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tampered2007-03-12 10:36 am
ironhook.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-03-12 10:36 am
Complete; Monser Log of Doom 2.0
When; February 18; Wrath Day oh, the backdated D|
Rating; NC-17
warnings; !CHAN!, violence, crazy!jas, questionable consent
Characters; Peter Pan![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
all_butone & Jas Hook ironhook
Summary; Jas is finished sharing.
Log;
Sing a song of six pence, pocket full of knives--
Still as death, crouched with his back against the mainmast. It was a bright day-- beyond the decks of the Jolly Roger. It was a beautiful ship, sleek and elegantly sinister, but today-- today was different. Shadows seemed to cling to the hull, climb in the crevices of the yardarms and between the nets and hide under the sails. Any other day she looked dangerously seductive, but floating idle in the ocean beneath sunlight that didn't look quite so brilliant shining on her timber, on this day she appeared as a beast ready to attack.
But in truth, she was just the cage.
Four and twenty black birds hanging out to dry--
Silent. Silent as he had ever been before. Prey gone, fled with twinkling lights and alarmed chimes. Now it was a waiting game-- waitingwaiting for the other creature to appear. He could feel the light approaching, a sixth sense, hyperawareness to the opposite element. But it always came, alwaysalways-- or did it? Would it fly by, over, around?
When they birds were taken down they could no longer sing--
Naye. It would come. It had better come. No patience, not for this. Not for him. Leaving, flying, running, LYING. And Jas still hadn't moved. Crouching, elbows to knees, head bowed with curtains of black shielding a pallid face from the faded sun. Body still-- but aura in constant motion. Something wicked and unforgiving that reached out to warnwarnwarn everyone of bloodlusthatredDANGER.
Bloodied broken wings for a wretched Pirate King.
Something hadn't felt right when he awoke.
-
It wasn't something Peter could recognize- though it's presence was impossible to ignore. Perhaps it had been a bad idea from the start, to return back to the apartment, to sleep in a bed where Wendy wouldn't be near, to be alone in the quiet. It still felt like her, the room, smelled of her, and it turned knots in Peter's stomach and made his chest feel so heavy it hurt to breathe. But it had to be done, he knew, though didn't know why.
It wasn't as if he could hope to stay on the Jolly Roger forever- right? He wasn't a pirate. He wasn't part of the crew. He wasn't a pet to be shut up in wooden rooms. And yet, as Peter made his way out of the room in a rush, the boy was headed right back to the ship. Brows knitted together as his pace quickened from a jog to a run, his heart already racing at whatever it was that lie ahead.
Whatever it was....wouldn't be good.
He and Hook had always been tied together after all, since the beginning of...everything. Mirrors of one another, intuitive to each and every change that took place as intimately as if it were their own. And this morning....to wake up and feel that darkness...Made all the more real after seeing the change that had taken place- the way Hook had acted to both Tink and Smee. Something was very, very wrong.
Run turned into an all out sprint, racing barefoot across the City's square and cutting through the forest's trees with singleminded intent. Get to the beach. Get to the Jolly Roger. Get to Hook. And all at once sand was beneath his feet and he all but flew into the surf- finding a familiar rope to climb aboard- to make his way on deck.
There-- there-- in the forest in the surf up the rope--
Jas didn't need to lift his head to know when he arrived. Pretty boy, pretty bird-- not four and twenty; single, solitary-- the opposite. His opposite. Neverland hisNeverland. How long he had searched, searched-- and up and gone he goes. Flighty bird. Eyes to the sky, crow-dove's nest. Phoenix?
Left hand flexed, fingers twitching just minutely, the only response to the loud wash of sunlight across the deck, tickling and gripping overwhelming darkness. Light invisible to anyone but himself. Lips twitched, curling into something vicious and predatory, hidden by ink-black spirals of hair, shining like candlesticks; shining with magic, shifting though the breeze did not touch him. Captain Jas. Hook was a mystery to most with his forget-me-nots and curled hair and haughty attitude. But there, crouched, hunched, he appeared a statue of a gargoyle in self-inflicted exhile. It was hard to tell if he was even breathing at all.
-
Feet padded across the deck silently, brows furrowed as Peter glanced around, searching for a sign of the ship's captain. Even as the boy had waded through the water, pulled himself up to board the vessel- even he couldn't ignore the sense of forboding that settled overhead. Stillness and silence- and the ship's creaks and groans that were once a comfort, now felt ominous.
As ominous as the man crouched not far off- and Peter recognized him instantly. A half step forward on instinct alone, arm outstretched reflexively before he halted. It was Hook, that much he was certain of, but beyond that...there was something undeniably off, and this Jas Hook was not the captain who's bed he'd been curled up in.
Peter straightened slowly, eyes watching him cautiously and voice soft. "...Hook?"
-
He twitched, his smile tight and drawn, a sick version of something genuine. Nothing humourous about it, and as Peter spoke his name, the magic shifted-- shifted because he shifted. (Softvoice softerskin quietquietSPITFIRE) His hair shifted, this time of own volition, spreading like oil split with a knife down the centre. Slowlyslowlyslowly his chin lifted, it seeming to take hours for lowered eyes to finally come into view. But finally that deadly grimace was angled upwards, shadowed at the edges, twisted and sinister.
Save when he clawed your belly, at which point they lit up horribly-- Lit up. Light up. Hook did not light up. But there was not a trace of blue in his eyes at all. Crimson and bright, like rubies under a blood-moon they glowed and shimmered, jagged and unstable and eerily clear all at once. The pirate tilted his head, regarding the fire-boy (lightlightLIGHT it was an ADDICTION) mutely.
-
No, not right- the thought chanted, screamed through his head- trying in vain to steer him away from blood-red eyes and murderous intent; but even in the face of this man...Peter wouldn't run. Body remained still and looked for all the world relaxed, green met crimson and held his gaze steadily- unflinching. No no, there was no mistaking it now. The Jas Hook that had carried him to the ship to begin with, the one he'd screamed and railed and struggled against, in the circle of whom's arms he'd finally been able to sleep- that man was gone, leaving this murderous spectre in his place.
Even in the stillness, on the razor's edge of predator and prey, Peter was not fool enough not to know when to be cautious. Motionless, the boy was made all too aware of the fact that his one defense was the dagger at his side- not even a sword should the need arise- and this Hook looked far from generous. "Why were you going to hurt them?"
-
He didn't blink, unnerving to watch as his gaze refused to move, refused to budge, fixated (fixatedWANTWANTWANT) like a cat on a mouse. Motionless. Staring, and though he looked relaxed, it was a ruse-- false-- every muscle ready to spring into action. Superhuman speed and superhuman strength. Flight or not, kitties catch birdies when hungry enough.
"Hurt-ing~?" He asked, and even his voice was not right. Raspy and sweet like sugar-coated glass splinters, carefully articulate, nothing like the calm drawl he usually spoke with. There was an edge of hysteria to it, an edge of sickly amusement. "So. Curious." And his eyes half-lidded, still not closing completely, and his smile widened into a twisted grimace of a grin.
-
The voice was so unlike anything he'd ever heard, so unlike all he had come to know and anticipate- that it threw him off kilter, and Peter reflexively took a half step backwards. Not fear, no, never that, but uncertainty at how to react to this stranger- emerald eyes narrowing in concentration. Something had happened, something had to have, to take away the man who'd smoothed his hair only the night before- but what could....?
Just as quickly realization hit, a cold wave rushing over him at the weight it left in his stomach. A curse- it had to be. One who's affects they wouldn't be free of until midnight- and then who knew what chaos would be left in it's wake? Peter's jaw clenched, as meaning sank in. Smee and Tinkerbell had been in danger, and by luck alone Peter had managed to distract the man long enough to buy time....
but how much time? "...Curious? What's curious?"
-
"Pretty little Golden Boy is curious," Words all but cooed, praising him for being so utterly sweet? Or amused he should be so naive. So hard to tell when all he would do was stare and smile. But his chin lifted, and he scented the air, the tidal wave of realization, the subtle flicker-change of light the boy let off. A hum curled in his throat, the angle of his face resetting before dropping to the side, a lazy cant of his head.
"Curious little he-ro, came to save the day," He all but sang, then clucked his tongue, as if disapproving.
-
Another title- he'd managed to collect so many that Peter didn't bother trying to keep track of them anymore, especially not when Hook was...like this. Still, despite the decidedly eccentric mannerisms and the unnerving sing-song lilting verses, it was better than trying to kill eachother. Hook looked more than content to just stay hunched over while spouting mad rhymes; which really made his self-appointed task a fair bit easier. In truth, Peter wasn't sure how much he would be able to do- if anything at all, but if his presence was distraction enough for just one person to stay away so be it.
There was never a need for things like martyrdom in Neverland- not when there were honorable fights and unquestioned rules, but this was the City he had to remind himself; and those things did not exist here. Perhaps...placating would help. His body relaxed a fraction, tension easing out of his shoulders and he commented gently. "You're good at that."
-
Relax,relax-- poor dear, poor golden boy didn't know a thing. "Good? Good? Mmm.. not quite, not quite. Eff-i-cient, perhaps," And he suddenly moved. It wasn't a quick movement by any means, but more like a snake unfolding from its lair to wander idly after something of curiousity, but it, too, was unlike his usual grace. Not alluring or eye-catching, but stomach-turning, abnormally liquid-like. Hook-hand-knee-knee-hook-hand-knee-knee-- Peter wasn't standing so far away, and the pirate crawled to him.
Unusual for so many reasons that he would. Crawling, subservient-- or that was how it was normally viewed. But there was nothing weak about the way he did it, cheeks flushed with the glow of crimson eyes, intense and hungry.
-
Each and every ounce of ill advised hope he'd been hanging onto that the remainder of the day could pass easily- was promptly thrown out the window. Jas Hook.... crawl? It put him on alert immediately, unease settled in a heavy pool in his stomach and Peter swallowed hard. Instinct screamed at him to take flight, that he was hovering precariously close- to take flight or draw his weapon; but the boy did neither, hoping to wait it out, to see what motives the pirate could possibly have.
Small talk was hardly his area of expertise, but if there was any chance that he could redirect this mess... Chin tiiled down to maintain eye contact with the captain, not daring to look away."Efficient? Maybe. You rhyme like a poet."
-
“Po-e-try,” He drawled, letting the words roll off his tongue like honey. “Rhythm. Art. Be-a-utiful imagination. Elative thought. Words for how you… feel.” And his voice dropped on the last word, hushed, as though it were a terrible cuss word (badbadbadfeelingBAD yes-no-fear-addiction). Serpentine, he rose to his knees, his own body inches away from sensually sliding up the front of Peter’s torso. Eyes falling closed, he breathed air-light, innocence freedom bird on the WIND, scenting the boy but didn’t touch—mustn’t touch
“You… smell like… light,” He murmured rapturously, basking in it. Heat, light, obsession-- need.
-
The words chilled him to the core, a thousand unbidden memories of a night in a sacred building with rough walls and ragged breath and a press of-
Green eyes squeezed tightly shut, forcing out what he'd told himself he'd forgotten. Memories of a different time that had nothing to do with him no, and with a small shake of his head and the slighest of steps back- Peter pushed the thoughts away. That was different, like this was different and yet- he could feel the man's heat- his presence all consuming and the boy faltered, swallowing hard in an attempt to regain his bearings. Another step on retreat, grateful to put the distance back between them- for safety; and Peter knew that this would end in a fight one way or the other. No amount of small talk would keep him preoccupied and away from innocent people- not for long anyway. "Poetry-?" The word was unfamiliar on his tongue. "Like...what you learn in school?"
-
On eyebrow inched higher, curious to the change of demeanor, the swallow... the heat. His expression shifted once again, from amused into something dark and predatory. He stepped back. The hook hit the deck as he leaned after him, braced on right arm alone, left hand lingering in the air where Peter had been seconds before, as if he could grasp the wisp of light he left behind.
"Po-e-try... Not all poetry... learned in school," He drawled, growled, and his voice and his eyes were dripping with innuendo, dark with heat and knowledge. This close, Peter wasn't the only one who could recall body heat-nails-walls- asphyxiation-- Forget-me-nots half lidded, chin lifting, inhaling again. Light wasn't the only thing he could smell on his golden bird.
