Hi, my dear readers!

Thank you so much for the reviews and I'm really happy that you were so taken with the whole 'adventure'. And, like I already mentioned, this chapter will be HOT!

Warning: Who isn't 18 years old, please leave and only return when chapter 26 is published. The whole 'chapi' turned out to be more… uh… 'adult' than thought.

For all who 'dare' to read about Wendy's final step of leaving childhood behind: maybe it would be good to get something cold to drink before you start reading (snicker).

Have fun

Yours Lywhn / Starflight

Chapter 25 – End of Childhood

For a long moment time seemed to stand still for Hook as he realized that this time Wendy was kissing him, not the other way around. Her lips brushed shyly over his, then the soft pressure of her mouth became firmer – an invitation he accepted, he allowed her to lead them forward.

Wendy was very aware of the fact that she had initiated that kiss – and it felt so right. Now, after the danger had passed and she had come so close to losing him, the only thing she wanted was to be near him and to feel him, so warm, so energetic, so full of vibrant life. Her arms went around his neck and as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, she let herself fall toward him – wanting to be closer to him.

James caught her in his arms, rose and pulled her with him. Wendy sighed as her body was pressed fully against his, feeling him from head to toe. He was kissing her passionately now, taking over, as was his nature. His left hand spread over her back, her waist, moving downward, cupping her bottom which sent a bolt of heat through her belly that tightened with a hunger she was now familiar with, but still yet not understand. Yet one thing was clear to her: only he could sate this yearning. And as she felt something hot and hard at her abdomen, this tingling sensation in her stomach spread.

A moan escaped her which he swallowed greedily, sensing her sweet body's reaction. Her fingers swept through his hair, over his back and back to his neck, while she returned the kiss ardently – still inexperienced, still innocent but with the waking fire of a woman. His loins tightened even more, the hunger in him grew. He had to have her – all of her! Tearing his lips from hers, he pressed kisses against her long, tender throat – nipping, licking and suckling. Her taste, the pulse in her neck beneath his lips, her sweet scent – it inflamed his desire. With a soft cry, her head fell back – a wordless gesture of surrender that woke his overmastering urge to take.

Pulling her even closer to him, he groaned as she moved against that tumescent organ. He knew that she wasn't aware of what she was doing to him, but nonetheless it sent fire through his veins and made him painfully hard. Using his metal claw, he pushed the material of the shirt she wore from her shoulder and began to explore her more. The silk of her warm skin beneath his mouth, the soft keening noises she made, the knowledge of whom he held in his arms, made him almost dizzy with need.

Wendy had closed her eyes and could do nothing other than cling to him. Her heart beat in a wild staccato. The feeling of James' lips moving over her shoulder and deeper, the moustache and goatee, the hot trails his mouth left, the warmth of his tall, strong body that enveloped her – it was overwhelming. Was it going too far? No! She wanted this, she wanted him in every way she knew or did not yet know about. She felt how this hot, hard part of him seemed to grow. Obeying an ancient female drive, she rubbed her hips against him unashamedly. The response came promptly as he gasped into her skin and his hand squeezed her bottom, which made her belly tighten in excitement. She moaned again in return.

James was in heaven and he knew that he was about to lose control. His body, his soul, his heart – everything demanded more. More of her, more of them, more of what lay ahead – a 'more' that would change everything for them, but especially for her. Wendy was still so young, so innocent, so inexperienced despite her first tender reactions to his fondling. He didn't want to ask too much of her. He didn't want to taint her, even if both parts of him – man and pirate – screamed at him to ravish her here and now.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered hoarsely while his lips continued their way down to her breasts. "Send me away, Wendy, or…" His voice almost didn't obey him anymore as the thought of ending this here made his soul and mind cry out; his heart tore at the chains he had bound it in to become the ruthless pirate he needed to be to survive.

Wendy heard his words but didn't understand the meaning behind them. Send him away? Now, when her whole body shouted with life and anticipation? No, certainly not! Shaking her head, she murmured in a voice unfamiliar to herself, "Stay!" She arched herself against him and combed her fingers through the mass of his black curls which seemed to wrap themselves around her hands.

Swearing under his breath – this ardent vixen! – he needed all his strength to lift his face from the first soft curve of her breasts, cupped the back of her head and looked into her dazed, shining eyes. "Wendy, I'll not be able to hold back any longer if you don't send me away now!" he croaked; his body shuddered with the effort to stay in control, his powerful mind wishing to hell the gentleman who suddenly had appeared out of nowhere in him.

All Wendy could see was the flaming fire in those piercing eyes – eyes, which enchanted her even as a child. Now they seemed to glow with a hunger that found an echo deep in her. His warm breath came heavily over her face, his arms around her were like steel which bound her more firmly to him than any chain could have done. And there was a yearning in her – and the painful foreign emptiness between her legs, a hunger she had felt when she was thinking of him at night, and it was becoming unbearable.

Send him away – now? Impossible! Everything in her wanted to take that last step.

"No," she whispered; her own voice strange in her ears – deeper and … greedy.

His heart leapt, he realized what she said, how she had said it, then he laid his damp forehead against hers, fixing her with a gaze that was both warning and longing. "If I don't leave now, I'll carry you over to my bed and make love to you the whole night long." His lips itched to find hers again, his body moved on its own along hers. "Do you understand, Wendy? You will wake up as a woman, not a girl anymore."

