Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You know, I have the strangest feeling that I’ve seen that ship before,” Mr. Darling said, gazing out the window with a mixture of awe and wonder. “A long time ago, when I was very young.”

Wendy had never seen him like that before. Instead of the gruff, self-serious expression he normally wore, he had an almost childlike sense of glee etched on his face. As Wendy and her mother embraced him, she understood completely. The shadowy ship flying through the air, visible briefly in the moonlight before it vanished amongst the clouds, was absolutely wonderful. As was the land where it originated. A fantastic land full of pirates, mermaids, ticking crocodiles, and magical creatures.

And a boy. A special boy who flew through the air with a crooked grin, his eyes always bright with adventure. A handsome boy who, although she saw him only minutes ago, she already dearly missed.

“Come, George,” Mrs. Darling said after the ship disappeared and the clouds sailed in front of the moon, shrouding London in a night-time blanket. “I think it’s about time we all get to bed. That includes you, Wendy.”

“Yes, Mother.” She embraced her father again and her mother kissed her cheek. “Good night.”

“Good night, dear.” Her parents left the room, turning the lights off as they left.

Wendy lingered by the window, standing there and looking out at the starry sky. A sudden sense of loss touched her heart. Yes, she had said she wanted to return home from Neverland and grow up, and had made that decision for her brothers. After all, as the eldest child, her parents often said that she needed to grow up and be responsible.

However, now that she was actually back home, she yearned to be return to the ship. To be up in the sky with Peter.

She shook her head, her ringlets bouncing back and forth. Nonsense, she told herself. This was where she belonged. It was the proper way of things. She repeated that affirmation as she climbed into her bed and fell asleep.

However, the aching desire wouldn’t leave her alone. For days afterwards, she felt listless, like a schooner lost in a fog and spoke only enough to keep up appearances with her family. The few times she ventured outside, she drifted aimlessly, strolling through the park or window shopping for nothing in particular. Mostly, she stayed at home, sitting by the window, watching the sky. For what exactly, she didn’t know.

No, that’s not true. I do know. But he wasn’t likely to appear. No doubt he was off on some other grand adventure and she was here. Back in plain London, which looked more gray and dour than ever.

After a couple of weeks, her mother confronted her in the kitchen while Wendy helped prepare dinner. “Wendy, dear. Whatever is the matter with you lately?”

Wendy blinked and looked up from chopping the carrots and potatoes. “What do you mean?”

“For a while now, you’ve been miles away with that same dreamy expression you’ve got on now.” The girl quickly tried to straighten her mouth and appear completely natural and attentive. Her mother wagged an amused finger and clucked her tongue. “I know that look anywhere. I used to wear it myself quite often.”

Wendy’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean that you’ve been to—?”

“Yes, I know what it’s like to be in love.” She sighed wistfully as she prepared the pie dish, then scooped the diced vegetables Wendy had cut into it for a Woolton pie.

“Love?” That word startled Wendy. Surely she wasn’t in love with Peter.

Was she?

“Yes. When I first met your father, he was such a handsome gentleman. So kind and thoughtful. Always leaving little gifts for me, like flowers or a poem.”

Her daughter laughed, grabbing an onion and chopping it up. “Father? Writing poems?”

“Now, now. Don’t laugh,” Mrs. Darling admonished her, but even she couldn’t help a trembling grin breaking out. “True, he wasn’t very good at it. That didn’t matter. What did is that he poured his heart into his words and that meant more to me than any beautiful lines from Wordsworth or Keats.

“So, who is the fellow who’s caught my daughter’s affection?” she asked. “Anyone we know?”

“Mother, it’s not like that.”

Mrs. Darling turned on the oven and added some cauliflower to the pie along with the chopped onions. “Oh, come now. You’re growing up. This sort of thing is natural.”

Wendy sighed. “I’ve just been tired recently. That’s all.”

Mrs. Darling hummed in disbelief, but didn’t press the issue. “If you say so.”

Love. That word stuck with Wendy the rest of the day and well into the evening, when she took up her usual ritual sitting by the open window. She turned the word over in her mind as she stared at the cloudy sky and the crescent moon. Love.

