Mr. and Mrs. Darling stare at Peter with fascination. Never before in their lives had they seen such a ravenous boy. Except once, four years ago when they adopted the so called "lost boys", who's original home had never been established. Surprisingly, they didn't question it further once they got the same answer twice. Neverland was the only thing they were going to hear.
"Wendy," Mr. Darling starts, not taking his eyes off of Peter who was shamelessly stuffing his face with strawberries, bread, and bacon.
"What is this?" Peter holds up the bacon with a questioning look on his face. He eats it before he gets an answer. He doesn't look more than 16, though he must've been alive at least three hundred years old. Or more…who knows? Wendy has to stop thinking about Peter's age before her brain goes into overload. It was too early to think so hard.
"It's bacon, Peter," Wendy says, embarrassed of his ignorance. Of course Peter wouldn't know what bacon was. She can't help but laugh though; it makes her heart happy to know that Peter is well fed this morning. He needs to be taken care of for once; he's been on his own for the past four years.
"Oh," he responds. He takes another bite, almost finishing his plate. "It's good." She grins again, and it's contagious because her mother and father have started grinning too. They know this boy must've come from the same place as the others, and he has probably never seen a meal like this.
"Wendy," her father repeats, a little less timidly, "did Peter come from the same place as the lost boys?" He incorporates the nickname they had for themselves, and the boys at the table go wild.
"Neverland! He's from Neverland!" They exclaim. Just like that all of their voices are echoing throughout the dining room.
"Calm down!" he retorts. Peter looks up from his food and smiles widely.
"Yeah, I was their leader for as long as I can remember," he says happily. It's the most he's said since he's come down to meet them. His shyness has evaporated once he had food in his mouth. Wendy still noticed the childlike qualities of him. He'd not had a proper upbringing, he still thought with the mind of a rambunctious child despite how his body had grown. Things he hasn't recognized are what make him older.
"Leader?" Her mother questions. Peter nods, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Wendy hands him a cloth to use instead, and he takes it dubiously.
"Yeah," he answers confidently, voice deeper. It's such an odd sound to adjust to; it makes Wendy squirm in her seat. The sound of his voice makes her stomach feel light and tingly. "I was captain of the lost boys since forever. Boys who fall out of their prams and aren't claimed in seven days are sent to the Neverland, and they're mine," he says the last word as if it were a serious statement. But the sparkle in his eye shows that to him, it has always just been a game. He never owned the lost boys, he acted as their father, but it was a constant role to play. Never once did he take responsibility for the things they did. He was just as devoted to them as they were to him, in the end.
"I see," Mrs. Darling says, looking down at her lap. "I dare not question it further. I cannot bear to understand the amazing feats of…well…magic it must take to create such a place that you boys have suggested exists."
"That's what I do," he says, suddenly less playful. He shrugs. "The less I know the easier it is to have fun."
"Mother, father," John murmurs from his seat beside Mr. Darling, "You can bet your behinds that I didn't believe it at first too; that is until Peter brought us there. Neverland, tis a real place, but yes I agree not to question it."
The table is silent. The all logical and knowledgeable John as spoken.
"How long shall Peter be staying?" Mr. Darling asks nonchalantly, returning to his breakfast. The ice at the table has been broken, and the family returns to eating and separate chatter amongst the boys.
This is where Wendy draws a blank. She says nothing, just blankly stares down at her food in deep thought. She's hardly touched any of it. Suddenly Peter picks up a strawberry off of her plate and holds it up to her mouth, chewing on his own.
"Eat," he orders, offering it to her. She accepts the strawberry and takes a bite, glad for the encouragement. "You must eat," he says again, "being healthy is being fed."
"That's a good boy," Mr. Darling comments with a wave of his fork and a friendly smile. "Ever since she returned she's not eaten nearly enough."
Peter frowns. Wendy cannot meet his eyes.
***Later that evening
"Father says you can stay as long as you like," Wendy murmurs as she makes Peters bed. He's staying in the room he had changed in earlier. He sighs with discomfort.
