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Hook

It’s been ten days since I’ve seen Peter Pan.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d be worried that Neverland is taking him away from me. Even though I do know better, I still fear it sometimes, especially when he’s been off with his Lost Boys for this long.

Leaning back in my chair with my boots propped on my desk, I turn the page of the book in my hand. My eyes widen as they take in the words, and I swear my pants get a little tight.

Peter’s been bringing books back with him every time we go visit Wendy. I shouldn’t be surprised by the filth he reads. Truthfully, I love him even more for it. At least they help keep me occupied while he’s away. Even if it does make me miss him more.

Because I’d really love to be doing the things the two men in this book are doing with him.

Unfortunately, he’s not fucking here.

Don’t get me wrong. I respect what Peter’s doing. Admire him even. He’s become something like a foster parent to these kids. Or maybe more of a Big Brother. He’s helped so many of them in the thirteen years we’ve been back in Neverland. He admitted to me that he was selfish with his original Lost Boys, that he let them forget all about the world they came from because he was afraid of being alone. But he hasn’t made that same mistake again. Many Lost Boys have come and gone, better for having spent time in Neverland with Peter Pan.

I love him so much for what he’s doing. I do.

I’m just a grumpy pirate when I’m alone.

Sure, ten days probably shouldn’t feel like much to someone living an immortal life in Neverland. But ten days without him feels like an eternity in itself.

He doesn’t always spend this much time away. Usually when he does, it’s because one or more of the Lost Boys need him. He takes them on adventures, leaving chaos in their wake and wreaking havoc across the island.

Most of the time, I let them get away with it. But on occasion, some of my crew and I have to go remind them that the bloodthirsty pirates are still around. I might have a soft spot when it comes to Peter Pan, but I can’t let that tarnish my reputation.

Lately, however, they’ve been quiet. Suspiciously quiet.

When a heavy knock lands on my cabin door, I dog-ear the page I’m on. Peter hates it when I do that, but I have to find little ways of maintaining my villain status somehow.

“Enter,” I call out as I set the book on my desk.

Starkey strolls inside, followed by Smee. My boatswain drops into the chair opposite me while my first mate leans against the corner of my desk.

“It’s been quiet,” Starkey says, voicing the same thoughts I’ve had the last several days.

I reach up to scratch at my beard with the sharp tip of my hook. “Aye, it has.”

“We’re bored, Captain,” Smee grumbles.

Usually, I might suggest we go hunting and figure out what they’re up to. However, without any updates from Peter, I have no way of knowing if there’s a reason they’ve hidden themselves away. It’s no secret that I’ve never particularly liked kids, but I love Peter. I’m not going to risk inadvertently adding to any trauma his Lost Boys might have. Our games are almost always planned out in advance for that reason.

“Why don’t we set sail for a while?” Smee asks. “At least give the crew something to do.”

“No. I want to be here whenever Peter’s ready to come back.”

Starkey grins. He still occasionally likes to tease me that I fell in love with Peter Pan. This time, however, the little glint in his eyes as he peers down at his boots makes me wonder if he knows something I don’t.

The doors to the large window of my cabin burst open, letting in a warm breeze along with a tiny glowing, flying creature. The fairy dips and dives, stumbling in the air as she leaves a trail of iridescent dust in her wake. It’s not until she crashlands on my desk, tumbling over my map and into a pile of gold doubloons, that I notice what it was that was weighing her down.

She stands and dusts off her little purple skirt, annoyingly littering my desk with her dust. Picking up the scroll of parchment that’s at least as big as she is, she heaves it closer and drops it in front of me. Then she places her hands on her hips, sticks out her tongue, and blows a raspberry. I barely resist the urge to flick her off my desk before she flies away and back out of the window.

“Fucking pests,” I mutter as I snatch up the scroll.

I swear, they’re all the fucking same…

When I unroll the paper, I immediately recognize the sideways slant of Peter’s handwriting, and my heart aches for him.

Edge of the Neverwood. Come alone.

“It would appear the brats are up to something after all.”

I toss the note down on my desk, and the other two pirates both tilt their heads to read it. Smee frowns. Starkey still has an amused twitch in the corner of his mouth.

“Is there something you’d like to share, Starkey?”

“No, Captain,” he says as he quickly shakes his head. “I’m just wondering if he and the Lost Boys are really up to something or if Peter Pan is just planning a…rendevouz.”