Love. She didn’t love Peter Pan. That was silly. She loved the idea of him, of adventure, of Neverland. Because over the past weeks, she realized how deeply she missed it all. Although their time in Neverland hadn’t actually been peaceful—in fact, they nearly died on several occasions—she wanted to return. She wanted to fly above the island, fight pirates, see the Lost Boys.

And see Peter. More than anything, she wanted to see him one more time. Her breath caught at the thought of him with her. Both of them together. Peter holding her hand. Her leaning in, lips puckered, eyes fluttering closed.

She turned away from the window. Her mother was right. She was in love with Peter. When did that happen? How? She was so caught up in the rest of their adventure that it must’ve happened along the way.

Thinking back on it, he was the reason she had been so morose lately. She missed Neverland for many reasons, but chiefly for him. She wanted to be with him, to see him, to love him and for him to love her.

That wouldn’t happen though. He was far away from London and from her. In a world beyond her reach. And she’d never see him again.

“What are you so sad for? Did you forget something on the ship?”

Wendy spun around, gasping in elation and leapt off her seat. “Peter!”

He sat cross-legged on the windowsill, resting his cheek in his palm, that impish grin completing his sharp elven features. He looked her up and down. “So, come on. What’s wrong?”

A flood of thoughts and emotions ran rampant through her. She felt alive and energetic for the first time in days. She steepled her fingers and shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong.”

“Then why do you look so upset?”

“Well I was just afraid.” She stepped closer to him and knelt beside the window. “Afraid I’d never see you again.”

“You’ll see me again.” Her chest rose for a moment. “I can come back like this to visit now and then.”

Just as quickly, she deflated and folded her hands together. They were so close to one another and she liked it. She wanted him to stay this close to her. “Yes, I suppose you could. But it’s not the same as seeing each other everyday, is it?”

“No,” and he frowned too. “That’s why I came back. I was hoping you would change your mind.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I wanted you to stay in Neverland.”

“How come?” Her heart beat a little faster. Only now was she starting to understand why as she sat beside him, the two of them together. No Lost Boys, no Captain Hook, nobody else to interrupt them. “Surely the Lost Boys are fine without a mother now.”

“Yeah, they are.”

“Then why did you want me to stay?” Had he been having the same thoughts as her? Did he love her too?

He scratched the back of his head, as though trying to figure out the answer himself. “Because I liked having you around. You were fun and you’re different from anyone else I’ve met.”

She tilted her head. “Good different?”

He smiled warmly at her and her heart catapulted into her throat. There was something new in his eyes. Something she hadn’t seen before that seemed to be directed solely at her. “The best.”

A million nerves exploded throughout her body and she shirked away from him for a moment, overwhelmed by it all. She was really considering this. She gazed out at the sky where the pirate ship had crossed in front of the moon. “I wouldn’t mind returning to Neverland.”

He leaned closer excitedly. “You wouldn’t?” he said a little too loudly. She shushed him as John stirred in his bed and rolled away from the window.

“No, I wouldn’t. But first, I’d like to give you something.”

“What is it?”

She checked the room again. There was no sign of Tinkerbell to come between them and her brothers were sound asleep. From further down the hall, she heard her father’s nasally snoring. “A kiss.”

Peter held open his palm expectantly. Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Surely you know what a kiss is?”

“I will once you’ve given it to me.”

She nearly laughed. Nearby, she spotted a small, metal thimble she forgot to put away earlier after sewing. She considered handing that to Peter as their kiss.

No, she told herself. If I’m to return, then I want to give him a proper kiss. She raised herself up on the seat next to the windowsill so that she was level with Peter. “Close your eyes,” she told him.

The boy appeared confused by the request, but complied and shut his eyes, waiting for her. Wendy leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

Peter nearly fell off the windowsill, gripping the edges to prop himself up. Wendy kept hold of his lips, kissing him with all her might. He tasted like a cool breeze in the night, refreshing, as though if he breathed, it would sweep through her hair and fill her from head to toe. It reminded her of excitement and adventure.

