[Insider] Neverland - Complete (Patreon)

Hey Friends! Hope you're all doing well. I was hoping to get this one out at the end of November, but didn't quite make the deadline. As most of you know, this is a story that has been lingering for some time now. I originally posted the first 2 chapters back in July, having originally started it thinking it would be a 10k short.

It's more than doubled in size since then, and I went back and rewrote the back half of chapter 2. All that to say, it was a fun little story to write, especially Peter's character. I challenge you all to find all the Peter Pan references throughout.

As always, this is fresh off the press, so expect some grammar, spelling, and other errors. Can't wait to hear what you think.

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Chapter 1

Wendy stared at the spreadsheet on her monitor, then glanced at the clock in the bottom corner of the screen. 10:28 AM. It felt like she'd already been at work for hours, but in reality, she had only started just over an hour ago. Outside, rain sputtered against the window, and a clap of thunder startled her. She ran her fingers through her dark curls, she'd cut four inches off over the weekend, hoping the now shoulder-length style would make her feel more alive. It hadn't. Her hair wasn't the problem. Everything else was.

She'd worked for the same insurance company since graduating college over ten years ago. It was just another Monday. Another week of client reports, mortgage payments, and the exhausting task of juggling two kids while intimacy with John slipped further away. She couldn't remember the last time they made love without it feeling like a scheduled obligation.

The office door banged open, separating her from her thoughts.

"I'm dying. Actually dying." Natalie Tinkerman collapsed into the chair opposite Wendy's desk, her platinum bob swinging with the movement. "Growing up is a scam, Wendy. The biggest lie we ever believed. Every Monday I die a little more."

Wendy minimized her spreadsheet, stifling a laugh. Natalie, or Tink as her friends called her, was always a bit over dramatic. "Rough weekend?"

"God-tier weekend." Tink stretched, the movement emphasizing her figure beneath the snug v-neck shirt. Wendy rarely noticed other women that way, but she couldn't help but marvel at how someone as petite as Tink carried such a... generous figure. She wondered if the strain ever bothered her, it had to be exhausting on her back.

"This," Tink said, pulling out her phone and passing it to Wendy. "This is how I wish I could remain forever." On the tiny screen was a picture of Tink. Her smile wide and bright. She was flanked by two men who looked like they could be models. She seemed to be at a party, or maybe a rave. It was hard to tell given the lighting. In the background, people seemed to be in various states of undress around an infinity pool, nothing too scandalous but enough to make Wendy's body start to tingle. The one thing that was obvious in the picture however was the white powder around the three of their noses.

"Oh my, God, Tink. Is that coc-"

"Fairy-dust," she said with a laugh, her head spinning to ensure no one else had heard the exchange. She snatched her phone back from Wendy. "I was flying, Wendy. Literally flying all weekend. And now I'm back here doing..." she thrashed her arms around in dramatic fashion, "this." She crossed her arms and spun around in her chair. "Anyway. enough about me. Did you do anything exciting this weekend?"

Wendy's weekend flashed through her mind: Emma's soccer game, Sam's science project, John falling asleep during the movie they'd been planning to watch all week.

"We took the kids to that new pizza place," she offered, doing her best to make it sound more exciting than it really was.

"Thrilling," Tink said, barely paying attention as she dabbed lip gloss onto her face.

Heat crept up Wendy's neck. "The garlic knots were exceptional."

"I'm sure they were." Tink agreed thumbing through photos on her phone.

Wendy shifted in her seat, admiring the wild adventure her friend seemed to be reliving. "Where is that place?"

"You've heard of Peter Pannell, right? The guy who made that photo filter app, Stay Young?"

Wendy pulled out her phone and quickly opened the app. "Of course, Emma loves playing with it. Look, here she is as a princess."

A laugh crept out of Tink's lips. It was a cute picture. The little girl with light blue eyes, looked like a carbon cutout of her mother. The filter on the app however transformed her into a princess in another galaxy. She had a long, flowing pink dress, a diamond crown on her head, and a wand that looked like magical sparks were shooting out of the top of it. The image really did look life-like, as if Wendy somehow took a picture of a real-life princess.

"Well, I've known Peter since high-school, and we've... stayed in touch."

"You... you're friends with a billionaire?"

"He hates it when people call him that. He's always just been a giant kid at heart." Tink gave another giggle. "Anyway, every weekend Pete throws these extravagant parties at his Neverland estate."

