Author's Note: I do not in any way condone unprotected sex, regardless of a person's age. Be safe. Always use a condom. But if you happen to find yourself somehow transported backward in time into the Edwardian age, and then taken to a magical island where sexually-transmitted diseases do not exist, with a gorgeous boy whose child you would be happy and capable to raise if such an eventuality arose ... well, in that case, I say go for it!
After Wendy had been given a thorough tour of their new tree house, had become better acquainted with the new Lost Boys (who were sorely in need of looking after), had recounted the thrilling story of Cinderella and the pirates (much to the enjoyment of Peter, the Lost Boys, and even Tinker Bell), and had dined extravagantly on exotic fruits with the entire rowdy company, Peter at last decided that he wanted her all to himself, and so flew away with Wendy to a grassy hillside overlooking the Mermaids' Lagoon.
They sat side-by-side on the thick carpet of grass and moss, holding hands and watching the sun set in flaming reds and oranges and yellows. Far below them, the Jolly Roger rocked gently upon the waves. In the distance to the other side, the volcano streamed with molten lava.
The breeze stirred Wendy's hair with its warm breath, and beneath the scent of the ocean's salty tang, the breeze smelled of fairy dust and mermaid song, moccasins and gunpowder, waterfalls and dreams.
The air smelled of Neverland. It was the most wonderful scent that ever was. It was a scent that Wendy had never forgotten, and breathed deep into her lungs, her lips curved in a smile of homecoming.
Peter watched her, for she looked far more beautiful to him than the sunset over the ocean. The light from the sky turned her hair to shining fire, and he could not help but reach out a hand to touch it, making Wendy turn to smile at him.
"So ... I am your husband now?" Peter thought it might be best to verify this, since Wendy had not made any definitive statement on the subject, though her kiss had seemed answer enough.
"Yes, Peter. I am proud to have you for my husband." Wendy squeezed Peter's hand, and relief flooded him. He'd been fairly certain already, but hearing her say so made all of his efforts and plans seem worth it. Wendy would stay with him now, and not bar the window and forget all about him as Hook had predicted. Instead of a husband taking his place, Peter himself was Wendy's husband!
Peter was jolted from his thoughts when he realized that Wendy had lain backward into the grass and was smiling up at him with a coy invitation shining in her blue eyes.
Grinning, Peter followed her down, leaning over her to press an eager kiss to her soft lips. When Wendy twined her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her, he boldly insinuated one of his legs between hers, so that he could lean over her more fully and press his body to hers. He could not get close enough. He wanted them to be naked again, with him pressed as close to her as possible, so that it felt almost as if their skins might fuse together from the heat they generated. That was how he had felt the last time they had been together, and the memory set his blood racing through his body.
Wendy's lips against his were hot, her tongue was smooth and wet, and her hands seemed desperate as they gripped him with an urgency that Peter thought might mean that she too could not get close enough. When Peter brought his hands tentatively to her breasts, she sighed into his mouth, arching her back brazenly, pushing her soft flesh into his palms. Peter eagerly turned his attention to the buttons separating her body from his, but he grunted in annoyance at the tiny slick buttons.
Laughing lightly, Wendy pushed Peter away to struggle with her nightdress, wiggling until she had lifted it over her head and tossed it carelessly aside.
The sun was setting, but the remaining rays of daylight shone gold across her pale skin. Though the moonlight had illumined her previously, Peter could now see details which had before remained somewhat elusive. The color of her nipples was indeed a coral pink, the color of the ornate reefs Peter sometimes explored beneath Neverland's ocean waves. The angle where her arm met her body was delicate, so vulnerable, so soft. He reached out to caress that lovely curve, but at the touch of his finger Wendy giggled and pressed her arm firmly against her side. "That tickles!" she laughed, but her eyes were still warm and encouraging.
Quickly discarding his own leaves and vines, Peter moved to cover her again, her legs spreading to allow him to settle between them, his hardness pressing against her inner thigh as he once again took her mouth in a passionate kiss. Instinctively, their bodies moved against each other as their lips and tongues danced. Peter's hands moved over Wendy's skin, exploring this still-little-known territory with an eagerness borne of relief and joy. This was his Wendy. His. She had chosen him for her husband! He cupped her breasts in his hands and lowered his head to cover them with adoring kisses.