"I don't want to stay…" he whispers. Wendy looks up from fluffing the pillows.
"You don't have to," she responds, voice barely there. She has never been so clueless than this day, but Peter's statement had hurt.
He takes a step forward and takes her hand. "I meant I don't want to stay in this room. I want to stay wherever you are." She cannot breathe, the sparkle in his eye touches her soul in a way she never thought possible to happen again. She can't respond. He leans down to kiss her.
"It's not proper," she gasps as she turns her head away a second before his lips would have met their goal. He rolls his eyes, turning around to face her as she scurries towards the door, muttering a goodnight.
"Don't leave Wendy," he says, reaching for her arm.
"Please," she stammers, avoiding his eyes.
"I've waited for what seems like a million years to see you again. I think I'm a little bit more confused than you are, at least you knew that you were growing up!" he says, trying to reason with her. She takes a deep breath and nods, leading him to her room in defeat.
He was certainly right. She can't keep feeling sorry for herself; she needs to understand what emotional damage this must've done to Peter. He'd been the same age for as long as he can remember, all the sudden he's much older than he's used to. He needs help understanding all the new things he feels.
"You can sleep with me tonight," she offers. He nods, looking around her room.
"I've slept with you before, this should be no different right?" he asks, unbuttoning his shirt. Wendy gulps and looks away from him, spotting the window. She hurries over and opens it, gazing out over the rooftops. He comes up behind her whispers in her ear. "My Wendy." She shivers.
"You can't do that!" she accuses, suddenly thinking of something. "Tinkerbell wouldn't like you being so close to me!"
"Tinkerbell isn't here," he shrugs, and she notices he's shirtless. That feeling in her stomach comes back again, and though it scares her, it thrills her. She finds herself staring.
"Where is she?" she murmurs, mouth dry, eyes not leaving his beautiful body. He wasn't overly muscular, and he was malnourished. He was the perfect size, perfectly average…but there was something about him that made her nervous.
"She's exploring London," he says, moving closer. "I assume she'll come back when she's ready."
"What if she never does?"
Peter puts his finger under her chin and tilts her head up to look him in the eye.
"Tink would never leave me," he whispers, kissing Wendy's neck softly. "Is this normal?" his voice is muffled in her skin.
"What?" she asks, mustering up her voice while she gives up her battle and tangles her fingers in his hair. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back to give him more access.
"Kissing you in different places," he answers.
"Yes, it's normal." He sighs against her neck, and she shudders. A feeling washes over her, he knees are close to buckling and her body nearly falls limp in his arms. He pulls back to look at her, worried he might have hurt her.
"Is something wrong?"
Her breathing is labored and shallow, and her eyes are hooded. Whatever Peter is doing to her is something she has never felt before. It's as if all the senses in her body are heightened. She wants something she's never wanted before.
"No," she says hurriedly before pressing her lips to his. He lets out a small sound of surprise before stumbling back towards the bed where she was pushing him, surprised at her outburst.
She tugs on the buttons of his pants, and though Peter planned on stripping himself of them anyway he knew this was different. Being naked next to Wendy is different now that he feels the way he does, now that a certain part of his body has been awakened- much to his embarrassment.
She looks down at him, at his manhood. He feels an odd sense of intimidation, an exposure he's never understood before. She cups his cheek, and runs her fingers over his eyelids, which were closed tightly.
"Peter," she whispers, "Are you okay? You don't have to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable," she says, kissing his neck the way he had hers. He lies back against the pillow and grips her back tightly, and her bare leg brushes against his under her nightgown. His head falls back as she kisses his collarbone, his jaw. He moans softly, trembling against her touch.
His eyes flutter open and he sits up suddenly, stuttering a string of unintelligible words.
"I, uh, this- I mean- I can't really, I don't," he's breathing frantically. Wendy sits up and strokes his shoulder, sure she knows that the reason he's so upset is not because he's afraid, but because he doesn't think what they're doing is normal.
"Why are you panicking all of the sudden?" she wonders in a soothing voice.
Panting, he says, "I…I moaned…"
She laughs. "Yes, you did. It was very cute." He snaps towards her suspiciously.