-
The blue of his eyes was bothering him, and Peter looked away, gaze traveling to glance out at the expanse of sea, dark and tumultous and it left the boy unsettled. An ocean and a sky that didn't mould to fit him- completely outside of his being and out of his element. But there was no room for that here, not pressed between memories that he wouldn't face and this man backing him into a corner- no place to run.
Voice remained steady, light and innocent- an attempt to dissuade. "What do you mean?" Oh he hoped Smee and Tinkerbell had gotten away- because fearless as the boy was, his nerves were on edge at the tension in the air. Unescapable.
-
"Oh, you know," Jas purred, head inclining, watching the boy's wandering eyes like a cat sighting its prey. So uneasy, out of element, poor wonderful boy. Boy who plays to forget-- so good at pretending and failing failing at it when played the right way, like the instrument hidden below decks. But today-- today the pirate captain wasn't interested in coaxing sweet sounds out of instruments. Not that sweet kind of sound, anyway.
Chin dipped a little, curtains of coiled black slinking over shoulders, leaning forward just that little bit more. Personal space? No such thing. Not where Hook was concerned-- and definitely not with this boy. But only him- him alone--
And someone else was on Peter's skin.
-
It was a small gesture, moving just the slightest bit closer but it caught the boy's attention as though a bomb had gone off, blond hair flying out of his face as he whipped around to focus on those eyes once more. Cautious, unwilling to lose this game for fear of consequences and a hundred other things he couldn't completely understand but wanted to forget.
He was being hunted- that much he understood completely, and Peter wasn't sure if the realization made his heart quicken, or stop. Yes, to be fair, he'd always been hunted, always sought out by this one pirate, but never like this. Never with such cold eyes and hungry stares- always with threats and swords and routine...
"No, I don't. Explain it to me."
-
He inclined his head, the slightest sideways tilt, brows lifting, an incredulous look he had given so many times before-- but this time, this time with a more shadows edge, something more psychotic and deadly-- and a chord snapped. Wordlessly, he lashed out like a cobra striking, left hand curling around right ankle and he yanked, pulling the boy's centre of gravity off completely to send him crashing to the deck.
The hand stayed tight around his ankle, a bruising grip, tighter and more vicious then any way he had held the boy before-- even when locked in battle. Those fingers only uncurled as he crawled over the boy, arms and legs braced on either side, sheets of black dangling around the angle of his cheeks like shadows-- and any blue that might have lingered in the red glow of his eyes was eradicated.
"Lies."
-
The instant he felt that vice grip on his ankle, Peter knew that it was horribly wrong. This was against the rules- and he was knocked entirely off balance, arms pinwheeling for a moment in a vain attempt to right himself before the inevitable- and his back hit the deck's surface with a thud. Where he had been out of his element earlier, it was amplified now. The boy belonged in the air- a slight frame made to flit about with ease to dodge and lunge and earthbound-?
The initial shock faded fast and then the weight of a body over him, of scarlet eyes gleaming; a thousand other boys would have stilled. Countless others would be frozen in fright by that gaze, captivated and entranced and caught- but Peter heard that one word. The accusation that broke the spell and he launched all of his weight to the right, rolling into Jas' good arm with all the force he could muster to break loose, immediately leaping into the air- hovering a safe few feet away.
"What're you-?!"
-
An escape attempt-- he wasn't surprised. He had expected it. Hoped for it. Peter never made anything easy and the chase-- why, the chase was half the fun. He all but let the boy go when he lurched into his good arm, fingertips sliding passed his hip as the boy raced to get away. And Jas inclined his head to look up at his prey, and met his confusion with a twisted sort of smile.
"Shouldn't lie to your... elders," That sugar-glass voice all but sighed, fingers tightening around the hilt of a pilfered blade. He pushed back, crouching before slowly rolling up to full height, like a ghoul from the graveyard, or a wraith, or Death himself come to make a house call. Left hand lifted, fingers twitching to flip-spin Peter's dagger between fingers and under palm.
"Bad. Form."
-
Escape he'd managed- though not without a price, and the boy's eyes widened marginally at the sight, hand instictively reaching for the blade at his side only to rest on an empty sheath. He would have to find another weapon then- for he was not fool enough to rush into battle with...this pirate, unarmed. Jas Hook at his worst, most cutthroat, and in an instant it reminded him of how different his Jas was. Nothing nearly so "Underhanded." Peter accused, arms folding over his chest with a glare.
"One shouldn't lie at all." He answered simply, green eyes traveling to focus on the blade in his hand. There was no way he'd be able to simply take the dagger back, and finally his attention moved from hand, to eyes. "What about fighting an unarmed opponent? Isn't that bad form?"
-
Jas smiled, sinister and amused, flipped the dagger up, and caught it firmly by the blade in a tight fist. It was purposeful, sharp edges digging into the palm, an unconscious effort to get some sort of focus back. It did nothing though, nothing but let a trickle of yellow unravel from closed fingers and slither down his wrist. A twitch of muscles and the hilt was waggled at the boy, taunting, teasing.
“Hypocrite,” The pirate sang, somewhere on the edge of a laugh as the blade tumbled again, flipping hilt-to-palm. He chose not to answer the latter question. After all-- this wasn’t a fight.
-
The sight of blood had never bothered him- the strangeness of Hook's included, but the careless way he went about it, gouging his hand haphazardly... Brows creased cautiously, gaze drifting to stay focused on the weapon once more, as though it were a cobra ready to strike. An assumption he doubted, was far from the truth. This was dangerous territory in ways it had never been before, and all the while the only think he could think was to keep the pirate talking. Above all else, buy time, keep him talking.
"Me, a hypocrite-?"
-
"Yes-Yes-Aye-- you so worse than I," He caroled, gesturing haphazardly with the dagger, advancing on the forever boy once again. Careful, calculated steps, a stray strand of hair moved from his own face with the short blade. All of his movements, idle and meandering, a shark circling. Ready to strike, poised and watching-- a spider, a snake. A slippery tongue, but a a mind that slid quicker. The pirate's chin lifted, eyes half-lidding, scenting the air again-- dewshine and daylight.
-
The accusation was hardly the most pressing matter on his mind, though it did irk the boy's pride. Oh sure, there were always little digs between them, taunts and claims, but honor was supposed to be unquestioned and now...
Peter registered, dimly, that he was moving closer. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, and ever nerve in his body, every fiber of his being tingled in anticipation- awaiting the attack, the sudden lunge that would pivot them into their old dance. Green met blue once more, staring hard though he remained still- poised and ready to take flight to safety once more. "If you want to fight, I need my dagger back."
-
Oh, but they weren't fighting. This was not a fight at all. And therefore, he would not attack-- at least, not the proper way. Not the way he normally would. Instead, Jas canted his head, both eyebrows lifting. A flip of the dagger, hilt-up, and held it aloft just before his face. Tilted just slightly, as if offering it to the other boy. It seemed innocent enough--
Or it would have been, but for the predatory look in those glowing scarlet eyes.
-
Ask and you shall recieve- or something like that, some little thing he could remember hearing a half dozen times which came to mind here and now of all places- and even with the object he'd desired hovering a hair's bredth away, Peter couldn't help the wariness that lingered. Because it wasn't blue eyes daring him to take it, they were red. A red Peter knew he could never, ever trust, and yet how many chances would he get to take the weapon back? Hook would only be so merciful-
And the boy went for it, hand darting out to wrap around the familiar hilt of his dagger to snatch it back.
-
Jas moved quick as lightning, so swiftly it was almost in tandem with Peter's lunge. The dagger jerked, twisting the boy's wrist viciously, right arm snapping out. Hapless, pain was not a factor here. Not something to think of. Quite honestly, his well-being nearly the last thing on the pirate's mind-- and the sharp of his hook sank into flawless skin, just at the thigh. A pivot, a flex of muscles and he shoved. The dagger blade was slick with unnatural blood, brute force causing the hook to slice clean free of his thigh and send the boy crashing into the main mast.
-
He'd expected to be double crossed. It would be foolish not to, and yet all his anticipation of the betrayal hadn't prepared him for exactly what happened. Peter had tried to be fast, to take the blade in the blink of an eye but it just wasn't fast enough and he couldn't stifle the yelp that left his throat- cruel steel cutting into the flesh of his thigh before his body collided with the mast. It was a combination of sensations he couldn't quite make sense of- the warmth of blood spreading down his skin, burning, though not unbearably- and the blow to his head left him momentarily dazed, blinking owlishly before his body jerked upwards once more; seeking the safety of the air. The distance.
-
Distance Jas would not allow. Not this time-- not anymore. Little birds that fly away-- No. Not if they fly away and never come back. He would. not. let. him.
"Wonderful boy," He carolled, pouncing, hook flashing, catching the edge of his clothing, tearing the hem in half-- a scarlet streak in its wake. Bring him down. Not permanently-- where was the fun in that?-- but cat and mou-- bird. Cat and bird. "You bleed too~ Like that? Like to gve blood? Wan-ted it, aye~?" Where amusement had laced his voice before, something deadlier was waking in it now. Dark. Possessive. Jealous.
scars in use (9:27:18 AM): He'd been close. So wonderfully close to escape before he felt that familiar press of metal, and eyes fell shut in silent understanding. He'd been careless, too careless, and now he was caught- the words moved something inside him and Peter kept his body still, an attempt to keep the world from swinging so wildly, to make it all still before he sought out a new escape.
Still those words, a half growled accusation that Peter couldn't deny, knew better than to deny, and the chill made his insides tighten. "Hook, let me go." Eyes remained shut, hidden away for safety as the command was spoken softly, patiently.
-
He pushed, shoved hard against the mast, blunt of the hook against his shoulder, hint of the dagger against his ribs-- hard enough to bruise. He hummed, thoughtful, a facade, and then leaned in, breath against his pretty boy's ear.
"No." Simple, easy, straight-forward. Things that the usual Jas Hook never was. But then he stepped back, hook twisting into cloth again, fist pushing to ribs-- and he was thrown again. This time to the deck. Letting him go? Oh, never. But that-- that had been far too easy. Play a little game, yes?
-
Warm breath against his ear made the boy's skin prickle as a chill forced it's way up his spine. The pressure, the weight didn't matter. He could bear it, the cuts and scrapes and blows were familiar territory after all, and then just as quickly he was thrown once more, body crashing haphazardly against the wooden deck with a thud.
It was almost a grunt of protest, and it was pressed there, dazed and bleeding and trapped that Peter remembered why he'd always depended on distance for protection. It was too confusing. Too many signs and signals and touches that meant one thing but not another and just when he'd finally breathed, when he'd finally trusted that he wouldn't be harmed- everything changed. Hands moved out, gaining their bearings as palms flattened to the deck."I mustn't be-" he began, voice strained as he pushed himself to his knees, standing up slowly before he began again. "Mustn't be touched."
Knees straightened, at last holding his weight and Peter lept up once more, body rising into the air in another attempt to keep free.
-
"Oh no, no-no-no, mustn't. be. touched," Jas mocked, and his smile twisted into the more familiar sneer-- though all the while those crimson eyes were endlessly amused. "Fun-ny," The dagger tossed aside as Peter struggled to his feet, clattering into some darkend corner of the ship. Lost, not to be found with darkness squeezing the Jolly Roger so disgustingly tight, "That little bird did not deny sharp teeth. Sly hands."
Jas lunged again, sharp nails, bloodied hand fisting into torn fabric, yanking hard, bringing him back down. Forced. Merciless. Blunted hook curve shoving into a slender spine as the boy was shoved towards the staircase, pirate captain hot on his trail—a wolf scenting blood.
-
Again those accusations, thoughts he couldn't entirely reget but couldn't yet bring himself to face and Peter did the only thing he knew how to do- he shoved the thought away. Ignore it, avoid it, focus instead on the sharp- white hot pain that flashed across his back as he was yanked back down and shoved. Arms pinwheeled for a fraction of a second, all typical grace lost to him as tried to catch his footing, stumbling before Peter regained his balance, swerving away from the staircase, one hand resting against a wooden wall for support.