Here it was – the crossroads the unicorn spoke of. She had stepped on a path that led one direction, but she had to be brave enough to follow that path to the end. And now she had reached the threshold the Lady had mentioned. She understood the oracle the mystical mare had told her about: the last hours of her childhood ended here and now – and would never return. Not if she gave into the desperate urge of the woman who had grown in her over the last days. But, most importantly, it would be James who carried her over the threshold between the two worlds: childhood and adulthood.

Was she really ready for it?

"As long as I wake up in your arms, there's nowhere else I'd rather be," she whispered without wasting another thought; turning her back at childhood forever. "Show me, James. Make me yours."

Her soft demand was his undoing. The reasonable gentleman in him went up in smoke and released the pirate and the starving man who had longed for this girl for so long. His mouth closed over hers, relief was replaced with a firestorm he couldn't resist any longer.

Even if his breeches were far too tight by now and his knees trembled, he raised Wendy in his arms and forced his legs to walk towards his bed. And the little siren had nothing better to do than wrap her arms around his neck again, kissing him with new boldness, which didn't make it easier for him to reach the bed.

Wendy knew that there was no turning from her decision as she literally lost the floor beneath her feet. His hand held her bare legs – when had she lost the towel? – and the cool metal of his hook was a sharp contrast to her heated body as he used the flat side to hold her shoulders. Closing her eyes to enjoy the play of their tongues, she gasped as she suddenly plopped on something soft. The next moment he was above her, his deliciously welcome weight pressing her legs into the coverlet as he half crouched over her and pulled the laces of the shirt she still wore open. The cool air now caused her nipples to grow even harder than they already were.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered.

Blushing she met his gaze. He looked down at her like the predator he was. His wild curly mane, the golden earring blinking at his left ear, the fire in his eyes, his broad shoulders, the slender hips his loose shirt couldn't hide – he was a lion caught in human shape and she was his prey. No, she was his mate, and this realization made her reach for him.

He came willingly. Bracing himself on his elbows beside her head, his mouth found hers again, then it travelled down. Wendy gasped as his lips closed around her left breast. Nothing had prepared her for the incredible sensation that electrified her body and sent shivers beneath her skin. She was certain that his hot mouth would leave marks of burning, and she could do no more than pant in her longing, stroking the muscular back and the silk that still covered it. But it wasn't enough. She had to feel him! Curiosity and longing moved her fingers as she yanked at the hem of his shirt until it slid up far enough to slip her hands beneath the material.

His skin was velvet, hot like the sun and felt so amazingly soft. And the leather harness holding the fixed wooden cuff for the hook in place didn't mar it. Cautiously, wonderingly, her fingers felt along the straps, and she felt him shudder. There was more. Healed traces of blows from a whip. And she could feel newer scars beneath her hands – the scars of the harpy's razor-sharp claws that had attacked him as he defended her and Michael against those flying demons. She had helped to treat those wounds afterwards, touching his hair in the process for the first time. Even as a little girl, they had wrapped around her fingers so intimately, as if preparing her for this moment. Now the dark curtain of messy curls fell around her and brushed her exposed breasts, her torso, the feeling so delicious, it made her sigh in pleasure. And the scars were a reminder of what this man had already all done for her, then and now – the man she was about to give herself to. It was right.

James felt a wave of desire and deep warmth at her tender touches – still so uncertain, so careful and yet so naturally daring. Her heartbeat strove beneath his mouth, her taste and her sighs almost drove him mad with craving and caused his shaft to pulse painfully. Yet it wasn't enough. Somehow he managed to sit up and to yank off his shirt. His gaze found her flushed face, her swollen lips and the shining eyes enjoying the sight of him, where her own desire reflected his.

Wendy's breath hitched, seeing his upper body exposed like this. Yes, she had seen it before, in the Black Castle when she woke up with him and Peter. That night, after a brief battle with redcaps and ghosts, was a precious memory she had taken out often. On both occasions she had mentally compared him with Peter, usually clad in leaves, and even five years ago she had been conscious of the difference between boy and man. But today she saw him from a far different perspective than she had done as a little girl. The sight made her whole body hot and tingly – even more than before – and for the first time she saw what the term 'forbidden fruit' could mean.

A short dark mat spread across his chest and extended south, past the breeches The leader stripes of the harness dented his partly tanned skin under which strong muscles flexed – like those of a caged tiger ready to spring into action. Here and there were further scars – proofs of the harsh life at sea – and there was the Eton emblem on his left upper arm he'd gotten as a boy. And there was also the golden chain she had seen winking and the pendant was … the dragon scale she had given him! It aroused joy in her that he considered the scale as something precious enough to wear it on his chain – and it made him look all the more primitive. He was breathtaking despite the marred arm, and reaching out she placed her hands on his chest. She could feel his strong heartbeat under her fingers, and the few curly hairs felt foreign but so tempting beneath her palms, something only she could explore.

He saw the smile when her eyes touched the scale. At her shy touch, a shiver ran through his body and a soft growl purred in his chest and throat. His eyes seemed to grow darker and birthed an expanded desire in her.