I arch a brow, liking the sound of that.

Then Smee has to ruin it.

“Could be a trap, Captain.”

Frowning, I scratch at my beard again with a thoughtful, “Aye.” I look between the note, my boatswain, and my first mate, then ask Starkey, “You think I should go alone?”

“It’s your call, of course.” He shrugs, still fucking grinning. “Although, if you take any of your crew, you might risk…ruining the mood.”

Smee joins him in laughing at my expense.

Bloody pirates.

***

I decided to come alone. Maybe I’m the world’s biggest fool for that. But when Peter Pan tells me to come alone, I come alone. Even if this is him and his Lost Boys planning something nefarious, I trust Peter with my life.

Of course, I still brought my sword.

The early morning sun shines hot and bright above as I trudge up the shore, the gentle waves of the sea lapping against Marooners’ Rock in the distance. At least I know Peter’s in a good mood.

His emotions have always affected the weather in Neverland, and that hasn’t changed. If anything, I’ve noticed it more. It’s rare that we have genuine fights, but when we do, he sometimes flies away to cool off. When he’s pissed at me—usually for a good reason—storms darken the sky and rock the Jolly Roger in fierce winds. When I’ve done something that hurts him more than angers him, the snow returns.

Right now, the warmth of Neverland’s star is making me sweat beneath the weight of my long, black coat.

I still have my leather jacket that I got when I went searching for Peter Pan all those years ago. I wear it when we visit Wendy. One of those times we were there, I was complaining about how I missed my best frock coat, the one I left behind when I traded it for the jacket. The next time we visited, Wendy gave me the coat I’m wearing now, nearly identical to the one I lost. I kind of hated her when she told me she made it. Hated her because it made me like her even more.

Stalking toward the outer edge of the Neverwood, I keep my ears open and my eyes peeled for any sign of Peter or his Lost Boys.

But everything’s quiet.

Shadows fall on me as I cross through the tree line, only a few rays of light piercing the canopy of the forest. The noise of the water against the shore fades as I trudge a little deeper into the woods, an eerie hush causing me to stop in my tracks.

I turn my head to one side, then the other.

I’m not alone.

I sense them before I hear them—the distant, swift steps of small feet. They grow quicker and louder, the crunch of leaves and the snapping of twigs echoing through the woods.

Turning my head again, I catch a blur of color run between the trees.

Then there’s a sharp, sudden pain at the back of my head.

Everything goes black.

***

They fucking knocked me out. They’re all fucking dead. Every last one of them.

Wherever I am now, they’re here. The racket they’re making is deafening.

My hand and hook are tied behind my back, and a blindfold covers my eyes, keeping me in the dark as I awaken to the chaotic cacophony of the Lost Boys celebrating their capture of the pirate captain.

A chorus of singing and hollering and imitations of Pan’s crowing blares around me, along with the clanging of what sounds to be pots and pans. I sense movement beside me a split second before the banging of metal on metal resonates right beside my head. It leaves a ringing in my ears as I growl and try to shift away.

Laughter replaces all the other noise, and I realize how much I hate myself for coming alone after all.

Then someone is behind me, undoing the knot of the fabric over my eyes. It falls away, and I growl again as I blink against the light from several lanterns that illuminate the space. I realize we’re underground in the Lost Boys’ hideout. Despite my crew and I having destroyed it shortly after Peter Pan fled Neverland, it regrew in its same spot after his return.

As my vision adjusts, the figure sitting right in front of me slowly comes into focus.

“Hello, Captain Hook.”

Peter Pan’s smile is radiant, which only fuels the fury already coursing through my veins. How dare he look so fucking happy while I’ve been miserable missing him?

How dare he look so beautiful it hurts?

Despite my responding scowl, his smile never falters as he remains perched on a tree trunk like the one I’m on. His messy auburn hair glimmers in the candlelight. His knees poke out of holes in his jeans that are made of more rips than denim. Even though he brings several pairs back with him from our trips to the other world, they quickly end up in tatters just like the green shirt he’s wearing.

“Have a nice nap?” he asks as his forest green eyes glitter with amusement.

“Which one of your Lost Boys knocked me out, Pan?” I snarl. “I need to know who I’ll be killing first.”

“That would be me.”

I finally take my eyes off Peter to see a small girl standing off to the side, hands on her hips, short brown hair barely sweeping her shoulders, and dirt smudged across her nose.