"He does... that, every weekend?" The storm picked up again outside, drowning out the other voices from around the office. Wendy and Tink had been friends for years, how was she just now finding out she was friends with Peter Pannell?

"Oh, I'm sure he does it a lot more frequently than that. Those are just the parties I can actually get to. After he sold his company Peter basically retired. Said the corporate life wasn't for him. He's been partying ever since. He never had to grow up."

Wendy's gaze drifted to the family photo on her desk. She'd been twenty-four when Emma was born. Ten years of field trips, fundraisers, and falling into bed too exhausted for anything but sleep.

"Must be nice," she murmured.

"It is." Tink leaned forward. "Peter has this theory that most people surrender to adulthood because they think they have to, not because they want to. If you want, I bet I can get you and John on the invite list."

Before Wendy could answer the project manager's call light blinked on Wendy's phone. Reality, summoning her back.

"I should get this."

"Think about it," Tink said, turning back in her chair. "When was the last time the two of you actually had an adventure? You deserve to be young again, even just for a weekend."

The rest of the workday continued without so much as a laugh. John had texted and said he was stuck in a work meeting and someone needed to get Emma from practice after work. Her inbox showed she had twenty-seven new messages, all marked as urgent. The weight of the world felt like it was crashing down on Wendy with every passing second, and it was only Monday.

***

The sound of the door closing woke Wendy up from her spot on the sofa. She blinked her eyes, trying to get them to focus as John slipped through the front door. The clock on the wall read 9:17PM, nearly two hours after his last text saying he was heading home "soon."

Wendy sat up, stretching her arms over her head. She grabbed the half-empty glass of wine from the coffee table and walked into the kitchen, twisting her neck to help with the stiffness from falling asleep on the worn-out couch.

"Sorry I'm so late," John whispered, loosening his tie. "The Baker account imploded at the last minute."

Wendy rubbed her neck, watching as he moved to the kitchen, lifted the lid off the pot on the stove, and grimaced at the congealed sauce. This had been their routine for months now. He would get home late to her asleep on the couch, his dinner cold and uneaten in the kitchen.

"Kids go down okay?" John asked, microwaving a plate of pasta before leaning against the counter and turning to his wife.

"Emma finished her science project. Sam has a math test tomorrow he's worried about." Wendy stretched, the hem of her emerald green nightgown, her favorite color, sliding up and revealing her smooth, flat stomach in the process. John didn't even notice. "Sam asked if you could do bedtime tomorrow. They miss you... I miss you."

John's head dipped carrying the weight of his guilt. "I know, I'm sorry. It's our biggest client. If things go well then I could get a raise and we could finally get our head above water."

"The kids don't care about a raise, John. They want to see their dad." Wendy crossed the kitchen to him, the cool tile floor making her flex her toes as she rested her head on his chest.

The microwave beeped, and with a frustrated breath she straightened her body and moved back to the living room. John carried his plate with him, sinking into the couch next to her.

"I stopped by the liquor store," he said, nodding toward a bag on the counter. "Got that Cabernet you like."

"I talked to Tink today," Wendy said, watching his face. "She invited us to a party this weekend."

John chewed slowly. "What kind of party?"

"At Peter Pannell's estate. The Peter Pannell."

John's fork paused processing the information. "The app guy?"

"Think what it could mean if you landed him as a client." She placed her hand on his leg and felt him tense before relaxing again. "They'd not only have to give you a raise but a promotion."

"Since when are you friends with billionaires?" John's voice held a note of suspicion, or maybe it was excitement as Wendy's hand inched up his thigh.

"Tink knows him from high school. She goes to his parties all the time." Her fingertips grazed his manhood making him suck in air. "I need this," she whispered. He was unsure if she was talking about the party or... something else.

John set his fork down and turned to face his wife. "Those kinds of parties have a reputation, Wendy."

"What kinds of parties?" She bit her lip and held his gaze. Her touch was becoming bolder, now openly stroking the outline of his rising excitement.

John tried to control his breathing as he stared at Wendy. His gaze traveling to the open neckline of her nightgown pleased to see she wasn't wearing a bra. "The kind where..." He lost his train of thought for a moment as Wendy leaned forward and pressed her lips to his neck, her fingers working the snap of his pants. "Where bad decisions are made."