Most of all, it tasted right. All the longing she’d suffered the past couple of weeks vanished in an instant and she yearned for more. She gripped his tunic, keeping him grounded, silently begging him not to never leave again.

He didn’t. Rather than take off, his hands drifted slowly up her arms and held her close. He sighed into the kiss and bowed his head, inhaling deeply. “Wow. I’ve never had that before.”

“Nor I,” she said softly.

He chuckled and raised his twinkling eyes. “I think I’d like a lot more.”

“And I’ll be happy to give you more.” She wanted him in the worst way. More than just kissing. Her very being ached to be closer to him in secret privacy, the same as when her parents or other couples snuck away with one another.

That could wait until Neverland. After all, they weren’t exactly alone. She glanced over her shoulder at the beds where her brothers, John and Michael, slept soundly. She considered bidding them farewell, but decided against waking them. After all, like Peter, she could always come back for a visit.

Standing up, Peter helped her up onto the ledge. He untied a small bag from his waist and reached inside for a pinch of its contents. He held his hand above Wendy’s head, sprinkling the glittering gold pixie dust all over her. Immediately, she felt lighter like a bird preparing for take-off.

Was she really doing this? Running off with the boy she loved? What would her parents say, especially after her father had insisted she learn to grow up?

She looked back one more time and replayed the conversation with her mother in her head. Love was a part of growing up. She wasn’t leaving her house this time simply to stave off time and inevitable adulthood. No, this time, she was making a conscious choice to be with Peter. Together.

“Have your happy thought?” he asked her.

She smiled and pecked his cheek. Heat colored his face as she said, “You’re my happy thought.”

With that, they rose into the air, hand-in-hand. The sleeping, sprawling expanse of London stretched out beneath them. In the distance, Big Ben, that ever shining keeper of time, rose tall and pointed upwards, encouraging them on. The pair sailed merrily into the gray, smog clouds and higher into the cool wind and brilliantly dark night sky. One star in particular twinkled excitedly in the distance.

Second star to the right and straight on ‘till morning, she remembered as it grew larger.

Soon, an explosion of light blinded her. When she blinked and shielded herself from the glare, she found that the twisting, cluttered streets of London had disappeared, replaced with that familiar green island in the sparkling ocean below. Rainbows curved over it as though highlighting all its splendor.

Neverland.

“Welcome back, Wendy,” Peter said.

Her heart swelled. It was good to be back.

Once they landed though at Hangman’s Tree, Wendy hardly had a moment to herself. The Lost Boys surrounded her at once, pawing and jumping around her like a pack of rambunctious puppies. They launched rapid-fire questions at her without giving her a chance to respond.

“Did you change your mind?”

“Where are John and Michael?”

“Did you forget something?”

“Is Hook back?”

Wendy looked to Peter for help, but he simply laughed and raised his hands. She was on her own.

“Boys, boys! Please,” she said, calming them down one by one. “Yes, I came back to stay here permanently. No, I didn’t forget anything. John and Michael are fine. And no, Hook isn’t back. At least, I hope he isn’t.”

“Don’t worry. That old codfish is miles away. Now,” Peter leapt upon a tree stump and pointed at the group before, “what shall we do today?”

“Go see the mermaids!” one of the boys shouted.

“Loot the pirate ships!” another called.

Peter rubbed his chin, as if considering the ideas. “Good, good. But since we have someone special here,” he turned to Wendy, “how about we let her decide?”

“Oh, well,” she looked around at all of them and then at their surroundings. She knew what she wanted to do, but that would involve Peter and her to be alone. For now, she wouldn’t mind another adventure.

Above them in the distance, a tall mountain spired high into the air. Trees covered it completely and she needed to crane her neck all the way back to fully take it in.

When she glanced at Peter, he already know what she had in mind. He gestured for her to say it aloud. “I was thinking we could go exploring up there,” she said, pointing at the mountain.

The Lost Boys beamed and Peter clapped his hands. “Excellent idea, Wendy! Men! Let’s move out!” The Lost Boys raced ahead and Peter hopped down from his stump. Taking Wendy’s hand in his, they followed right behind. Her chest filled with warmth at the idea of reaching the mountaintop first. Perhaps even spending some time with Peter up there alone. That made her run faster and soon, she practically dragged him along, laughing and yelling for him to hurry up.