As Peter's attention focused upon her bosom, his body still hot and hard between her legs, Wendy spoke in little more than a hushed whisper. "Peter, now that you are my husband ... now ... it is right that ... I should give you my ... virginity."
Peter's head came up, his mouth wet and open, his eyes confused. "What's that?" He had done no research, after all, on what wives gave their husbands. He knew only what husbands were expected to give their wives. He was greatly interested in this "virginity" that Wendy wished to give him, though he did wonder if it was so important that it should interrupt them at such an inconvenient time.
Wendy's face was shy and pink in the gathering twilight. "Do you remember what I said ... before ... about men and women fitting together?"
"Yes." Peter's body began to heat even further at the remembrance of his suppositions on that mysterious subject. Without realizing that he did so, he pressed himself even more firmly against the inside of Wendy's thigh.
"Well ... virginity is ... when a woman has never ... fit ... with a man ... before." Having this conversation while he was naked on top of her was exceedingly awkward, and so Wendy stared into Peter's eyes as if she could will understanding into his mind by force of wishing.
But Peter's brow still furrowed. "I have never fit with anyone before. Does that mean that I have a virginity?"
Wendy was momentarily nonplused. She had never thought of it that way before. "I suppose so, Peter."
"Then why do you need to give me yours, if I already have one?" Peter was growing impatient with this conversation. Wendy had mentioned their bodies fitting together, and Peter was eager to learn how that might work. Surely they could discuss "virginity" later? But if Wendy was determined to give him a gift, he knew that he would not refuse, even if her timing was most desperately unfortunate. He resolved to put his own rather pressing desires aside for the moment, and try to understand what Wendy was telling him.
Wendy had to think about Peter's unexpected question a moment, before replying, "I give you my virginity, Peter, and you give me yours."
Peter found this a rather strange and confusing idea, but then remembered when Wendy had first given him her kiss, and he had given her an acorn in return. Thinking of it in those terms was reassuring. Yes, virginities must be like kisses, he decided. He wondered which of them was supposed to give their virginity first, and he sincerely hoped that it was Wendy, because then he could copy her.
But Wendy only lay beneath him, however, her hands lightly stroking his shoulders in a very distracting way, her knees rising on either side of his hips in a manner that made it nearly impossible to concentrate on their conversation. She watched him with nervously expectant eyes, as if waiting for him to do something. "Which of us goes first?" he asked at length, when Wendy had volunteered no further information but only continued to touch his skin and drive him nearly mad with efforts to restrain himself. Not waiting for her answer, he suggested quickly, "Perhaps you should go first."
"Go first?" asked Wendy, puzzled at what Peter could possibly mean.
"Yes," Peter insisted, displaying some small trace of his great internal frustration, despite his best efforts to be gallant. "You give me your virginity first, and then I shall give you mine."
Wisely realizing that the time for talking had passed, Wendy simply reached her hand down and gently showed Peter the way, abruptly chasing all rational thought from his mind. When he still hesitated, Wendy lifted her hips upward, taking him a small way inside her welcoming body.
Peter felt so many things at once, he was not sure how to react. Everything was still all so new, so overwhelming and dizzyingly intense. He could not even separate the many sensations and feelings from one another. A vague lingering sense of confusion still remained from their now quickly fading conversation. The sweet urging in Wendy's eyes made him lick his lips and want to kiss her. The smooth, soft curves of her naked body beneath his made him want to touch her everywhere, all at once. And above all, most confusing and seductive of all, was the tight, wet heat he felt touching him between her legs, which seemed to beckon to him, making him instinctively want to thrust his hips. His physical excitement had waned while they were talking, but at the intimate touch of her body he found that his eagerness returned all in a rush.