He noticed, distantly that the smaller blade had been cast aside, and emerald eyes jerked about, desperate to catch sight of it. A last bid at a measure of protection- something, anything to defend himself. "This isn't right-!"
-
"Right-left-wrong-right. Wrong. Wrong to let them touch you," He was snarling now, and just that fraction of a second when emerald eyes glanced frantically away was enough. On him again, hook centimetres from golden hair, gouging with a heavy -thunk- into dark timber, slick hand against a slender throat, the golden boy pinned to the wall by a single point of contact.
"Liar. Liar. Mine-- told you-- forget-me-not--" Broken speech patterns, jumping from one thought process to the next but always focused on this single thing, lips pulled into a vicious grimace of a smile. Why lie when the truth was so much fun? "Choirs of angels do not compare to the shout of Jas against holy walls."
-
He'd been able to follow, perhaps a half-step behind it all, the fractured thought process, the half-spoken sentences- and then the contact- slender, bloodied fingers wound their way around his throat and eyed widened more at the residual memory than the pressure itself. More of it. More whispers and growls and murmurs of things Peter couldn't, didn't want to understand. Didn't want to remember. Touch and breath and stained glass and arching gasp-
His jaw clenched, as though he could will the memories away by desire alone, and smaller hands reached up to pull at the fingers around this throat- the hook near centimeters from his head entirely unnoticed. Pull away, run to side, find the knife, keep distance- the thoughts were screaming though his head too fast for Peter to keep them straight but were enough to numb the physical pains to a dull, distant throb.
-
"Remember?" He growled, and leaned in, grip tightening fractionally, for just a moment, "Remember." And it was an order the second time around, a command. "Remembered enough for him," And the hook moved, another tear in his bloodied tattered shirt, lifting-- brute force-- and hauled him over the railing onto the stairs. The pirate ducked, a smear of red-on-yellow across timber, peeking between the bar.
"Scream, sigh, breath for him-" And he inched around to the base of the staircause, terrifying amusement, jealous possessiveness. "Forget the captain--?"
-
"Stop- you're ruining it" Peter tried once more- voice fragile. More attempts to trigger memories of things better left forgotten. Still, he was unafraid, angry above all else, that his words wouldn't get though. The threads between them had become so strained already, fractured pieces of what they were meant to be, supposed to be- and this was pushing too far. The point of no return and though his mind couldn't wrap around the idea to know what end they were headed towards, he knew it was wrong. Wrong because it wasn't supposed to feel like this and his eyes squeezed shut once more as he was lifted, body crashing down against the stairs.
-
"Already ruined. Wonderful boys and pirate kings-- twisted Cities," He sneered, lunging again, braced over the prone body of his rival, curtains of black-twist-candles accenting shadows on the angles of his face. Braced in, like a cage-- but not locked. Only one way to go-- up the stairs, should he run-- and no place else. Backed into a corner. He leaned in, traced a line from collarbone to cheek without touching him once, inhale-exhale--
"Smell him on your skin. Tell-tell~ Was he sweet? Slowburn-sticky-hot? Like it? Softhard?" And his voice dropped, a lewd, intimate growl, completely unforgiving, "Inside you?"
-
The proximity didn't burn as much as the words did. It was always the words. Just like before, with Wendy and his Lost Boys, when Hook had sought to destroy him with sultry words alone- whispers of dark and painful things, of futures he couldn't bear the thought of; and Peter fled. It didn't make sense. He was crossing lines again, speaking of things they're silently agreed to never discuss. Clumsy, he half-tripped as his knees struggled to follow the steps, climbing with hands covering his ears, trying to block it all out. "Stop it!" He shouted, almost a growl as one and only one thought pounded, screamed through his head; away.
Get away.
-
Jas watched a moment, head cocking, a sick, curious sort of amusement as the boy staggered blindly across the deck. Sweet. Silly, ignorant-- not ignorant. Stubborn. Liar. And the pirate barked a laugh before lunging up the stairs in hot pursuit. Peter didn't make it passed the helm before Hook was on him-- in more then one way. Hook and hand, the boy grabbed and swung and lifted-- spokes of the steering wheel pressing against the soft of his back.
"You want it," The pirate snarled, eyes glittering and hot as liquid lava, and it might have been the most coherent sentence he spoke to the minute. "Fighting it-- you want. Want- crave- again. Only had to ask~ No an-gels watching this time," And he shifted, surreal and quick, hook slicing through clothing with no regard to the skin beneath. Discarded cloth, skin cut and bleeding. Jas leaned in close, breathing hot and sultry across Peter's cheek, "Running stops."
-
Peter's head shook once, twice- nearly violent in his refusal and all too suddenly there was the press of wooden spokes against his back- and hands reached out instinctively to take hold. To steady, to balance, and for the life of him Peter couldn't understand why everything was so disconnected. His body was aching, a burning throb that intensified with each and every heartbeat- and he could feel the slick of his own blood running in rivlets from a myraid of wounds. Not at all like the cuts and scrapes he was used to, not the sorts of injuries that ususally took place but so much worse- malicious intent. But those words- why wouldn't he stop talking?
It would be so much more bearable, the silence, than having each action, each thought punctuated, drawn out between them- and the boy made a soft sound as the remainder of his clothes were cut away, long red gouges left in their wake. There was too much at risk, too much on the line- surely he had to know. Even under a curse, surely Jas Hook couldn't forget it. Surely he wouldn't plan on...
One hand stayed still, fingers wrapped tightly around one of the helm's spokes as though steading himself on a lifeline as the other flew up to press against the man's chest. Firm and insistant, a last ditch effort to keep him away though when he spoke, Peter's voice was as willfully defiant as ever, ringing with finality. "Never-"
-
"Neverland," Jas finished for him, and didn't even bother removing the small hand from the middle of his chest that smeared scarlet across silk, the only thin barrier between them. Instead, slippery fingers dropped to his own trousers, yanked, twisted, sharp and quick to let them open. Eyes hard and red and unforgiving and possessive-- and without thought. Only action. Careless. Primal.
"You. Me. Pan. Hook. Peter. Jas." Wham. The hook slamming forward, connected to one of the spokes next to his shoulder, locking them both against the wheel. "No. One. Else. Ever." Rough, grip hard enough to bruise, and the injured thigh was yanked up over his hip-- no preparation, red-on-yellow blood the only thing to ease the slide, hard heat lining up and pushing, steady and slow.
-
Crushing, bruising weight on his hip- a hundred marks the boy knew he would be unable to hide the next day. Irrefutable claim over who belonged to whom. Touch had always been something of a mystery- the best of all doubledged swords, able to help and heal and hurt and Peter knew that something was being lost. Something he hadn't the words to find and the sudden jerk of motion pulled a gasped cry from a tender throat, bare thighs spread and trembling before the full weight of it hit him. A tidal wave of realization and his other hand left the helm to fall next to the other, bloodied and grasping and clawing- struggling to push him away.
Heat, burning and electric was coiling under his skin, dark and deep and it wasn't right- it didn't feel the way he remembered, not the way it was supposed to.
Golden head shook once more, pushes becoming more fervent, voice a fractured plea, reaching desperately for recognition "Yes Jas, but not- this isn't Jas, you're not Jas-"
-
Unrelenting, holding harder a moment, the briefest of pauses, silk pulling and tearing, nails catching to leave matching lines of yellow down across his chest. The growl started low in his chest, lifting like a growl to the sun-- sun in his arms, caught against the helm-- and erupted passed his lips, almost offended. "Yes, yes-- part of him. Hidden." Black curls shifting, gaze heavy and intense, never once leaving the boy's face.
His full attention. As always. as it was supposed to be. Mine-mine-mine-- Palm sliding, over the crest of his rear, down the back of his thigh to his knee, lifting, opening him up-- and pushing deeper.
-
Peter's forehead had fallen forward, resting on the pirate's shoulder as small hands clung tenuously, tangled in the tattered fabric of his shirt. That was to be the answer then- that growl, and the boy felt the sinking in his chest more profoundly than that pressure- than the protest his body made against the intrusion. Regardless, the boy stiffened in his grip, as though attempting to stave of the inevitable- and a strangled sigh left his lips when Peter's jaw clenched, desperate to stay silent at the intrusion. Even the mockery of reassuring touches did little to ease him, tears pricking at closed eyes, bottom lip bitten hard enough to draw blood as it was took all the boy had simply to stay still, body trembling violently. "Please-" It was a whispered breath, all but pointless in the grand scheme of things, when all other pleas when unheard- but the word pushed it's way out nonetheless.
-
"Sh-sh-sh," He hushed, almost mockery-- but not quite. Somehow not as vicious as anything he had said before, stroking from knee to rump again, cradling, a brace against helm and body, easing some of the weight gravity forced. But even so-- steady pressure, pressure that refused to ease-- until tension alone halted progress. Then, only then, did that bruising grip soften, stroking up an injured back, head bowing to lick a stripe of red from his temple. Mine. Blood, body-- Mine.
"Open up."
-
For several long moments, the boy didn't move- even breathing stilled. It dragged on, no sign that he'd even heard the words, much less begun to obey. And then, Peter registered the lazy touches that smoothed the back of his thigh- the tongue that lapped at blood in a mockery of tenderness. Quite possibly the only kindness he would be able to expect this day- whatever chaos this curse has wrought. And slowly, slowly, his racing heart was forced to calm, lack of oxygen easing clenched muscles to relax, shoulders softening with each passing second, trembling subsiding as the smaller body at last eased it's hold- resting pliantly against the pirate before he exhaled- fingers still lost in his shirt.
-
Slow relaxation, tension climbing in the man's shoulders until finally, all at once, the gate was reached and everything slide-locked into place. A growled exhale, Jas pressing in closer to keep that battered body from completely keeling away. Not this time. Not that easily. A moments pause, fleeting, too quick to provide any true sort of mercy or comfort, left hand snapping back to lock around another spoke.
"Good boy," The praise hissed, sharp against his ear, body flexing and arching to withdraw just that slightest bit-- then thrusting back into the liquid tight heat. Tight. Tight and all his. It forced a grunt from his throat. No sharing. No more. "Mine."
-
It was sheer force of will that kept him still- that staved off each shiver that threatened to force it's way out, but once his body eased the burden became far easier, sharp pain fading into a lingering burn-and then he'd spoken, and Peter's head jerked up like a shot, eyes wild and finally, finally frightened before the inevitable; and the thrust pulled a broken cry from his throat. It hurt- not what he'd excpected, and coupled with the press of rough wood against fresh wounds arcoss his back, the strain of each touch and pull and yank against bare flesh, dark crimson falling in small droplets from sunkissed skin to the darkened deck. Fingers clenched reflexively, nails digging into now bare flesh, marring the man's chest as Peter took a shallow breath, jaw clenching in anticipation of another painful pushpull as his eyes squeezed shut, hot tears pricking at the edges in response.
No, it wasn't enough for Hook to stab him, to hurt him- he'd said that word as well. Had to say the one thing that had always and would always force a swell of blatant fury in his chest. 'Mine' "Never!" Peter shouted, furious and outraged as his head tossed, eyes glinting dangerously as pain was pushed aside for an open declaration of war.
-
If it was war he wanted, it was war he would get. After all-- when was anything simple. Anything not a fight for dominance, for victor-- win-- claim. And so he repeated it, but this time with a more vicious twist of pelvis, hard and fast, pinning him briefly to the helm with hips alone. "Mi-ne." Yes-- hatred and care, emotion, phsyical body-blood-tears-- all of him. Everything. Neverland. My Neverland.
"No. Sharing. No vampire, no bird-wench," He hissed, pulled against the wheel, shoved and pushed in hard and deep, selfish and demanding. "Bleed them from you, sweat them out. None, but. me."
-
So thats what it was about. Those sew together scraps of memory, of nights stretched out in bed with his own hand between his thighs- arching and gasping; the night in the cathedral with clawing and pressing and screaming; a kiss for Wendy, a cry for the vampire- and it had all come down to this. Claiming and ownership; wasn't that always it? Marking one another in some fashion, insurance that neither would be alone, that there was only one place in all the world that either of them could truly belong.