"You are so beautiful," she whispered in awe, saw his eyes register the disbelief as they looked toward his right arm. Yes, of course. The metal claw. Losing his hand had not only maimed his body, but also a part of his soul. Wendy remembered how he had tried to hide the limb while she treated his wounds at the Black Castle, but the wooden cuff had fallen to the floor, revealing the old injury that had been so brutally imposed. He had been shocked as she took the truncated arm in her hands and had stroked the now-healed, ugly wound. He had trembled then, his eyes had been large with emotion, amazed that someone dared touch this (in his opinion) hideous lump where once a hand had been. She knew he regarded himself as 'incomplete.' To now be called 'beautiful' was nearly incomprehensible.

Sitting up, her hands slid from his chest over his broad shoulders and stopped at the pad and the harness. She heard him take a sharp breath and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I know what is beneath this, James. It hurts me that it brings you such difficulty, and even pain. If it did not make you suffer, even now, I wouldn't care even a smidge."

He knew she meant it. He saw it in her eyes and heard it in her voice. She didn't mind the sight of the mutilated, frightful end of his right arm, she only minded his pain and the many accommodations he had to go through day by day to use it at all. Yet …

"This claw," he whispered, lifting the hook, seeing it as if for the first time, "it makes me less human-"

Her finger pressed against his lips. "A tool does not make someone less human, only our actions reveal that. And I know you have changed. You're still the dangerous pirate you became after fleeing England, but here-" her left hand slipped beneath the pendant and pressed over his thumping heart "- you've become a better man. You're so much better than many so-called 'gentlemen' I've met."

Hook listened – really listened – and saw the sincerity and tenderness in her eyes. It made him feel even less worthy of her affection, yet it was a balm for his tormented soul. "If I have become a better man, then it's your doing, Wendy Darling," he whispered. "You were and are the one bringing light into my darkness. You do not flee my … temper. You see me as a human being." He closed his eyes, swallowing the lump building in his throat. "You are far more than I deserve."

She smiled sweetly, and whispered, "Yes, I am!" His eyes opened and saw hers dancing in humor, and smiled back. Then her sweet breath was on his face a second before her mouth brushed over his. "But you deserve so much more," she murmured. "Let me show you, James, please."

She reached for the clasp of his harness, and he was surprised that she was able to open it. The thing was tight and hard to move, yet she managed. He remarked, "You've grown stronger."

Wendy gave him one of her puckish grins. "I've been at school, fencing, riding, badminton, tennis…" She smiled as she saw his confused face at her words. "I'll tell you about them later," she promised, opening the harness completely. Instantly she felt him tense and stroked the skin hidden by the leather. "Trust me," she murmured. "We already did this once."

Oh yes, he remembered that occasion. "It was an accident," he croaked, feeling aversion and fear rising in him at the thought of her facing that ugly old wound that marked him. "I never intended for you to see it."

"I know," Wendy nodded; her expression soft. "Yet it didn't drive me away then, remember? Instead, it made me realize that injuries and scars are not just parts of a story, but are earned in anguish and pain." Her hand wandered down his right arm. "I know I can't remove them, but perhaps I can make you forget about them briefly." Her hand had reached the wooden cuff and ever so gently, she slipped it off. With a thud it fell to the floor, the leather harness following.

Freed not only from the leather ties and the heavy prothesis that named him, but also freed from a daunting, ancient mental burden, he knelt in front of her; wearing only his breeches. He was bare now, and feeling vulnerable. For a moment the pirate in him threatened to raise his head, but the man in him contradicted the objection immediately. 'She saw it before, at the Black Castle, after The Battle, as she cared for me. She didn't shrink back as a little girl from the sight, she won't do it as a young woman!' Nonetheless he held his breath as her hand covered the scarred end of his wrist and raised the maimed limb between them. Her eyes held his for a long moment and shone with reassurance, then she lowered her gaze to the old injury.

Bent her head.

Kissed it.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart paused as he felt her soft lips on the cold, dry and scarred but still sensitive skin; the latent unused nerves there sent the sensation of touch only slowly to a mind that had gone blank.

This angel, his beautiful sweet little pixie with the far too big heart, his brave Red-Handed Jill, was kissing this hideous thing called a 'stump.' Tears sprang to his eyes as the cracks she had broken over the years to the wall he had built around himself began to crumble. How … was it … even … possible … that she didn't mind this awful, crippled part? She should be repulsed by the useless, ugly limb – oh God, she should be repulsed by his whole being! He was a pirate; a criminal who had spilled enough blood to fill barrels. He was a murderer who hadn't hesitated to kill members of his own crew. He had pillaged, plundered – hell, even sent her over the plank. And yet Wendy Moira Angela Darling didn't damn him but saw the man in him, welcomed him in her arms and her heart!

He didn't deserve her. If there really was honor left in him, he should rise and go. To abuse her innocent female curiosity and to make her his own would rob her of any chance to find a decent husband, a secure future. But he was no gentleman anymore, not by any definition of the term, and the word 'honor' had grown different meanings in his eyes long ago. And, more than anything, the thought of someone else marrying and sharing a bed with his storyteller woke the green-eyed monster in him, inspiring the raging urge for possession.