Watching Wendy's eyes, Peter slowly pushed forward, sliding into this mysterious opening in her body, his eyes widening at the unexpected and unfamiliar sensations. When he felt Wendy stiffen beneath him, sucking in a sudden hissing breath as if she were in pain, he froze, watching her face worriedly. Her eyes were tightly shut. "Wendy?" he asked softly, concerned that he had done something wrong. "Wendy, did I hurt you?"
When her eyes opened again, he saw tears shining there and began to pull away from her, but Wendy wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, causing him to slide even deeper within her body. This time it was Peter who closed his eyes, moaning quietly at the delicious pleasure that raced through him. He was still concerned about Wendy, but it was difficult to keep hold of that thought when her hands were upon his skin and she was moving against him so temptingly.
Her lips looked red in the twilight, her mouth slightly open and so very inviting. Peter leaned down and kissed her as his body moved tentatively within hers, and Wendy returned his kiss with a thrilling heat that set his entire body to tingling pleasurably.
Stroking his hands through her hair, pressing kisses to her face and shoulders and anywhere he could reach, nuzzling into the warm angle of her neck, feeling her body flow beneath his, around his, holding his, Peter could not help but murmur her name aloud. "Wendy," he sighed against her skin, his voice thick with wonder. "Wendy ... oh, Wendy!"
Moving within her, Peter felt more united with Wendy than he had ever felt with any other person. He had never felt so close, so intimate, nor had he ever wanted to, with anyone but her. He had not even known that such closeness was possible, and he felt a humbling gratitude to Wendy for showing this to him, for sharing this with him. Being so close to her was a heady sensation, making him feel almost as if she were becoming a part of his own body, or he a part of hers. He felt as if he might lose himself in their joining, but felt no fear at the thought. He felt only pleasure ... and love.
With some help from the movement of her hips rising to meet his, Peter at length established a rhythm of thrusting which, though admittedly clumsy, nonetheless served to inflame them both, for their passion easily made up for their lack of experience. When Wendy's lips and tongue sensuously traced the sensitive skin of his ear, Peter groaned and sped his movements, without even realizing he had done so. Her breath in his ear, the soft sounds of pleasure she made in response to each of his thrusts, the eager writhing of her body beneath his, the feel of her fingers grasping at the muscles of his back ... it all worked together to drive Peter nearly out of his mind with need. The pace of his thrusts sped even further, and his breathing grew harsh and strained. He strained against her, the tension in his body coiling tighter and tighter with every movement either of them made.
"Peter," Wendy moaned softly into his ear, and the sound of his name upon her lips, her voice so thick with desire, suddenly pushed Peter over the edge, sending him spinning and reeling, his body exploding in a rush of pleasure even more intense than any he had previously felt. His head flew back as he cried out, his entire body stiffening with the nearly unbearable pleasure he'd found by moving within Wendy's body.
He might have once called the sensation that suffused his being at that moment a lightning strike, but now he could only think of it as Wendy.
* * *
When he had regained his senses and lifted his weight from crushing his love into the grass, Peter was terribly dismayed to discover blood between Wendy's thighs, and smearing upon his own body between his legs, as well. "Wendy! I hurt you!" he exclaimed in horror. What had he done? Had he injured her with the mindless violence of his thrusting? He felt a deep shame at having found so much pleasure in something that had left Wendy bleeding and hurt. He felt the very worst type of villain. What kind of husband was he, to treat her so?
"Peter, it's normal," soothed Wendy gently. "I'm fine." She had known that losing her virginity would hurt, but the closeness she had felt with Peter made it more than worthwhile. Making love with him was the most amazing thing she had ever felt. And, to tell the truth, she looked forward to experiencing it again.
Though Peter looked doubtful, he accepted Wendy's reassurances regarding the blood. Lifting her into his arms, he flew her to the pool at the foot of the waterfall, carrying her into the warm water and washing her with the greatest of care. When all traces of blood were removed from both their bodies, Peter laid her upon the bank of the pool and asked a question he had been harboring for quite a long time. "May I look?" He gestured vaguely toward Wendy's naked lower body, and she blushed deeply but nodded.
Gently spreading Wendy's legs, Peter curiously examined the flesh between. The moon and stars provided enough light for him to see, but not enough for him to see in complete detail, and so he leaned close in a quest for understanding.