The mountain was steeper than Wendy expected. At several points, it became a vertical wall that forced them to climb. The Lost Boys proved adept at scaling these parts, shooting far ahead like monkeys climbing trees.

At the first such wall, Wendy eyed it with worry, unsure if she could surmount such an obstacle. “I can carry you to the top if you want,” Peter said, offering his hand.

“Thank you. But I’d like to try. Where’s the adventure if you can’t handle a little trouble?”

“Fair enough.” He leapt up the wall, quickly climbing hand over hand with ease.

Wendy lagged behind though. She constantly stopped and started, searching for roots in the beginning sections of packed dirt, then handholds in the later flat walls of rough rock. After the first section, she was tired and covered in sweat thanks to the hot sun out overhead.

Peter stayed with her the whole way. He pointed out handholds, all while showing off his own athleticism and dangling farther up. Or he flew beside her, cheering her efforts and catching her when her fingers ached and slipped off a root.

With each additional section to climb, she became sloppy and constantly banged into the walls, ruining her blue gown. It tore and ripped, exposing her skin, but she focused on the climb for the moment.

“I think you’ve proved you can handle enough trouble,” Peter said after she slipped a fourth or fifth time, ripping a gash across the stomach of her gown. “How about we fly the rest of the way?”

“Very well,” she said. He scooped her up like a bride and zipped up easily, the mountain sides blurring past them as they went.

They landed on the mountaintop, a solid circular piece with a further point jutting out ahead, shadowing the area. They were far ahead of the Lost Boys now, who still struggled around the halfway point. Peter set her down and inhaled the cold air swirling round and round. “It’s great, isn’t it?” he asked, pointing below.

She joined him at the edge and had to admit, it was absolutely spectacular. Neverland spread out before them in all its verdant splendor. From their perch atop the mountain, she could quite clearly see the cove where the pirates used to dock, Hangman’s Tree standing tall among all the trees around it, and Mermaid Lagoon on the far side of the island. From here, she felt like a queen surveying her domain. Standing beside her handsome king. It was all so wonderful. The two of them, with no one else around, just like she planned.

A bitter gust of wind whipped around them and she shirked from the edge. She wrapped her arms around herself, wondering why it was so cold. Then a stray part of her gown drooped over her hand and she looked down at herself.

The tears in her clothes were worse than she thought. The gown was little more than several pieces of shredded cloth, clinging to her shoulders. Much of her skin was on display, including her most sensitive areas.

“Wendy? What’s wrong?” Peter turned around and she quickly gathered up the rips, trying to force them together.

No, no, no. Not like this. She couldn’t let him see her like this. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. But there were too many holes to patch and she couldn’t possibly hold them all together. She tried to salvage whatever dignity she had and curled into herself to hide any delicate spots.

Peter’s eyes ballooned at the sight of her and she sniffled, hanging her head. She should’ve accepted his offer to fly her to the top from the beginning. What was I thinking climbing in these clothes?”

“Wendy?”

“Please turn back around,” she asked, her voice shaking. “Please, for my sake?”

He didn’t ask why. He simply spun back around, staring out at the island. She shivered and scanned the mountaintop. There wasn’t anything to help. What she meant to be a moment between them where she be with the boy who made her heart flutter like it was taking flight had been utterly ruined. She didn’t know what to do and buried her chin in her chest, squeezing her eyes shut to stave off the tears.

“Wendy.” She looked up at the green tunic dangling before here. Peter kept his back to her as he offered the clothing. “Here, will this help?”

“Oh, I-I can’t take yours,” she said. “It’s chilly up here.”

“It’s no different than going swimming. Here, take it before you get cold.”

She accepted it with a quiet “Thank you,” and quickly stripped off her ruined gown. She pulled the tunic on and it just barely went past her waist and covered her cotton white underwear.

Peter peeked over his shoulder. “All done?” He turned around before she could answer and stopped, taking her in. The way his eyes widened and roamed over her made Wendy self-conscious of her predicament. And yet, she also enjoyed his reaction. A little tingle tittered at her base. She hadn’t seen a reaction like that from him before.