Wendy was HIS. She had slipped into his dark and dreadful heart, brought him life with every smile and touch. She was entrenched in his tormented soul that he thought he had lost along with his hand. And she was in his mind, whether asleep or awake. He should let her go – now, before it was too late – but he couldn't. He wasn't that strong. And as he looked at her dove-blue eyes, so full of hope and trust, indeed of longing, hands stroking gently over his bare chest, he knew that this was a battle he couldn't win, even if he had been ready to send her away. It occurred to him he had lost this battle five years ago. She had wriggled herself beneath his carefully raised walls and had made him yearn for something forever out of reach; something too sweet and too desirable to abandon, even as there had been no hope for him to gain it. But no more. She was a young woman now. Inexperienced, innocent, yes, but not a child. And nothing – not even the everlasting need for good form and his noble up-bringing – would hinder him making love to this girl!

Finally wrapping both arms around her, he pulled her body against his and lowered his head toward her face. "You're a wonder, Wendy my darling. A wonder I do not deserve, but I take nonetheless." His mouth closed over hers, gentle at first, then the fire was lit anew.

He felt her arms slipping around him and how her sweet breasts were pressed against his bare chest – a touch that made him hungrier than ever before. He took the shirt she still wore and was glad as she helped him pull it off. Her face flushed, and she momentarily tried to cover herself in natural shyness, but he wouldn't have none of it. "No, m'hearty, let me see all of you," he murmured and gently pushed her arms down. "This only fair," he added, and it would have sounded teasing if his voice hadn't been hoarse – a rough purr that sent goosebumps all over her body. Biting her lips and blushing more deeply, she obeyed his wish and lowered her gaze and her arms, as the blue fire in the eyes above her seemed to engulf her.

He gulped down some very needed air as he saw her naked as at birth. Only the golden bracelet in the form of two dolphins was still around her right arm and shone in the light of the candles. 'Mine!' he thought with a new wave of possessiveness, as he looked over the soft curves of her breasts, her slender waist and her flat belly, covered with creamy human silk, while the curtain of her chestnut hair fell over her shoulders and down her back. 'All mine!' Gently pushing her back into the cushions, he bent over her and gave in to his male instincts.

Wendy gasped as his hot lips and his hand began to explore her; his dark curls sweeping over her exposed skin, his warm breath tickling her in a way that made her sigh. She didn't know what a woman did in her position, or what he might have expected, so she simply followed her instincts. Burying her hands in his wild hair again, she closed her eyes and was instantly overwhelmed by the increasing sensations that his mouth and fingers generated in her. Everywhere he touched her, flames seemed to lick beneath her skin – searing and demanding more. Her belly tightened in the familiar knot again – and it became stronger and stronger as his mouth wandered south; his goatee and moustache tickled her but felt so good. Something she couldn't name waited impatiently for him to reach his goal, even if she didn't know what this 'goal' could be. And as he suddenly broke contact and slid above her again, she almost growled with a strange frustration she had never felt before.

But obviously he knew what she was feeling, as for a moment he smirked, looking like an oversized boy. Kissing her again, he whispered in her mouth, "Don't fear, my beauty, I have only have just begun." Bracing himself on his right elbow, his hand wandered maddeningly slowly over her side and down again, stroking her hip and nudging her gently to open her legs. Confusion and realization went through her, while the tingling in her lap increased. Did he want to …? There was the fleeting memory of a visit to the doctor before she was sent off to school. The doctor had looked at all parts of her, and then wanted to see between her legs. It was only a moment, then he reported to her nervous mother, "Well, still a virgin, Mrs. Darling." Still a virgin? What did that mean? How could he know?

And now - the moment one of his fingers touched her there the world stood still only to whirl around her a few heartbeats later. Her body reacted without her permission, as she arched up against this strong, warm hand that sent electricity through her whole body. Strange and wonderful feelings spread from her lap to her belly and then through her whole body, making her hunger for more as he bent down and kissed her again.

James had not thought it possible, but his desire increased. She was so ready for him but he held himself back, knowing that he had to prepare her, and to spare her as much discomfort as he could. He so wanted her to enjoy this first encounter! Old memories from his life before he came to Neverland now guiding him, he continued to fondle her further, touching, stroking, plucking and relishing every sigh and mewling noise he elicited from her thoroughly kissed, strawberry red lips. Her chest moved with the quickening breaths, her slender arms snaked around his neck and her mouth searched for his, while she moved against his fingers – following the urge that was old as mankind. She always had been his wildcat and her reactions showed him that deep passion lurked in her that was waiting to be freed by him.

But first, something else had to be 'freed.' There was no reason for the torment of the breeches any longer. He forced his muscles to obey as he sat up and began to unbutton the trousers, grinning as Wendy promptly moaned at the lost contact. He almost ripped the buttons open and wriggled out of the fabric. Surprisingly, he felt her helping him. Innocent as a newborn, yet she helped him remove them as if she had done this dozens of times. He sighed in relief as his most sensitive part was released, threw the garment away and placed the chain with the dragon scale on the nightstand. He was about to cover her again, but stopped as he felt her hand on his chest.

Half fascinated, half amused, he saw her looking at what he'd released with eyes like the proverbial saucers. Yes, of course, she had certainly seen her brothers sans clothes on occasion. But the big difference wasn't just the size. He didn't need to glance down to know that his 'best piece' was a dangerous red and pointed toward her like a drawn sword – a sword of lust he longed to drive into her most hidden part.

