✓ | a little pixie dust ( modern peter pan )

( 06. the calm before )

( ! NSFW— AKA CONTAINS DRUG USE AND SEX AND STRONG LANGUAGE ! )

WENDY AWOKE TO a half-empty hammock, the place where Peter had lain cold and deserted. She got up in a sleep-tinted haze and winced as the frigid floor made contact with her bare feet. The brunette took a flickering candle from the tree trunk night table, then tiptoed over to the dark stairs. The dancing flame of the candle cast the room in ephemeral shadows as she descended.

When she was down, a feathery light touch encircled Wendy's waist and pulled her close. Lips brushed a kiss against her cheek, her brow, the side of her mouth. When she gazed up, a pair of dilated pupils met hers.

"Wendy, Wendy Darling," Peter mumbled against the side of her neck. He smelled overpoweringly sweet— like Wendy had just entered a candy shop.

"You smell like sweets," the girl whispered. Peter pulled her down to the floor, scooting backwards until they had pressed themselves into a tiny alcove under the stairs. The smell lingered here as well. Wendy pressed a kiss to Peter's lips; he tasted like peppermints and lollies and everything delicious.

She heard a crackling of cellophane as Peter fished something out of his pocket. Wendy couldn't see what it was in the darkness of the alcove. In fact, the only thing she could see was the dainty candle, flickering ever so slightly. Everything else was encased in shadows.

"A sweet for my sweet," Peter whispered as he pressed a little bag of sweet-smelling powder into Wendy's outstretched palm.

It did not cross Wendy Darling's mind, not even for a moment, that there was a possibility that Peter had not given her normal candy. She unwrapped the sweet of indeterminable color, relishing Peter's sweetened breath on her cheek, and tipped her head back to sprinkle it on her tongue.

God, was it delicious. It tasted like birthday cake, chocolate fondue, complete and utter euphoria. The girl couldn't help but giggle, letting the dissolved candy run down her throat. Pretty colors danced across her vision when she closed her eyes— red, blue, green, just like the fireworks exploding outside.

"Woah," Wendy breathed, leaning back against Peter's chest. His laugh sent vibrations throughout her whole body and she shivered deliciously. Just as an experiment, she turned around and faced Peter, then leaned up and kissed him, and the sensation was otherworldly.

All of her senses were heightened. Every cold finger Peter touched to her bare waist, every time his lips brushed hers, a tingle went down Wendy's spine and a rainbow of colors played on her closed eyelids. She obediently lifted up her arms to aid Peter in slipping off her shirt, then her bra.

"Faith," Peter muttered against her bare chest, hands running up and down Wendy's waist.

"Trust," he continued, palm sliding up her inner thigh.

"And a little pixie dust," he finished, Wendy letting out a breathy sigh as his fingers surpassed the waistband of her underwear.

—

"We're here," said Belle, staring at the vast woods the police car was at the edge of.

Sheriff Jones twisted around to face the girl in the backseat. "He's in the woods, dear?"

"Neverland, Neverland, you go there you'll never land," Belle sang as a reply. She giggled for good measure, the sherriff's features twisting in confusion.

"Deputy," he began, "scout around. See if you can find anything."

Deputy Smee saluted, then cast one last glance at the strange blonde. "Are you taking her to the hospital?" he asked Jones. "She's bleeding all over the car."

"I will," Jones replied. "Now go!"

As his deputy disappeared into the shadowy woods, Sherriff Jones took a first aid kit from the compartment under his seat. He silently exited the car, then opened the door that led to the backseat. The girl was gazing at him, her eyes glazed over.

"Where's your hook, Captain?" she asked, voice dreamy.

"Haven't got one," Jones replied. He took a bandage from the kit and wrapped it around Belle's injured hand.

"Tick tock, tick tock, Hook's afraid of the doggy croc," Belle sang quietly. The place where the sherriff's wrist ended and his prosthetic hand began gave a peculiar throb. He gave the bandage around Belle's hand a sharp pull, the girl wincing slightly.

"That's enough out of you," he growled. Just as he slammed the car door, he heard the crunching of leaves behind him.

"Sherriff," he heard Deputy Smee say, "I found something."