into a ball, her knees pulled to her chest, "If that's what you wanted. You could stay here and be a Lost Girl and a mother."
Anna was silent, completely impassive
Pan allowed her to fall into his arms and sleep. She slept curled up against him and naked, Pan didn't sleep.
Instead he traced the bones in her spine, he ran his thumb over each dent in her knuckles, he counted her freckles and watched the swarming, blue veins under her translucent skin; wondering which ones led to her heart.