Fuck. I forgot Jane was in Neverland.

Damn Wendy and her bloody offspring.

Jane’s only twelve years old, though she’s missed several months of aging since she’s spent the last few summers in Neverland. She has a similar kind of fire in her as her mother. However, when she’s here, she doesn’t take on the role of mother to the Lost Boys like Wendy once did. She’s every bit a Lost Boy herself.

I tilt my head at her. “Hook or sword? I’ll let you decide, and that’ll be the only mercy I grant you.”

She shrugs like she really couldn’t care less. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll only be sad I won’t get to see my mother rip off your hook and gut you with it.”

Wendy would.

I curl my lip in a sneer, and she laughs fearlessly.

“Can we go now, Peter?” one of the other Lost Boys asks, voice teeming with excitement.

I look at the boy with the curly blond hair who’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, then turn back to Peter and arch a brow, glaring at him with suspicion. “Go?”

He’s still grinning big enough to show his teeth. “Well, you see, Captain, the boys here have always wanted to sail on a pirate ship.”

My face falls.

Oh, fuck no.

I didn’t think it was possible, but his mouth stretches even wider. “Yes, that’s why you’re here, Captain. Cut the head off the snake, if you will. Without you there, it’ll be all too easy for the boys to incapacitate your pirates and take the Jolly Roger out for a spin.”

Without me there, my crew will go easy on the Lost Boys and let them win. It’s the deal we all have. Any time I’m absent, my pirates put up a fight for show before letting the boys take the upper hand. They don’t complain. After hundreds of years in Neverland, they’re willing to do just about anything to stave off boredom. I think many of them enjoy the games as much as the Lost Boys do.

Admittedly, as much as I do too.

Except, right now, I’m not exactly having fun. The thought of the Lost Boys taking over my ship while there’s nothing I can do about it has a red veil obscuring my vision.

I lean forward until my face is inches from Peter’s and growl, “You’re playing a very dangerous game, Pan.”

“But it’s a fun one.”

His beautiful smile is about the only thing stopping me from headbutting him and making him bleed.

He stands abruptly. “Ready to sail, boys?”

As the Lost Boys start cheering and crowing, I struggle against the binds around my wrists. While they’re all skipping around and arming themselves with their swords, I manage to slip the tip of my hook beneath the rope and start slicing away at it.

The Lost Boys begin racing out of their hideout—on their way to storm my bloody ship—their battle cries following after them. Peter stops Zinger with a hand on his shoulder, leaning over to whisper something in his ear.

Zinger’s been here the longest, nearly as long as Peter and I have been back in Neverland. He’s the oldest and takes care of the boys when Peter’s not around, when he’s spending most of his time with me. He’s also good with the pirates. It’s rare that we all drop the games and are civil with each other, but it happens.

A few years ago, the oldest Lost Boy got hurt pretty badly. There’s still a long, dark pink scar across his arm from when Starkey got him with his sword. We had to stop our fight, and Starkey was more distraught than Zinger was. Zinger was mad we all called off the fight. My first mate checked on him several times over the following weeks. I think Starkey would have adopted the kid if that was a thing in Neverland.

Things certainly have changed since I fell in love with Peter Pan.

However, at this moment, I’m almost forgetting why I did.

I’ve never been captured by the Lost Boys like this before. They’ve never wanted to take over my ship. Without me there, they’ll succeed. And likely fucking wreck it.

I hate Peter fucking Pan.

Once the Lost Boys are gone, Peter returns to me. The ropes binding me are loose now, but still not quite where I need them to be to slip out.

Instead of returning to the tree trunk in front of me, Peter straddles my lap, sitting on my thighs. With an even more brilliant smile than before, he says, “Looks like it’s just you and me, Captain.”

Fuck, I love this infuriating man.

Pan

Captain Hook is pissed.

Not that I expected anything less. Not with the Lost Boys currently on their way to commandeer his precious ship. I don’t even think all his rage is pretend.

I can practically feel the heat of his wrath radiating off him from where I sit on his lap, his hand and hook still tied behind his back. His eyes are locked on mine, dark and dangerous and full of fury. I rest my forearms on his shoulders and let my fingers idly tangle through his wavy black hair that I love just as much as I did thirteen years ago.

“What should I do with you, Captain?” I smirk when I feel him jerk beneath me, probably struggling against the ropes. “I could do anything I want. You’re all tied up and at my mercy.”

