Giving Fantasia: The Taking Fantasia Sequel

Chapter 72: Love Me

Chapter 72: Love Me

Wendy had been scared before. Many times.

But nothing scared her as Peter did. The way remained unbearably still. The way he silently adored her. The way his eyes unwrapped her body. The way he wanted her.

Wendy looked up once. Her gaze withered inside Peter's. He was hungry. He was eating every piece of her, slowly breaking her apart. She could almost feel his teeth scraping her spine, sinking into her skin.

She was so scared.

So, as the sky blue dress rolled from her body, Wendy stopped. She stood in the pale pink slip, a shivering rosebud frosted in starlight.

Peter stared.

"Was that for me?"

A nod. Very small.

"That was beautiful." Peter whispered.

Her gaze held the ground. She hardly breathed. "...thank you."

She felt Peter grin, gently teasing her demure.

"Wendy?"

"...yes."

"I missed you."

Wendy's heart bubbled into her mouth. Fear mixed with happiness, she looked at Peter.

He smiled. 

"And now? Miss Darling?"

And now...?

Wendy breathed. 

Then, delicately as if she were stepping stones, Wendy crossed the starlit floor to Peter. She brushed his rambunctious hair; closed his midnight eyes; and led him to the bed. And as Peter sat, eyes perfectly closed, Wendy smoothed his collar, found the nearest button, and began to unfasten.

Eyes closed, Peter smiled. Wendy was certain he  would peek. But he didn't. Obediently blinded, Peter reclined slightly on the mattress as Wendy unbuttoned his shirt. Occasionally he would interfere to rub her hand against his chest, beneath the button she'd just undone.

Wendy understood. Peter was teaching her, guiding her and she guided him. He was slowing her pace, introducing her to his body, savoring each mysterious touch. 

And all the while with eyes closed.

Halfway down Peter took Wendy's hand. Letting the weaker work the button, he kissed her fingers, intermittently slipping them into his mouth. It was a startling, stomach swooshing feeling. When Wendy thought they couldn't become more intimate, Peter grazed her thigh. Again, it startled her – Peter stroked lightly, but his hand was burning. Like a furnace.

My garter. Wendy suddenly realized. She blushed as Peter caressed her leg in and out. He's looking for my garter. But it's not there. Can't he feel it's not there? Stop –stop touching --

Wendy opened her mouth to apologize, praying to stall Peter's exploration. But suddenly, he cupped her thigh and drew her over his knee. Leg between hers, Peter gently forced her to sit.

Her heart hit the ceiling. It broke the roof and smashed the stars. Pulse throbbing against Peter's knee, Wendy fumbled with his buttons. She continued without interruption, save for the occasional sway of Peter's leg as he experimentally altered pressure beneath her, exploring. 

And all the while with eyes closed.

Finally Wendy unfastened the last button. Timidly fingering his collar, she wondered how to undress the sleeves without leaning too far, when Peter suddenly drew her forward. As Wendy fell, the sleeves pushed over Peter's arms.

As she fell, they caught with a kiss.

Wendy did not know, but this was Peter's favorite part: kissing. Peter was a master kisser – but Wendy was a magician. There was something magical hidden inside her kiss that fulfilled secret pleasures Peter never imagined possible.

They kissed forever, or so it wonderfully seemed. As time spread, Wendy relaxed. Peter seemed perfectly content to kiss. Just kiss. True, his hands roamed – browsing her body, twirling her hair ribbon, flirting with her slip – but it was innocent. It was sweet.

Wendy even enjoyed herself. Rising to her knees, she draped over Peter like silk. Confidence soaring, she sampled his body and giggled when she kissed electric spots (earlobes, obviously. Peter was nothing but ears). Peter gracefully reciprocated, flushing Wendy's neck with a repertoire of indulgences.

It was lovely. Wendy breathed Peter in, relished every thrill, and thanked heaven that they could love without –

Then it changed. Viciously as a spark.

Peter stopped being gentle. He stopped taking care. He took control from Wendy, and twisted roles to take control of her.

It happened too swiftly to stop.

Peter grabbed.

One hand anchored her neck, forcing her still. His other glided under her slip, against her stomach and between her breasts. His fingers crawled left, over her heart – his mouth followed –

Wendy knew it was supposed to happen. Part of her even wanted it to.

But she was scared. Scared to death.

Scared...but helpless. Scared...but too late.

Wendy pressed her forehead into Peter's hair. She clenched his shoulders, desperately praying, silently begging him to save her, to stop – stop – stop – stop –

Then, he did.

Peter stopped. He felt Wendy's heartbeat firing through his palm. He heard her trying not to cry, holding him so tight she couldn't breathe.

He read her. For the first time, Peter read Wendy. And understood.

Peter opened his eyes. He inhaled a small noise: tortured, carnal, wispy. And on the exhale...

"Okay pretty girl..."

Slowly, very slowly, Peter removed his hands.

"Okay."

.............................

sultal's note: BY FAR the hardest chapter to write.  BY FAR. 'Giving Fantasia' readers span a decade-ish in age from what I gather, so I had to navigate that fine line of "intimacy/class" and "adult/innocence." Very hard, still not 164% satisfied how it turned out, but it's good enough.