Wendy could only stare – and slowly but certainly she understood what would happen. The pulsing and painful hunger between her legs and deep inside her, the sight of his turgid manly part … Indeed, there was no explanation needed as to what lay ahead.

For a moment, something like anxiety rose in her, but as she looked up, she saw the unusually gentle smile on his lips and the tenderness beneath the fire in his eyes, She knew that everything would be all right. She had asked him for this, and she wouldn't retreat now only because she now knew what really happened behind closed bedroom doors.

He knelt on the bed beside her on one knee. Clearly he had seen the short flicker of fear in her eyes, and his hand reached out to comb through her hair. "Don't be afraid, kitten," he whispered. "I'll be as slow and careful as I can be."

The words dismayed her. "Will it hurt?" she asked quietly.

So innocent … In his time, girls were informed about their 'duties as a married wife' even at younger age – after all, most girls were married at thirteen or fourteen. Obviously that had changed, as well. A new wave of warmth rolled through him.

"The first time there is discomfort, so I've been told. But it doesn't last," he answered softly. His fingers slipped into her long hair, while his face neared hers. "Trust me, Wendy," he murmured. "You have to trust me and do as I say this time, then the unpleasantness will quickly pass, and you'll fly in another way than using fairy dust."

Wendy returned his intense gaze and felt her apprehension melting away. He had said he would be careful – that the … pain … would subside quickly and wouldn't return. And she believed him. People could say about James Hook whatever they thought, but this man didn't lie. Tricking, twisting the truth, making up excuses, or avoiding certain facts – yes! – but he never lied.

Sneaking her fingers under his curly mane in his neck, she whispered, "I trust you, James. Completely. I want it to be you who … who is my first." She stretched upward and brushed her lips over his. "You led me to this threshold. Please, carry me over it."

He needed no more encouragement. He moved above her and covered her petite body with his larger one, careful with his greater weight. Slipping his right arm beneath her neck, he closed his mouth over hers, while his left hand teased and fondled her, then he gently began to prepare her for his invasion. Swallowing her gasps and sighs, he needed to keep a tight grip on his inner reins. And this little minx did not make it easy for him to keep control. She was anything but passive now. Her clever tongue learned how to reply to his, her hands stroked his back and down to his hips and glided hesitantly over his muscular bottom. He groaned as the heat in his lions about scorched him at this first more intimate touch. And as one of her legs bent around his hips while she arched against him and the other lay to the side, he was about to lose command of himself. Everything in him screamed for him to finally take her. He needed her – now – or he would go mad. Sliding between her willingly parting legs and cupping the back of her head with his hand, he looked deep into her large impassioned eyes, hooded by the long lashes.

"Relax and hold onto me," he croaked; his voice was about to fail him. As she nodded, he breathed deeply to keep the last remnants of his disintegrating control in place, then he moved forward. His member pressed forward, once, twice, three times, further each time. Hot, wet tightness awaited him and finally enveloped him after he broke through a soft resistance. Swallowing her scream, he was somehow able to hold himself in check, and only one thought echoed through his being: he was finally where he belonged. She was his now, utterly and unrecoverably his. He felt her clawing her fingers on his back, while her body tensed and a muffled sob escaped her. He knew that it hurt – this final step – but it would retreat soon. His body demanded him to move – to sate the burning hunger that began to overwhelm him.

'A better man… you've become a better man…' her voice seemed to pierce the fire in his veins and soul. Somehow it gave him the strength to force his body to slow the rhythm, while he gave her time to adjust to him – even to kiss her, while his breath came in short gasps.

Tears slipped down Wendy's cheeks. The pain had been sharp, almost stabbing, and pulsed now hot in her lap. Yet, it was so welcome! He had said it would go away soon and that she had to stay relaxed, but this was hard to do. Yet she tried as she clung to him. She felt how tense his whole body was, felt the trembling rippling beneath his damp skin, heard him breathing hard, and knew the reason. He was fighting for control. He was enduring unimaginable effort to spare her more pain, because it would have hurt so much more if he had listened to his body.

Forcing her fingers to unclaw ignoring the pain, she hesitantly returned his kiss, unsure what to do next. Then he moved deeper. It burned and she was about to beg him to withdraw, when something in her was touched. And the fire in her lap changed from stinging pain to a beginning pleasure. Wendy gasped as within seconds the hurt was replaced with a different sensation, stronger and more powerful than the pleasure she had already experienced during his caresses. She didn't know when the pain stopped. It didn't matter. All that mattered was this fire beneath her skin, the growing heat in her belly and the pleasure that now raced through her.

Wrapping arms and legs around him to be as close as possible she followed his rhythm as her instincts took over, moving them in the oldest dance in the world.

