So, as promised, the second and final chapter. Thank you for the lovely reviews to this one.

This was never supposed to be a lengthy tale, and I have finished it here. I hope it ends believably and satifactorily. When the time is right, I may return to these two and give them a tale worthier of them both. But for now, this will have to do!

Thanks to apk for having a drawer full of the same dreams as me.

And of course to Mr Isaacs for just ... being.

Please note: Roedean is a private girls' school. Eton is a famous private boys' school, which J M Barrie himself said Hook attended. Balliol and Lady Margaret Hall are Oxford colleges. (Barrie again later implied Hook went to Balliol. Lady Margaret Hall was one of the first all-female colleges at Oxford.)

Wendy awoke to those same blue eyes staring intently at her.

"Good morning, Wendy Darling."

"Good morning, James Hook."

She smiled and stretched, running the tips of her fingers over the jaw of the man beside her.

"Are you real?"

"As real as you want me to be."

She smiled, stretching her limbs yet further. Her body felt completely at ease with its new state. There was no more pain, and as soon as she felt his flesh under her fingertips, it reawakened, ready for more.

Wendy held his gaze, certain that she had done the right thing. Still, there were certain things which her mind threw back at her. Things which had happened nine years before.

"You tried to kill me once."

Hook looked beyond her momentarily, his eyebrows raised to recall the moment. "I believe I did."

"And now I am here in your bed."

"Indeed you are." His hand was running down her body, pushing away the sheets and revealing her naked before him. He continued his low teasing drawl. "Funny how life throws these little contradictions at us. But then – that is what growing up is all about. How boring it would be without them – I am sure you agree?"

His head had descended to her breast, and he fed on her nipple, which rose to attention instantly under his tongue. She arched up into his mouth, pulling him harder against her. His left hand had moved down and was running up her legs. They fell open instinctively for him. He touched that place again. That place he had awoken so skilfully the night before. And now it was ready once more, yearning for his touch, for his heat. She pressed herself against him with a moan of longing.

Hook turned his eyes up to look at her, careful to keep his mouth enclosed on her breast. The woman was completely acquiescent before him. Her neck was arched high off the pillow, her head raised, eyes closed in bliss.

At last.

At last he had won. He had defeated Pan.

He moved his fingers over her sodden flesh, drawing a yet deeper groan from her.

And at that moment, James Hook realised that the Boy no longer mattered. All that mattered was the woman under him, and her pleasure, and her delight. It was an almost unidentifiable emotion in him – the desire to give to someone else.

"James ..."

His name was caught on her breath again as his fingers moved through her. She was his. He wanted only to please her.

His head moved to her other breast, repeating his skilled attentions on the other tight bud, which was already nearly as hard with anticipation as its twin. His fingers searched deep inside her, curling round and finding that even more elusive place. He rubbed tenderly but firmly. Wendy's eyes opened in revelation. She gasped in. He could not remember the last time a woman had been so wet for him. A groan of his own rose from his throat.

His fingers withdrew, pulling with them her desire, and he circled that other bud of expectant flesh. She sobbed, then stilled, waiting, hoping, longing for that feeling which had consumed her the day before. Once again, she felt the tightening, both of her body and soul. But this time she knew not to fear it, not to shy away from it. She exhaled in preparation, focusing only on his fingers and mouth, and the pleasure they were drawing from her.

With a final skilled rub, Wendy shattered. Her cry of exultation echoed throughout his cabin and beyond.

She came down slowly, breathing heavily. Hook rolled away from her breast and lay beside her. She turned her head to smile blearily at him.

"You are proving to me that you are most definitely a gentleman, James Hook."

"Quite right too," he sniffed. "I cannot abide bad form."

She sniggered, then became serious. "But I ... want you inside me properly again ... I need it."

She was so sweetly needy, that he leaned over and kissed her tenderly. "Have no fear, my beauty. That was merely the aperitif." He was smirking. It stirred her belly yet further. She pushed herself up on her elbows above him. It was only then that she noticed he was not wearing his hook.

He saw her glance down at the arm, which ended just above the wrist. He tensed a little, but waited – waited for her reaction.

Starting at his shoulder, Wendy ran her hand down his arm gently, stroking and soothing as she went. But her fingers did not stop, they continued until they reached the rounded end, and soothed over it too. He almost wept. There was no revulsion in her face, or the words which followed.

"Did it hurt awfully?"

"For a moment. But my anger and resentment overrode the pain."

She was impressed with his honesty. It was only now, as she saw his maimed arm before her, that she realised fully that Peter had been capable of such brutality. His youthful body remained untouched, but James Hook would be horrifically scarred for the rest of his days. Who was Villain now?