"Cute?"
"Yes."
"Oh…so it's not out of sorts…?"
"No Peter…" she sighs, how was she to explain this? "Everything that happens, everything you feel…it happens for everybody. Any sounds we might make, anywhere we may kiss or touch…it's absolutely perfectly normal, no matter how scary or odd it is. It's just new, that's all." She smiles, satisfied with her answer. He grins too.
"Good, because I don't want to stop."
***Sometime later
Peter had never seen a naked woman before now, and not only that but he had never done what it was that grownups do. The secret, the big secret; the one that children weren't to know about.
He had so many questions, because even though Wendy had not said it he knew that was what they were going to do. He just didn't know if asking her those questions was okay, she seems to like having her mouth on his. Not that he wanted to stop kissing her, or stop doing anything that they were doing, but he needed to know.
"What do I do?" he whispers against her lips.
They're both bare, clothes strewn lazily on the floor. Peter was on top of Wendy, her legs spread and his hips fitting between them. Their most misunderstood body parts brushed together, and he felt now how damp she was.
She was so different compared to him, the feel of her was so much softer than he could've imagined. The sight of her breasts did unimaginable to things to him. The sight of her at all, the way she was sprawled out beneath him made his heart beat so rapidly he feared it may stop from exhaustion. Her hair splayed out across the pillow the way it had the night before, and the first night he'd ever seen her.
Her hands cupped his cheeks, touched his neck, and traveled down his back and up again, winding their way into his hair.
"You can do whatever you want," she answers. He sighs, that wasn't the answer he was looking for.
"I know what I want to do…I just…I'm not sure I know how," he explains, his breathing labored. "I want to love you as much as I can, Wendy," he says in a softer voice. She moans softly against his skin, and the hair on the back of his neck stands up on end.
"You want to make love…?" she questions. That's it, that's the secret. That's what grownups do.
"Can we…?" he wonders. "I'd like to." He stops. "I need to," he kisses her again. "Tell me how." He continues kissing her, passionately and lovingly. They're urgent, and their bodies move together in harmony.
"Here," she says, "I'll show you, but you have to promise me that you'll understand how special this is," she tells him, her voice husky and her eyes filled with desire and love. He nods.
"I know."
"I have never done this before, so it is the most special time of all, the first time," she whispers, letting her hand slide down to grasp his manhood. He gasps, burying his face in her neck. She rubs him softly, sure she know she's not professional, but she was still educated enough to know that she was pleasuring him.
His breathing hitches and he lets out a soft moan, but it sounds restrained, as if he wasn't sure if he should. She tightens her grip and he gasps, moaning again only with more velocity this time.
"I understand now," he says into her neck with a shaky voice. "I understand what you meant when you said it was the best pleasure ever."
"Are you ready to make love, Peter?" she whispers. He nods, and takes a deep breath.
"I'm nervous though."
"That's normal," Wendy whispers with a smile. "I'm nervous too."
***Climax
"Something's happening Wendy," Peter panics, his breathing frantic and his limbs turning to jelly. Every muscle in his body screams to keep moving, but he's so scared of what's coursing through him in this moment. He groans a low guttural sound and his nails dig into her hips as he pushes forward; making sweet love to the girl he's always wanted since the beginning of time.
"Let it happen," she whimpers, holding him as close as possible, calling out his name between breaths. It spurs him on.
"Are you sure?" his breathing escalates to a rapid point, his body is climbing so high it seems nearly irreversible now. There's warmth everywhere, and he can't stop.
"Yes! Peter, yes!" She cries in pleasure and in love. "Harder," she adds in a softer, desperate moan. So soft he only heard it because her lips were right next to his ear.
"Wendy!" he releases a mangled cry, his body reaching the tipping point and every nerve ending comes to full attention. It feels as if he's being electrocuted with pleasure and warmth, wild contractions and spasms of ecstasy coursing through his being like he's never felt before. It was something he was barely able to comprehend, so all he could do was writhe in her arms and moan her name in the euphoria.