If James had thought that holding and kissing her had been heaven, then he was now in seventh heaven – a place a pirate would never be able to enter. But here he was, deeply embedded in the warm body of his storyteller. Thought was impossible. He was reduced to a mass of sensation and the desperate urge to reach for the stars together with her. His body, starved in so many ways, burned with a fever he had never felt before. And the only cure was this sweet wildcat in his arms, who drove him … drove him … drove him …

Wendy was in another world and the man above her was the only person there. She was flying and burning in one, and the feeling of this hard, hot and incredibly pleasing intruder deep in her robbed her of any sane thought. There was only him, James. He was in her, around her. His scent was in her nose, his taste in her mouth. All she could see were his eyes – a glowing all-consuming forget-me-not-blue she lost herself in, his long black curls a curtain at her face, separating them from the world around them. Nothing else existed anymore, only this man who gave her pleasure beyond comprehension. A pleasure that grew, becoming too strong to bear ….

Both were flying toward a light that beckoned them like moths to a flame. It became wider and shinier, bright as a sun that would burn them to ash, but then to let them arise again, much like the phoenix. And they didn't care. Not, when the pleasure became a real thing to them, enfolding them, so that their minds didn't work anymore. And then it became too much.

Wendy didn't know how to breathe, where she ended and James began, while deep in her something coiled together – too tight to bear it. A guttural cry was torn from her throat as her world shattered in thousands of glittering pieces, falling into a bliss that drove her out of all thoughts. From afar she heard a dark shout, more a roar of a lion than anything else. Then she felt his weight coming down on her. Nothing mattered anymore except for James who covered her body with his like a dear, hot, damp blanket.

James didn't even try to catch his breath or to start thinking again. He could do nothing more than surrender to the gentle waves of the afterglow, trembling and weak as an infant. He felt gutted, and yet, more refreshed and alive than ever before. They both were soaring through comforting darkness full of twinkling stars; their light enveloped their souls like their arms did with the one another's body.

Something prickled in the right corner of Wendy's mouth, something that demanded to be released. Reaching out for the man above her, she pulled his face away from the crook of her neck, turned it towards her and closed her lips over his in the most sweet and devoted kiss possible. And once again the magic released its power …

It was pink. It began to surround the ship and flowed up into the evening sky, powerful enough to cause a warm wave to cover the air all over Neverland while the second star to the right sent its light into the world …

"A powerful thing…" Tootles had once called the island's reaction. That first time five years ago it had been Wendy's hidden kiss given to Peter to restore his strength. Now it was not only the last step of a girl leaving her childhood and entering the world of a woman, or redemption for a man who had walked so long in icy, dark solitude that even the eternal stars were touched as the chains of his heart and soul fell away. It was also the power of one single kiss – not that of a little girl but that of a young woman rising from the shell of her childhood, a butterfly leaving its cocoon.

***PP***

In the lagoon, the mermaids halted and looked towards north-east, feeling that something very important and unique had just happened. In the Ancient Forest and the woods, the fairies and pixies paused midair in surprise, while Niam, the fairy-queen, sat outside of the ancient tree's knotted roots and smiled. The Green Masters, those spirits of the very old trees, woke for a moment from their slumber, before falling asleep again with a smile. In its nest, the Neverbird glanced up and began to sing as it felt the new breeze rushing through the island. And at one of the many clear fountains the unicorn lifted her head; her blue-violet eyes shining before she nodded. A prophecy had been fulfilled.

And in Dragon Valley the dragons glanced up to the sky, reading the stars in their own special way. Then Ayden changed a knowing look with his mate. They both knew what happened and sharp teeth blinked in the evening twilight as the two dragons grinned at each other. "He is free," the dragon leader spoke quietly in his own language.

"So is she," Anala nodded, then returned her attention back to the egg between her paws in which she could feel her unhatched son moving slightly. Soon now he would see the light of the world.

But not only the mystical beings of Neverland sensed that something extraordinary had happened. In the Indian village Great Big Little Panther sat beside a small fire in his tent and watched the smoke curling towards the hole above. The smoke took forms – the form of two people, moving together. Then the warm wave breathed through his tent and a rare smile spread over his stern face, his almond eyes sparkled. 'Iron-Hand and Brave Feather… It was long overdue,' he thought. 'Chains have broken, new bonds formed. Different destinies now lay before them …'

Beneath the Nevertree, all of the Lost Boys were deeply asleep, as were Tink and Peter. It had been an eventful day that had even tired the eternal boy. Yet, all of sudden, Peter woke and sat up with a gasp. He had an odd feeling – as if something had been torn from him. Panting and confused he looked around, but nothing had changed since he had gone to sleep. The boys were softly snoring, the dim light of Tink in her little alcove was glowing and outside everything was silent. Nevertheless, Peter knew that something had just taken place – that he had lost something, but what? Frowning, he chewed his lip and stared into the twilight of the few lit candles. He looked inside himself and thought … something had left him, but then it vanished quickly as it came.

Maybe just a bad dream. Shrugging, he lay back and returned to sleep, with all the carelessness of the child he was.

*** PP *** PP ***

Neverland's strange glow next reached out and broke through the veil between the island and the Mainland.

In Surrey, in the cellars of Ashford-Manor, Brynna Lunette stood at one of the sideboards in the hidden room next to the old dungeons, preparing potions she would need later when Dalton came back with the dragon egg and the eternal boy. She had enjoyed a brief dinner with fish, traditional during the Holy Friday, though she had never been a Christian, and had immediately returned to her own personal domain. Since Dalton and the others had left, she often looked in the crystal ball that still rested in the bowl with water. Except for a few miniature dragons flying in the sky, she hadn't seen any details in the ball. She only hoped that her boy and his companions were all right.