The sheer weight of it forced him to arch, body straining in a tingle of pleasure pain at the shift- the shove, and the strangled cries that fell from petal soft lips as hands flew instinctively from Jas' chest to shoulderblades, fingernails biting into the flesh there with an adamant growl between gasps for breath. "I- belong, to no. one. Least of all- you."
-
Never a sweeter sound then those forced gasps, heart-gut-wrenching half-moans, strangled cries of pain-pleasure. Jas growled, nigh snarling, heat and hunger and possession. Upper back arched, like a cat, into the bite of small-sharp nails, feeling the beginnings of the break of skin. Yes. Yes. Because that was familiar-- pain. The loss of a hand-- a dangerous gouge of hip-- all marks. Claimed. One and the other.
"No one else," His voice was deep, intimate, and mocking that vampire bite his head ducked, mouth open against the blood on his throat to bestow a heavy bite-- but not hard enough to break skin.
-
The warmth against his skin caught his attention, lips, then teeth, a mouth to his throat and on reflex alone, Peter's head fell back. For anyone else- a gesture of submission, but with Jas Hook? Never. Never yield, never surrender; a delicate equation but one he'd managed to perfect. To never stop fighting was to never be boring, and to never be boring meant never being alone- the moan left his lips before conscious thought began. He'd always been a creature of sensation; good and bad were objective because it was touch that mattered. Contact; and try as he might, the pain did nothing to dissuade it, the desire for him to push deeper, further, harder; when the man's hips had nearly stopped moving all together. The bite made the small of his back arch, an appreciative sigh lingering on his lips as fingernails at last broke though, drawing blood on the man's back-
and then he moved; raking painfully across his skin with as much force as he could muster, voice little more than a low growl. "I'll do as I please."
-
The kiss moved, from his neck to curve of neck and shoulder, the pause brief-- distracted by the moan-- before a low boy-voice and the vicious rake of nails opened his back, catching on whip-scars already present. The pirate snarled against sunkissed skin, jaw tightening mercilessly, bruising-bruising-- breaking, an explsion of copper sunlight across his tongue. And all the while he arched, shoulders, back lifting into those claws splitting his back open, sending small rivers of yellow winding down imperfect skin.
Another snarl, teeth, lips, jaw spattered in crimson-- and he shoved again. Hook grinding into timber, left hand fisting white-knuckled, pulling on the wheel to conteract, yank them closer with each new relentless shove of his hips. "As you please, as you please with an-y-one~? Slut." He spat the word, a merciless twist of pelvis, ramming hard and deep. "No. You. Won't."
-
A choked, strangled half scream died on his lips- fingers frozen midway through their cruel descent at the sudden shift; the bite-puncture-tear-burn that was somehow so much more than he'd expected. It hurt, and the warmth of his own blood streaming down in rivlets was distracting, all consuming. A sensation he could recall only feeling once before, a feeling forever marked by the jagged line down his hip. Electric and sharp, that made everything white hot and his eyes feel so heavy-
Green eyes fell to half mast, dazed, though that impudent, snarky arrogance was far from put out. Even the heartless grind of his hips did nothing but spur the boy on, legs folding to wrap around the pirate's waist for support, body subconsciously rising to meet him. To push further, to take him in further- "Nngh- ah!"
And then that word- he knew it was bad, though the exact meaning remained beyond him, and eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to refocus- body instinctively tightening around him, whimper lingering on his mouth. Only one word would come to mind, and Peter shoved the thought away violently.
"You... have no say in what I say- or do."
-
His entire body flexed when the boy tightened, hot, constricting, and bloodied lips parted to let loose a snake-like hiss of pleasure-pain-surprise. But it warped, anger funneling. Stupid child. Stupid-- wonderful stupid boy. Curls of ink shifted, the pirate lifting, the slightest shift in weight, wide torso pressing forward-- pinning the boy completely and totally to the helm with body alone.
"Not enough? Enough?" He flared, a pulse of energy, shadows stirring in the corners of the ship. Left hand released the spokes and relocated to flaxen hair, tightening like a vice, yanking. "This not enough for you?" It wasn't a question. It was a demand-- a need to know. Shouldn't need anyone else-- nobody else, just like the captain-- and if not...
Well. He jerked, another violent thrust, steady, unyielding, possessing.
-
A fist in his hair, the near feral snarl and his body arched reflexively, anticipating the shift of his hips but not nearly prepared enough. Thighs quivered in a mixture of weakness and anticipation as the boy's breath came in shuddering gasps. A jerk of the hips and the realization of it all finally hit him like a tidal wave. Jas Hook was inside him, part of him, so far so hot so deep-
"Again--"
It was half whisper, and Peter hoped desperately that it sounded more like a command and less like a plea. Oh to ask, a simple thing he had never forsaken the pride to do- Slender, scarred, sunkissed arms tightened around the slope of his neck for support, for safety, for stability and security and all the other things that only this man had ever been able to provide.
-
Briefly, briefly-- it startled the captain. Again-- and asked, though he was almost positive Pan hadn't meant it to come out as such. But still-- there it was, practically a beg. A sound Jas Hook had never, ever expected to hear from those petal-soft lips. A flicker-- red-blue-red-- and he recovered, fingers tangling further into soft blonde hair, holding harshly.
"Me. Mine. I am. Enough." He bit out, and-- as asked-- another vicious push of hips. Hard, fast, deep-- and it pushed Peter up against the helm, wood dragging over sensitized skin. The pirate growled low, leaned in, mouth tracing a bloody line from cheekbone to jaw-- and biting down on his ear lobe.
"No sharing. None."
-
"Ahh- AH" His mouth fell open at the sensation while half lidded eyes fell shut entirely, and fingers tangled themselves in pitch black curls as his head fell back limply once more. The rough drag of wood against his back had long since made him numb to pain, a dull tingling throb and the only thing worth feeling was the pushpull inside him. "None-" He echoed distantly, though if the words held any conscious, cognitive mettle was too much to guess.
Teeth nipping at his ear and Peter's back arched once more, striving desperately to press as much skin to warm skin as he could manage- slick with blood and sweat and all but begging to be touched. It hurt to breathe, skin prickling with desire as he gasped once more, voice firmer, more confidant that it'd been before, "again."
-
There it was-- that was it. The sounds, the reaction, the gasp for more-- his Peter Pan. His and nobody elses-- no vampire sluts, no ladies, no strangers-- the growl started low in his chest and rumbled into his throat, feral and possessive. Amazingly the grip of his hair relaxed when small fingers tangled into curls of black, instead tracing down wounded, abused skin to grip-- nails biting-- into his hip. And there they locked.
Another primal sound and Jas let loose, lips curled against his cheek, using hand, hook, helm, body to keep upright, keep steady, falling into a rhythmic, heavy tattoo. Push-pull-push-pull-- thud-da-thud-da-- heartbeat. In tandem-- and his eyes flickered briefly again before snapping shut. "Tight-- Holding tight-- Never-never-land--" He panted, groaned the words out, clipped and deep with passion. "Will never-never-leave."
-
Another choked cry and then a low, keening wail as his grip tightened in the pirate's hair- hips rolling once more to grind hard into each and every thrust. It was overwhelming, a feeling Peter couldn't unravel, too dense and heavy and big- that pushed him onward, driving him to match the man's pace as best he could, desperate and wanting. He hadn't expected it to be anything like this, and the fingernails in his sides pulled a gasp from his mouth. Warm breath against his skin, chest to chest with matching heartbeats, the liquid heat pooling low in his belly, skin to skin and that push inside him and all Peter could think was that it was too big and too much-
His head turned, instinctively seeking out Jas' mouth, words a gasping sob and that prideful insolence vanished entirely "Nnhh! Jas- please-"
-
Something shifted, sharpening, the clouded fog of red vision filtering just enough for senses to focus, hyperaware of the wailing, battered body caught between the storm of his passion and the unyielding steering wheel. Each gasp, each twitch, each twinge of pain and hitch of breath-- felt as though it were his own. Biceps flexed, muscles tensing, and his left hand left his hip spoke in favour of wrapping around the boy's back, tucking up under his arm, hand closing on the opposite shoulder. It was only one-handed, but it was a possessive embrace none the less.
A nose bumped his cheek, those words-- a tone unlike anything he had heard Peter use in this context-- and he flared up again, swallowed the rest of his Neverland's words by catching his mouth, a heated, claiming kiss. Thud-da-thud-da-thud-da-- His Peter. His. Nothing would pull them apart again. Ever. And with that thought he growled into the boy's mouth, released the kiss, a hair’s breadth away from another, breathing sunshine-sweet and flowers and it was all his.
"Come."
-
It felt so precarious- balancing on the razor's edge of what, he didn't know. But it was overwhelming and frightening and in that moment green eyes forced themselves open, half lidded and desperately seeking red-blue-red for comfort, familiarity, a port in the storm. And in the center of this chaos, the mess of pain and confusion and that burn of pleasure- it felt safe, which was wonderful and terrifying and then he'd said that word-- and eyes clenched shut. A command, and order- something he'd never, never paid heed to, ignored and cast aside and yet from Jas Hook... He craved them. He gloried in the defiance and dance that followed. Fights and demands and more than everything else, his attention.
To be the one and only focus, the center of his world and that demand- Peter couldn't help but surrender. Slender, bruised hips rolled forward, back arching into a delicate bow as his head fell back with a cry- scream all but tearing from his throat as his body tightened around the length inside of him, fingers fisting in black curls as he climaxed.
-
Heat-tension-friction-- and the boy throwing his golden head back in abandon, screaming to the heaven's his release. Flickering eyes (blueredblue --- red) watched the play of pleasurepain across Peter's face. But all of this: sweat, blood, shouting, fighting, yeilding, and then tight constriction of this freshly deflowered wild child-- it was all too much to handle. Overwhelming, a rush of feeling hot and hard-- more powerful then the fog of chaos gripping his mind-- and crimson eyes fluttered, fading into an off-mixed-colour of blue over red.
The pirate's jaw locked, teeth bared and pressed tight together, he turning his face into the slender arch of Peter's throat, pressing there like a feline seeking heat, seeking light. Seeking and finding. The grunt was pulled from low in his chest, deep and masculine, and with one final drive he buried himself in body heat, all but crushing blood-sweat-slick bodies together as his own climax crrshed though him, heavy and devasting like a tidal wave.
He was trembling, body still violently shaken by the tidal wave that had all but swallowed him up entirely and arms had yet to release their tenuous hold, the softest of sounds pulling out of a throat now rough and raw from screams and cries. Peter knew, somewhere dimly in real thought, that his body was about to give out entirely. The wear and tear from their fight earlier, more wounds than he was willing to guess at, and now--
Everything felt heavy, and yet he couldn't help but wonder at the curious darkness creeping in from teh edges, the way his vision was starting to blur--
Hands tightened as eyes struggled to stay open, voice little more than a weakened plea before everything went black "I...Please don't leave me-"
-
The release had unwound some of that anger lodged thickly inside of the pirate and briefly, briefly, his eyes softened to the palest shade of blue, half-lidded, mouth open and panting against the sunkissed skin. It took him a long moment, cradling that shaking, battered body to his own, silent even after the nigh inaudible plea. Only when, with an accidental shift, he slid out of Peter's body did he grunt, red creeping back into those forget-me-nots, did he deign a response.
He lifted his face, stubble scratching across warm skin, moving to wrap both arms around the boy, stepping away from the helm. "Follow you to the ends. Never leaving. My Neverland." He murmured, and holding the bloodied boy protectively to his chest, he carried him down to the captain's cabin, and a safe, familiar place for the boy to wake up to. It would be horrendously bad form to do anything else, after all, with the thing you needed most.
Rating; NC-17
warnings; !CHAN!, violence, crazy!jas, questionable consent
Characters; Peter Pan
all_butone & Jas Hook ironhookSummary; Jas is finished sharing.
