Far From Neverland

by River Hale

To those who always dreamed of Neverland, of flying, and of falling in love with the villain.

Peter Pan is mine, always has been. Mine to capture. Mine to bend. Mine to break.

Strange. I’m usually better at getting things in a hole. I laugh out loud at my stupid, silent joke.

LmAo

The way he trembled in my hold. The way his glistening green eyes pleaded with me, knowing his life was in my hand. The way he bled for me. I don’t want him to bleed for anyone else.

The sounds coming out of him are a mix of moaning and begging now, and my cock strains painfully against the inside of my jeans, hard as a fucking rock. Turns out both sounds at the same time are a thousand times better than one alone. If I go deaf, it’s that sound I would miss the most.

Peter Pan is a little bit of a masochist.

I’m so fucked over Peter fucking Pan.

“I don’t want you to think that I’ve been keeping things from you,” she says after a couple of minutes of silence. “I tried to bring it all up a few times as we were growing up. Every time I did, you’d get…irrationally angry. Kind of like you did back in Neverland whenever you accused me of ruining one of your games. You depend on pretending, Peter. You always have. Even in this world.”

His heat consumes me; his gravity pulls at me, ruining me. My star.

“We’re playing my game now, Little Star. Let’s see how well you follow the rules.”

“Fuck you,” he spits. My nose skims along the side of his face. “I usually like being the one doing the fucking.”

“Tell me,” he demands as he smears pre-cum around the head of my dick. “I do,” I say on the back of another moan. “I hate you so fucking much.” “Good boy.” Those words make me harden even more in his fist as he slowly starts to stroke. “Give me all your hate, Little Star, and I’ll give you mine.”

“You’re so fucking perfect when you fall apart for me.”

the sword fighting.” “Ew. Gross.” My eyes widen, and I feel my face heat. “Actual sword fighting, Wendy!”

Lmfaooooo

“Does this mean you don’t need me to hate you anymore?” My breath hitches. That feeling in my chest is so heavy. That thread is pulled taut, stronger than I thought it was. He’s not unraveling it so much as he’s adding stitches, mending it. My heart beats once, so hard that it feels as though I’ve been brought back to life. I nearly gasp.

He may be dangerous, lethal even, cruel, savage, but…fuck. He’s beautiful too. I kind of want to stare into his eyes forever.

“I don’t need you to hate me, Little Star,” he continues, casting a shiver down my spine. “But you can if you need to. You can hate me all you want, but that’s not going to stop me.” I realize how heavy I’m breathing when my arms continuously brush against his shirt. The room spins. I swallow. “Stop you from what?” The grin he gives me is wolfish, downright erotic. “Doing whatever the fuck I want.”

I’ve always been obsessed with Peter Pan, but that obsession has morphed into something even more dangerous. Possessive. Salacious. The old Peter Pan has died, and a new one’s risen from his ashes. He’s a star—Neverland’s sun—and I don’t care if I get burned. Peter Pan is mine.

I run my fingers through his wavy black hair. I can’t help but grin at the way his eyelids flutter. “Do you like that?” I ask. I sure as fuck do. It’s as soft as I imagined it’d be. “I just like you touching me,” he says before his lips are on mine again.

“I won’t apologize for Simon though. He touched you, and you’re mine.” “Hook, I’m not—” “Only here.”

“I’ll give you as much pain and pleasure as you want, Little Star.” His hand squeezes around my throat, and little flashes of light explode in my vision like mini supernovas as he cuts off my oxygen. “And you’ll take it all, won’t you? Only from me. Because you’re mine.”

“You’ve always driven me mad, Pan. But this madness?” He shakes his head, his tone husky, hungry. “This is a madness I’m happy to suffer.”

“You forgot me once before, but this time, I’ll sear myself onto your fucking soul. You’ll never be able to fucking forget again.”

“And how the hell do I know where that thing’s been?” Wendy asks, nodding at my hook. In Peter Pan’s arse. “It’s clean,” I promise her.

Im screaming lmfao

“That used to be all I ever wanted to do. Now…I’d rather cut off my other hand.” And I know it’s true.

“You can’t kill me without killing yourself. Light and dark can’t exist without the other.”

Hook and pan too

Because if I could love, I think I would love James Hook. And that realization hurts worse than anything.

“I can’t get enough of you. You’re my new fucking addiction. Now I want all of you.”

“You should know that I don’t give a fuck what Neverland wants,” he whispers against my lips. “I don’t give a fuck what you think you’re capable or incapable of. All that matters is that you’re mine.”

But this isn’t going to last as long as I wish it could. Hook and I are a force of nature. “Hook,” I say on a breath shared between us. “I can’t…” No one can stop a force of nature.

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone. I’m not even sure I can. Maybe neither of us can. Whatever the case, this is just another adventure too. I refuse to be a coward this time.”

“Peter.” I brush my hook against his cheek comfortingly until he opens his eyes. “You can take me, Little Star. You were made for me as much as you were for Neverland. Let me prove it to you.”

If he is the sun, then I think I’m the moon. Used to the darkness, but living for those moments where his light shines on me.

“Careful, Peter. I may just fuck you again, right now against this wall. I’d fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week.” My own dick attempts to rally at his words. “Just because I called you old?” “No. Because you’d love it.”

“Because I think I’m more enamored by you than you are of me.”

Awwww hook

Something in my heart skips, but it’s not from the idea of finally returning to Neverland. It’s going home with Peter Pan.

“You don’t have to be fearless, Little Star,” I whisper as I gently skim my hook down the side of his face, a breath between our lips. “But I promise you that you are brave. You can be both brave and afraid. Because one cannot exist without the other.”

He takes my hand, pulls me to him, and kisses me. Relentlessly. Once again, he steals my breath. The pirate. The scoundrel. The thief. My pirate. My scoundrel. My thief.

Leaning over, I place a kiss on Hook’s pale forehead. Against his icy skin, in a raspy whisper meant only for him, I say, “You are my happy thought, James Hook. Now and forever.”

Mine. Neverland might have made him, but sometimes I think it made him just for me.