“You think I plan on staying this way?” he growls.

I sure hope not.

I’ve missed him too terribly these last ten days to hope he doesn’t eventually break those binds, to hope he doesn’t unleash his temper on me and play his own games.

Hook doesn’t like it when I’m away for so long—I don’t particularly like it either—but I know he understands. The boys have needed me, and I always feel a stronger sense of responsibility when Jane’s here. Before they all left, I reminded Zinger to keep a close eye on her. Wendy would never forgive me if something happened to her daughter.

But I’m not worried. Before Wendy would even let Jane come to Neverland, she came here herself and had a…talk with the pirates. More like she issued a string of threats, but whatever. She made it clear that if anything happened to Jane, she’d torture them for all eternity. She could do exactly that considering the magic of Neverland. She would do it too, even if it meant bringing a small army with her.

I have to admit the way those pirates’ eyes widened at her frightening promise was entertaining as hell.

Besides, judging by the look in Hook’s eyes, I’m probably in way more danger than the Lost Boys are right now.

“You should know better than to fuck with my ship, Pan.”

Before I can even think of a response, Hook’s arms are suddenly free, his hand and his hook both shooting out for me. Before his hand can reach my throat, I’m pushing off him and flying backward. His hook slices through the air where I was less than a second ago.

I laugh just to taunt him further, my feet hovering above the ground. “Oh, Captain Hook is big mad.”

His upper lip curls in a snarl. “Let me show you how mad I am with my hook.”

I wiggle my brows. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

I flip in midair, picking up my sword on the way, then propel myself toward the exit of the Lost Boys’ underground hideout.

As much as I hope Hook does catch me, I’d rather not play our games here.

Most of the time, I live on the Jolly Roger with Hook. But when I’m spending days with the Lost Boys, I have my own place a few trees over. This underground hideout beneath the largest tree in Neverland is their home now, but I decided to build mine close by in case they ever need me.

Once I’m outside, I fly behind another tree and listen to Hook grunting and cursing as he climbs out of the steep tunnel leading in and out of the hideout. I have to cover my mouth to muffle my laughter.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, Peter Pan.”

I float out from the tree I was hiding behind and grin at Hook who stands only a few yards away. “Do you think the Lost Boys have set sail yet, Captain?”

“I’m going to make you pay for this, Pan,” he growls as he pulls his sword from its sheath. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

I manage to bite back the urge to tell him I really hope it’s not, but I can’t hold back my smirk. “Codfish.”

“Brat.”

Some things don’t change.

He charges forward, swinging his sword. It whooshes through the air before I meet his blade with mine, the clashing of steel ringing out through the woods. They hit once. Twice. I let him push me back, each drive of his sword launching me back in the direction of my own hideout.

The moment we’re close enough, I fly backwards out of his reach. When he scowls, I respond with a wink. Then I flip in the air again and disappear from his sight as I dive headfirst into the tunnel that leads beneath the second largest tree in the Neverwood.

My little home away from home is a bit smaller than the Lost Boys’ hideout. But it’s fine since I just use it to sleep. Hook’s only ever been here a handful of times, when he tracks me down because he can’t stand to miss me any longer. Sometimes I like to make him chase me, and I’m sure he would’ve shown up here eventually had I stayed away much longer.

Hook comes sliding down the tunnel, landing gracefully on his feet and immediately resuming our battle.

The sounds of our blades striking echo through the small underground room. I’m grinning like an idiot as I land on my feet only to jump up on the small bed in the corner. I’ve always loved sword fighting with Captain Hook.

“As soon as I’m done dealing with you,” he says between the clashing of our swords, “every last one of your Lost Boys are going to be walking the plank.”

“They’ll be well on their way out to sea by then, Captain,” I respond with a laugh.

He roars and slashes his blade in an arc, narrowly avoiding me.

I leap off the bed and soar back into the air, circling around and coming back at him. Our swords hit, and he brings his hook up to link them together, pulling me closer until our faces are inches apart.

“Then I guess I better make this quick.”

He yanks his hand and hook down at the same, twisting my sword out of my grasp and causing it to clatter to the floor. I spin around to fly away, but I don’t get far. His own sword joins mine at our feet as he grabs a fistful of my hair and tugs me back harshly. A cry rips from my throat as my back collides against his chest.