Log;
Sing a song of six pence, pocket full of knives--
Still as death, crouched with his back against the mainmast. It was a bright day-- beyond the decks of the Jolly Roger. It was a beautiful ship, sleek and elegantly sinister, but today-- today was different. Shadows seemed to cling to the hull, climb in the crevices of the yardarms and between the nets and hide under the sails. Any other day she looked dangerously seductive, but floating idle in the ocean beneath sunlight that didn't look quite so brilliant shining on her timber, on this day she appeared as a beast ready to attack.
But in truth, she was just the cage.
Four and twenty black birds hanging out to dry--
Silent. Silent as he had ever been before. Prey gone, fled with twinkling lights and alarmed chimes. Now it was a waiting game-- waitingwaiting for the other creature to appear. He could feel the light approaching, a sixth sense, hyperawareness to the opposite element. But it always came, alwaysalways-- or did it? Would it fly by, over, around?
When they birds were taken down they could no longer sing--
Naye. It would come. It had better come. No patience, not for this. Not for him. Leaving, flying, running, LYING. And Jas still hadn't moved. Crouching, elbows to knees, head bowed with curtains of black shielding a pallid face from the faded sun. Body still-- but aura in constant motion. Something wicked and unforgiving that reached out to warnwarnwarn everyone of bloodlusthatredDANGER.
Bloodied broken wings for a wretched Pirate King.
Something hadn't felt right when he awoke.
-
It wasn't something Peter could recognize- though it's presence was impossible to ignore. Perhaps it had been a bad idea from the start, to return back to the apartment, to sleep in a bed where Wendy wouldn't be near, to be alone in the quiet. It still felt like her, the room, smelled of her, and it turned knots in Peter's stomach and made his chest feel so heavy it hurt to breathe. But it had to be done, he knew, though didn't know why.
It wasn't as if he could hope to stay on the Jolly Roger forever- right? He wasn't a pirate. He wasn't part of the crew. He wasn't a pet to be shut up in wooden rooms. And yet, as Peter made his way out of the room in a rush, the boy was headed right back to the ship. Brows knitted together as his pace quickened from a jog to a run, his heart already racing at whatever it was that lie ahead.
Whatever it was....wouldn't be good.
He and Hook had always been tied together after all, since the beginning of...everything. Mirrors of one another, intuitive to each and every change that took place as intimately as if it were their own. And this morning....to wake up and feel that darkness...Made all the more real after seeing the change that had taken place- the way Hook had acted to both Tink and Smee. Something was very, very wrong.
Run turned into an all out sprint, racing barefoot across the City's square and cutting through the forest's trees with singleminded intent. Get to the beach. Get to the Jolly Roger. Get to Hook. And all at once sand was beneath his feet and he all but flew into the surf- finding a familiar rope to climb aboard- to make his way on deck.
There-- there-- in the forest in the surf up the rope--
Jas didn't need to lift his head to know when he arrived. Pretty boy, pretty bird-- not four and twenty; single, solitary-- the opposite. His opposite. Neverland hisNeverland. How long he had searched, searched-- and up and gone he goes. Flighty bird. Eyes to the sky, crow-dove's nest. Phoenix?
Left hand flexed, fingers twitching just minutely, the only response to the loud wash of sunlight across the deck, tickling and gripping overwhelming darkness. Light invisible to anyone but himself. Lips twitched, curling into something vicious and predatory, hidden by ink-black spirals of hair, shining like candlesticks; shining with magic, shifting though the breeze did not touch him. Captain Jas. Hook was a mystery to most with his forget-me-nots and curled hair and haughty attitude. But there, crouched, hunched, he appeared a statue of a gargoyle in self-inflicted exhile. It was hard to tell if he was even breathing at all.
-
Feet padded across the deck silently, brows furrowed as Peter glanced around, searching for a sign of the ship's captain. Even as the boy had waded through the water, pulled himself up to board the vessel- even he couldn't ignore the sense of forboding that settled overhead. Stillness and silence- and the ship's creaks and groans that were once a comfort, now felt ominous.
As ominous as the man crouched not far off- and Peter recognized him instantly. A half step forward on instinct alone, arm outstretched reflexively before he halted. It was Hook, that much he was certain of, but beyond that...there was something undeniably off, and this Jas Hook was not the captain who's bed he'd been curled up in.
Peter straightened slowly, eyes watching him cautiously and voice soft. "...Hook?"
-
He twitched, his smile tight and drawn, a sick version of something genuine. Nothing humourous about it, and as Peter spoke his name, the magic shifted-- shifted because he shifted. (Softvoice softerskin quietquietSPITFIRE) His hair shifted, this time of own volition, spreading like oil split with a knife down the centre. Slowlyslowlyslowly his chin lifted, it seeming to take hours for lowered eyes to finally come into view. But finally that deadly grimace was angled upwards, shadowed at the edges, twisted and sinister.
Save when he clawed your belly, at which point they lit up horribly-- Lit up. Light up. Hook did not light up. But there was not a trace of blue in his eyes at all. Crimson and bright, like rubies under a blood-moon they glowed and shimmered, jagged and unstable and eerily clear all at once. The pirate tilted his head, regarding the fire-boy (lightlightLIGHT it was an ADDICTION) mutely.
-
No, not right- the thought chanted, screamed through his head- trying in vain to steer him away from blood-red eyes and murderous intent; but even in the face of this man...Peter wouldn't run. Body remained still and looked for all the world relaxed, green met crimson and held his gaze steadily- unflinching. No no, there was no mistaking it now. The Jas Hook that had carried him to the ship to begin with, the one he'd screamed and railed and struggled against, in the circle of whom's arms he'd finally been able to sleep- that man was gone, leaving this murderous spectre in his place.
Even in the stillness, on the razor's edge of predator and prey, Peter was not fool enough not to know when to be cautious. Motionless, the boy was made all too aware of the fact that his one defense was the dagger at his side- not even a sword should the need arise- and this Hook looked far from generous. "Why were you going to hurt them?"
-
He didn't blink, unnerving to watch as his gaze refused to move, refused to budge, fixated (fixatedWANTWANTWANT) like a cat on a mouse. Motionless. Staring, and though he looked relaxed, it was a ruse-- false-- every muscle ready to spring into action. Superhuman speed and superhuman strength. Flight or not, kitties catch birdies when hungry enough.
"Hurt-ing~?" He asked, and even his voice was not right. Raspy and sweet like sugar-coated glass splinters, carefully articulate, nothing like the calm drawl he usually spoke with. There was an edge of hysteria to it, an edge of sickly amusement. "So. Curious." And his eyes half-lidded, still not closing completely, and his smile widened into a twisted grimace of a grin.
-
The voice was so unlike anything he'd ever heard, so unlike all he had come to know and anticipate- that it threw him off kilter, and Peter reflexively took a half step backwards. Not fear, no, never that, but uncertainty at how to react to this stranger- emerald eyes narrowing in concentration. Something had happened, something had to have, to take away the man who'd smoothed his hair only the night before- but what could....?
Just as quickly realization hit, a cold wave rushing over him at the weight it left in his stomach. A curse- it had to be. One who's affects they wouldn't be free of until midnight- and then who knew what chaos would be left in it's wake? Peter's jaw clenched, as meaning sank in. Smee and Tinkerbell had been in danger, and by luck alone Peter had managed to distract the man long enough to buy time....
but how much time? "...Curious? What's curious?"
-
"Pretty little Golden Boy is curious," Words all but cooed, praising him for being so utterly sweet? Or amused he should be so naive. So hard to tell when all he would do was stare and smile. But his chin lifted, and he scented the air, the tidal wave of realization, the subtle flicker-change of light the boy let off. A hum curled in his throat, the angle of his face resetting before dropping to the side, a lazy cant of his head.
"Curious little he-ro, came to save the day," He all but sang, then clucked his tongue, as if disapproving.
-
Another title- he'd managed to collect so many that Peter didn't bother trying to keep track of them anymore, especially not when Hook was...like this. Still, despite the decidedly eccentric mannerisms and the unnerving sing-song lilting verses, it was better than trying to kill eachother. Hook looked more than content to just stay hunched over while spouting mad rhymes; which really made his self-appointed task a fair bit easier. In truth, Peter wasn't sure how much he would be able to do- if anything at all, but if his presence was distraction enough for just one person to stay away so be it.
There was never a need for things like martyrdom in Neverland- not when there were honorable fights and unquestioned rules, but this was the City he had to remind himself; and those things did not exist here. Perhaps...placating would help. His body relaxed a fraction, tension easing out of his shoulders and he commented gently. "You're good at that."
-
Relax,relax-- poor dear, poor golden boy didn't know a thing. "Good? Good? Mmm.. not quite, not quite. Eff-i-cient, perhaps," And he suddenly moved. It wasn't a quick movement by any means, but more like a snake unfolding from its lair to wander idly after something of curiousity, but it, too, was unlike his usual grace. Not alluring or eye-catching, but stomach-turning, abnormally liquid-like. Hook-hand-knee-knee-hook-hand-knee-knee-- Peter wasn't standing so far away, and the pirate crawled to him.
Unusual for so many reasons that he would. Crawling, subservient-- or that was how it was normally viewed. But there was nothing weak about the way he did it, cheeks flushed with the glow of crimson eyes, intense and hungry.
-
Each and every ounce of ill advised hope he'd been hanging onto that the remainder of the day could pass easily- was promptly thrown out the window. Jas Hook.... crawl? It put him on alert immediately, unease settled in a heavy pool in his stomach and Peter swallowed hard. Instinct screamed at him to take flight, that he was hovering precariously close- to take flight or draw his weapon; but the boy did neither, hoping to wait it out, to see what motives the pirate could possibly have.
Small talk was hardly his area of expertise, but if there was any chance that he could redirect this mess... Chin tiiled down to maintain eye contact with the captain, not daring to look away."Efficient? Maybe. You rhyme like a poet."
-
“Po-e-try,” He drawled, letting the words roll off his tongue like honey. “Rhythm. Art. Be-a-utiful imagination. Elative thought. Words for how you… feel.” And his voice dropped on the last word, hushed, as though it were a terrible cuss word (badbadbadfeelingBAD yes-no-fear-addiction). Serpentine, he rose to his knees, his own body inches away from sensually sliding up the front of Peter’s torso. Eyes falling closed, he breathed air-light, innocence freedom bird on the WIND, scenting the boy but didn’t touch—mustn’t touch
“You… smell like… light,” He murmured rapturously, basking in it. Heat, light, obsession-- need.
-
The words chilled him to the core, a thousand unbidden memories of a night in a sacred building with rough walls and ragged breath and a press of-
Green eyes squeezed tightly shut, forcing out what he'd told himself he'd forgotten. Memories of a different time that had nothing to do with him no, and with a small shake of his head and the slighest of steps back- Peter pushed the thoughts away. That was different, like this was different and yet- he could feel the man's heat- his presence all consuming and the boy faltered, swallowing hard in an attempt to regain his bearings. Another step on retreat, grateful to put the distance back between them- for safety; and Peter knew that this would end in a fight one way or the other. No amount of small talk would keep him preoccupied and away from innocent people- not for long anyway. "Poetry-?" The word was unfamiliar on his tongue. "Like...what you learn in school?"
-
On eyebrow inched higher, curious to the change of demeanor, the swallow... the heat. His expression shifted once again, from amused into something dark and predatory. He stepped back. The hook hit the deck as he leaned after him, braced on right arm alone, left hand lingering in the air where Peter had been seconds before, as if he could grasp the wisp of light he left behind.
"Po-e-try... Not all poetry... learned in school," He drawled, growled, and his voice and his eyes were dripping with innuendo, dark with heat and knowledge. This close, Peter wasn't the only one who could recall body heat-nails-walls- asphyxiation-- Forget-me-nots half lidded, chin lifting, inhaling again. Light wasn't the only thing he could smell on his golden bird.
-
The blue of his eyes was bothering him, and Peter looked away, gaze traveling to glance out at the expanse of sea, dark and tumultous and it left the boy unsettled. An ocean and a sky that didn't mould to fit him- completely outside of his being and out of his element. But there was no room for that here, not pressed between memories that he wouldn't face and this man backing him into a corner- no place to run.
