Kimberly-A When Wendy's thimble stirs confusing feelings in Peter Pan, he finds himself facing an entirely unfamiliar way of relating not only to Wendy, but also to his own body. See the first chapter for all my dire warnings about sex and the R rating. The summary is this: There's sex in this story. In fact, it's sort of the whole point. So if you don't like sex, go away.
A longer chapter this time, and sexier. So tell me after you've read Did the earth move? Many thanks to those who have reviewed! MTS and squeezynz, in particular, are my pillars of support, as always, but special thanks are also due to ungallant deficient and LilFlyergirl.
I love you all! You reviewed before the story was even showing up on ff. I feel all special and warm and loved. Sometimes, it flows more slowly, but at other times it flows very quickly indeed. And so it was that Peter Pan and Tinker Bell arrived at the Darlings' home with little idea of how much time had passed. Neither of them cared much for the concept of time, and so they understood it very little. Peter did notice that Wendy no longer slept in the nursery, for he peered in at that familiar window and saw only a great many beds and boys and swords and books and tin soldiers and various toys scattered quite carelessly about the floor.
The Lost Boys, now quite obviously found again, slept soundly, snoring side-by-side with John and Michael. But there was no Wendy. Flying round to one of the home's other windows, Peter saw Wendy's parents in their bed, though they did not snore nearly so loudly as the boys in the nursery. Darling, in fact, snored only the very gentlest and sweetest of snores, barely audible at all. It was quite a charming snore, in fact. Darling, on the other hand, snored a very business-like snore, very serious and respectable.
He snored as if his family's happiness depended upon him snoring correctly. It was the most responsible snore that Peter had ever heard, and he found it quite horrible. And so Peter and Tinker Bell flew round to yet another of the Darling home's upstairs windows, and there at last they found Wendy, lying in her bed, not snoring at all. From his place outside the window, Peter could see that her soft lips were slightly parted, her long lashes resting gently upon her cheeks, her shining brown hair spread out upon the white pillow.
Forgetting Tink's presence, Peter found himself wanting to go to Wendy just as he had done in his dreams, and so he pushed upward on the window. But the window was latched. Tink giggled at him, making Peter glance guiltily toward her, embarrassed that he had been observed.
Looking back into the room, Peter fretted. Had Wendy latched the window purposely to keep him out? Was it because of his dreams? Did she know about his strange feelings? Did she know that he had been thinking about her? He hovered at the window, pressing his hands to the glass and peering through for a long time, just watching Wendy sleep. Eventually, Tinker Bell became bored and began pulling on locks of his hair, urging him to return with her to Neverland. And so, with one last longing glance through the window, Peter turned and flew away once more.
Sometimes they changed slightly, so that as he lay atop her Peter's lips trailed across Wendy's face and to her neck, tasting her skin.
In his dreams, her skin was sweet as honey and he could not taste her enough. Sometimes, too, her legs would move beneath his, rubbing against him softly and slowly. Those dreams always ended with the lightning strike, with the pounding of his heart and the strange white substance upon his belly. As time went on, Peter became somewhat less frightened of the dreams, and in fact at length began to anticipate them quite eagerly.
He was still uncertain of what was happening to him, but he had at last accepted that this mysterious change had its merits. The lightning strike being the best of these, of course. He returned often to Wendy's window, usually leaving Tinker Bell behind in Neverland, lest she either grow bored or observe him in some embarrassing situation.
Peter hovered outside the Darlings' home, watching Wendy through the glass, thinking of how she had felt against him in his dreams, and often his body reacted, growing hard and heated between his legs, just as was sometimes the case when he woke early from his dreams of her. He wished that he could touch Wendy's beautiful face, claim even one more thimble, but the window was always latched. In fact, the Wendy dreams had grown so very pleasant that Peter upon occasion wished that he could always be dreaming.
But at length he discovered that when he thought of Wendy, even when he was awake, his body would respond as it did when he watched through her window. In fact, his body began to respond at most inopportune times, such as when he was spying upon the pirates, or training the Lost Boys in sword fighting, or attending the fairy court.
It was terribly embarrassing, and Peter was not accustomed to embarrassment. He attempted to hide his body's strange behavior as best he could, but he was certain that everyone must know that something was wrong with him. Leaves are not, after all, particularly good camouflage against such situations. In private, however, Peter delighted in some of the changes to his body, for he found that he himself could cause the lightning strike brought by his dreams, if he touched himself in the right ways.