Then she really took him in herself. He stood tall and strong, with his hands on his hips. Without the tunic, he was quiet lean, with a hint of developing muscle appearing here and there. All his time fighting pirates, she supposed. His tights seemed to hug his waist and she found that she really wanted him to remove those as well. See what was underneath and have him hold her against his body.

Peter recovered from his stupor first. “Not bad. It really suits you. However, something’s missing.” His tapped his chin in exaggerated thought and circled the girl, studying her from all angles.

“What’s missing?” she asked.

He stopped in front of her, plucked his cap off his head, and set it on hers. He tugged it down toward her eyes. “There. Now it’s complete.”

She raised her head to him and realized that he was incredibly close to her now. Her pulse quickened and she couldn’t help smile. What had moments ago been a horrible experience, this magnificent boy turned around in his own unique way and she loved him all the more for it. She knew that she made the right choice to return.

Without a word, she embraced him, burying her face in his bare chest. Like with the kiss, Peter froze, unsure how to respond. Then slowly, he wrapped his arms around around her, holding her firmly as the wind whipped past them.

Wendy sighed into his skin and asked, “Peter? Have you ever loved someone before?”

“Like family?” he asked.

“Sort of. But more than that. I mean truly loved someone. Romantically.” He looked lost and she sighed. “It’s like…” How could she explain it to him? She looked out over the island again, musing on it for a few moments before an idea popped into her head. “It’s like when you’re on an adventure so exciting you never want it to end. You want it to go on forever. A love where you want that adventure not once, but always, with that one person.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes and he nodded. “Yeah. I’ve felt that. At least, I think so. It’s kind of hard to tell.” He squeezed her tighter and looked her in the eye. “After you left, I was pretty down. Because you weren’t here and all I could think about was you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I felt the same.”

“Really?” he asked and she nodded, happy tears pricking her eyes. “I think I felt what you’re talking about. Or something like it. The thought of a never-ending adventure with you sounds great.”

To her surprise, he leaned in and kissed her. She returned it enthusiastically, slipping her arms around his neck. They stood there, lost in their bliss. Wendy couldn’t ask for anything more perfect than this moment.

However, when Peter broke from her, his eyes unfocused, she noticed something pressing into her thigh. Glancing down, she gaped at the long, thick lumpy outline in his tights. How long had it been like that?

He realized it too and stepped back. “Sorry. It, uh, has been doing that for a while now.”

He tried to turn from her, but she pulled him to her again. “Since when?” He buttoned his lips and she raised an eyebrow. “Does it happen all the time?”

“No,” he said. “Only when I think about you.”

Her smile seemed permanently etched into her face. Her parents had explained the basic differences between the sexes to her in the past year. When she asked any specific questions or probed an area further, her mother deferred to her father, who in turn blustered and fidgeted with his pocketwatch. “Never you mind that now,” he rumbled and gestured for them to move on.

When her father could stand no more of hearing his daughter ask about the birds and the bees, he’d left the room. Mrs. Darling had been more forthcoming then about the actual act.

“It will be a little painful,” Mrs. Darling had said. “But you simply need to wait and that will pass. Once it does, it can be an absolutely wonderful experience. But I want you to promise me something.”

“What is it?” Wendy had asked.

“Only give yourself to someone you truly love. Will you do that for your father and me?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Good. Now, your father is right that you don’t need to know everything right now. However,” Mrs. Darling glanced at the door with a knowing grin, “I’ll answer a few more things. Like how a woman can help, um, prepare a man for the act.” And she did, answering a few more of Wendy’s questions, such as the basics of love-making and how it worked before leaving to tend to the laundry.

Therefore, Wendy had some notion of Peter’s predicament and how to resolve it. “I think I can help you with that.” She reached for his tights, hooking her thumbs into the sides. “May I?”

He was confused, but nodded slowly. She rolled them down, exposing his length to mountain air. It swayed before her, pulsing, the purple head pointed up at her.

Wendy swallowed a lump in her throat and placed her fingers gently along his shaft. He flinched and she shushed him. “Easy. It’ll be all right. Trust me.”