Voice remained steady, light and innocent- an attempt to dissuade. "What do you mean?" Oh he hoped Smee and Tinkerbell had gotten away- because fearless as the boy was, his nerves were on edge at the tension in the air. Unescapable.
-
"Oh, you know," Jas purred, head inclining, watching the boy's wandering eyes like a cat sighting its prey. So uneasy, out of element, poor wonderful boy. Boy who plays to forget-- so good at pretending and failing failing at it when played the right way, like the instrument hidden below decks. But today-- today the pirate captain wasn't interested in coaxing sweet sounds out of instruments. Not that sweet kind of sound, anyway.
Chin dipped a little, curtains of coiled black slinking over shoulders, leaning forward just that little bit more. Personal space? No such thing. Not where Hook was concerned-- and definitely not with this boy. But only him- him alone--
And someone else was on Peter's skin.
-
It was a small gesture, moving just the slightest bit closer but it caught the boy's attention as though a bomb had gone off, blond hair flying out of his face as he whipped around to focus on those eyes once more. Cautious, unwilling to lose this game for fear of consequences and a hundred other things he couldn't completely understand but wanted to forget.
He was being hunted- that much he understood completely, and Peter wasn't sure if the realization made his heart quicken, or stop. Yes, to be fair, he'd always been hunted, always sought out by this one pirate, but never like this. Never with such cold eyes and hungry stares- always with threats and swords and routine...
"No, I don't. Explain it to me."
-
He inclined his head, the slightest sideways tilt, brows lifting, an incredulous look he had given so many times before-- but this time, this time with a more shadows edge, something more psychotic and deadly-- and a chord snapped. Wordlessly, he lashed out like a cobra striking, left hand curling around right ankle and he yanked, pulling the boy's centre of gravity off completely to send him crashing to the deck.
The hand stayed tight around his ankle, a bruising grip, tighter and more vicious then any way he had held the boy before-- even when locked in battle. Those fingers only uncurled as he crawled over the boy, arms and legs braced on either side, sheets of black dangling around the angle of his cheeks like shadows-- and any blue that might have lingered in the red glow of his eyes was eradicated.
"Lies."
-
The instant he felt that vice grip on his ankle, Peter knew that it was horribly wrong. This was against the rules- and he was knocked entirely off balance, arms pinwheeling for a moment in a vain attempt to right himself before the inevitable- and his back hit the deck's surface with a thud. Where he had been out of his element earlier, it was amplified now. The boy belonged in the air- a slight frame made to flit about with ease to dodge and lunge and earthbound-?
The initial shock faded fast and then the weight of a body over him, of scarlet eyes gleaming; a thousand other boys would have stilled. Countless others would be frozen in fright by that gaze, captivated and entranced and caught- but Peter heard that one word. The accusation that broke the spell and he launched all of his weight to the right, rolling into Jas' good arm with all the force he could muster to break loose, immediately leaping into the air- hovering a safe few feet away.
"What're you-?!"
-
An escape attempt-- he wasn't surprised. He had expected it. Hoped for it. Peter never made anything easy and the chase-- why, the chase was half the fun. He all but let the boy go when he lurched into his good arm, fingertips sliding passed his hip as the boy raced to get away. And Jas inclined his head to look up at his prey, and met his confusion with a twisted sort of smile.
"Shouldn't lie to your... elders," That sugar-glass voice all but sighed, fingers tightening around the hilt of a pilfered blade. He pushed back, crouching before slowly rolling up to full height, like a ghoul from the graveyard, or a wraith, or Death himself come to make a house call. Left hand lifted, fingers twitching to flip-spin Peter's dagger between fingers and under palm.
"Bad. Form."
-
Escape he'd managed- though not without a price, and the boy's eyes widened marginally at the sight, hand instictively reaching for the blade at his side only to rest on an empty sheath. He would have to find another weapon then- for he was not fool enough to rush into battle with...this pirate, unarmed. Jas Hook at his worst, most cutthroat, and in an instant it reminded him of how different his Jas was. Nothing nearly so "Underhanded." Peter accused, arms folding over his chest with a glare.
"One shouldn't lie at all." He answered simply, green eyes traveling to focus on the blade in his hand. There was no way he'd be able to simply take the dagger back, and finally his attention moved from hand, to eyes. "What about fighting an unarmed opponent? Isn't that bad form?"
-
Jas smiled, sinister and amused, flipped the dagger up, and caught it firmly by the blade in a tight fist. It was purposeful, sharp edges digging into the palm, an unconscious effort to get some sort of focus back. It did nothing though, nothing but let a trickle of yellow unravel from closed fingers and slither down his wrist. A twitch of muscles and the hilt was waggled at the boy, taunting, teasing.
“Hypocrite,” The pirate sang, somewhere on the edge of a laugh as the blade tumbled again, flipping hilt-to-palm. He chose not to answer the latter question. After all-- this wasn’t a fight.
-
The sight of blood had never bothered him- the strangeness of Hook's included, but the careless way he went about it, gouging his hand haphazardly... Brows creased cautiously, gaze drifting to stay focused on the weapon once more, as though it were a cobra ready to strike. An assumption he doubted, was far from the truth. This was dangerous territory in ways it had never been before, and all the while the only think he could think was to keep the pirate talking. Above all else, buy time, keep him talking.
"Me, a hypocrite-?"
-
"Yes-Yes-Aye-- you so worse than I," He caroled, gesturing haphazardly with the dagger, advancing on the forever boy once again. Careful, calculated steps, a stray strand of hair moved from his own face with the short blade. All of his movements, idle and meandering, a shark circling. Ready to strike, poised and watching-- a spider, a snake. A slippery tongue, but a a mind that slid quicker. The pirate's chin lifted, eyes half-lidding, scenting the air again-- dewshine and daylight.
-
The accusation was hardly the most pressing matter on his mind, though it did irk the boy's pride. Oh sure, there were always little digs between them, taunts and claims, but honor was supposed to be unquestioned and now...
Peter registered, dimly, that he was moving closer. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, and ever nerve in his body, every fiber of his being tingled in anticipation- awaiting the attack, the sudden lunge that would pivot them into their old dance. Green met blue once more, staring hard though he remained still- poised and ready to take flight to safety once more. "If you want to fight, I need my dagger back."
-
Oh, but they weren't fighting. This was not a fight at all. And therefore, he would not attack-- at least, not the proper way. Not the way he normally would. Instead, Jas canted his head, both eyebrows lifting. A flip of the dagger, hilt-up, and held it aloft just before his face. Tilted just slightly, as if offering it to the other boy. It seemed innocent enough--
Or it would have been, but for the predatory look in those glowing scarlet eyes.
-
Ask and you shall recieve- or something like that, some little thing he could remember hearing a half dozen times which came to mind here and now of all places- and even with the object he'd desired hovering a hair's bredth away, Peter couldn't help the wariness that lingered. Because it wasn't blue eyes daring him to take it, they were red. A red Peter knew he could never, ever trust, and yet how many chances would he get to take the weapon back? Hook would only be so merciful-
And the boy went for it, hand darting out to wrap around the familiar hilt of his dagger to snatch it back.
-
Jas moved quick as lightning, so swiftly it was almost in tandem with Peter's lunge. The dagger jerked, twisting the boy's wrist viciously, right arm snapping out. Hapless, pain was not a factor here. Not something to think of. Quite honestly, his well-being nearly the last thing on the pirate's mind-- and the sharp of his hook sank into flawless skin, just at the thigh. A pivot, a flex of muscles and he shoved. The dagger blade was slick with unnatural blood, brute force causing the hook to slice clean free of his thigh and send the boy crashing into the main mast.
-
He'd expected to be double crossed. It would be foolish not to, and yet all his anticipation of the betrayal hadn't prepared him for exactly what happened. Peter had tried to be fast, to take the blade in the blink of an eye but it just wasn't fast enough and he couldn't stifle the yelp that left his throat- cruel steel cutting into the flesh of his thigh before his body collided with the mast. It was a combination of sensations he couldn't quite make sense of- the warmth of blood spreading down his skin, burning, though not unbearably- and the blow to his head left him momentarily dazed, blinking owlishly before his body jerked upwards once more; seeking the safety of the air. The distance.
-
Distance Jas would not allow. Not this time-- not anymore. Little birds that fly away-- No. Not if they fly away and never come back. He would. not. let. him.
"Wonderful boy," He carolled, pouncing, hook flashing, catching the edge of his clothing, tearing the hem in half-- a scarlet streak in its wake. Bring him down. Not permanently-- where was the fun in that?-- but cat and mou-- bird. Cat and bird. "You bleed too~ Like that? Like to gve blood? Wan-ted it, aye~?" Where amusement had laced his voice before, something deadlier was waking in it now. Dark. Possessive. Jealous.
scars in use (9:27:18 AM): He'd been close. So wonderfully close to escape before he felt that familiar press of metal, and eyes fell shut in silent understanding. He'd been careless, too careless, and now he was caught- the words moved something inside him and Peter kept his body still, an attempt to keep the world from swinging so wildly, to make it all still before he sought out a new escape.
Still those words, a half growled accusation that Peter couldn't deny, knew better than to deny, and the chill made his insides tighten. "Hook, let me go." Eyes remained shut, hidden away for safety as the command was spoken softly, patiently.
-
He pushed, shoved hard against the mast, blunt of the hook against his shoulder, hint of the dagger against his ribs-- hard enough to bruise. He hummed, thoughtful, a facade, and then leaned in, breath against his pretty boy's ear.
"No." Simple, easy, straight-forward. Things that the usual Jas Hook never was. But then he stepped back, hook twisting into cloth again, fist pushing to ribs-- and he was thrown again. This time to the deck. Letting him go? Oh, never. But that-- that had been far too easy. Play a little game, yes?
-
Warm breath against his ear made the boy's skin prickle as a chill forced it's way up his spine. The pressure, the weight didn't matter. He could bear it, the cuts and scrapes and blows were familiar territory after all, and then just as quickly he was thrown once more, body crashing haphazardly against the wooden deck with a thud.
It was almost a grunt of protest, and it was pressed there, dazed and bleeding and trapped that Peter remembered why he'd always depended on distance for protection. It was too confusing. Too many signs and signals and touches that meant one thing but not another and just when he'd finally breathed, when he'd finally trusted that he wouldn't be harmed- everything changed. Hands moved out, gaining their bearings as palms flattened to the deck."I mustn't be-" he began, voice strained as he pushed himself to his knees, standing up slowly before he began again. "Mustn't be touched."
Knees straightened, at last holding his weight and Peter lept up once more, body rising into the air in another attempt to keep free.
-
"Oh no, no-no-no, mustn't. be. touched," Jas mocked, and his smile twisted into the more familiar sneer-- though all the while those crimson eyes were endlessly amused. "Fun-ny," The dagger tossed aside as Peter struggled to his feet, clattering into some darkend corner of the ship. Lost, not to be found with darkness squeezing the Jolly Roger so disgustingly tight, "That little bird did not deny sharp teeth. Sly hands."
Jas lunged again, sharp nails, bloodied hand fisting into torn fabric, yanking hard, bringing him back down. Forced. Merciless. Blunted hook curve shoving into a slender spine as the boy was shoved towards the staircase, pirate captain hot on his trail—a wolf scenting blood.
-
Again those accusations, thoughts he couldn't entirely reget but couldn't yet bring himself to face and Peter did the only thing he knew how to do- he shoved the thought away. Ignore it, avoid it, focus instead on the sharp- white hot pain that flashed across his back as he was yanked back down and shoved. Arms pinwheeled for a fraction of a second, all typical grace lost to him as tried to catch his footing, stumbling before Peter regained his balance, swerving away from the staircase, one hand resting against a wooden wall for support.
He noticed, distantly that the smaller blade had been cast aside, and emerald eyes jerked about, desperate to catch sight of it. A last bid at a measure of protection- something, anything to defend himself. "This isn't right-!"
-
"Right-left-wrong-right. Wrong. Wrong to let them touch you," He was snarling now, and just that fraction of a second when emerald eyes glanced frantically away was enough. On him again, hook centimetres from golden hair, gouging with a heavy -thunk- into dark timber, slick hand against a slender throat, the golden boy pinned to the wall by a single point of contact.
