Far From Neverland

by River Hale

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

I have to find Peter Pan and bring him back to Neverland.

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

What the fuck is a Google?

Peter Pan has grown up. That fact hasn’t escaped my notice. For some reason that I can’t quite comprehend, I hate him even more for it.

Peter fucking Pan. I was used to him as a child; I wasn’t prepared to face him as a man. It’s caught me completely off guard.

“You better hope I can figure out another way to get us back to Neverland, to make you remember,” I tell him, neither of us ever breaking eye contact. “Because if not, I have nothing left to lose and will relish in killing you.”

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.

A place called Neverland. A captain named Hook.

Understand?” I nod once, the movement jerky. “Good boy.” Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.

You’ve always been incredibly skilled with a sword.” I actually grin. “Is that a compliment?” With a scowl, he holds up his hook. “It’s a fact.”

“You have to remember who you are, Peter Pan.” My head is so muddled that I almost don’t catch the desperation in his voice. “Don’t call me that.” “Why? That’s your name.” His gruff whisper is a rough brush against my ear. “Peter Pan.”

Peter Pan’s moaning is an even sweeter sound than his begging.

When my hook rakes down the back of his arm, pressing lightly into his flesh, he moans even louder and thrusts into my hand. “Hook…” My name on his lips spurs me on. Peter Pan is a little bit of a masochist.

I’m so fucked over Peter fucking Pan.

Once again, he ends up between me and the wall. It’s becoming my favorite place for him.

“I always used to indulge you. I always played along. But this time? I’ve got you on your knees. This isn’t your game anymore.” He looks up at me, tears in his eyes from struggling to breathe, and I wonder what it is he sees. “It’s mine,” I finish.

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

“Good boy,” I whisper, grinning when he shivers. I love that he loves my praise.

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

“Tell me you hate me.”

“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.”

“Give me all your hate, Little Star, and I’ll give you mine.”

Hook lowers his head and brushes his tongue in a path up my abdomen, sweeping both our cum into his mouth. His eyes meet mine, and he licks his lips. “Your hate tastes so good, Little Star.”

Because when he touched me, his gaze turned a little less icy. When he spoke to me, his voice held a hint of vulnerability. When he forced me to sword fight with him, I saw as much exhilaration in his cunning smile that I felt in myself.

Maybe I did have more fun playing Peter Pan’s games than I let myself believe. No, I didn’t just think that.

It’s a good thing I already made Pan hate me. If he didn’t already, he will after tonight.

I guess we had fun. There was the challenge, the adrenaline, the sword fighting.” “Ew. Gross.” My eyes widen, and I feel my face heat. “Actual sword fighting, Wendy!”

“Come on, Pan. I know your memory is shit, but you couldn’t have possibly made yourself forget after only a few hours.” “A few hours?” His face screws up even more. “Hook, I haven’t seen you all day.”

WHAAAATT

The green of them sparkles like stars in the night. I could get lost in them and then use them to find my way home. I think they’d probably guide me right back to him.

The wrinkles between his brows are so deep. I want to smooth them out with my lips.

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.

“I’m not that same boy you knew back in Neverland, Hook.” Silence. Heartbeats. The air crackles. After staring at him a moment longer, I release a breath. “Thank the gods for that.”

“What do you think, Little Star?” His breath is warm against my neck. “We can always go back to being enemies in Neverland.”

Then buttons are flying everywhere as he slices right down the middle of my shirt. Yanking my mouth away from his, I glare. “I’m going to run out of shirts at this rate.” “Shut up.”

“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.”

I mean, it’s not like I get hard for every gorgeous psychotic man who breaks into my apartment. Okay, I guess I do.

“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.

We really are far from Neverland, aren’t we?”

“Don’t you dare hurt him.”

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

He called me Peter. He chased away my shadow. He took care of me. I think he saved my life.

I don’t…feel things like a normal person. I can’t…” I have to look away. “I can’t love.”

Because if I could love, I think I would love James Hook.

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

“You’re going to take what I give you, come when I tell you, scream if you need to.”

“Fuck. Please, Hook. Please. I need you.” “You know I love the sound of you begging, Little Star.”

You once said to die would be an awfully big adventure, but…I wasn’t ready for that one.” “I said a lot of stupid shit back then.”