"What are you thinking?" His words pulled her from her contemplation.

"Nothing."

"Does it repulse you?"

She looked at him in surprise. "No! Not in the slightest. How can you say that?"

"Then why are you silent?"

She smiled at him. "Because at this moment, I have nothing to say."

He gazed at her, his blue eyes sparking with delight.

Wendy noticed his hook resting on the table beside them. She reached across and examined it. It shone with a bright radiance before her eyes. "Do you want to put it on?"

"Do you want me to?"

"I do not mind."

He sighed. "Need compels me to do so. If nothing else, it helps to provide ... leverage." His eyes moved to hers with a twinkle.

She smiled, and as he sat up, brought the straps around his shoulders, helping to fasten them. He pulled it tightly into place. Then looking at her, he moved her stray hair tenderly out of her face with it, tucking it behind her ear. His action brought back a distant memory. She leaned over and kissed him. Hook returned it ardently, and knew he was already hard for her. Luckily for him, the woman before him kneeled and wriggled herself into his lap. He groaned into her mouth.

Wendy surprised herself at her own confidence and instinctive awareness of what to do. She circled her legs around him and rocked, feeling the rigidity of his need for her manifesting itself against her abdomen once again. She pressed into it. Then hands gripped her, and metal pushed against her. She moved to the side, preparing to lie down again.

"No. Kneel. Down onto your elbows."

At first, she did not understand, but she got on her hands and knees, and allowed him to push her shoulders down, so that she rested instead on her elbows. He positioned himself behind her.

She felt her face flushing. She could imagine what she must look like. He sensed her tension and stroked over her backside.

"I have never seen such a beautiful sight in all my days. You are sublime." She heard him exhale in wonder, before his voice changed into the teasing drawl. "Now, let me enlighten you as to what I was talking about yesterday."

She felt once again, at her opening, that hard, thick shaft of flesh. Instinctively, she pushed back against it, her body so craved it inside her, filling her once more. But he held her back, controlling the pace entirely himself. Slowly, he eased into her, revelling in the feel of her walls opening gradually for him. She was tighter than anything he had ever experienced. His eyes closed in incredulity, but he forced them open quickly to gaze down at her.

Hook pushed in further. Then more and more, until at last she felt him fully within her. The pain of yesterday had gone. She let out a sigh of completion. But almost immediately, he pulled out again, then gripping her hips in his hand, thrust fully in, this time to the hilt in one go. She moaned in surprised rapture. He had stroked along that place his fingers had found earlier. He started to move regularly now, in and out, each time rubbing hard along her.

James Hook had never known such a sensation. The feel, sight and sound of the woman before him was beyond imagining. As he moved in and out of her, she would give out a faint mewl of delight, which he met with urgent grunts of his own, growing louder and louder as her body pulled him towards unfathomable rapture. But, as he had said, this time he would do it properly. He slowed a little, knowing he was close to fulfilment.

"Speak to me, Wendy, tell me what you are feeling. I want to know." His hand was running along her back, his warm fingers contrasting to the cold metal which was mimicking their actions. She squirmed back onto him, desperate for him to pick up the pace he had started before.

"Don't stop that. Please, don't stop that. I want it always, I want to feel you always."

He started moving again, but was careful to concentrate on finding her most sensitive place inside. With her next exclamation, he knew that he had.

"Yes! Dear Lord, help me – there is nothing like it. How did I not know? So close, James, so close, more, please, more."

He chuckled. The ability to render a woman helpless with pleasure could bring him the most self-satisfied thrill. But it had been so long since he had bothered that he had forgotten what it was like. But he did not stop, and knew that he was as close as she. His left hand reached under her legs, the flat of his hook pressed down onto her back, and his fingers found that other beautiful place, that key to her devotion. He rubbed around and over it as skilfully as his hard shaft was plunging deep into her. Her body froze and she drew in an almost unearthly breath of preparation.

He could not stop. He plunged, hard and fast, thrusting himself into her wet tightness with brutal certainty. His fingers pulled her back to him, crushing her secret tender flesh at the same time.

"Now, now, now, my Wendy! It must be now! Let me hear you! Let me feel you alive around me!"

He pushed fully into her, and she cried out – a cry of unbridled ecstasy. Her pleasure was pulled from her by his raging manhood and she pulsed hard around him, her limbs juddering uncontrollably, his name torn from her depths over and over again.

James Hook followed her immediately. As he felt her body squeezing around him harder than anything before, his name ripped from her in rapture, he froze, then erupted within her, his seed bursting out in heaving life-affirming spasms. He could barely remain upright, and his union with the woman before him alone held him up.

It was several minutes before either moved or spoke. They remained joined, feeling their bodies' last spasms of wonder for some time afterwards.

