Fandom: Peter Pan
Author: Nine/Mistaria
Title: Wendy Drabbles
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine but the plot (oh, and the tea wink). Peter Pan is a creation of J. M. Barrie.
Rating: PG-13 (I think... Could be a very mild R, tell me if you disagree)
Pairing: Wendy/Hook
Summary: Short drabbles. Wendy, now a married woman, has an unexpected meeting with someone from her past.
Author Note/Warning: Just in case anyone is wondering, Wendy is obviously of age! Possible mild smut in later drabbles, don't like it, don't read it. I might make a ficlet out of these drabbles someday, when I have the time smile.
3.
He leaned towards her again, forget-me-not blue-coloured eyes intent, burning. Curve of the claw under her chin, lifting her face, hand next to her head, supporting him.
There was a sound, piercing through the silence, the morning salute of a sole cockerel, a raspy heartfelt crowing to announce the first streaks of dawning sunlight.
The Captain faltered.
"I... I must go."
Wendy kept his gaze.
"Yes, you must."
"Tell you children and your children's children the story of Neverland."
"I will."
"Tell them about the fierce Captain James Hook of the Jolly Roger."
"I will."
He was much closer now, his mouth moving against hers.
"Tell them about his Red Handed Jill and how her stories entranced the Captain."
She smiled against his lips.
"Think happy thoughts Captain."
He pressed his lips against her mouth, briefly, and she gasped. There was the sound of a key turning in a lock.
"Until we meet again Wendy Darling."
"Until we meet again Captain James Hook."
For a moment he lingered near the window, then, as if a decision was reached, he turned and slid his arm around her waist to pull her towards him. She stumbled into him, brought off guard by the sudden forced movement. When she looked up imploringly, lips a round 'O' of surprise, he tilted his head and kissed her mouth.
Thoroughly.
She stilled for a moment and then curved into him, her mouth opening under his, moist and warm. She panted and then gasped in surprise when he moved from her mouth to the curve of her neck and she heard, no felt him growl.
She became aware of her hands in the fabric of his coat, clenching, holding on for dear life, the curve of his hook resting gently on the back of her shoulder, his hand coming up to where her corsetry reached the underside of her breasts. The warmth of his fingers seeped through the fabric of her dress and underthings and she was sure he could feel her nipples peaking under the thick material.
He did. Apparently. A lazy fingertip circled one hardened nipple.
"Oh."
Then, as if waking from a forbidden dream, she pushed him away. "Oh!"
He turned and leaped for the window, rising into the early morning light as behind her the door handle turned. She quickly moved to draw the curtains, casting a lingering look at the pale skies over London.