She became aware of a light behind her that attracted her attention. She spun around – half expecting to find Olivia, the remaining housemaid, standing at the door with a torch. The young girl was shy, and, in Lunette's eyes, rather simple, but she wasn't stupid. Perhaps she had seen her going down into the cellars …

No, the servant girl was not the reason for the increasing light, for it came from the crystal ball. The light grew until it glowed like dozens of these new electric lights Bryanna loathed. Gasping, she walked over to the table and her only 'eye' on the island of eternal youth. It was night there, as here in Surrey, but now the crystal ball glowed in celebration! Then the light ebbed, and the crystal ball only showed Neverland at night again.

Narrowing her eyes, Lunette rubbed her arms, sensing the truth. Something had happened – some strong magic had been set free – but she couldn't imagine or even assume what it was. She only knew that something fundamental had taken place …

*** PP ***

In London the Darlings had had a very quiet Holy Friday. They had gone to church in the morning, had fish at midday, took a walk in the park, still quite cold and even snowy, and returned home for a casual dinner. Neither said much, lost in thought and prayer for Wendy and the boys, that they were all right and that everything would turn out well.

Later that evening, Mary grew restless. Something deep in her heart was nagging at the edge thoughts – the silent precognition that something fundamental was about to happen. After Liza had gone home and George finally called it a night, taking his evening toilette, Mary wandered uneasily through the quiet house and ended up in the nursery, the place where everything began more than five years ago. Taking a deep breath, the gentle woman opened the tall window. The air was still, and the dark evening sky was clear. Stars twinkled like diamonds on black velvet. Much as Wendy had described them, she could almost hear them talking, singing, laughing at her.

Hugging herself against the cold air, she glanced over the roofs of the neighborhood, her gaze drawn to the waning moon and then to the second star to its right. Neverland … somewhere … there! That's where her children were, hopefully safe. Mary had the distinct feeling that the dragons were not the most dangerous things on the island just then. An inner voice still whispered that it had been a mistake to involve the viscount in this adventure.

As she looked and prayed for her little ones, the star seemed to grow brighter. She watched, intrigued, as the light grew stronger and … pinker? … blotting out the others, now brighter than the moon with a light so clear and pure it was almost blinding. So Neverland shone like a little sun, then dimmed, but continued to pulse with a sweet soft glow, like the rhythm of a melody.

She had a vivid memory of a day Wendy was probably two, playing in the garden. She had plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. She looked so sweet, so delightful, that Mary had put her hand to her heart and cried, "Oh, why can't you remain like this forever!" That was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth, Mary and especially Wendy knew that she must grow up. Must become a wife. Must know the mysteries of familial, filial, unconditional and, yes, the many aspects of erotic love.

Mary knew what had just happened in Neverland. In her thoughts the lively, free laughter of a little child echoed for a moment before it ebbed away and was replaced with the warm loving laughter of a woman, yet she recognized the voice. It was Wendy's. The mother in her sensed the tempestuous changes in her daughter: Wendy was not a child anymore but had entered the world of adulthood. She closed her eyes. "Oh Wendy, sweetheart, what have you done?!"

Swallowing a rising lump in her throat, she knew without any doubt who had carried her over this threshold. Only one man could have done it. Looking up at the second star again, still happily pulsing, she whispered, "Please, Captain, don't let my little girl fall. Don't toss her away now after you got want you wanted …"

*** PP *** PP ***

Aboard the Jolly Roger the two lovers lay, skin to skin, in absolute bliss on his bed. James had finally managed to separate from his young lover and to roll to his side to relieve her of his weight, but held her in his arms. Even after the wildfire was slaked, he needed to feel her. He was still lost in the afterglow, heart, soul and body in peaceful happiness. He would never turn his back on her – not even in his worst nightmares. Wendy was all that mattered to him.

They still clung to each other, never wanting to let go – limbs entangled, breathing slowing, sweat glistening. Both were unable to think or to speak, only enjoying what had transpired between them.

On deck and down in the crew's common room the pirates sat together, talked and drank. Those still on deck had heard their captain's cry, ready to go to his aid. But then they recognized the shout for what it was – the cry of fulfilled passion. They grinned and nodded. And most shared one thought: 'Finally!'

Smee leaned against the ship's rail and looked out to sea. Of course he had heard the two cries, unmistakable proof of what his captain and the sweet missy were doing. He had to smile. He knew how much Hook had longed for this particular girl, this girl and her alone. Sweet Mary and Joseph and all the angels, in earlier times, while they still travelled the Caribbean Sea, Hook had "a girl in every port" as they say. And once while in his cups, he had confessed to Smee the outcome of an unhappy love affair he'd had back in England when he was younger. But never – not once – had the man been so head-over-heels for a girl as he was for Wendy Darling. Indeed, the man was madly in love with her, even if he refused to admit it, and knowing that both had finally found each other in the most intimate way possible made the old Irishman happy for them.

"'Aye, twas about time," a voice with a Spanish accent said beside him, and Smee yelped. Pressing a hand over his leaping heart he looked to his left, where Esteban had appeared out of the air and sat down on the ship's balustrade.

