Work Header

Tea with a Pirate

Work Text:

Wendy Darling had rather decided, while sitting in a chair far more comfortable than a tree stump and drinking a hot cup of actual tea that was not just a pretend mixture of water and leaves, that there was no reason to be hasty.

Yes, the second spring cleaning visit with Peter hadn't been going all too different from the first, but she was very much taller than him and the new fairy flitting about him seemed to dislike her more than the late Tinkerbell had. She had tried this time, she really had, but the desperation to recapture those moments of sunlight and wonder in the jungle was a pitiful attempt from the start

However, everything began looking far more interesting when the pirate raid happened.

Now, Wendy was not so heartless as to find joy in a vicious attack, but the "raid" was treated as more of a game by Peter and the new Lost Boys. They flew about the pirates’ heads and pelted them with seagulls eggs and seashells, ducking every swing of a sword and flash of bullet. It wasn't really a fight at all, though nobody informed the pirate crew.

In the midst of this not battle, Wendy turned around near the edge of the water and came face-to-face with a dead man who looked very much alive, indeed. He was disembarking from one of the boats, looking the same as ever with a mighty feathered hat, rich reds, and his menacing right hook catching the sunlight. They both paused for a moment, then with an amused quirk of his mouth he gave a respectful nod of his head. "Miss Darling," he greeted her above the din of battle.

Not raised in a barn, no matter what her Aunt Millicent claimed, Wendy gave a nod in return, replying, "Captain Hook. You look far better than last we met."

Far from reacting embarrassed or angry at the comment, Hook gave one of his slow smiles and gracefully sidestepped a coconut volleyed from somewhere up the beach, saying, "I played my part and am rewarded with an encore."

"How frightfully convenient for you," Wendy said, gripping her own sword in preparation for a fight that the Captain seemed not inclined to begin. In fact, he wasn't even paying any attention to Peter, who was gleefully crowing in triumph after landing a blow somewhere near
the treeline, merely watching her. After a few more moments, Wendy lowered her sword as it was becoming heavy and she was feeling awkward keeping a fighting stance if Hook was only inclined to stare at her.

"Would you care to join me for tea, Miss Darling?"

Thinking she had heard wrong, she asked, "Pardon, Captain?"

"Would you care to join me for tea, Miss Darling?", he asked again, seeming amused by the request.

A series of loud crows rang from up the beach, with Peter calling over his shoulder "Back to the treehouses, Wendy!" and starting that way through the air, with the rest of the boys fast behind him. Wendy briefly raised up into the air, but stayed just above Hook's eye level, looking at him and biting her lip. The pirates were in full retreat, piling back into the boats and heading towards the distant Jolly Roger.

Now tea on a pirate ship...that was a new adventure that Wendy wanted to have.

"I'll meet you there, Captain," she finally responded, trying not to betray her excitement, which fueled her propulsion up into the clouds above the water. She would wait for them to row back and then float down.

Captain Hook tipped his hat to her as she flew upwards.


Which was how Wendy found herself sitting across from Captain Hook in his study, drinking delicious tea from a proper china teacup and trying to decide whether she should be more concerned with her current situation. He had been nothing but cordial and undoubtedly knew that she wasn't going to fall for any of his tricks to capture Peter again.

"Miss Darling, I have to say that I am a bit surprised to see you back."

"I could say the same for you," Wendy replied after gently replacing her teacup on its saucer. The etiquette lessons with her aunt were, after all, boring but practical. "Peter said that he didn't remember you. That he never remembered them after they were dead."

"Which is one of the reasons that seeing a very nearly grown lady among Pan's lot has me intrigued," Hook said in a smooth tone, his head tilted. His winter eyes upon her.

Wendy felt a blush threatening to rise and turned her eyes to the milky tea. "I'm just fourteen. Not grown in the least."

"Very nearly." Before she could respond, he asked, "Do you still fancy being a pirate, my dear?"