He eased himself as she stroked him from tip to base. Despite the earlier chill, the heat wafting off him warmed her hand and spread through her arm. Peter moaned, head tilting back in astonished pleasure. He stumbled backwards against the jutting rock towering over them.

His bare chest rose and fell in time with her hand. Soon, he was thrusting into Wendy’s hand, needy grunts bubbling in his throat. Wendy tipped up her cap, watching him dissolve in her grip. She’d never seen him like this before and it affected her just as much.

This was more than her parents had ever discussed with her. Their explanations had been so academic and dry, focusing on the basic functions of the whole affair as if telling her how a seed sprouted into a plant. They never mentioned all the little things that accompanied it. How her nipples perked up, her thighs pressed together, and a damp heat gathered between her legs. How a thick cloud smothered her mind, suppressing everything else but this moment between them.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she asked, her voice breathy.

“Yes,” he said, his hips jerking.

Every twitch of his body in her grasp caused a hunger to rise and sharpen in her, like a whetstone on a blade. She could feel how close he was already for his first time. The heat boiled like a hot day and his muscles trembled under her touch.

She wanted to keep him like this, but more. She didn’t want his groans to be a foot between them, but nestled in her ear. She didn’t want to just touch him in one place, but all over. And most of all, she didn’t want his hardness in her hand.

She wanted it inside her.

Peter had the same idea. He caught her wrist and gulped for air. “Wait, wait. Not like this,” he said, every very word punctuated by his heaving chest. “I don’t want it to end here. I want…” He trailed off, unable to put it into words. Even without any experience, he sensed there was more to it. His length pulsed in her hand, aching with need like the rest of his body.

Wendy’s heart hammered into her sternum. She knew exactly what he craved, for she screamed internally with the same desire. Touching his cheek with her other hand, she turned his chin to her. “You want to finish inside me.” She lifted the hem of the tunic and parted her legs. Her underwear was soaked, outlining the bald lips of her opening, ready and waiting for him. “I want you in me too.”

He quickly put it together and his eyes flared wildly. He snatched her lips in a desperate kiss and she melted into it, her body arching into his. Spinning around, Peter pressed her against the tall outcropping of rocks. She stripped off her underwear and raised the tunic again, giving him a full view of how much she wanted him, rubbing the pert nipples of her developing breasts against him, and pushed her sex onto him.

“Peter, please come to me,” she said, hiking up one leg and hooking it on his waist. “Let me feel you.”

He squatted down, lining himself up with her folds. Wendy quivered, wrapping her arms around him and bracing herself for the inevitable. When the head brushed the opening, she clenched up.

Peter paused. “Wendy? What’s wrong?”

“My mother told me this part would hurt a little during my first time,” she said and buried her face into his shoulder. “I’m ready though. If it’s with you, then I want to do it.”

He looked between her and their sexes, so close, ready to join together. His face was a mixture of emotions, of desperation to continue, yet at the same time not wanting to hurt her. Her heart swelled at his care and it assured her that she made the right choice in allowing him to be her first. Her only, if she had anything to say about it.

“It’s okay, Peter,” she pecked his cheek and met his eyes. “Please. I want you to do it. Won’t you?”

He took a deep breath and his face broke into a warm smile. “I’ll go slow. Hold on tight,” he said and pushed into her.

Again, the talk with her mother didn’t quite prepare her. Peter stretched her greatly and that intense heat that his girth carried seemed to fill her. He reached a barrier within her, probed it, then cut through it like a hot knife through butter until she was full of him. The sensation, the pain, and the pleasure all suddenly threw those explanations into crystal clear clarity.

“Wendy?” Peter asked. “Are you okay?”

She noticed that he was holding her against the rock wall, her lifted leg carried in his arm. Her other leg was giving way, tilting them both at an odd angle, and she clung tightly to him, her hands balled into fists and digging her knuckles into his back. “Yes. If you’ll allow me a moment.”

“That’s fine.” He raised the cap, letting it topple off her head, and kissed her forehead. She curled into him, enjoying the affection, and returned it, showering his neck and jaw with kisses.