“Now you’re at my mercy, Pan,” he growls in my ear.

With his hand still gripping my hair, he shoves me down until my knees crash painfully against the floor. The cold curve of his hook comes up beneath my chin, tilting my head back until I’m forced to look up at him.

“Well, look what I’ve caught.”

It could be the slow, husky drawl of his voice, or the sinful smirk stretching across his face, or his hand in my hair, or his hook against my skin, or the adrenaline from the fight. It could be all of it. Whatever it is, my dick is awake now, ready for its turn in on the action as it stiffens under the rough fabric of my tattered jeans.

Judging by the widening of his smirk and the glint in his eyes, Hook is well aware of what he’s doing to me.

His hook leaves my chin and slices downward, tearing my shirt from collar to navel. I’m used to him ripping up my clothes by now.

With his eyes still locked on mine as he leans over me, the sharp tip of his hook slowly grazes a trail back up my abs to my chest. It circles my right nipple, causing my eyelids to flutter. He sweeps his hook to my other nipple, and I gasp.

My cock is now rock hard, aching as it strains against my jeans. I meet his intense stare, both of us already breathless.

“What are you going to do to me, Captain?”

“I was thinking of leaving you here like this, all fucking needy.”

I whimper and shake my head as much as I can with him still holding tightly onto my hair.

His hook carefully brushes up the column of my throat, scraping over my pulse point. “Unless you can give me a good reason for not running to stop the Lost Boys from wrecking my bloody ship.”

I wish I could confidently say that he wouldn’t do that, but he sounds pretty sincere. I think he’s actually worried I’d risk our home. I decide to ease his apprehension.

“Starkey,” I manage to rasp out.

His eyes narrow dangerously. “Excuse me?”

I almost laugh, imagining what he’s thinking about me saying his first mate’s name while he has me in such a compromising position.

“Starkey knows,” I explain. “I warned him and told him to hide below deck. Zinger knows where he’ll be. Neither one of them will let anything happen to your precious ship. We all know there’s nothing you love more than the Jolly Roger.”

The last bit was meant to goad him, but his eyes soften. “Except for you, Little Star.”

If he wasn’t holding me up by my hair, I’d probably melt right into the floor.

Then his smirk returns, more feral than before. “But now that just means I can take my time with you.”

Yes, please.

Hand still gripping my hair, he circles around until he’s standing in front of me. “Fuck, Peter. You always look so pretty on your knees.”

My eyes flick down to where his erection tents his pants, and I lick my lips.

“I know what you want,” he says. “Go ahead. But don’t expect me to be gentle after what you did.”

His low, gruff voice promising punishment only fuels my desire as I reach up and undo the buttons of his black trousers, pulling them below his waist until his hard cock springs free. My mouth waters. He gives me a little slack as I lean forward and lick him from base to tip, collecting his salty pre-cum on my tongue.

He groans as his hand tightens in my hair again. “Your Lost Boys knocked me out, tied me up, and are currently stealing my ship. I don’t think you should get to enjoy this.”

That’s all the warning I get before his hips thrust forward, his dick pushing past my lips as they stretch around the thick width of him. He doesn’t stop until I feel the tip of his cock in the back of my throat. He doesn’t show any mercy even as I gag around him.

If he really didn’t want me to enjoy this, he’d be disappointed right now.

“I think you should beg for my forgiveness,” he growls before pulling out of my mouth, allowing me barely a whole breath, and driving right back in. “Are you sorry, Peter?”

My eyes are watering, and my dick is jerking against my jeans like it’s trying to escape and get to Hook. I peer up at him, his face a blur. I consider nodding in answer, but…

He called me a brat.

I shake my head.

His eyes darken, and I brace myself. He brings his hook to the right half of my shirt that’s still barely hanging off my shoulders and catches one side of the collar, twisting the fabric around the metal. With a hold on my shirt and his hand now flat against the back of my head, he moves his hips faster, harder. His cock hits the back of my throat with each violent thrust. He keeps me firmly in place even as my hands fly to his thighs.

Not that I want to stop him. He can believe I don’t love this if that’s what he wants. But he knows better. I love it when he’s rough, when he uses me and takes his pleasure. Almost as much as I love when he’s the one giving me pleasure.

“I guess if you’re not sorry,” he says between heavy, rasping breaths, “I’ll just fuck this mouth, spill down your throat, and leave.”