"Liar. Liar. Mine-- told you-- forget-me-not--" Broken speech patterns, jumping from one thought process to the next but always focused on this single thing, lips pulled into a vicious grimace of a smile. Why lie when the truth was so much fun? "Choirs of angels do not compare to the shout of Jas against holy walls."
-
He'd been able to follow, perhaps a half-step behind it all, the fractured thought process, the half-spoken sentences- and then the contact- slender, bloodied fingers wound their way around his throat and eyed widened more at the residual memory than the pressure itself. More of it. More whispers and growls and murmurs of things Peter couldn't, didn't want to understand. Didn't want to remember. Touch and breath and stained glass and arching gasp-
His jaw clenched, as though he could will the memories away by desire alone, and smaller hands reached up to pull at the fingers around this throat- the hook near centimeters from his head entirely unnoticed. Pull away, run to side, find the knife, keep distance- the thoughts were screaming though his head too fast for Peter to keep them straight but were enough to numb the physical pains to a dull, distant throb.
-
"Remember?" He growled, and leaned in, grip tightening fractionally, for just a moment, "Remember." And it was an order the second time around, a command. "Remembered enough for him," And the hook moved, another tear in his bloodied tattered shirt, lifting-- brute force-- and hauled him over the railing onto the stairs. The pirate ducked, a smear of red-on-yellow across timber, peeking between the bar.
"Scream, sigh, breath for him-" And he inched around to the base of the staircause, terrifying amusement, jealous possessiveness. "Forget the captain--?"
-
"Stop- you're ruining it" Peter tried once more- voice fragile. More attempts to trigger memories of things better left forgotten. Still, he was unafraid, angry above all else, that his words wouldn't get though. The threads between them had become so strained already, fractured pieces of what they were meant to be, supposed to be- and this was pushing too far. The point of no return and though his mind couldn't wrap around the idea to know what end they were headed towards, he knew it was wrong. Wrong because it wasn't supposed to feel like this and his eyes squeezed shut once more as he was lifted, body crashing down against the stairs.
-
"Already ruined. Wonderful boys and pirate kings-- twisted Cities," He sneered, lunging again, braced over the prone body of his rival, curtains of black-twist-candles accenting shadows on the angles of his face. Braced in, like a cage-- but not locked. Only one way to go-- up the stairs, should he run-- and no place else. Backed into a corner. He leaned in, traced a line from collarbone to cheek without touching him once, inhale-exhale--
"Smell him on your skin. Tell-tell~ Was he sweet? Slowburn-sticky-hot? Like it? Softhard?" And his voice dropped, a lewd, intimate growl, completely unforgiving, "Inside you?"
-
The proximity didn't burn as much as the words did. It was always the words. Just like before, with Wendy and his Lost Boys, when Hook had sought to destroy him with sultry words alone- whispers of dark and painful things, of futures he couldn't bear the thought of; and Peter fled. It didn't make sense. He was crossing lines again, speaking of things they're silently agreed to never discuss. Clumsy, he half-tripped as his knees struggled to follow the steps, climbing with hands covering his ears, trying to block it all out. "Stop it!" He shouted, almost a growl as one and only one thought pounded, screamed through his head; away.
Get away.
-
Jas watched a moment, head cocking, a sick, curious sort of amusement as the boy staggered blindly across the deck. Sweet. Silly, ignorant-- not ignorant. Stubborn. Liar. And the pirate barked a laugh before lunging up the stairs in hot pursuit. Peter didn't make it passed the helm before Hook was on him-- in more then one way. Hook and hand, the boy grabbed and swung and lifted-- spokes of the steering wheel pressing against the soft of his back.
"You want it," The pirate snarled, eyes glittering and hot as liquid lava, and it might have been the most coherent sentence he spoke to the minute. "Fighting it-- you want. Want- crave- again. Only had to ask~ No an-gels watching this time," And he shifted, surreal and quick, hook slicing through clothing with no regard to the skin beneath. Discarded cloth, skin cut and bleeding. Jas leaned in close, breathing hot and sultry across Peter's cheek, "Running stops."
-
Peter's head shook once, twice- nearly violent in his refusal and all too suddenly there was the press of wooden spokes against his back- and hands reached out instinctively to take hold. To steady, to balance, and for the life of him Peter couldn't understand why everything was so disconnected. His body was aching, a burning throb that intensified with each and every heartbeat- and he could feel the slick of his own blood running in rivlets from a myraid of wounds. Not at all like the cuts and scrapes he was used to, not the sorts of injuries that ususally took place but so much worse- malicious intent. But those words- why wouldn't he stop talking?
It would be so much more bearable, the silence, than having each action, each thought punctuated, drawn out between them- and the boy made a soft sound as the remainder of his clothes were cut away, long red gouges left in their wake. There was too much at risk, too much on the line- surely he had to know. Even under a curse, surely Jas Hook couldn't forget it. Surely he wouldn't plan on...
One hand stayed still, fingers wrapped tightly around one of the helm's spokes as though steading himself on a lifeline as the other flew up to press against the man's chest. Firm and insistant, a last ditch effort to keep him away though when he spoke, Peter's voice was as willfully defiant as ever, ringing with finality. "Never-"
-
"Neverland," Jas finished for him, and didn't even bother removing the small hand from the middle of his chest that smeared scarlet across silk, the only thin barrier between them. Instead, slippery fingers dropped to his own trousers, yanked, twisted, sharp and quick to let them open. Eyes hard and red and unforgiving and possessive-- and without thought. Only action. Careless. Primal.
"You. Me. Pan. Hook. Peter. Jas." Wham. The hook slamming forward, connected to one of the spokes next to his shoulder, locking them both against the wheel. "No. One. Else. Ever." Rough, grip hard enough to bruise, and the injured thigh was yanked up over his hip-- no preparation, red-on-yellow blood the only thing to ease the slide, hard heat lining up and pushing, steady and slow.
-
Crushing, bruising weight on his hip- a hundred marks the boy knew he would be unable to hide the next day. Irrefutable claim over who belonged to whom. Touch had always been something of a mystery- the best of all doubledged swords, able to help and heal and hurt and Peter knew that something was being lost. Something he hadn't the words to find and the sudden jerk of motion pulled a gasped cry from a tender throat, bare thighs spread and trembling before the full weight of it hit him. A tidal wave of realization and his other hand left the helm to fall next to the other, bloodied and grasping and clawing- struggling to push him away.
Heat, burning and electric was coiling under his skin, dark and deep and it wasn't right- it didn't feel the way he remembered, not the way it was supposed to.
Golden head shook once more, pushes becoming more fervent, voice a fractured plea, reaching desperately for recognition "Yes Jas, but not- this isn't Jas, you're not Jas-"
-
Unrelenting, holding harder a moment, the briefest of pauses, silk pulling and tearing, nails catching to leave matching lines of yellow down across his chest. The growl started low in his chest, lifting like a growl to the sun-- sun in his arms, caught against the helm-- and erupted passed his lips, almost offended. "Yes, yes-- part of him. Hidden." Black curls shifting, gaze heavy and intense, never once leaving the boy's face.
His full attention. As always. as it was supposed to be. Mine-mine-mine-- Palm sliding, over the crest of his rear, down the back of his thigh to his knee, lifting, opening him up-- and pushing deeper.
-
Peter's forehead had fallen forward, resting on the pirate's shoulder as small hands clung tenuously, tangled in the tattered fabric of his shirt. That was to be the answer then- that growl, and the boy felt the sinking in his chest more profoundly than that pressure- than the protest his body made against the intrusion. Regardless, the boy stiffened in his grip, as though attempting to stave of the inevitable- and a strangled sigh left his lips when Peter's jaw clenched, desperate to stay silent at the intrusion. Even the mockery of reassuring touches did little to ease him, tears pricking at closed eyes, bottom lip bitten hard enough to draw blood as it was took all the boy had simply to stay still, body trembling violently. "Please-" It was a whispered breath, all but pointless in the grand scheme of things, when all other pleas when unheard- but the word pushed it's way out nonetheless.
-
"Sh-sh-sh," He hushed, almost mockery-- but not quite. Somehow not as vicious as anything he had said before, stroking from knee to rump again, cradling, a brace against helm and body, easing some of the weight gravity forced. But even so-- steady pressure, pressure that refused to ease-- until tension alone halted progress. Then, only then, did that bruising grip soften, stroking up an injured back, head bowing to lick a stripe of red from his temple. Mine. Blood, body-- Mine.
"Open up."
-
For several long moments, the boy didn't move- even breathing stilled. It dragged on, no sign that he'd even heard the words, much less begun to obey. And then, Peter registered the lazy touches that smoothed the back of his thigh- the tongue that lapped at blood in a mockery of tenderness. Quite possibly the only kindness he would be able to expect this day- whatever chaos this curse has wrought. And slowly, slowly, his racing heart was forced to calm, lack of oxygen easing clenched muscles to relax, shoulders softening with each passing second, trembling subsiding as the smaller body at last eased it's hold- resting pliantly against the pirate before he exhaled- fingers still lost in his shirt.
-
Slow relaxation, tension climbing in the man's shoulders until finally, all at once, the gate was reached and everything slide-locked into place. A growled exhale, Jas pressing in closer to keep that battered body from completely keeling away. Not this time. Not that easily. A moments pause, fleeting, too quick to provide any true sort of mercy or comfort, left hand snapping back to lock around another spoke.
"Good boy," The praise hissed, sharp against his ear, body flexing and arching to withdraw just that slightest bit-- then thrusting back into the liquid tight heat. Tight. Tight and all his. It forced a grunt from his throat. No sharing. No more. "Mine."
-
It was sheer force of will that kept him still- that staved off each shiver that threatened to force it's way out, but once his body eased the burden became far easier, sharp pain fading into a lingering burn-and then he'd spoken, and Peter's head jerked up like a shot, eyes wild and finally, finally frightened before the inevitable; and the thrust pulled a broken cry from his throat. It hurt- not what he'd excpected, and coupled with the press of rough wood against fresh wounds arcoss his back, the strain of each touch and pull and yank against bare flesh, dark crimson falling in small droplets from sunkissed skin to the darkened deck. Fingers clenched reflexively, nails digging into now bare flesh, marring the man's chest as Peter took a shallow breath, jaw clenching in anticipation of another painful pushpull as his eyes squeezed shut, hot tears pricking at the edges in response.
No, it wasn't enough for Hook to stab him, to hurt him- he'd said that word as well. Had to say the one thing that had always and would always force a swell of blatant fury in his chest. 'Mine' "Never!" Peter shouted, furious and outraged as his head tossed, eyes glinting dangerously as pain was pushed aside for an open declaration of war.
-
If it was war he wanted, it was war he would get. After all-- when was anything simple. Anything not a fight for dominance, for victor-- win-- claim. And so he repeated it, but this time with a more vicious twist of pelvis, hard and fast, pinning him briefly to the helm with hips alone. "Mi-ne." Yes-- hatred and care, emotion, phsyical body-blood-tears-- all of him. Everything. Neverland. My Neverland.
"No. Sharing. No vampire, no bird-wench," He hissed, pulled against the wheel, shoved and pushed in hard and deep, selfish and demanding. "Bleed them from you, sweat them out. None, but. me."
-
So thats what it was about. Those sew together scraps of memory, of nights stretched out in bed with his own hand between his thighs- arching and gasping; the night in the cathedral with clawing and pressing and screaming; a kiss for Wendy, a cry for the vampire- and it had all come down to this. Claiming and ownership; wasn't that always it? Marking one another in some fashion, insurance that neither would be alone, that there was only one place in all the world that either of them could truly belong.
The sheer weight of it forced him to arch, body straining in a tingle of pleasure pain at the shift- the shove, and the strangled cries that fell from petal soft lips as hands flew instinctively from Jas' chest to shoulderblades, fingernails biting into the flesh there with an adamant growl between gasps for breath. "I- belong, to no. one. Least of all- you."