"Captain, I fear we have been down this road before," Wendy responded uneasily, setting her teacup and saucer on the desk. "And it was all a ruse."

He chuckled then. A low, rumbling sound that curled around her. The space between them that the desk provided seemed suddenly smaller.

"Oh, Wendy, Wendy, Wendy," he tutted, taking a sip of his own tea before adding, "Not all adventures are quite so drenched with action and sabotage. And not everything I do involves a grand showdown with Pan."

"Well, regardless, I won't be joining your crew if it means betraying Peter and the Lost Boys." Wendy was very proud of her unwavering tone and assumed that the statement was an ironclad end to that particular thread of conversation.

Hook was quiet for a moment, inspecting his hook idly, and eventually dragged his eyes back to hers. "What, pray tell, would you say if I made you an...arrangement?"

For a heartbeat, Wendy thought about turning him down cold, but she had indeed wanted to experience something new and deals with a pirate were interesting.

"I would be..." she paused to recall the correct term, "Open for negotiations."

His lip curled into a smile beneath his mustache and Wendy returned it.

She was seated on the small divan in the corner for the aforementioned negotiations. It was piled with pillows covered in silk and brocade, a haphazard display of exotic patterns, and Wendy found herself quite drawn to sinking into them in a very unladylike fashion. Instead, she arranged herself primly against them, drawing her legs up beside her and watching closely as the captain seated himself across from her in an armchair, pulling it ridiculously close to the divan before sitting.

She was aware of him merely staring at her again and noticed that he had removed his coat and waistcoat. Wendy was suddenly more aware of being in her white nightgown than she ever had before in Neverland and wished that she had brought her dressing gown along.

"I shant be involved in villainy against Peter," Wendy said with an authority she felt appropriate for business dealings.

Captain Hook gave an overly dramatic sigh that was clearly designed to make her grin, and did.

"Well, there isn't anything for it then," he conceded. "We shall not engage in battle with Pan or his group while you are part of our crew." He paused and added clearly, "Unless we are attacked, of course."

Wendy, being very nearly grown, did understand that the pirates had a right to protect themselves and she nodded her agreement to the addition.

"That is only fair."

"I appreciate your understanding, Miss Darling. I have a duty to look after my crew, after all." He was on the edge of his own chair and his knees were against the edge of the divan. "That extends to you now as well, which brings me to my other condition."

He was close now and his voice much lower, nearly a whisper. Wendy attempted to keep herself outwardly composed and asked, "What might that be, Captain?"

"A boat full of rough men, a long time between ports," he was saying, though Wendy could hardly concentrate on the words because his large, calloused left hand had taken hers. "You will need an extra layer of protection. A...status, if you will, that will keep them in check."

Wendy was going to ask him a great many things. What he meant by status, what the pirates had notions of, and why he was so close. But all of these died in her throat the moment he closed the distance between them and kissed her.

Having only kissed a boy once, and never a man, Wendy had no idea what to think. In her shock, she tried to pull back, but his head followed hers and she fell against the pillows. He still had a hold on her right hand and his thumb was gently rubbing the skin near her
knuckles. He tasted of tea and something stronger; His lips were soft and insistent, encouraging hers to open in the same manner.

When she did, his hand traveled up her wrist, her forearm, to the edge of lace at her sleeve. Wendy then lost track of it because Hook had begun to kiss his way up her face, nibbling on her earlobe.

"Wendy, darling," he breathed hotly into her ear. His left hand was back and sliding up her ribs, her chest. His thumb brushed against the peak, through the double layer of her cotton nightgown and chemise, and Wendy let out a small, involuntary gasp. "Does thoust still wish to be a pirate?"

She did, very much.

At home, Wendy had been lately concerned with her schooling, increasingly helpful talks with her mother and aunt, other girls not thinking she was unusual (mature, but not overly), and the anticipation of summer. She had her own little room and was no longer overly concerned about her aunt's preoccupation with her being attractive for a suitor. She had all the time in the world! Nearly all the weddings she knew of among their class happened after the bride was twenty or twenty-one, though one of her cousins had married at only seventeen and it had caused a bit of a stir among the family at the time. (The new baby to coo over had eventually calmed things down.)

