Giving Fantasia: The Taking Fantasia Sequel

Chapter 73: Love Me Not

Chapter 73: Love Me Not

"N-no. Peter --" 

Wendy's heartbeat escalated as Peter eased her away. Initially relieved that the danger had passed, Wendy immediately became regretful. Peter had stopped. Why had he stopped?  What was happening? What did she do wrong? He wasn't pleased, she wasn't pretty, something was terribly, horribly wrong. 

"Peter." Still trembling, Wendy reached as Peter strode to the window. She panicked, suddenly fearful he would leave. "Peter wait, please wait – "

"That's what we're doing." Hands on the window pane, Peter gulped a cool breeze. He was sweating. Blistering. The air practically moistened as he dissipated heat. "We're waiting."

"Waiting?" 

"Yes."

"B-but –"

"Shh."

"Peter I –"

"Shh!"

"Peter I'm sorry, I'm –"

"Wendy." Peter clawed his hair. He'd almost growled, as if every shred of self-restraint was withholding an inner beast. "No talking. Shh."

Wendy hushed. As Peter panted, calming his urges, she waited for him to yell, laugh, and mock. She was ashamed, humiliated, and she deserved whatever came next.

Haggardly, Peter straightened from the window. He rolled his neck, pressed his eyes, and ruffled his hair. The ends stuck in wild directions as he crossed to a corner closet. For a moment he disappeared inside. Then he reemerged with a green bathrobe, which he placed beside Wendy.

Wendy edged from the bathrobe. She looked nervously at Peter, uncertain if it was safe to talk.

Peter smiled. It was forced, but kind.

"Go ahead." he motioned. "Put it on."

"But..." 

Wendy heard Tinkerbell taunting in a memory. No wonder you can't hack it in bed.

"No." Tremulously, she pushed the bathrobe. "No I—"

"Fast would be good." Peter said, eyes flickering hungrily over her slip. Voice strained, he repeated. "Just... just put on the bathrobe. It's okay. We're waiting. You're...you're not ready."

Wendy was devastated.

"Y-yes I am." Wendy countered, desperate to save her dignity and his desires. "I am ready. I – "

"No." Kneeling before her, Peter softly corrected. "No Wendy, you're not."

"But I am." Recanting every fear, Wendy begged. "I'm sorry about before. I'm sorry about whatever I – I.... I am. I'm ready. And I want to... with you."

His silence killed her.

"Peter." She fought tears. "Can't you tell?"

Peter gazed.

"Yes." he finally said. "I can tell. But...I can also tell that you're nervous. I can also tell that you're scared....and..."

Almost pityingly, Peter finished.

"And I can tell that you're not doing this for us."

Wendy was speechless. Peter had disarmed her every plea with a tender smile. He was gracious, humble, and very adult.

Wendy never loved Peter so dearly.

So, for his sake, she tried again.

"But...I am. I'm doing this for you."