John's breath caught as Wendy slipped her hand inside his pants, her touch warm inviting, yet somehow urgent in a way it hadn't been for months.

"Maybe I want to be bad," she giggled against his ear before he turned his head and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

They stayed like that for several minutes. Wendy's hand not moving inside his pants, just holding him, wanting him. Their tongues slid against one another, the sound of their labored breathing and smacking lips the only noise in the house.

Wendy felt like she was back in high school. All the worries of the kids, their jobs, their finances, melted away as they made out on the living room couch. She broke the kiss with a tender nibble on his bottom lip, her hand starting to move in the exact way she knew he loved.

"I'm serious," he continued, his voice strained. "These parties, they're not just about networking. People like Pannell they live differently..."

Wendy's manicured nails scratched gently over his sac as she pumped him, leaving him breathless. She watched with a smile as his eyes fluttered shut giving in to her touch. "Different how? More excitement? More passion? I could go for a bit more of that. Couldn't you?"

John's hips moved involuntarily, his body responding as Wendy's hand picked up its pace. "It's not about that," he gasped. "It's about consequences. We have responsibilities. Kids. A mortgage."

"And we'll still have them on Sunday." Wendy's voice was soft but insistent as she increased pressure. Her thumb swirled around the mushroom shaped head, smearing his leaking juices in her palm. "But for one night, just one, couldn't we remember what it feels like to be young again?"

John's thoughts scattered as the sensation built. His hands found Wendy's waist, slipping beneath her nightgown to feel her skin. Her breast fit perfectly in his hand; not too big, not too small, as he used to muse when they were younger. They'd grown slightly since the kids, but they always felt just right to him. She pressed her forehead against his, watching his face as she felt him twitch under her touch. He was close; she could sense it.

"Yes," he conceded breathlessly, the word escaping before he could reconsider. "One night."

Triumph sparkled in Wendy's eyes. Her movements quickened as John's body tensed. He buried his face in her neck kissing her neck as his hips jerked and Wendy felt the warmth of his excitement on her hand.

She continued to stroke him through his climax, but as his breathing slowed, she felt a twinge of frustration. The encounter had ended before it truly began for her, leaving a steady throb between her thighs she would have to take care of herself. She moved to the kitchen to wash her hands, feeling the complex mixture of victory and dissatisfaction.

John adjusted his clothing, his body sprawled out on the couch as he tried to catch his breath. "That was..."

"Exciting? Yes." Wendy returned with a small smile. "I'll arrange a sitter and tell Tink to count us in."

John studied her, sensing the shift in her mood. "One night?" he asked, seeking reassurance.

"Just one," she promised, feeling a dangerous thrill at having won. "What's the worst that could happen?"

***

"Ugh, we should have gone shopping," Wendy protested from inside the walk-in closet. "I don't have anything to we-"

The complaint died on her lips as she eyed the midnight blue dress in the back of her closet. She'd bought it almost four years ago when she thought she was going on a girl's trip to Vegas. However, that trip was canceled due to COVID and the dress still had the tags on it. She'd forgotten all about it, hid it away in the back of her closet never to be seen again.

Until tonight.

The silk material felt cool on her skin as she slipped it over her head. It felt weightless, freeing. She looked at herself in the mirror, turning from one side to the other. The neckline revealed a swell of cleavage she hadn’t dared to show since having Emma. The push-up bra lifted her breasts just enough to make them impossible to ignore, full... inviting. Her fingers brushed the small diamond pendant John had given her on their sixth anniversary. The stone rested perfectly between the soft rise of her chest, glinting in the low light.

She turned to the side again. The hemline for the dress stopped about mid-thigh, exposing far more leg than she was used to. Not that she was complaining. She'd spent the better part of an hour shaving, moistening, and applying self-tanner. She was glad to have something to show for it. She looked... sexy. She smiled at herself in the mirror. She couldn't remember the last time she looked like this. She felt a warmth begin to bloom in her core, the excitement of the evening already beginning to take hold.

"Wow," John said from the doorway, his eyes widening. "You look... wow."

Wendy turned, one eyebrow raised. "You like it?"

"I'm worried to let you out of my sight." John swallowed, his eyes traveling the length of her. "You're going to turn every head in the building."

She smiled, a ripple of satisfaction warming her. "That's the point."