But her aunt would say words such as "social standing", "stigma", and "propriety". They had lectures on "appropriate topics" for a lady and one incredibly vague one regarding a change, flowers budding, and "Eve's Punishment". Wendy hoped that such a thing actually occurring would bring about a better explanation from her mother and aunt, because as a storyteller she knew that curses were a frightening thing to endure.

She thought about the word "propriety" as Captain Hook's intact hand cupped her breast through the cotton. No one had ever touched her there, aside from the measuring tape fitting her for clothes and corsetry. One wasn't supposed to bring attention to body parts, yet
all she wanted at that moment was for him to never stop touching her there. His lips had moved down her jaw and he was waiting for her to say something.

"I want to be a pirate," she managed to say, before he captured her lips again with his. When he withdrew, it was to take her hand and pull her towards the four-poster bed a few steps to the side, lightly slinging her onto the thick bedspread of satin and brocade. She landed
with a bounce and he was over her before she could blink, his hook hovering over her left shoulder. Slowly, he moved the sharp metal tip to the rosy pink ribbon at the neckline of her nightgown, threaded through the lace that spread like a butterfly across her collarbone.
Easily, the bow came apart and each end of the ribbon fluttered to one side and the other. How could the loss of one loose bow make her feel bare?

The hook brushed a few strands of hair from her face, the cold metal so close to her skin making her nervous. It had been there before, during battle and threats, but this was different. He kissed her again, his hook digging into the mass of bedding next to her as he moved his weight off of his left. She wondered why he had done that, but then the fingers of his left hand were at the buttons of her nightgown and he popped them open. One, two, three. He sat back to look at her.

The chemise she had on was thin and dipped low, and she had worn it beneath her nightgown for the spring cleaning trip merely out of comfort and modesty, her breasts having grown a bit much to go gallivanting around without something by her skin. And at no point had
she entertained the thought of wearing her corset and coverlet to Neverland.

There was a small noise from his throat and he was pressing wet kisses to her jaw and neck again. Wendy, feeling a small streak of boldness, moved her own hands from the bedcovers to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling his mouth to hers, and he chuckled against her lips before roughly returning her advances. His hand slid up beneath the hem of her nightgown, which was indecently hiked up her legs from her landing on the bed.

His fingertips were suddenly pulling on the waist of her drawers and Wendy stilled in her kiss.

"You'll like this, precious," Hook murmured against her mouth, capturing her lips again. She had indeed liked all of the previous actions and tried to remain calm as his hand slid her
drawers down past her waist, obligingly lifting herself up briefly so that he could move them down further. Though she was dismayed when he broke their kiss to sit back, she did not wish to upset their activities and watched as he reached with both hand and hook to pull her bloomers down the rest of her legs. Her modesty was retained by a quick shifting of the bunched up nightgown as he threw the drawers to the floor.

Wendy watched, nervous, as he sat on the edge of the bed and removed one boot, then the other. The gentle roll of the ocean beyond the stained glass and the creaking of the Jolly Roger were the only sounds beside her own heartbeat. She swallowed hard when he removed his shirt, astounded by the intricacies of the harness holding his hook and the tattoos she could see. She sat up, suddenly very concerned about what he was going to be showing her that she would supposedly like so much.

He turned around then, carelessly tossing his shirt next to her drawers, and gazing at her with hooded eyes before pushing her back against the pillows piled near the headboard. Her eyes must have betrayed her worry, because he kissed her lips very gently and petted her hair with his broad hand.

"You have nothing to worry over," he imparted in a low, husky tone. "Here, I shall not touch your nightgown, does that ease your mind?"