Then Wendy's legs could support her no more, and she slumped forward onto the bed, the man still inside her falling next to her, careful not to crush her. They were both breathing deeply, trying to recover the oxygen they had expended so desperately. His hook came up to brush her hair off her back, and it was only then that he saw what he had done. His eyebrows rose in alarm, but he felt also a perverse thrill tingling him.

There was a red gash along her back, some two inches long, where the metal tip had clearly dug along her. At the time, neither had noticed. It was not deep, but the red of her blood was clearly visible, in stark contrast to her milky white flesh. He could not prevent sucking in a breath of surprise.

"What is it, my love?" she asked, her innocence adding to his burn of intrigue.

But then it shifted, and James Hook felt something else – he felt guilt. He could barely identify the emotion.

"I have hurt you."

She giggled. "Oh no – not this time. I cannot imagine feeling anything so extraordinary ever again, my darling."

His fingers were touching around the wound, as if he could help heal it. "No. On your back. You have a cut."

She sat up in confusion, and then felt a pang where the hook had cut into her flesh. She winced. So did he. The guilt deepened.

Wendy sat up and reached behind to feel. She brought her hands back, and looked down at the blood that she had caught on them. She merely smiled. "I had no idea." And still smiling, she reached around his neck and pulled him in, her mouth opening his immediately, her tongue questing deep inside. He groaned into her in revelation. Could this woman be more perfect?

At length, he pulled away and once again went to fetch a basin of water. "Lie down. I will clean it for you."

She did so. Slowly and carefully, he wiped the wound clean, planting gentle kisses around it as he went. She shuddered, but not with pain. The cut itself merely stung a little, reminding her only of the extraordinary complex man now devouring her body and soul.

"It is not deep enough to require any dressing. I doubt it will scar. Does it hurt?"

"No more than I want." She smiled and lay down on her side. He came and lay opposite her, staring deep into her eyes. "Now I know what you mean."

He raised his eyebrows in query.

"About making the moment perfect. Thank you."

"You are all I ever dared to dream about. In all my life, I simply wanted someone to make happy; to make me happy. It is simple."

She stroked his hair out of his face. "You are so beautiful. What you did just then – it was more than I could have imagined, but, I confess – I missed looking into your eyes. Your eyes are what brought me back to you."

He smirked. "Wendy Darling – it was not my eyes that brought you those feelings."

She giggled a little. "I know that, but ... I need them as much as anything. Through them, I can see who you truly are ... who I truly am."

He kissed her again. "There is much more to explore, my beauty, have no fear."

She reached down his torso, and held him in her hands, rubbing and plying the flesh with remarkable confidence. He drew in a sharp hiss of desire and felt himself rising quickly and desperately.

"Shall we continue our exploration, then?" It was her turn to employ the teasing drawl. He smirked. How could he resist? He pushed her hard over onto her back and prepared to plunge into her. She sucked in a breath of shock. He suddenly remembered the gash on her back and pulled back.

"No!" She had gripped his back, digging her fingers in hard, and pulled him back against her forcefully. "Now! Like this. I like it. It merely stings a little. I like the sensations."

He gazed in adoration, then his expression changed to that teasing smirk, and with one hard thrust, he was fully inside her.

Their coupling was not as frantic as before, but this time, he ensured he held her gaze the whole time. Wendy could not look away from his eyes and poured herself into them, her body instinctively gripping him, propelling him deeper and deeper into her. Her astonishingly instinctive skill astounded him. Her walls clasped around his throbbing rigidity and he knew it would not be long before he came apart within her yet again. He raised himself from her as best he could, and brought his hand down to that ever-needy flesh just above their join. Her body was so alight, so primed, that it took only a few skilled rubs as he ploughed along her for her to release her pleasure. Once again, he joined her in it, her body coaxing his own rapture from him in spasming pulls.

This time, he collapsed fully onto her – he could do no different – and she clasped him to her, delighting in the heaviness of his strong masculinity on top of her.

"I cannot imagine a time before you were inside me. You must remain. You must remain within me. That is where you belong."

He looked down at her – he could only corroborate her words.

"Yes, yes, my darling – you have come to me – I am yours."

He lay down again, slightly to her side, and, reached to her chin, gripping with urgent strength and turning it towards him. He kissed her, tenderly at first, but with rising passion. And then, still joined, the two lovers fell into a heavy sleep of pleasured happiness.

They did not see the diminutive winged figure who had lingered in the open porthole, witnessing them entwined together as they allowed sleep to overcome them.

Tinker Bell did not stay long. When she had seen all she needed, she was gone.

Wendy and Hook did not venture out of the cabin until late afternoon. Smee had brought them food, averting his eyes from his naked captain and his equally naked companion in the large bed.