"Ye almost give me a heart attack," Smee snapped. In earlier times he had been afraid of the Klabautermann, knowing well the old legends that a ship's nyxx only showed himself to the crew when the ship was doomed. But Esteban now showed up on regular basis since they had arrived in Neverland, and Bryan Smee, bosun, valet, batman, confidante and all-around 'man Friday,' was wary when it came to the bogey, but not afraid anymore.

"'Heart' is the cue," the Klabautermann deadpanned. "I did make a bet with myself how long Blue-Eyes would need to make his mind up and bed the bella signorina. But it turned out that they both first had to face death together before they landed between the sheets, well…" He didn't end the sentence but only shook his head, clearly amused.

"To be sure, a close call today," Smee agreed and leaned again on the balustrade. "I only wish we could'a gotten t'ose damn bastards fer firin' on our cap'n!" The older man had been more than worried when he'd heard the shots from the hill above him as he and the others searched the woods for the strangers and a particular pretty troublemaker. He had known that Hook was in danger, but that these intruding landlubbers would shoot at him had inspired the boatswain's wrath. No-one threatened his captain without facing the consequences! Smee had been ready to follow Hook back up the hill to give those guys a piece of his mind and had been disappointed when his superior ordered him to take the girl down to the beach. Even more disappointed when Wendy told them about the capacity of the new guns, but in the end, it was better to flee than fight a battle lost from the start.

"Things can always change," Esteban sighed and glanced up to the entrance to the captain's quarters. "And sometimes it is good that things change – or finally happen. Yet I certainly won't forget the sight of those two."

Smee promptly choked. "What? Ye've been in t'ere, when…" He coughed again; face red. He was no prude – not at his age and not while being a pirate for the most part of his life. But watching a pair of lovers in bed was the worst form of all.

Esteban shrugged casually. "I wanted to make sure that those two are not at each other's throat, as the girl is stubborn as a mule and Blue-Eyes has the temper of a volcano. I popped into the cabin and … well …" He grinned and sighed as he recalled the view. "You know, the sister of the Elven healer and I both had the same vision after The Battle was won and the little signorina had fallen asleep on the captain's bed with him protecting her even in slumber. It was a real peek into the future, as I learned – both entwined, she with wonder in her eyes and he giving himself completely to her." He chuckled and loosened his pipe from his belt. "A bond formed – or, shall I say, grew stronger?" He lit a match at the ships balustrade and then his pipe.

Smee grimaced and glanced back to the sea that now dissolved into the dark horizon in the distance. "Ye better never let t'e capt'n know t'at ye were t'ere," he said slowly.

"Do I look like I want to leave this ship?" the nyxx asked, looking innocently at the man.

"Ye can only leave the ship when it sinks," Smee replied wryly.

"Precisely! And what, do you think would happen if Blue-Eyes ever learned that I was there?" He flipped a thumb towards the aft. "He would explode and the whole ship burns down." He began to smirk. "Although this almost happened, considering all the sparks flying between him and the signorina."

Smee gave him a sour look. "Y' awful talkative t'is evening," he observed.

Puffing at his pipe, the Klabautermann answered, "Simply happy for the capitano. He was so lonely and yearned so strongly for the signorina to grow up and then to have the chance to win her, it could have melted stone. And now these two are together." He blew a few smoke rings into the darkened sky, the stars winking around them and reflecting from the sea. Then he looked up at Smee. "If I had a guitar I would play for them now. Spanish love songs are famous after all."

"But ye've none, so…" Bryan stopped and thoughtfully stroked his beard. Then he cocked his head, nodded and turned to leave.

"Where you're going?" Esteban called.

"I'm Irish – and y' know t'at we're not only merry, but also quite romantic, aye?"

The Klabautermann frowned. "You – romantic? Did I miss something?"

The bosun only laughed as he descended to the first cannon deck and his own quarters. And along the way, he called for a few particular crew members…

TBC…

Aaaall right, to all who haven't melted by now: Thank you for reading. I don't pay for any higher water-bill should someone has the urge to take a longer cold shower (*laugh*).

Well, like I warned at the beginning of the chapter, this one here was hot, yet I hope that I included enough romantic and sweet scenes to give a whole picture of the two lovebird's feelings.

I couldn't resist to put another 'hidden kiss' into this all and to let it unfold a large wave of magic that is even to see on the Mainland. And because mothers have mostly a very strong connection to their children, Mary Darling felt – of course – the fundamental change concerning her daughter. And Peter? Deep in him he was connected with Wendy, feeling when something wasn't right like it was written in the first story "Battle…". This link was ripped, but – of course again – he is far too much a child and innocent to realize what's going on.

And I also couldn't resist to let Esteban having a peek on the lovebirds – after all he and Glawar 'saw' it in a vision of the future. Poor Smee, to learn that the Klabautermann was for a few seconds in the captain's quarters at such a moment gave him almost a heart-attack. Well, even pirates can be decent here and there (*grin*).

The next chapter will be a rather sweet one, with a lot of romantic stuff, because the night is still young and the early morning will be peaceful, before Dalton's and Ander's plan is set into motion.

I'm utterly curious what you're thinking of this chapter and how you liked it, so PLEASE leave some more reviews / messages.

Have a nice rest of the weekend,

Love

Yours Lywhn / Starflight