It was a small thing, but it did make her feel a bit better and she nodded gratefully. He graced her with an indulgent smile and dipped his head down to kiss her deeply, sliding his tongue against hers, his black curls brushing her shoulders.

She neglected to notice that he had put all of his weight on his right side again, but if she had then the presence of his intact left hand slipping underneath the remaining length of her nightgown would not have come as such a surprise. She gasped into his mouth as his fingertips danced across the bare skin of her thigh, towards...

Her eyes shut tighter as his fingers made their connection with her nether regions. It was an area she ignored most of the time, but she was suddenly so very aware of it and his touch, a light stroking along the opening, was only intensifying it. His fingertips moved up and she
did not have words to describe the sudden sensation she had as they met a certain spot, so surprised that she pulled away from his kiss and tilted her head back.

"There it is, my darling," his voice rumbled as he kissed along her exposed neck, his calloused fingers moving at a slow, rhythmic pace on the same area. Her hips rose of their own accord to meet his movements and when he whispered, "lift your undershirt up, Wendy dear" she did so without hesitation, not wanting him to stop.

The wet warmth of his tongue on her right breast was sudden and it felt as if there was a string that connected it to where his fingers were occupied beneath her nightgown. Her hips bucked again against his hand and she clutched her own hands onto the covers to keep from floating.

Then he placed his lips around the rosy tip and Wendy felt that her entire world was his mouth and hand, nothing else existing but the pull he was creating. It came on her suddenly, the certain edge, and she was seeing stars behind her eyelids. Dimly, she was aware that his
hand was still moving even as her hips lifted and that she was grinding against his fingers, a slickness to the movements.

It felt as if her body was no longer under her control and she felt tears on her face, though she knew not the cause. There was a distant babbling sound that she discovered was her own voice crying, "yesyesyesyesyes," on a loop. Slowly, her hips stilled and she came back to herself, opening her eyes to stare at the wood ceiling of the captain's quarters. She felt lighter than ever before in her life, as if she were melting into the pillows.

Dazed, she allowed Hook to aimlessly nuzzle her chest and neck, his fingers still moving along her opening that was making a sound as wet as it felt. Slowly, she felt him slide a finger inside of her, shallowly and hesitant. He added another, giving Wendy a pleasant, full feeling growing in her belly. Closing her eyes again, she surrendered to the desire to move her hips and was pleased when it felt so good having his fingers slide inside of her further.

For a minute, they kept doing this, with the captain occasionally pressing kisses to her skin, but Wendy was dismayed when he withdrew from her and opened her eyes to see what he was doing.

What he was doing turned out to be divesting himself of his breeches and Wendy turned her head to the side, feeling a blush rising on her cheeks. He gave a low laugh and turned her head back towards him with a soft touch of his hook on the side of her chin. Reluctantly, she
turned to look at him, but kept her eyes on his.

"Precious little Wendy," he cooed, kicking his breeches off to the side and moving his hook down the center of her nightgown until he reached the area near her navel where the buttons had ended. "Is a life of piracy still favorable to you, my dear?" He asked, such blue eyes gazing down into hers and making her aware of her inner thighs again.

And, as she nodded, he gave a smile that would have seemed sinister if not from the gentle way he had treated her. Perhaps it was a different emotion altogether, though Wendy did not have a name for it.

There was a ripping sound as his hook split the fabric of the bottom half of her nightgown. The air of the cabin hit her already damp center and Wendy felt cold, but Hook's body was against hers then and his flesh was warm. He was kissing her again, holding her so close that the skin of their torsos were pressed against each other.

She knew nothing about the male anatomy except that it was on the outside, which she only knew from seeing baby boys when she was younger. But she got the general idea of what was pressed along her sticky inner thigh, a thick rod of flesh nestled within a mass of coarse hair that she could also feel.

Wendy, a clever girl even in normal circumstances, put many things together in her head during those few seconds of kissing. A great many things, that did explain a lot of the proceeding developments and the human body in general. She managed to fight through the haze that his kisses brought to her and found her voice again, though it came out much too small.


