Forbidden For You.=Sequel= SLOW UPDATES

Chapter Fourteen: The Beginning of the End.

Chapter Fourteen: The Beginning of the End.

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Third Person POV.

Kaytee was a worried wreck and for good reason, too. Not only had her son run off in a fit of rage, but her husband was also amiss, and she didn't know what the mental state of either of the two was. All she could do was hope to God that they were at least safe, and that they'd be home soon. Until then, she entertained the Lost Children by telling stories, an activity that calmed them all down, including herself.

Luckily enough, they had all fallen asleep about halfway through the second story. Kaytee didn't take this as an insult, but more of a blessing and a sign that her mothering, soothing tone had been proved perfect. The picture of all her precious sleeping babes before her made her smile, but then frown when she remembered that, no, not all of her babes were here.

She jumped when a warm hand was placed on her shoulder. She relaxed instantly though, when her brown eyes met green ones. Her husband smiled, both apologetic and excited. He wordlessly jerked his head towards the other room, indicating that they could talk in there and not disturb the children. Kaytee nodded, got up from her rocking chair, and followed his lead.

“Before you ask,” Peter starts in a low voice, and holds up a hand when she opens her mouth to speak, “let me just tell you right now that everything between Sam and I is okay. We talked, and things couldn't be better, honestly. I'm even giving the girl a chance. Her name's Angel... as much as it pains me to say it, she does seem different, and I'm willing to let them see each other. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about this, my love, but I had to do this myself. Forgive me?” He whispers hurriedly, his eyes pleading as he grasps her hands into his own and kisses them. She smiles and nods.

“Of course, Peter.” she says softly, relieved that harmony is restored in the family once again, “Of course.

“Good,” Peter sighs, and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close, “now let me kiss you, my beautiful bride.”

And she lets him, wrapped up in his earthy scent and strong, lean arms that were always so tender and warm to her. Her fingers are surrounded by his soft, blond curls and she sighs into his lips, peaceful, completely engrossed in love. Her mind is swirling with a dizzying concoction of his lips and body, but he pulls away before she can get lightheaded. Oh yes, Peter Pan was a mighty fine kisser.

“I love you,” he whispers breathlessly as he leans his head against hers. The adoration in his eyes could never be mistaken as dishonest, because if there was ever the most truthful truth spoken, this would be it. Peter loved his Kaytee with the utmost fervency and would go to the ends of the universe just to see her smile. Kaytee's heart swelled because, my goodness, she was lucky.

“I love you, Peter.” She replies, “So very much, it almost hurts. Kiss me again.” All too willing to please her, he presses his lips to hers once more. This time the kiss is passionate, fueled by the most undying of all loves, but an underlying lust, that comes with the curse of being a man and woman, is now present.

Blood starts too rush, bodies are pushed against walls, and hands start to fumble around in the dim lighting because, my god, they can't get close enough for either to be satisfied.

When Peter starts to nip and kiss down Kaytee's throat, she knows that they are coming very close to the Point of No Return, and if he keeps this up, she won't be able to push him away to make him stop. But with the children in the other room, and who knows where her actual son is, she gasps out a quiet 'Gently, Peter. We really mustn't'.

And though Peter knows this is correct(he had been thinking it himself, but didn't have the strength to stop), he was still very reluctant to straighten up and pull his hands away from where they had so desperately submerged themselves in Kaytee's clothing. Their breathing was ragged, and when they made eye contact, both burst into fits of giggles at what teenagers they were acting like. Sneaking around, stealing kisses, and having far too much trouble in stopping their hormonal rages. They collected their wits, entwined their hands, and walked back into the room. None of the children had stirred even an inch, dead to the world in pure slumber in a mass of snores.