They had made it to the table, where they had both eaten with surprising need, not taking their eyes from each other the whole time. But once their hunger was assuaged, Hook had stood, swept all traces of the food and crockery onto the floor, and, without a single moment of surprise or hesitation, Wendy had lain before him on the table and opened for him. He was inside her within a few seconds. His left hand gripped her shoulder, holding her up, his right arm was thrown down hard onto the thick wood, so that the hook had dug in firmly. And then he had moved, and she had met his every plunge with ever-increasing ardour and skill. Her hands gripped the sides of his face and she stared as hard as she could into him. It did not take long for pleasure to overcome them both, but despite their rapid approach, it was as overpowering as always - the sound of their mutual ecstasy once again soaking into the very timbers of the ship.

At length, she loosely replaced her dress on, not bothering with her underwear, and he idly threw on the shirt and breeches he had been wearing earlier. They wanted to go out, onto the deck, to gaze on the beauty around them. The crew had stared momentarily, but after one raise of the eyebrows from their captain, his hook glinting before them, they had turned away and quickly returned to their chores. Wendy felt no shame, no remorse. How could she? Her body was so heavy and relaxed with pleasure, pleasure which transmitted to her mind, that she was aware only of the man next to her. Hook turned to her and offered his arm. She took it, and he walked her up to the bridge, calling to Smee as he passed, "There is a mess on the floor – clean it."

When they were on the bridge, Wendy gazed out to sea. The sun was beginning its slow descent beyond the horizon, and the deep red glow which burnished the sea reminded her of blood. She recalled her own blood on the sheets the night before.

Placing her hands on the wheel, she steadied herself. Strong hands encircled her waist and pulled her in against a firm torso. Lips descended to nuzzle her neck. She closed her eyes and reached a hand up to hold him there.

"Do you wish to sail away?" he drawled.

"Hmm," she hummed, "but you would not allow it."

"And why is that?"

"Because I am a woman. And you cannot have a woman on board ship. It is bad form."

His hand was gripping her skirt and tugging it up, higher and higher. She moaned.

"You are on my ship now."

"This is an exception. And you are not at sea."

His fingers met with naked flesh, and continued to work higher.

"I must have your body."

"But you must also fulfil your purpose, James Hook. You are a pirate. And so you shall remain. I have decreed it."

"Have you now?"

The fingers were now exploring that hot secret place between her legs. She pushed down onto him.

"You invited me to piracy once."

"Did I?"

"Yes. I chose the name Red Handed Jill."

"A splendid name!"

"You said that then, too."

"And what motive did I have for that? It was mere folly, clearly."

"You were trying to lure Pan in, as always."

"As always."

His fingers were so deep inside her, she thought they would never be removed. Her body was melting, but so tense, so ready.

"Don't stop ... don't stop ... ever ..."

"And now, Wendy Darling?" His mouth was burning the skin of her neck. Still she held him there. "Where is Pan now?" He was not after an answer, merely seeking her own indifference.

She groaned. "I ... do not ... know. I do not ... care."

He moved his fingers hard along that place deep within her, then out to rub over her other tight kernel of delirious flesh.

"Neither do I."

Wendy dissolved against him, a shuddering breath of rapture heaving out of her. He pulled her in tight to him to prevent her collapse, so limp was her body with pleasure. One hand gripped the wheel for dear life; the other still clasped his head against her.

At length she turned, and he embraced her. They stood, swaying together on the bridge, as the sun continued to set idly behind them.

"And what of you, Wendy Darling?"

She did not speak for some time. They both knew how she would respond, but she dared not voice it for a time. Then, summoning all her resolve, she spoke.

"I have a job, and a life to return to. I want to return to it."

He looked at her, a combination of loss and respect in his eyes. She was an adult, as was he. He understood. Yet they could both take comfort in the inevitable.

"We will need each other again."

"Yes. And at those times, we will find each other."

He kissed her hard.

"And what is this job of yours, my Wendy?"

"I am only now about to start it. I am a writer, for the Times. I will write short stories."

"Always a storyteller, Wendy Darling."

"Always."

"And I have also been asked to write the occasional article on women's matters."

"How enlightened." He did not sound convinced.

"Times are changing, James Hook. I hope that women will soon have the vote."

He moaned, but masked it as a groan of pleasure as he kissed her breast. She continued.

"I went to Oxford."

She did not see the surprise on his face. It quickly passed as he drew her breast out of the dress and sucked the nipple hard.

"As did I. Balliol, after Eton."

"Roedean, one of the first to go, then Lady Margaret Hall." She cried out in bliss as his lips swelled her nipple beyond containment.