My brows dip low as I give him the best sad puppy eyes I can while his cock continues ramming down my throat. Every time I gag, more tears pool in my eyes.

“You want me to fill your arse instead?”

I nod, the movement barely perceptible between his thrusts.

“You want me to let you come?”

I nod again.

“Then beg.”

He takes half a step back, his dick slipping from my mouth. I have to catch myself from chasing after it even though I’m gasping for air.

“Please, Hook,” I choke out, peering up at him as I feel the tears from before slide down my cheeks. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please give me your cock, Captain. I’ll be good from now on, I swear. I’ll always be good.”

He smirks. “Liar.”

Of course I’m lying. But I can at least be good right now if it means he’ll fuck me.

“Stand up,” he says as he releases me and takes another step back.

I do, swaying, my legs like jelly beneath me. I blink away the rest of the tears as I stare at him expectantly, waiting for his next command.

“Take off your clothes,” he says as he already works to remove his coat. “I want you naked. Now.”

While I quickly undress, he tosses his coat aside but keeps the rest of his own clothes on. My mouth waters all over again as I stare at him in his loose trousers and tunic that shows off part of his chest, his hard cock still out and glistening with my saliva.

With my ripped and ragged clothes on the floor at my feet, I meet his gaze, my own immediately becoming hostage to the intense, dark, and hungry look in his eyes. My dick stands at attention, begging to be touched. When I move my hand to do exactly that, Hook steps forward again.

“Don’t even think about it,” he growls as he catches my wrist in his hand and my cock in his hook.

I freeze as the cool metal presses against the base of my shaft, and a shiver races up my spine.

I’m not afraid. Not really. He’s had his hook for ages and wields it expertly. But when I look down at my dick nestled within the curve of it, there’s still a shot of adrenaline. A thrill.

He releases my wrist only to grip me by the nape of my neck, hauling me forward until our foreheads touch. His hook slowly, carefully, glides up the underside of my cock, making me moan as I meet his gaze.

“You were gone for too damn long, Peter,” he whispers in the warm air between us. “I missed you so fucking much.”

His hook moves away from my cock as he crashes his lips down on mine and presses his body into me. I moan into his mouth as his cock lines up with mine, and I instinctively start rocking my hips in search of friction.

“I missed you too,” I whimper against his lips as my hands move into his hair, holding him even closer to me.

As his tongue dives into my mouth, he steps forward, backing me up. He continues ravaging me like he’s trying to devour me whole. I’d let him if that’s what he really wanted.

But then his mouth is gone as his hand moves from the back of my neck to my chest. With one swift push, he knocks me over, and I land on the bed. His knee hits the edge between my legs, and I widen them as I push myself backwards. He towers over me, crowding me, as my chest heaves in wild anticipation.

“Next time you’re gone that long without so much as a word, I’m coming after you.” As he speaks, he reaches into the pocket of his pants and produces a small brown vial of oil. “I’m hunting you down and showing you far less mercy than I am now. I’m not a patient man, Peter Pan. I don’t like it when you stay away from me. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I answer breathlessly. “Please, Hook. I need you.”

“Show me how much. Let me see where you need me.”

I bend my legs, grabbing the backs of my knees to lift them and expose myself to him. He groans and leans down, lowering himself on the bed. The first hot swipe of his tongue over my hole has my dick jerking and leaking pre-cum on my abs. I moan loudly as he swirls his tongue around my rim before licking his way up to my balls, his beard scratching along at the tender flesh.

I’m already a writhing, moaning mess as he returns to my hole, lighting up every nerve ending with just his warm breath and wet tongue. When I reach down to grab my cock and give it a stroke, his growl vibrates against my entrance.

“No touching.”

I whine but reluctantly return my hand to my knee, gripping both of them tight to keep from giving into the urge to touch myself again.

The moment his tongue presses past my rim, I let out a choked sob, and I’m certain my knuckles turn white as I dig my nails into my skin. He fucks me with his tongue until I’m damn near in tears from the pure, raw pleasure and the intoxicating need for more.

Hook sits up, grinning wickedly at me as he licks his lips. “Such a good boy for me.”

I glare at him, but it feels weak even to me. “Get inside me.”

He arches a brow.

“Please.”

“That’s my good boy.”

Raising the vial, he stabs his hook into the cork, twisting and popping it out. He pours a generous amount on his dick, then brings the bottle over my arse, tipping it so the remaining oil drips down my crack to my hole.