"James," he murmured into the skin of her jaw. "Call me James, precious."

"James," she corrected with a mild squeak in the middle, due to him lightly nipping at her neck, "Will this hurt?"

"More than not doing it," he responded, dipping his head down to place a rough lick to the tip of her left breast. She felt a pleasant shudder go through her body. "Less as it continues." His hand was moving her right leg up and, not wishing to be lopsided, she moved her left the same. "You'll love it," he added in nearly a purr, shifting her body so that her bottom was off the bed slightly.

When he dipped down for a kiss then, Wendy was only half caught off guard by the tip of his member pressing against her slick folds and wrapped her arms around his neck in preparation for what was clearly about to occur.

How foolish of her to not realize that such wonderful touches came at a price.

It hurt. It hurt. She wrenched her eyes shut and tried to concentrate on anything else but the pain. The caw of a seagull beyond the window, the distant sound of boots clomping up stairs, the soft pillows her head was on. But the stretching was too much and she felt tears running down her cheeks.

The man above her, though continuing to push into her body, offered soothing whispers of how it was just once and it would stop hurting in a moment. He placed kisses to her lips and halted his movements after what felt like an eternity, his breathing heavier than before.

Wendy had never felt so full, not even with his fingers. The sting going away, she kissed him back and his hips began to thrust. She cried out in surprise, a soft "Oh!", and clung to him for these new movements, her small fingers petting the back of his neck.

Her feet migrated higher behind him as his pace increased, eventually locking together on his lower back. His face also had shifted to be buried in her neck, especially as he got faster, and he would place an open mouthed kiss or a light nibble every so often. A few times, she
heard him swear (real adult words, not little ones that she had heard in the market) before whispering how tight or warm she was. That she was soft and beautiful.

Her undershirt was still pushed up over her breasts and the friction of his chest on hers for every thrust built up the sensation in her lower areas again. She wondered if he would make her sees stars again once he had accomplished whatever it was he was working towards. Not that she found the latest activity at all unpleasant by that point, but it didn't seem to involve the right place.

A wet smacking sound joined the chorus of noises reaching her ears, even as their breathing drowned out nearly everything else. She felt his skin against hers become moist and knew from the way the wisps of hair were sticking to her face that hers was too. It was all quite labor intensive, meeting his movements while on her back, and Wendy thought that perhaps this was all about endurance.

Abruptly, he pulled out of her, he left hand moving from its support position by her head to grab hold of the bunched up fabric of her nightgown, right beneath her inner thighs. Perplexed, Wendy watched him strain and convulse into the white cotton he had covered just the end of himself with, his lean hips still making subtle thrusts.

Several seconds passed of this, before he released her nightgown and sat back, his breaths still heavy with exertion. There was a tired smile on his face as he raked his gaze over Wendy, who felt just a little sore and rather worked up.

"You are gorgeous, little girl," he murmured, running his left hand delicately up her stomach. "Especially like this."

Squirming as his hand neared her breast again, Wendy decided to take the initiative. "I did enjoy that, but...can you touch me like before?"

A sinister, yet playful, smirk crossed his lips. "Touch you where, Wendy?"

Biting her lip, Wendy put her small right hand over his larger, tanned one and moved it down from her belly to right above her opening.
Catching on, he took over and began brushing the tips of his fingers against the spot where the ache was situated, just long enough for her to feel a shudder ripple through her small frame, before pulling it away.

Confused, and not a little agitated at being denied those wonderful sensations, Wendy had opened her mouth to ask why he had stopped, but he was pulling her into a sitting position.

"As titillating as this nightgown has been, my pet, I do believe it has no more use." He was looking at her with those eyes again, such a perfect blue, and added, "Take it off girl, then I will touch you how you like."