"Will I be in your stories, my heart?"

"You are my stories, James Hook." With that she reached for his head, and turned it up to her. "And now, I think it is time we redressed the balance, don't you?"

His eyebrow rose in query, and she grabbed his hand, pulling him back down the ladder and into his cabin.

Slowly, sensuously, she set about removing his clothes, seeking out that hard flesh, which she knew was crying out for her once again. She slipped to her knees to undo his breeches, and as they tumbled to the ground, she found herself at eye level with the object in question. Never had she seen anything so magnificent. She studied it carefully, noting its smooth, round head, the taut veined flesh stretched over the rigid core. It had a tantalising drop of moisture on the tip, indicating his need for her, and there, just beside the glistening tear of desire, something else. She wondered, thinking back to what he had done for her the night before.

Wendy glanced up at him. He was breathing more rapidly than ever before, his face flushed in expectation – expectation of what, she was not sure, but an idea was forming in her mind. She looked back at the flesh rising towards her. It was still there, on the tip.

She looked up again. "There is a kiss on it."

He could only swallow hard.

Instinctively, she licked her lips. Surely she could not ...? Her body was telling her something her mind found hard to comprehend. But then, that had been the case many times recently.

"I would like to ..." She glanced up, subconsciously wetting her lips with a flick of her tongue. "Would that be acceptable?"

He almost wept. Acceptable?

He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I believe, it does ... happen ... in certain cultures. I ... am not averse to ... if you wish ..." Her mouth, her lips, they were hovering tantalisingly close to his engorged erection. Hounds of hell! If she did not take him in her mouth now, he would explode.

"Well ... there is a kiss there ..."

"In that case ... I suppose you should take it."

She lowered her mouth gently, and kissed tenderly on the very tip. The drip of pleasure soaked into her lips. She ran her tongue over them and tasted it. It tasted of Man. She wanted more.

Opening her lips, she placed them tenderly over the tip, edging down ever so slowly, curiously.

The man above her almost roared. She looked up in surprise, her mouth pulling away.

Immediately, he plunged his hand down onto her head, propelling her back onto him. "More! You must not stop. Never has there been such wonder!"

It was becoming abundantly clear to Wendy that he had no objection. She would continue.

She opened her mouth, and returned with ardent intrigue to the object before her. Immediately, she felt more of the liquid drip into her mouth and her captain let the deepest groan rise from him. It made her take more of him down, down into her. Her tongue licked around the tip, lapping at the now ceaseless pleasure leaking from it. If she had thought for one moment of what she was actually doing, she may well have pulled back in horror, but all rational thought was expelled. Her body craved this, needed it, and judging by the sounds rising relentlessly from James Hook's throat, she was pleasing him immensely. Never had she felt so empowered.

"Harder! Deeper! You are all to me. You are everything. Grasp it in your hand."

She did everything he asked.

The pleasure engulfing Hook was unfathomable. Her willingness, her delight in her task, her skill; never could he have imagined it.

He gazed down at her. Her eyes were closed, her deep red lips pulling at his rigid flesh, her hand gripping his lower length.

He had intended to pull out before it was too late, but then she turned her eyes up to his, and met his gaze. Never had he seen such fervent delight in anyone. He was undone.

"I cannot ... I cannot stop ... now ... now!"

He exploded into her, his seed shooting into her throat in desperate, hot bursts.

It took Wendy by surprise, and for a moment she did not move. The man above her merely stroked her head, panting with the aftershock of ecstasy.

The evidence of his pleasure sat thick and warm in her mouth, its salty taste seeping into her consciousness. Did it repulse her?

No.

She felt stronger than ever. Man was completely in her thrall.

He softened within her mouth, but careful to keep his seed safe inside, she pulled back. She stood before him. He looked at her with complete adoration, then quickly fumbled for a handkerchief. "I am sorry. I had not intended to ..."

She swallowed. He heard it, and saw her neck tightening.

Hook looked at her in astonishment. Never had even the ten cent whores of the Caribbean done that.

Then leaning into him, she whispered in his ear, so warm and soothing he thought he may collapse, "You taste of my dreams."

With that, she walked from him to the bed once more, lying down and holding her hand out for him.

"Come."

James Hook crossed and lay on the bed beside her. They did not sleep, neither did they make love again immediately, but the contentment and happiness which spread around them was as deep and alive as at any time since she had come to him.

They lay talking for some time, about everything and nothing; about their schooldays, his travels, her hopes for her job. She rested her hand on his chest; he stroked her arm lightly.

And then there was a cry from outside, a cry which wrenched them from the perfection they had created.

"HOOK!"

They both recognised the voice instantly. It was that of Peter Pan.