After a few minutes, she wiggled on him and looked up. “I think it’s okay to continue.”

He nodded, pulled back, then prodding into her once again, deeper than before. She inhaled sharply and he stopped. “No, it’s fine. Keep going,” she told him.

His movements were awkward at first, but that base instinct in all men and her encouragement quickly carried him into a gliding rhythm that dulled the ache between her legs. Each stroke seemed to wipe away the pain and replace it with delightful shivers, making her open up to him. She threw her other leg up and around him, no longer able to support herself, and clutched at Peter. She met every thrust of his hips with one of her own. She couldn’t get enough of how he filled her, stretched her, and pounded into just the right spots that sent her into a dizzying high.

Her own moans mixed with Peter’s, mingling in the mountain air around them. No one was around for miles. She felt as if she were rising, his movements lifting her up and up.

Then Wendy realized that she was floating. The rock wall brushed against her back and she glanced down. They were a few feet above the ground, as though Neverland itself responded to their passion and wanted to provide some extra thrill.

Wendy gasped at first, squeezing Peter tighter. The boy never stopped, still burrowing into her. The initial shock instantly melted into giddy excitement at the sheer implausibility of it all. Her body rocked greatly now that it was no longer tethered by gravity, as if they were making love in a vast ocean. The cool air swept across her flushed skin, her hair streaming wildly, while Peter drove into her.

“We’re flying,” she said, her arousal spiking and near to bursting in the pit of her being.

“Yes,” he said, kissing her chest.

She raked her nails down his back, bending to him with every nerve on fire. “Don’t stop, Peter. Whatever you do, don’t stop!”

He didn’t. They rolled in tandem against one another as they soared higher, the mountain top beneath them forgotten. Their need and pleasure carried them away. Wendy tightened around Peter, wave after cresting wave of ecstasy rising into her throat until she cried out. Her climax tore through her, pulsing around him.

Peter followed, faltering in flight for possibly the first time in his life. He shouted her name from high above Neverland as he spilled into her, both of them rattling. They were locked together, twirling in a romantic embrace in midair.

Still joined, they floated gently back down to the mountain top. Neither spoke. They only kissed one another and laughed breathlessly at what they’d just done. Committing their desire and love for one another loudly, with the whole of Neverland as their witness.

When they touched the ground, they fell to their knees and away from each other. Wendy laid flat on her back, her body on fire, skin shimmering with sweat, and more exhausted than after any other adventure to date. Between her legs, the remnants of Peter’s orgasm spilled from her and plopped onto the rocky ground.

Peter crawled over to her, hanging above with a broad grin. “That was…” He shook his head, lost for words.

“It was,” she agreed, sitting up on her elbows. She cupped his cheek and caressed it. “I believe I love you, Peter Pan.”

“I believe I love you too, Wendy.” He kissed her once more and she enthusiastically returned it.

They would’ve stayed there for longer still if they didn’t hear noises down below. The pair crawled to the edge and peered over. Far below, the Lost Boys were scaling the mountain and racing one another to the top. Slightly kept trying to maintain his lead, but Nibs, true to his rabbit costume, zipped past the fox, finding handhold after handhold. The twins and Tootles trailed behind, while Cubby, despite his brawny and bulky build, stayed in dead last, huffing and puffing.

“Guess that’s all the time we have for now,” Peter said.

A shame, Wendy thought. She quite liked Peter Pan in the buff, with everything on display and his leggings around his ankles.

Everything on display?

She suddenly remembered her torn dress and her half-naked state. She scooted back from the edge and pulled her legs up to her chin. She glanced at her dress, as though the holes in it might suddenly mend.

“Wendy, what’s wrong?”

“The boys,” she said. “They’re coming up and I’m like this.” She gestured to herself.

Peter picked up on her worry quickly and rubbed his chin. “I could fly you out of here.”

From over the ledge, she heard Slightly yell, “No fair!” and another boy’s laughter.

“No, they’re almost here,” she said. She snatched up her underwear and quickly stepped into them, bracing against the cold her arousal left in them earlier. She picked up the dress, examined it, and exchanged it for the tunic. As before, the holes still showed a lot of her chest and stomach. “Here,” she held out the tunic to Peter. Nothing to do now except face up to the consequences. Another part of growing up, as she was sure her father would say.