He tosses the vial away, and the next second, his finger is pushing inside me. My eyes roll into the back of my head. When the touch of cool metal grazes my right nipple, I hiss and peer down to see the curve of his hook rubbing against the tight bud.

“Fuck, Hook,” I moan. “More. Please.”

Adding a second finger, he thrusts them both inside me as unintelligible mumbles slip past my lips.

“Is this what you wanted, Peter?” he asks as he fucks me with his fingers, eventually adding a third as he stretches me open. The top of his chest that I can see glistens with sweat and heaves with each ragged breath, his eyes dark with lust. “Is this why you stayed away so long? To do this to me? You think I need to be reminded how much I fucking want you? Was I not giving you what you need?”

He’s fucking me relentlessly with his fingers, giving me only a taste of what I can expect when it’s his cock inside me instead. I can hardly think, let alone speak. Hook can’t possibly think that’s why I was gone as long as I was.

Somehow, I manage to say, “You always give me what I need.”

“Fucking right I do.” He withdrawals his fingers and lines the head of his cock against my hole. “And I always will, Little Star.”

His hips move forward as he pushes his way inside. My lips part on a sharp inhale the moment his crown slips past my rim. I feel every blessed inch of him as he fills me slowly, allowing the air in my lungs to gradually seep out on a long exhale.

Once he’s all the way in, filling me completely, he leans down over me. I let my legs fall around his waist, wrapping tightly around him. He holds himself up with his hook digging into the sheets by my head and brings his hand up to wrap possessively around my throat.

“Tell me you’re always going to be mine, Peter.”

“For eternity.”

His mouth comes down on mine in a hard, desperate kiss as his hips begin to rock in a steady rhythm. My hands move into his hair again, tangling in the dark waves. The fabric of his tunic offers just a touch of friction as his stomach grinds along my dick, igniting blazing flames that settle in my lower spine, making my balls ache.

I missed this so much more than I thought I did. I missed him. The way he completely consumes me, makes me know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m his. That I belong to him. More than I ever belonged to Neverland.

The heat of his tongue wraps around mine as he fucks into my mouth while his cock fills and fucks my arse. When he hits that spot inside me, a moan slips past my lips and then his as he swallows it up hungrily.

He gives my throat a gentle squeeze as his mouth leaves mine. His lips graze along my jaw before he growls low in my ear, “Come for me.”

That’s all I’ve ever needed. His cock filling me, hitting that spot. Just a little friction. His husky, demanding voice telling me to come.

My orgasm hits me in violent, rolling waves, pouring out of me as pleasure lights me up from the inside. My hands tighten in Hook’s hair as I cling to him, trembling as the waves begin to ebb, ripples of euphoria lingering in their wake.

Hook groans in my ear, and the next moment, his cock pulses inside of me, the warmth of his release making me feel even more unbelievably full.

His mouth moves back to mine, kissing me slowly, lovingly, as the waves of our orgasms recede and his dick softens in my arse. I whimper into his mouth as he pulls out. After giving me one last kiss, he rolls off and lands on his back beside me.

There’s a sticky mess left on his shirt, but most of my cum still coats my abs. I sweep my finger through it and bring it to Hook’s mouth with a grin, painting his lips. He sucks it into his mouth, sucking and licking my finger clean.

“Careful, Peter,” he says. “You think your arse could take another round?”

I chuckle. “I’ll never get enough, Captain.”

His eyes darken again, but before he can pounce, I nestle within the crook of his arm, laying my hand on his chest. He holds me close, his thumb brushing over the bare skin of my hip.

“I should take you hostage more often if it ends like that.”

A low rumble vibrates through his chest beneath my palm. “Maybe I’ll take you hostage next time.”

“I’d like that too,” I say with another laugh.

We lay like that for a few minutes, quiet except for the sounds of our breathing as it evens out. His thumb continues its slow circles over my skin as I play with the fabric of his tunic that’s still damp with sweat. I wait, surprised he’s not running out of here yet.

“Shall we go make sure your ship’s still in one piece?” I finally ask.

He sighs heavily. “No,” he says, almost reluctantly despite the grin I hear in his voice. “Let the Lost Boys have their fun.”

I sit up just enough to stare down into his eyes, a smile stretching my lips. “I love you, James Hook.”

“I love you too, Little Star.”

Then he pulls me down for another kiss.