At first, neither moved. Their position in bed was so right, that any interruption could hardly be real. Then the high, unbroken voice cried out again, louder and shriller, "Hook! Come out here now. I know you have taken her!"

Wendy glanced up into the blue eyes of the man above her. They froze, then burst with an azure flame in an instant. Hook leapt from the bed and grabbed both his pistol and sword, quickly throwing on his red coat, and stepping into his boats.

"James! It is over. Let there be no more!"

He did not hear her, but strode to the door and flung it open. Wendy rushed to follow him.

As soon as he was out of his cabin, Captain Hook saw the familiar figure of Peter Pan, hands on hips, mouth pursed in youthful arrogance, standing, legs apart, on his deck.

He wanted to run him through.

"Aah, Master Pan! How good of you to join us. I trust you have been enjoying a pleasant evening?"

"Where is she, Hook? Let her go or suffer the consequences."

"And what consequences would those be exactly? Have you more gargantuan amphibious monsters to summon to precipitate my end? I trust, for your sake, that they are more effective than the last one, as I seem to be ..." He glanced down at his body with mock surprise, then looked back at his foe with a teasing smirk, "... remarkably alive!"

"I want Wendy." Peter had his sword pointed at Hook's throat. His crew had gathered around, but were fearful in the presence of Pan.

"That may well be, but the question is, my dear fellow – does she want you?"

By now, Wendy had dressed and emerged from the cabin.

Peter saw her and his eyes were immediately filled with a mixture of delight and surprise. Had she really just emerged unscathed and unshackled from the captain's cabin?

"Wendy! I am here to rescue you. You need not stay with this drunken old sea dog a moment longer."

"Drunken?" Hook grimaced with sham confusion. "My dear boy, I have consumed a mere bottle of the best Petrus today, with my companion, to accompany a very fine luncheon. Such quantities can hardly be used to describe a state of drunkenness."

"Peter ..." Wendy began. She was ignored.

"Tink saw you. She saw you ... held captive by him. She said he made you ..." His voice stopped, his breathing was heavy.

Wendy felt shame for the first time since she had arrived in Neverland. But it was too late to go back now.

"What did she say, Peter?"

"She said he made you ... kiss him."

There was silence. Hook looked straight at Pan, but waited for a reply from the woman behind him.

"He didn't make me, Peter."

More silence. Peter frowned, his fine young features twisting in prickling confusion. He was filled with a sudden insecurity and could not bring himself to acknowledge what his mind was telling him. He shook his head hard, and drew his sword with a groaning flourish, pointing it straight at Hook, who immediately drew his as well. Wendy raced up to them.

"Stop it! There is no need for this now!"

"This is my enemy, Wendy, and yours. It is my duty to spill his blood right here on the deck of his vile ship!"

"No, Peter."

He turned his eyes to her, the malevolent passion turned away from Hook and melted as he looked into the face of the woman before him. She was so different now. He no longer understood her. His body was alive, tense, but it did not know what to do. He had never known such confusion. He looked into her eyes.

"Did you ... did you kiss him?"

Ensuring she held his gaze, he deserved that, Wendy nodded slowly.

Pan's face crumpled in a mixture of puzzlement and disbelief. He shook his head, tears spilling from his eyes. "Why?"

"I told you, Peter ... I grew up."

"I don't understand."

"No. You will not. That is how it should be. You are Innocence."

"Did you ... go to him, when we went hunting?"

"Yes. He is why I came back to Neverland."

"But ... he is ... ugly."

Wendy smiled a slight wry smile. "Not to me."

"You kissed me once."

"I remember very well, Peter. What did it feel like?"

He thought back, a slight grimace on his face. "Wet."

She smiled. "Did you like it?"

He shrugged with slight embarrassment.

"He likes it. It makes him happy. And it makes me happy too."

"I made you happy."

"Yes, you did. And those times will live with me forever and I will cherish them, but now, I need other things, things you cannot provide, Peter."

"Lots of kisses?"

"Lots of kisses."

And like every child who has been sat down with an adult and had things explained calmly and sensibly, Peter accepted it. He had a strange pain inside, but he knew it would pass.

He looked up at Hook. Why hadn't the old codfish run him through yet? He saw his enemy and instinctively his blood was fired again. He stood and pointed his sword at him.

Wendy sighed. "Peter!"

Hook had raised his sword too, but his face was impassive. "Now, now, little boy. I believe for once in my life, that I may find someone my own size to pick on. Be so kind as to run along before I change my mind and have you clapped in irons in the hold, where the bilge will swirl around you and rats will nibble away at those dirty little toes of yours."

Wendy turned to him with a withering look. He shrugged with casual nonchalance. Old habits died hard.

