warning: M rated love scene ahead.

Hidden behind the folding dressing screen in her cave was a door with no handle. He had tried to open it many times but it always remained stubbornly shut to him, though he could break it down if he really wanted to. As she lead him by the hand the door opened and he walked into her private room, her secret life. It was fitting as she had just sneaked a glimpse into something that was so private that even he did not have full access to it.

Since leaving the Dream Caves he had been quiet but he watched her like a cornered animal, watching for any sudden movements, any signs that she would divulge the thing she had experienced. She was dying to, she could feel the truth burning in her chest like a small sun, the words pushing up her throat to her tongue but she kept her teeth clamped shut. If she did, if she uttered what she had seen Peter would lash out or run, she was sure. So she did the only thing she could think of: she let him in.

"So this is it. I'm sure it's a let down after the wait," she said, feeling a little shy. She had worked hard to create the little details, the signs that it was a room lived in. But he only had eyes for her, watching her with a strange wary hunger, like he wasn't quite sure if she was safe any more. Wendy looked down, biting the inside of her cheek. She had cried herself tired in the cave, body shaking from shock, from a horror that was not her own. It haunted her, the feelings that he had once experienced, the pain and fear, the betrayal. She could still feel the way the water ran up her nose, filled her lungs as hands pushed against her chest, keeping her down. Except it was not her who had truly experienced that, it was him.

"There's this look in your eyes and I hate it," he said suddenly, finally tearing his gaze away from her to look around the room.

"What look?"

"Pity," he spat the word, snarling. He moved over to the window to look out but she made sure that the view showed nothing but the jungle. She had made the cot disappear before entering as that would have been a sure-fire way of setting him off. Peter glanced at her as he moved to the fireplace and threw himself into one of the armchairs. Logs were burning a little but the fire gave off no real heat. He watched her as she sat opposite, smoothing her night gown down over her knees.

"This will sound strange," she started and he gazed at her from under his brows, sitting like some bored king. "I won't tell you what I saw, not if you really don't want me to but you know it was terrible."

He shifted, jaw clenching. "I don't want your -"

"And it was everything I ever wanted," she confessed in a rush of words and he froze, mouth still open. Wendy felt ashamed to admit that, it was a terribly twisted want but there was a part of her that was rejoicing. He had felt such strong, powerful emotions once and not just fear but love. She had felt it, brimming through everything and it had been pure and fierce. That was why his pain had been so great, why his betrayal so intense and maybe why it still haunted his dreams. The spinsters said he had a pure heart once and for the first time she truly believed it.

Peter laughed after a long pause and Wendy felt her face burning. He leaned forward and reached out a hand to curl her hair behind an ear before rubbing a thumb against her cheek. His touch was oddly gentle and he stared at her in bemusement.

"You call me twisted..." he muttered and drew her closer to him, so that his lips just brushed against hers. "Why am I here?"

"It was time..." she took his hand and rose to her feet. He looked up at her, pulling her close so that she moved between his spread legs and then placed his hands on her waist. She felt the heat of his touch through the cotton of her gown, the pressure of his fingertips as he pulled her even closer and her pulse quickened. Hair tickling his face she lowered her head until he was framed by golden waves, the fire glinting off her hair. He lowered his other hand, reaching down and rubbed the back of his fingers very gently against the side of her smooth leg.

Wendy brushed her mouth gently against his and drew back, two sets of green eyes gazing at each other as their breathing mingled. She teased him softly, lowering her lips to the corner of his mouth, barely touching him and his fingers dug into her side. Unable to hold back any longer he captured her mouth, hand delving into her hair and rose, pushing against her. Cupping the back of her head Peter deepened the kiss as her fingers curled into his shirt and pulled him towards the bed.

Her heart was pounding and she could hear a rushing of blood in her ears but she was sure. More nervous then she had been in her life but sure. She wrapped her arms around his neck, chest pushed against his as they kissed hard, their sweet teasing caresses now forgotten as they grew frantic with need. She reached for his belt, lips still on his and tried to unbuckle it as his fingers unbuttoned the top of her night gown, ripping a few in his haste. They broke apart, gasping for air and stared at each other like two people about to trek into the unknown.