Without the hesitation from before, Wendy peeled off her nightgown and cast it to the floor, noting the large wet spot marring the white cotton. There was red on there too, small streaks mingling pink with the white substance, not a great deal but enough that she wanted to

"Is that my blood?" He had grabbed hold of her chemise and she obligingly lifted her arms so he could pull it off.

"Yes, but it is perfectly normal," he soothed, kissing her lips as the chemise fluttered to the floor. His hands were cupping her small breasts, barely enough for his palm, thumbs rubbing against the hard pink tips. "Lie back and I will make you very glad that you let me have you."

Wendy did lie back, but instead of his fingers, she was suddenly feeling his tongue licking up the length of her opening, his hand holding her thighs apart. For a brief moment she was disgusted. Who would put their mouth there of all places? But as soon as he flicked his tongue across that one sensitive area near the top, she knew exactly why. She threw her head back on the pillow, trying not to buck her hips into his face.

With his mouth and fingers, he spent the next stretch of minutes bringing her to a point of pleasure she didn't know possible. Her back arched off the bed with a gasp as the spasms hit her, rolling over her like the waves outside, his fingers still buried within her and his mouth right where it needed to be. Everything was perfect and she spent the next moments boneless, spread eagle on the bed, coming back to coherent thought.

She said nothing when he crawled back up and entered her again, merely thrust her fingers into his black curls and enjoyed the movements that were much more pleasant the second time around. There was no pain aside from a little stretching that she was far too satiated to mind. She buried her face in his shoulder, soaking in the smell of leather and tobacco.

When he pulled out the second time, she knew what to expect and was not surprised. But, being as there was no cloth handy, Wendy watched with great interest as he merely sat back on his knees and grabbed hold of the thick rod of flesh and pulled once, twice. A thick white substance, the same as had stained her nightgown, bubbled out of the small opening with more force than she had anticipated, coating the tip and his fingers as he moved his hand up to catch it. Most of it hand landed in his palm and Wendy, thinking quickly, reached down to the floor beside the bed and picked up the already stained nightgown.

She handed it to him wordlessly, just as he took it from her, and watched with great fascination as he used it to clean off his hand and rapidly shrinking body part. It was sagging and moving back towards the rounded area underneath the patch of black hair. She wished, not for the first time that day, that she had words for everything. Perhaps she would ask him later.

Once the nightgown was again on the floorboards, the captain pulled his breeches up from nearby and began putting them on. "I think I shall call Smee to bring some food," he said idly, fastening the buttons deftly for a man with only one hand. "Are you hungry, dear?"

Wendy was famished.

Wearing one of Hook's white shirts with the sleeves rolled up her arm endlessly, Wendy sat across from him at his desk, stabbing another piece of chicken onto her fork. Chicken! She had been subsisting on fruits and nuts the jungle provided and tried her best not to shovel all the warm poultry into her mouth.

The captain, who had put on a clean shirt and thrown all other clothes littering the floor into a basket, was pushing his now empty plate to the side and held his golden goblet out to be refilled by a jug-toting Smee. Wendy had her own goblet, but it contained only fresh water from the mainland at her request.

"Smee, I want you to take Miss Darling's measurements after supper," Hook said, still staring at Wendy as he had been nearly constant since they had sat down. "She requires clothes suitable for piracy. A proper wardrobe."

"Yessir, Cap'n," Smee replied. "Been a spell since I've tackled a ladies garment, but it'll come back right quick."

"Excellent. I'm sure there are also patterns for general female garments tucked with the others. And," Hook added as an afterthought, "You can use her laundry as a base for her underthings."

Wendy was not certain how she should feel about Smee seeing and creating her undergarments, but Hook was being casual about it so she would as well. The chicken was far too good for her to be disagreeable at that moment.

"Cap'n..." ventured Smee cautiously, "What shall I be tellin' the crew then, sir?"

There was a pause as Hook raked eyes over Wendy again and she blushed, looking down at her plate. He responded airily, "Tell them that Captain Hook has found himself a Wendy."