-
Never a sweeter sound then those forced gasps, heart-gut-wrenching half-moans, strangled cries of pain-pleasure. Jas growled, nigh snarling, heat and hunger and possession. Upper back arched, like a cat, into the bite of small-sharp nails, feeling the beginnings of the break of skin. Yes. Yes. Because that was familiar-- pain. The loss of a hand-- a dangerous gouge of hip-- all marks. Claimed. One and the other.
"No one else," His voice was deep, intimate, and mocking that vampire bite his head ducked, mouth open against the blood on his throat to bestow a heavy bite-- but not hard enough to break skin.
-
The warmth against his skin caught his attention, lips, then teeth, a mouth to his throat and on reflex alone, Peter's head fell back. For anyone else- a gesture of submission, but with Jas Hook? Never. Never yield, never surrender; a delicate equation but one he'd managed to perfect. To never stop fighting was to never be boring, and to never be boring meant never being alone- the moan left his lips before conscious thought began. He'd always been a creature of sensation; good and bad were objective because it was touch that mattered. Contact; and try as he might, the pain did nothing to dissuade it, the desire for him to push deeper, further, harder; when the man's hips had nearly stopped moving all together. The bite made the small of his back arch, an appreciative sigh lingering on his lips as fingernails at last broke though, drawing blood on the man's back-
and then he moved; raking painfully across his skin with as much force as he could muster, voice little more than a low growl. "I'll do as I please."
-
The kiss moved, from his neck to curve of neck and shoulder, the pause brief-- distracted by the moan-- before a low boy-voice and the vicious rake of nails opened his back, catching on whip-scars already present. The pirate snarled against sunkissed skin, jaw tightening mercilessly, bruising-bruising-- breaking, an explsion of copper sunlight across his tongue. And all the while he arched, shoulders, back lifting into those claws splitting his back open, sending small rivers of yellow winding down imperfect skin.
Another snarl, teeth, lips, jaw spattered in crimson-- and he shoved again. Hook grinding into timber, left hand fisting white-knuckled, pulling on the wheel to conteract, yank them closer with each new relentless shove of his hips. "As you please, as you please with an-y-one~? Slut." He spat the word, a merciless twist of pelvis, ramming hard and deep. "No. You. Won't."
-
A choked, strangled half scream died on his lips- fingers frozen midway through their cruel descent at the sudden shift; the bite-puncture-tear-burn that was somehow so much more than he'd expected. It hurt, and the warmth of his own blood streaming down in rivlets was distracting, all consuming. A sensation he could recall only feeling once before, a feeling forever marked by the jagged line down his hip. Electric and sharp, that made everything white hot and his eyes feel so heavy-
Green eyes fell to half mast, dazed, though that impudent, snarky arrogance was far from put out. Even the heartless grind of his hips did nothing but spur the boy on, legs folding to wrap around the pirate's waist for support, body subconsciously rising to meet him. To push further, to take him in further- "Nngh- ah!"
And then that word- he knew it was bad, though the exact meaning remained beyond him, and eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to refocus- body instinctively tightening around him, whimper lingering on his mouth. Only one word would come to mind, and Peter shoved the thought away violently.
"You... have no say in what I say- or do."
-
His entire body flexed when the boy tightened, hot, constricting, and bloodied lips parted to let loose a snake-like hiss of pleasure-pain-surprise. But it warped, anger funneling. Stupid child. Stupid-- wonderful stupid boy. Curls of ink shifted, the pirate lifting, the slightest shift in weight, wide torso pressing forward-- pinning the boy completely and totally to the helm with body alone.
"Not enough? Enough?" He flared, a pulse of energy, shadows stirring in the corners of the ship. Left hand released the spokes and relocated to flaxen hair, tightening like a vice, yanking. "This not enough for you?" It wasn't a question. It was a demand-- a need to know. Shouldn't need anyone else-- nobody else, just like the captain-- and if not...
Well. He jerked, another violent thrust, steady, unyielding, possessing.
-
A fist in his hair, the near feral snarl and his body arched reflexively, anticipating the shift of his hips but not nearly prepared enough. Thighs quivered in a mixture of weakness and anticipation as the boy's breath came in shuddering gasps. A jerk of the hips and the realization of it all finally hit him like a tidal wave. Jas Hook was inside him, part of him, so far so hot so deep-
"Again--"
It was half whisper, and Peter hoped desperately that it sounded more like a command and less like a plea. Oh to ask, a simple thing he had never forsaken the pride to do- Slender, scarred, sunkissed arms tightened around the slope of his neck for support, for safety, for stability and security and all the other things that only this man had ever been able to provide.
-
Briefly, briefly-- it startled the captain. Again-- and asked, though he was almost positive Pan hadn't meant it to come out as such. But still-- there it was, practically a beg. A sound Jas Hook had never, ever expected to hear from those petal-soft lips. A flicker-- red-blue-red-- and he recovered, fingers tangling further into soft blonde hair, holding harshly.
"Me. Mine. I am. Enough." He bit out, and-- as asked-- another vicious push of hips. Hard, fast, deep-- and it pushed Peter up against the helm, wood dragging over sensitized skin. The pirate growled low, leaned in, mouth tracing a bloody line from cheekbone to jaw-- and biting down on his ear lobe.
"No sharing. None."
-
"Ahh- AH" His mouth fell open at the sensation while half lidded eyes fell shut entirely, and fingers tangled themselves in pitch black curls as his head fell back limply once more. The rough drag of wood against his back had long since made him numb to pain, a dull tingling throb and the only thing worth feeling was the pushpull inside him. "None-" He echoed distantly, though if the words held any conscious, cognitive mettle was too much to guess.
Teeth nipping at his ear and Peter's back arched once more, striving desperately to press as much skin to warm skin as he could manage- slick with blood and sweat and all but begging to be touched. It hurt to breathe, skin prickling with desire as he gasped once more, voice firmer, more confidant that it'd been before, "again."
-
There it was-- that was it. The sounds, the reaction, the gasp for more-- his Peter Pan. His and nobody elses-- no vampire sluts, no ladies, no strangers-- the growl started low in his chest and rumbled into his throat, feral and possessive. Amazingly the grip of his hair relaxed when small fingers tangled into curls of black, instead tracing down wounded, abused skin to grip-- nails biting-- into his hip. And there they locked.
Another primal sound and Jas let loose, lips curled against his cheek, using hand, hook, helm, body to keep upright, keep steady, falling into a rhythmic, heavy tattoo. Push-pull-push-pull-- thud-da-thud-da-- heartbeat. In tandem-- and his eyes flickered briefly again before snapping shut. "Tight-- Holding tight-- Never-never-land--" He panted, groaned the words out, clipped and deep with passion. "Will never-never-leave."
-
Another choked cry and then a low, keening wail as his grip tightened in the pirate's hair- hips rolling once more to grind hard into each and every thrust. It was overwhelming, a feeling Peter couldn't unravel, too dense and heavy and big- that pushed him onward, driving him to match the man's pace as best he could, desperate and wanting. He hadn't expected it to be anything like this, and the fingernails in his sides pulled a gasp from his mouth. Warm breath against his skin, chest to chest with matching heartbeats, the liquid heat pooling low in his belly, skin to skin and that push inside him and all Peter could think was that it was too big and too much-
His head turned, instinctively seeking out Jas' mouth, words a gasping sob and that prideful insolence vanished entirely "Nnhh! Jas- please-"
-
Something shifted, sharpening, the clouded fog of red vision filtering just enough for senses to focus, hyperaware of the wailing, battered body caught between the storm of his passion and the unyielding steering wheel. Each gasp, each twitch, each twinge of pain and hitch of breath-- felt as though it were his own. Biceps flexed, muscles tensing, and his left hand left his hip spoke in favour of wrapping around the boy's back, tucking up under his arm, hand closing on the opposite shoulder. It was only one-handed, but it was a possessive embrace none the less.
A nose bumped his cheek, those words-- a tone unlike anything he had heard Peter use in this context-- and he flared up again, swallowed the rest of his Neverland's words by catching his mouth, a heated, claiming kiss. Thud-da-thud-da-thud-da-- His Peter. His. Nothing would pull them apart again. Ever. And with that thought he growled into the boy's mouth, released the kiss, a hair’s breadth away from another, breathing sunshine-sweet and flowers and it was all his.
"Come."
-
It felt so precarious- balancing on the razor's edge of what, he didn't know. But it was overwhelming and frightening and in that moment green eyes forced themselves open, half lidded and desperately seeking red-blue-red for comfort, familiarity, a port in the storm. And in the center of this chaos, the mess of pain and confusion and that burn of pleasure- it felt safe, which was wonderful and terrifying and then he'd said that word-- and eyes clenched shut. A command, and order- something he'd never, never paid heed to, ignored and cast aside and yet from Jas Hook... He craved them. He gloried in the defiance and dance that followed. Fights and demands and more than everything else, his attention.
To be the one and only focus, the center of his world and that demand- Peter couldn't help but surrender. Slender, bruised hips rolled forward, back arching into a delicate bow as his head fell back with a cry- scream all but tearing from his throat as his body tightened around the length inside of him, fingers fisting in black curls as he climaxed.
-
Heat-tension-friction-- and the boy throwing his golden head back in abandon, screaming to the heaven's his release. Flickering eyes (blueredblue --- red) watched the play of pleasurepain across Peter's face. But all of this: sweat, blood, shouting, fighting, yeilding, and then tight constriction of this freshly deflowered wild child-- it was all too much to handle. Overwhelming, a rush of feeling hot and hard-- more powerful then the fog of chaos gripping his mind-- and crimson eyes fluttered, fading into an off-mixed-colour of blue over red.
The pirate's jaw locked, teeth bared and pressed tight together, he turning his face into the slender arch of Peter's throat, pressing there like a feline seeking heat, seeking light. Seeking and finding. The grunt was pulled from low in his chest, deep and masculine, and with one final drive he buried himself in body heat, all but crushing blood-sweat-slick bodies together as his own climax crrshed though him, heavy and devasting like a tidal wave.
He was trembling, body still violently shaken by the tidal wave that had all but swallowed him up entirely and arms had yet to release their tenuous hold, the softest of sounds pulling out of a throat now rough and raw from screams and cries. Peter knew, somewhere dimly in real thought, that his body was about to give out entirely. The wear and tear from their fight earlier, more wounds than he was willing to guess at, and now--
Everything felt heavy, and yet he couldn't help but wonder at the curious darkness creeping in from teh edges, the way his vision was starting to blur--
Hands tightened as eyes struggled to stay open, voice little more than a weakened plea before everything went black "I...Please don't leave me-"
-
The release had unwound some of that anger lodged thickly inside of the pirate and briefly, briefly, his eyes softened to the palest shade of blue, half-lidded, mouth open and panting against the sunkissed skin. It took him a long moment, cradling that shaking, battered body to his own, silent even after the nigh inaudible plea. Only when, with an accidental shift, he slid out of Peter's body did he grunt, red creeping back into those forget-me-nots, did he deign a response.
He lifted his face, stubble scratching across warm skin, moving to wrap both arms around the boy, stepping away from the helm. "Follow you to the ends. Never leaving. My Neverland." He murmured, and holding the bloodied boy protectively to his chest, he carried him down to the captain's cabin, and a safe, familiar place for the boy to wake up to. It would be horrendously bad form to do anything else, after all, with the thing you needed most.
no subject
This is what you wanted. You requested keyboard smashing in the face of your amazing awesomeness so HA this is what you get!
It be tooo late to alter course, mateys.
So, um. Yes. Pretty much the hottest thing I've read in a looooong time. It's so dark and creepy and everything just oozes possession and OTPdom and just...gyah. It's amazing, you guys, but of course you know that since it came from you and all.
And just...um. Yeah.
*bows and worships*
♥ for you, and I can't wait to see the log that has That Picture because IT WILL BE REALLY AWESOME TOO SO UM YEAH.
I think I'm done now.
Just...
OMGSQUEEBESTTHINGEVERKLHYRKAJAT'HMtlKL,ZR'YKJU[''JYYJ;JYKT;,;MJTJMLJM;YJHTMH['OJY4]['Y4K4T
There. :D
Have a nice day! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, GUYS. :D
no subject
methinks they must have a geeky cute day at some point. he will make her a crown of daisies? :D?