This was a most thrilling discovery. They somehow knew that Peter Pan ought to be with them more often, but it was not their place to question his actions. Peter was glad they did not ask where he was going, for it might have made him blush, and Peter Pan did not blush.
And so leaving the Lost Boys behind in the secret hide-out, he flew up to one of his favorite secret places, a spot upon the highest mountain of Neverland, where there was a large rock which formed an overhang, so that Peter might hide beneath it and be protected from casual view. It was one of his favorite places to think of Wendy and to ponder his dreams. Reclining back upon the cool, mossy ground beneath the rock, Peter lay with his hands behind his neck, his knees bent so that his feet rested flat upon the moss.
He closed his blue-green eyes and let the memory of his dream of the previous night flow through him, remembering Wendy's warm arms around him, her hands upon his back, her soft lips tasting his. He licked his lips and sighed quietly. It was all so real in his mind that his body between his legs grew hard and hot, urgent for something Peter could not quite imagine, and his heart began to pound loudly in his ears.
Pulling his hands from behind his head, Peter pressed one to his chest, curiously feeling the beat of his heart. His other hand quite by accident brushed against the hardness between his legs, sending a jolt of pleasure the entire length of his body, from his toes to his head to his fingers.
He felt quite as if he had been stung by one of the jellyfish that sometimes swam Neverland's oceans. Except that this sting felt good. Wanting more of that feeling, Peter loosened the leaves from about his body so that the breeze touched his skin, and then closed his eyes again, leaning back upon the mossy ground and thinking of Wendy and his dream. His body grew even harder, sending another shiver of pleasure through him when he touched himself again. Experimentally wrapping his hand around the part of his body which had grown, Peter squeezed, groaning softly at the resulting sensation, and then made tentative stroking motions.
It felt good, and so he did it some more. And then some more again. Opening his mouth slightly to pant with excitement, Peter arched his back against the ground, feeling the building urgency in his body as he stroked himself faster and faster. His body's demand for release grew ever stronger as his hand fairly flew in its motions. It felt as if every muscle in his body was tensed, straining toward something glorious.
And then, all of a sudden, it happened. Peter's eyes squeezed tightly shut as his back arched even further off the ground, the fingers of his free hand digging desperately into the ground beneath him and his mouth falling open in a hoarse moan of Wendy's name as the lightning struck him and he flew apart.
Afterward, Peter lay dazed, his entire body throbbing in reaction, his breath still fast, his fingers slowly unclenching from their grasp on the ground below him. He could not help but think still of Wendy as he lay listening to his heartbeat gradually begin to slow. He felt a deep, aching need to see her But first he lay hidden in his secret place and waited for his body to recover. Of course, what Peter did not know and would have been appalled to learn was that the fairies had spied his secrets upon their unseen travels around the island, and that the mermaids -- with all their dark mystery -- knew all of his actions in all of his hidden places.
He was not the only one in Neverland who knew that changes were upon him. But this night was different, for it was a very warm evening, and Wendy's window had been left open to let in the gentle breezes. Peter hesitated at the window frame, suddenly uncertain, fearful that Wendy would be very angry if she knew not only his thoughts but also about the lightning strikes, fearful that she might know everything by simply looking at him.
But, in the end, Peter simply could not resist the temptation, and so he flew silently in through the window, and slowly approached Wendy's bed.
Due to the warmness of the night, she had pushed aside her quilted counterpane, and she lay clothed in nothing but her sleeveless white lawn nightdress. Gazing at her with hungry eyes, Peter saw that her body had changed since he'd last seen her from so near. She now had more curves, particularly her chest. And she had somehow kicked her nightdress up in her sleep, so that her legs were exposed from the knee downward, and Peter found himself almost unbearably excited by the sight of her knees.
They were so pale and smooth But, certain that indulging such a wish would result in screaming and banishment, Peter pulled away slightly from where he had begun to hover so near her body, and gulped in an attempt to calm himself. He hovered over her, his body aligned with hers, just as he had done in so many of his dreams, and he looked down at her face, still so beautiful that it made Peter catch his breath for a moment.
He reached out a tentative hand, just as he had done in his dreams, reaching toward her lips which looked so soft and inviting. He did not touch them, however, for he feared what Wendy would say and do if wakened. Even without his touch, however, Wendy sleepily blinked her eyes, coming awake suddenly to gaze with disbelief at the boy who hovered above her.
She gasped, which sent Peter flying back in surprise, so that he collided with the sharp corner where the ceiling met the wall, much as he had done so very long ago.