"Have you ever...?" she breathed, suddenly wondering, and he smiled before kissing her again. Not actually answering her question Peter reached down and tugged up her nightgown and Wendy's fingers dug into his shoulders, heart jumping but it was not with fear but something close to it, something that made her gasp and her skin tingle. She pulled up his shirt, making him lift his arms and she pulled the clothing over his head, along with the netted under shirt, in one movement. Growling at being interrupted he grabbed her, drawing the gown up over her thighs, and then pushed Wendy up against him and lifted her up. Legs wrapping around his hips he laid her down on the bed, lips pressed against her throat and Wendy moaned. Years ago there had been an occasion where Peter had pinned her to the ground and she had felt something twisting up inside, something throbbing and taut and she thought there was a word that would release it and let the feeling roar through her. She knew it now but it wasn't a word, not really.

He moved between her legs, pulling her gown up to her hips and Wendy panted, chest heaving as she pulled him down for another kiss. She could not stop, did not want to release him. And they think Peter possessive, she thought as she threaded her fingers into his hair, tugging and he growled into her mouth. Hormones rushing through her blood she moaned and arched under him as he kissed her throat again, trailing a path down her skin to her chest. He had seen her naked, just small glimpses as she bathed or swam and she had witnessed the same with him, just curious, furtive glances that played on her mind. So removing her gown should not have been an ordeal but as his hands slid up over her hips and rolled the gown under her breasts she gripped his hands, stopping him.

"What is it?" he breathed as Wendy began laughing as sudden acute embarrassment waved over her and she threw an arm over her eyes. Peter smiled at her blushing, grinning face and pulled the arm away. "Its all right, you'll see. You know you're without compare," he whispered near her ear and he meant it.

Wendy smiled, that burning core in her chest and stomach jolting happily. She was vulnerable but she hadn't expected otherwise. She lifted herself up and he watched her pull the last bit of clothing over her head and throw it to the floor. She laid back down and he gazed at her with a mixture of something adoring and completely lascivious. He brushed his fingers along the swell of a breast and she released a long held breath, watching the way he caressed her before he removed the rest of his own clothing. Once done she pulled him down, loving the way he felt on top of her, skin against skin and she sighed before he kissed her tenderly. His fingers skimmed down the side of her body to her legs, spreading them slowly before letting his hand linger at her juncture. She inhaled, breaking the kiss and stared into his eyes with surprise. He kept the eye contact constant, gazing deeply and never looking away as his fingers dipped lower between her legs and her mouth parted, stomach muscles seizing as he touched her in a place she believed only she knew about.

Every gasp, every moan, every sharp intake of breath seemed to spur him on, fingers unrelenting and driving her crazy. She rose on her elbows, eyes fixed on his and she jerked and shook below him until the pleasure she felt made her whimper and beg but when she finally cried out his name he kissed her roughly, drawing his fingers away and she almost cried at the loss of stimulation. But he quickly moved between her legs, drawing his mouth away from hers and she stared at him, breathing heavily before nodding once. As he pushed into her she braced herself, holding her breath because she had no idea what to expect. She knew that it would hurt but not like that and she gritted her teeth, fingers digging into his skin and he stopped, gazing at her patiently even as he obviously strained with the need to move.

"Just a moment," she said breathlessly and he nodded. He grazed his lips slowly against her cheeks, nose, chin and forehead, planting feather soft kisses all over her face, making her smile softly before she gave him the go ahead with a look. Again with his eyes always on her Peter moved very, very slowly until he was inside her, his hands fisting the pillow either side if her head. He was panting now, mouth parted and she soaked in the look on his face, the amazement and something almost innocent. He did not pain her as he had but she was tender and so when he started to thrust experimentally she sucked in a breath but urged him on and soon the pain was almost something pleasurable. They kissed, rocking against each other as he thrust into her rhythmically and Wendy twined her arms around his shoulders, one hand in his hair as she began to roll her hips, meeting his movements without thinking about it.

"Why did we wait so long to do this?" he asked, laughing but the sound turned into a groan and he moved quicker, more frantic and she knew he was ahead of her, feeling a pleasure that she was just catching the tail of. Both sweating their eyes locked, breathing coming in increasingly quick bursts as they rocked, movements now lacking any grace or rhythm. He gripped the wooden bar above them and she released he still had his wrist guards on when she yelled, bucking under him and he suddenly choked on a breath, pushing against her hard and fast, making the bed jerk. Wendy could feel him stiffen, feel his muscles flexing as waves of pleasure rolled through her, one after another and a scream was trapped in her throat, too intense to free. He buried his face against her neck, moaning her name, fingers gripping her thigh hard enough to bruise as he spent himself inside her and collapsed.