But Peter too found it hard to break the habit. He frowned. Hook was before him. Hook must be killed.

But then Wendy moved. She crossed to his enemy, reached over, removed the sword from his grasp and held his hand.

Peter stared down at their entwined fingers. He threw his own sword down on the deck and stamped on it in rage.

Wendy turned away and crossed to the boy standing in petulant rage before her. She reached across and took his face in her hands. Hook looked away.

"Peter." Never had she sounded so tender. "I cannot be what you want anymore. I do not want to be. Go now. Seek new adventures, new friends. They are there - they are waiting for you. But not with me ... and not with him. Leave him now. He has served his purpose, and he too deserves his happiness. You will find new enemies, new adversaries – torment them well." She smiled at him. And then, as a mother would kiss her child, she bent down and planted a tender kiss on the top of his head.

Peter looked up at her. For that moment, he did understand.

His face broke into the cocky grin she knew so well and suddenly and magnificently he soared into the air above her, circling the ship twice, before flying back off towards the island and disappearing, with the last remnant of her childhook, over the brow of a hill.

She watched, smiling, until he had vanished, and then turned back to Hook. He had picked up his sword again and was standing waiting for her.

His wild black hair was blowing in the sea breeze, the blue of his eyes cutting through the gathering gloom of evening, his aroma of smoke and wine wafted on the dusk air, flooding her senses.

He was as magnificent as that first moment she had seen him.

She walked back to him, and whispered up against his ear.

"I must have you now. Come inside me now."

Hook looked down at her, a faint look of surprise on his face, then the corner of his mouth turned up, and he felt himself stirring immediately. His fingers encircled her arm, and he tugged her back towards his cabin.

Slamming the door hard, he at once pushed her against it, his lust uncontainable. He pulled up her skirt, relieved to see she had not replaced her underwear. With only a moment to release himself from the first few lacings of his breeches, he gripped her hard under her rump, pushed her up as much as possible, and thrust into her, letting her sink down onto him at the same time. She groaned aloud at the sudden fullness which encompassed her. There was an thudding crash above her. She glanced up. He had thrust his hook into the wood above her shoulder, and bracing himself against it, he proceeded to plunge hard in and out of her, never slowing his pace, never taking his eyes from hers.

"Mine, mine, mine ... always mine. Wherever you go, whatever you do, you will be mine. Say it. Say it!"

"Yes, yes, yes. You know it. I am yours. I am always yours."

Their climaxes tore them away from their surroundings at the same time, and they could do no more than slump down onto the floor, a tangle of limbs and sated pleasure.

At length, they made it back to the bed, and fell into a sleep of deep pleasure and emotional exhaustion.

When Wendy woke up some time later, the man next to her was still asleep. She reached over, not touching him, but allowing her hand to hover a mere inch over his body. She moved it up and down over his torso and limbs, as if sensing it, healing it, and feeling it through energy alone. He was not aware of her actions.

She gazed at his countenance. He seemed completely at peace, harmless. How could this man have ever hurt anyone? But she knew he had – she had devised it, had she not?

And yet he had brought her such joy, such pleasure. He treated her as if she was the most exquisite thing on earth. How to explain that?

Such was the great and bewildering complexity of life.

To Peter, life was so simple. To him there was Good and Evil, Black and White, Day and Night.

Growing up had taught Wendy not to expect such convenient truths. And here was the proof - the beautiful, terrible man before her.

Did she envy Peter?

James Hook stirred and awoke, turning over and opening his eyes to behold Wendy before him. He immediately sat up and kissed her hard, rolling her onto her back and placing himself between her legs. It took only a few nuzzles at her breast for him to become hard and urgent. He was inside her before she could process fully what had happened.

No, she did not envy Peter.

After appeasing their need once more, they lay gently in each other's arms.

"I don't think I can sleep," she murmured into his chest.

"Neither can I. You have captivated my soul – both waking and sleeping."

She kissed the rise of his collarbone.

"What do you wish to do?" he asked softly.

"Go outside and look at the stars."

Hook cocked an eyebrow.

"My dear, it is past midnight. One of the benefits of being the captain is that one does not have to stand on watch. I am not accustomed to taking a turn about the deck at this ungodly hour."

She giggled at his humour, but then turned a smirk on him and slid her hand down between his legs, gently cupping what she found there, her fingertips running over the head.

"Please?"

"Well ... if you ask like that ..."

But before he could delay her anymore, she leapt from the bed and placed her underclothes on again. She no longer cared if any of the crew saw, but knew it would only be one or two in any case. Her hair fell in long thick waves around her shoulders. He smiled across at her, then got up, pulling on his breeches, but leaving his torso exposed.

