The Dark Days

Fourteen.

I'm not entirely surprised that I have to spend the rest of the day alone. Peter's off "making preparations" and I'm not allowed to leave. He left me breakfast and comes back around noon with lunch. When the door opens I immediately turn the other direction to face the back wall. Peter hates it when I ignore him, but I hate it when he leaves suddenly, so we're even. He closes the door behind him and slowly comes to sit by me on the bed. I'm sitting in the middle of it, my bare legs crossed under me, picking at my fingernails. He sits down on the left side of the bed and offers me a paper bag, which I ignore as well.

"Kasey," he says in a firm voice, "you need to eat."

"What I need," I snap, "is you." He opens his mouth to say something, but I beat him. "Maybe if you would stop running off doing top secret who-knows-what and start appreciating the fact that I'm actually still here -"

"I do appreciate that you're here," he argues, cutting me off.

I scoff and role my eyes. "Could've fooled me - twice!"

Peter crawls onto the bed and sits on his knees in front of me, gripping my shoulders gently. "I know you probably don't believe me, but it's true. I love you, and I'm so happy you can be here." He leans his forehead against mine and cups my face with his hands. "I just want you to be happy, too."

"How am I supposed to be happy when I'm stuck in an underground bunker without access to a shower of any kind?" I demand. "I'm filthy, and I smell like a sewer rat. I'm supposed to be happy about that?"

Peter sighs and kisses my forehead, putting it on his shoulder. He holds it there as his other arm goes around my back. "I'm sorry, Kasey," he mumbles, his lips brushing my ear. "I'm sorry you're not happy."

Suddenly I feel a tingling sensation all over my body and sit up. I notice how I suddenly don't smell and how I'm no longer covered in dirt and grime. I run a hand through my hair and realize that it's no longer greasy. I let my gaze connect with Peter's and can't help smiling a very small smile.

"Are you happy now?" he asks, playing with a piece of my now-clean black hair.

I shake my head and wrap my arms around his neck, resting my chin on his shoulder. "Maybe; maybe not."

Peter hugs me back and sighs. "Wow, I have rubbed off on you."

"Shut up!" I say, slapping his arm. He chuckles, and then it's quiet for a moment. He lays back and I snuggle into his chest while he tangles our legs together.

"I wish I could stay here all day," he mumbles, and I lift my head to look at him. "I wish I could stay with you, keep you happy. All day long." He raises his head as well, looking into my eyes. "I would if I could."

"Then why don't you?" I ask as his hand slips down to my thigh. "You don't have to go. You can stay. You just choose not to."

"No, baby, I can't," he insists, then sighs, letting his head fall against the bed. "You wouldn't understand."

"No, I wouldn't," I say as I sit up, my knees on either side of his waist.

"What're you doing?" he asks, his fingertips brushing my thigh. "Don't go. Please?"

"I'm not leaving," I growl. "Where would I go? Besides, I'm not wearing any pants. Talk about weird."

Peter's eyebrow quirks, making a nervous bud bloom in my stomach. His hands are on my thighs, and they begin to slide up. It makes me shiver. His hands reach my waist and stop.

"Can we have a little fun before I have to go?" he begs, smirking evilly. "I really want you right now." I bite my lip nervously as his hands start to go up my shirt.

"Now, Peter, be gentle with me -" He flips us over, making my voice freeze in my throat. He hovers just half an inch above me and grins wickedly.

"Oh, now I'm on top," he says, his hips beginning to grind into mine. "Looks like I can do whatever I want."

I moan. "Peter," I say, trying to keep my hips from responding. "Don't you dare try anything."

Peter only smirks, and then leans down over my neck. He begins to kiss it gently, his hips still grinding into mine. I moan again, my hands travelling to his hair and gripping it. My hips finally respond, and I feel him smile against my skin.

"I hate you," I say as his lips begin to travel back up.

"That's not true," he says against my skin. His lips reach my jaw. "If you did - you wouldn't be letting me kiss you."

His kisses reach the other side of my jaw and he kisses up to the corner of my mouth. "Then I guess I'll just have to stop you, then," I say, making his kisses stop and his hips freeze. My hips keep moving.

"I'd like to see you try," he says, and then kisses my lips, hard, making my brain buzz. His hips begin to grind against mine again and I can't help smiling.

After a while my hands come out of his hair and travel down to the bottom of his shirt, which makes him moan and kiss me harder. I slowly begin to lift his shirt, purposely brushing his skin as I do so. He sits up, pulling me up with him, and lets me tug his shirt off. When it's all the way off he reconnects our lips with the same intensity, and the shirt drops to the floor. He lays us back down and then flips us so I'm on top. Peter's right hand is under the waistband of my panties, the left slipping up my shirt. My arms are around his neck. The hand in my shirt reaches my bra and the fingertips slip under it, making me pull back.

"You're dirty, Peter Pan," I mumble, unable to refuse the smile creeping onto my face. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"What?" he whispers, smiling as well.

I press a short, soft kiss to his lips, closing my eyes. "I love it." Peter softly kisses me back and I can feel his smile.

"Good," he mumbles, and then we're kissing again. His left hand slips back down my back and then raises my shirt. I let him pull it off and and then my fingers go to his pants. I slip both my pointer fingers inside, making him shiver.

I pull away. "You don't really need these, do you?" I ask, slipping them down a little. He moans and flips us over again, holding my hands as I push his pants down his legs. When they come off he takes them from me and lets them fall to the floor.

Just before Peter reconnects our lips he moves his hands. His right slips into my panties, his left slips under my bra again. When we're kissing again I slide my hand down to his boxers and let my fingers slide down the side of his thigh, softly rubbing it and making him moan. He grinds his hips harder, mine automatically responding.

We continue for about an hour, then Peter has to leave. I observe his movements as he gets dressed, watching the muscles in his back shift and flex. I really just want to reach out and stroke his back.

He turns back to me and kisses me once, softly and slowly, before pulling back. His hand comes up and strokes my cheek. "I'll be back in time for dinner," he says, kissing me again and standing up.

"Will you stay the night?" I ask, sitting up.

"Just until you fall asleep, darling," he says sadly. "I'm almost finished."

My heart crumbles as he says this and I look away. "Oh." I cross my legs underneath me and put my head into my hand.

Peter sighs sadly, but doesn't say anything as he leaves.

I get my shirt from the floor and put it on, getting under the comforter and curling up in the bed. After a few minutes, I fall asleep.