Sated and exhausted they lay entwined for awhile, catching their breath and chests heaving until she began to stir. Wendy brushed her lips against his cheek, fingers twining in his hair and he lifted his head. So often she was reminded how he cared for her with a greedy, exclusive right but as she gazed at him she had never felt so possessive. He was hers, completely and utterly and no one could come between them. It was an odd realisation to have after so many years together but she was warmed by it and she kissed him gently, wanting him to know. You're mine.

He pulled away, blinking tiredly and she yawned, which made him laugh. He rolled off her and she clenched her jaw and swallowed, feeling how sore she was but she was too tired to focus on it for long. He laid down close to her and she settled her head down beside his, facing each other.

"Goodnight my love," she whispered and brushed her fingertips against his eyelashes and he closed his eyes. But before he did his eyes flared with such deep, fierce longing that she gazed at his face long after he had fallen asleep. She would remember that look until the day she died.

He woke before her, the sound of birds chirping heralding the dawn. She was lying on her front, deep asleep and he smiled at her. She was achingly beautiful to him and while he might downplay it he was always enraptured by her whenever she was close. He had spent so long alone that he thought before he pulled her out of the sea that he needed no one, that no one could touch him or affect him in anyway that could leave an impression but she had and would continue to despite his early attempts to deny it. He could not, would not live without her by his side and he would do everything in his power to make sure nothing prevented that.

He had been furious at her invasion of his dreams but he had to coincide that the outcome was worth it. He played with her hair and ran his fingers gently down the curve of her back, not wanting to wake her, and glanced up as he pulled the sheet over them some more. He froze, staring at the end of the room with an uncomprehending expression. He blinked, squeezing his eyes shut but the thing was still there. He sat up.

"A cradle?" he mouthed, frowning in disbelief. A mobile was hung over it, comprised of feathers and seashells and he could see the white Never Bird feather he had given Wendy hanging at the centre. He tore his gaze away to stare down at Wendy, who still slept. This was her doing, he was sure of it and he started to suspect what this room, this house, meant to her other than as a place of solitude and a reminder of an old life. He had not seriously considered it and he felt a flare of irritation, a writhing jealousy and he looked back at the cot with a glare.

Where the feathers had been rusty sheep shears now twirled, shinning duly in the morning light. His eyes bugged as he felt something crushing against his chest and he jumped out of the bed before he could stop himself. Wendy woke with a start, groggy and confused but one look at Peter made her sit up, sheet falling around her hips. He was white as a sheet and shaking and she felt a stab of dread and turned to see the cot in the corner of the room. She made it vanish so quick that she did not see what was different about it.

"Peter!" she started but he was shaking his head, harsh lines around his mouth.

"I can't, I won't," he only said and with a motion of his hand he was dressed and heading for the door.

"Wait!" she shouted, climbing out of the bed and clothed herself as quickly as he had and chased after him. She caught him at the bottom of the ladder but then moved back, not knowing what to do once she had him. He was breathing fast, fists clenching.

"Why the scissors?" he asked and she shook her head, not understanding and he gritted his teeth. "Over the cot!"

"There were no shears, only feathers and shells. I – I dream about it occasionally and I can't stop it from escaping sometimes. What you saw was just an echo, a ghost, nothing more," she explained and grew sad. He gazed at her intensely, as if he was unsure of her honesty before he slumped and rubbed a hand over his face.

"My nightmares used to escape me once. You'll need to practice better control," he said tiredly and Wendy nodded, looking down, feeling offended. The cradle was not a nightmare...

She did not picture the morning after she lost her virginity to end like this, though she had envisioned waking alone and prepared herself for that pain, so at least he had been there. When she felt his hand cupping her cheek, lifting her head to look at him she was relieved to see he looked a little abashed, or as sorry as he ever got. He smiled, titling his head.

"I don't feel like leaving yet, not after such a wait. I was looking forward to breakfast in bed," he said with a hungry look and Wendy smiled coyly, cheeks burning.

"Well we can't have that, can we?" she took his hand and lead him back up the ladder, knowing with a thrill that they weren't heading back for anything to eat in the traditional sense...

a.n:

annnnnd there you go. Next chapter shit will get real...