Peter looked between her and the ledge, silently thinking to himself for a few moments. Then he took the tunic and pulled it back over her head. “Peter! What are you doing?”

“Trust me,” he said, tugging it down until it covered her upper half. He examined the rest of her dress, confirmed it was still modest, and pulled up his own leggings.

Nibs flopped onto the mountain top first, followed closely by Slightly, who gave him a push. “That’s cheating!” Then he looked up at Peter and Wendy. “Aw, I thought we made it first.”

Nibs raised his eyebrow and looked between Peter and Wendy, focusing especially on her strange combination of clothes. “Why did you give her your shirt?” he asked. Slightly stopped complaining and noticed it as well.

“Because it’s part of the game,” Peter said, snatching his cap off the ground and dropping it on Wendy’s head. “Wendy made it up here first, so she’s the leader for now until I earn my clothes back.”

Wendy was surprised by the ease which he concocted the excuse. Even more so that the pair of boys nodded and accepted it. “Okay,” they said and turned to Wendy, waiting for their next orders.

“Oh, well,” she glanced at the steep sides of the mountain as the rest of the Lost Boys joined them one after the other. “I think the first one to reach the Mermaid’s Lagoon and get back to Hangman’s Tree should be the new leader.”

Nibs took off like a shot and immediately fell over, thanks to Slightly sticking out his leg and tripping him. “I’ll be the leader!” the fox boy crowed loudly, leaping over the edge and sliding down. One by one, the rest of the Lost Boys followed until Peter and Wendy were left alone again.

“Think that will give us enough time?” she asked.

“Yeah. We can dig up something for you back at Hangman’s Tree or the pirate ships.” He rubbed his neck and averted his eyes sheepishly. “And I wouldn’t mind doing more stuff with you.”

She smiled and took his hand. “Me either.”

Time seemed to fly by for Wendy, living with Peter Pan and the Lost Boys in their hideout and sneaking off with Peter at certain points during the day to continue their romantic trysts. The only one who didn’t appreciate Wendy was Tinkerbell, but the fairy eventually grew to tolerate her presence for Peter’s sake. Not that the she really talked to Wendy or had much of anything to do with her.

Eventually, Wendy started to wake up each day feeling ill. She hid it for a while, but on the day that she and Peter planned to visit John and Michael, she quickly ran behind a tree and emptied her stomach’s contents. Peter immediately joined her, pinching his nose against the awful stench, worrying over her until she reassured him that she was perfectly fine.

“I think I’m pregnant,” she said, stepping away from the mess and leaning against the tree. She checked the white dress they had scavenged from the pirate ship and it was thankfully devoid of her illness.

“Pregnant?” he asked, looking down at her stomach.

“I recognize the signs. When my mother was pregnant with Michael, she felt like this and was sick most days.”

“Sounds like it’s no fun,” he said.

She laughed. “It’s not. However,” she took his hand and pressed it to her stomach, “it means we’ll soon have another little one here. Yours and mine.”

He followed his hand and rubbed her stomach and hips through the dress. “I like the sound of that,” he said, stepping closer. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I’m not sure. I feel like it might be a girl. If that’s the case, I was thinking of naming her Jane.”

“That’s a good name.”

She looked up and blinked. “Peter, what’s that?” She traced a faint line of hair with her finger along his cheek that swooped over his upper lip and to the other side on his otherwise smooth face.

He felt the spots she touched. “What? What is it?”

Wendy had an inkling that she knew, but shook her head. “Nothing. We can talk about it afterwards.” Guess everyone grows up sooner or later. “Shall we go see John and Michael?”

He took her hand, reached into his pouch, and sprinkled some fairy dust on her. She squeezed his hand. “Have your happy thought?” she teased.

He returned the squeeze. “Of course. You’re my happy thought.”

With that, they took off into the air. Wendy lifted her head to the sun, enjoying the warm breeze on her face, and looked forward to many, many more days with Peter and their child. Hopefully the first of many.