Wendy opened the door to the cabin and went out onto the deck. The ship was groaning a little, its masts adjusting to the gentle swell of the sea beneath. She breathed in deep. It was a clear night, a myriad of star clusters adorned the heavens, more radiant than she had ever before seen.

She went to the side and leaned over, staring down into the frothing sea beneath her. Hook came up behind and enveloped her in his arms, pulling her in tight to him.

"When will you return to England?"

"Tomorrow."

"Are you certain?" He had anxiety in his voice for the first time.

"Yes."

There was silence.

"I will miss you."

"I will miss you. But we will both be busy. You must go. Sail away from here. Find other adversaries, other foes. It is your duty."

He was kissing her neck, a laugh stifled against it.

"I never thought I would find a woman who would encourage me in my fiendish and iniquitous behaviour."

"And I never thought I would find a man who ..." Her words faded into a groan as his fingers slid into her pantaloons and found her wet and needy once again.

"How will I find you?" There was an undercurrent of desperation in his voice.

"There will be a way."

He removed his fingers and stared hard at her, suddenly serious. "I need to know. I will do as you say. I will sail. I will find other things to ... divert me, but, at times ... I will have to come back to you." The fingers were replaced, the lips returned to her neck. "You feed me. You sustain me. You came back to me, Wendy. My Wendy ... I love you."

She heard the words. In the next moment, precipitated perhaps by what he had said, pleasure washed over her. She cried out into the night, never so certain of anything. After her body had recovered, she held his head and looked deep into the blue of his eyes, that blue which had held her captive for so long. "And thus it is, James Hook ... I love you too."

It was as if a shadow had been pulled away from his face. He seemed luminescent with happiness. He hardly smiled, but never had Wendy seen such deep contentment in another. Tears welled in her eyes. She reached up to embrace him, but before her hands had enclosed about his neck, she found she could not hold him. He was slipping out of her grasp, rising, some force bearing him upwards. Her hands trailed down his body, down his legs as they rose before her eyes.

He was flying.

She exhaled a laugh of delight and wonder.

"Behold, my Wendy. This is what you do to me! I can fly. I can fly! And this time, nothing shall be able to stop me. Nothing can shake this happiness from me, these thoughts of pure joy."

He soared high into the air above their heads, a cry of triumph breaking the night sky. She looked on in delight, then the ground fell away beneath her, and she rose to meet him, and there, high above the ocean, among the stars, they danced.

And nothing could bring them down.

Eventually, tiredness crept over them, and, slowly and mutually, they descended back to the ship.

"You see, my Wendy, you have taught me how to love ... you have taught me how to fly. We have found a way. I will fly to you. I will come to you when we need."

"I will be there, James. I will wait for you."

They walked back to his cabin.

And then they slept. And despite knowing that the morning would bring her departure, they slept well.

The morning broke gradually, but undeniably, the sun's rays piercing through the wooden shutters on the portholes. Wendy squeezed her eyes tight shut against them, but they prized her eyelids open in their insistence.

While her captain was still sleeping, Wendy rose, washed and dressed.

When James Hook opened his eyes, he saw her standing before him, a tender look of resigned sadness on her face.

"Are you leaving me now?"

"Yes. But not for good. Know that."

He rose to embrace her, holding her desperately tightly. His kiss seared her soul, questing deeper into her being than she knew would ever be again.

"I love you." They were the most sincere words James Hook would ever say.

She smiled against him.

"I love you." Wendy looked up. "Now you too must go. Do not linger here. There is much more out there. Go, Man, and live."

"I will come to you soon."

"I wish it no other way." She walked to the door, then looked back at him. "I will leave the drawer that contains my dreams open – I promise."

He smiled.

Wendy opened the door, and was gone.

And so it was. Wendy went home. She started her job and she worked. She was happy. She was fulfilled.

The drawer which contained her dreams was left open. ~Only a chink, but enough for him. And when the time was right, he would come to her, borne on the wind of need and desire. He would come at night, when she lay alone in her bed. She would sense his approach and open the window for him. He would climb into her room, into her bed, and there he would stay until the changing darkness just before the first rays of dawn. And he would draw such pleasure out of her, pleasure as he did those first times in Neverland. And she from him. Their desire for each other was never diminished, and they wrought ecstasy in the other in ways neither could have imagined or predicted.

And did she marry, I hear you ask?

Not Hook. A lady marry a pirate! Good heavens above! That could never have been, could it now?

But let us simply say that Wendy enjoyed a long and fruitful life.

And what of Hook? Could he then return?

Well, as we women know, there are times when our dreams resurface, when we open the drawer and take them out and examine them.

Wendy kept her promise.

She never shut her drawer.

And, remember ... Hook was, after all, Villain.

There we are. x

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