Between her legs seemed to be a wound, the folds of flesh swollen and raw around the opening which had given him so much pleasure. He wondered if the redness and irritation of her flesh were because of his earlier roughness with her, but he did not ask. Instead, he leaned his head forward and gently touched his tongue there. Wendy jumped, causing Peter to pull back and ask, "Did I hurt you again?" but Wendy shook her head and bit her lip, a rather shocked but not unwelcoming look in her eyes.
Peter lowered his head again, soothing her swollen flesh with gentle strokes of his tongue, finding that she tasted mostly of the waterfall, but a bit like the ocean as well. When Wendy arched her back and moaned at the touch of his tongue against her, Peter eagerly continued his ministrations, always careful to be very gentle lest he hurt her again. He found the tangling of her fingers in his hair terribly exciting, and his body grew hard again as he rubbed himself against the ground.
At length, Wendy cried out, her body arching and pressing up against his mouth before she collapsed and lay panting upon the mossy bank, her eyes closed. Remembering the previous time when she had reacted thus, Peter guessed that he had given her pleasure, and smiled smugly.
Ignoring his own renewed excitement -- for he still felt somewhat uncertain about having hurt Wendy with his earlier behavior, and would need more reassurance on that score before he would feel comfortable indulging himself again -- Peter lay beside Wendy on the mossy bank and pulled her into his arms. He would take them back to the house soon, but first he wanted only to lie with her like this beneath the stars, holding her warm body close to him and savoring this new closeness.
Something had shifted within him this night, something deeply buried, something secret and very primal. He found that the courage that had failed him earlier now rose easily within him. The words that had seemed so difficult came easily to him now.
"I love you, Wendy," he whispered into her hair as she curled sweetly against him. "I truly do."
* * *
Deep in the dark of the Neverland night, deep in Neverland's wine-dark oceans, the mermaids talked to each other.
Deep in the dark of the Neverland night, deep in Neverland's hidden caves and hollow trees, the fairies talked to each other.
They knew. Neverland knew. The changing was finished. The balance was restored. Peter Pan would grow no more.
Though he was in some ways now a man, traces of boyhood would ever linger in the green flecks of his eyes, in the soft curve of his lip, in the vulnerable turn of his golden-tanned ankle, and in the sun-kissed tousle of his light brown hair.
Though he was now a husband, Peter -- like so many husbands -- would remain always also a boy, leading the Lost Boys with his eternal eager pursuit of adventure and fun.
And while Wendy would mend their clothing and check that they had washed behind their ears, she would also always retain about her traces of girlhood in the shining lights of her unloosed hair, in the merry laughter of her clear blue eyes, in the smallness of her slender hands, and in the vulnerable turn of her eventually-golden-tanned ankle.
And so, you see, though some outside of Neverland might never understand how such could be possible ... Peter and Wendy remained always simultaneously adults and children, finding joy in both adult and childhood pleasures, ever by each other's side, ever loving each other, forever.
And so, you see, they all lived ...
Author's End Note: So there you have it, folks. The End. This story was a blast to write ... hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.
Now that we've reached the end, I want to extend one final thank you to everyone who reviewed this fic. I did not expect this story to be so popular, especially since I originally planned for it to be 3 chapters max, but your reviews have really fueled my writing. I've received some really wonderful, encouraging comments over the course of writing this fic (has it only been 11 days? wow!). I wanted to thank a few people in particular: MTS and squeezynz (as always), Danascully2, Bumblebee-Queen, JustDuck, Elle Blessingway, and Enola. I would love to email you all personally, but since it's unlikely I'll get around to doing that, I wanted to let you know how much I particularly appreciated your detailed and flattering reviews. Thank you! In fact, I wish I had the time and energy to respond to every single review individually, because I've appreciated every single sentence of feedback tremendously. Thank you, everyone!
I don't currently have any plans to start a new Peter Pan story, because first I'm planning to put some serious work into revising my previous fic -- "Storyteller" -- since I'm not very happy with how it turned out. When I'm done with that, we'll see. :)