John himself looked different tonight. He wore a black suit that made him look like a slightly more watered down version of James Bond. A thin silver watch, her anniversary gift from years ago, glinted at his wrist. He'd even styled his hair differently, using product to create a tousled look that softened his usual corporate appearance.

"You cleaned up nice yourself," she said, applying her lipstick in the mirror. "Almost forgot how handsome my husband is when he tries."

Wendy's phone chimed on the vanity.

"Oh," was all she managed to say as she looked at the picture on the screen.

"What is it?"

"Tink sent a message," Wendy said with a laugh as she rolled her eyes.

"What's it say?"

Wendy didn't respond, instead she turned her phone allowing John to read the message himself.

Don't you DARE show up in something boring or I'll literally die of embarrassment! NO MOM CLOTHES!!!!!!!

"Well I for one like your mom..." John lost his train of thought as another message came through.

Wendy watched John's face in the mirror. He was staring at the image a bit longer than she would have liked, causing a flush to creep up her neck. "John?" She turned her phone back so she could see what had him suddenly so distracted.

This message was a picture of Tink in a shimmering green mini-dress that barely contained her chest. It had cutouts along the sides that stretched from her ribcage all the way up, displaying ample amounts of side-boob. Her platinum hair was thrown up in a high bun in the back with what looked to be glitter sparkling in her hair.

Did John find Tink attractive? She was hot, there was certainly no denying that, but Wendy had never considered John looking at anyone else like that. She expected it to make her uncomfortable. Instead, she felt the heat from earlier swell out to the rest of her body and cause her to shift in her seat.

"She looks... festive," Wendy offered, watching his reaction.

John cleared his throat feeling like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "I've looked up some of these parties online. They're insane, Wendy. The stuff that happens there-"

"It's just a party." She turned in her chair, adjusting his collar.

"But it's so much more than that," he insisted. "These tech bros live in a different reality. I saw photos of his last event. There were dispensers at the door filled with drugs, people barely dressed..."

"It's no different than college, I'm sure." Wendy applied a final coat of mascara. "We did some pretty crazy stuff back then, remember?"

"That was a decade ago. Before we had kids. Now we have-"

"Responsibilities. Yes, I'm aware." Wendy's tone cooled. "We're going to a party, John, not abandoning our children. Try to have a good time... For me."

She kissed his cheek, her lipstick coloring his skin. Another text came from Tink and Wendy read it aloud: "OMG Pete is literally DYING to meet you both! He's been asking about you all day."

"He seems... eager."

"Playing the jealous husband already?" She said with a laugh.

Before he could answer, the doorbell rang. John checked his watch. "That's the sitter."

Jenna, the babysitter, was nineteen and beautiful in that way that required no makeup or styling. She walked in wearing ripped jeans and an oversized sweater, her long brown hair cascading down her back.

"The kids are already asleep," Wendy explained, suddenly conscious of how hard she'd worked to achieve what came naturally to Jenna. "Emergency numbers are on the fridge, and we should be back by..."

"Midnight?" John interjected.

Wendy shot him a look. "We'll text if we're going to be later."

"No worries, Mrs. D. Take your time." Jenna flopped onto the couch, already pulling out her phone. "You two look amazing, by the way. Hot date?"

"Just a work thing," John answered quickly.

"A party, actually," Wendy added, enjoying the way Jenna's eyes widened.

"OMG, that's so cool! You guys still know how to party?"

The genuine surprise in her voice made both of them feel simultaneously flattered and ancient.

Outside, John opened Wendy's door as she slid into their old Chrysler Town and Country. The black van was over a decade old, but thanks to John's meticulous care, it still ran like new. As he settled into the driver's seat, a flicker of self-consciousness crept in. He could already picture the sleek, expensive cars that would line the driveway. For a moment, he considered renting something flashier. But with their budget stretched thin, it hardly seemed worth it for just one night.

"Ready?" John asked, reaching over and taking Wendy's hand in his.

"As I'll ever be."

John glanced at her, then away, his fingers fidgeting with his wedding band. "One night," he reminded her, putting the car in drive.

"One night," she agreed, catching her reflection in the sideview mirror. She couldn't help but smile at how good she looked. Tonight she wasn't Emma's mom, or even Mrs. Darling. Tonight she was Wendy. Tonight she was young again.

***

"We must have taken a wrong turn," John muttered, peering through the windshield at the unfamiliar landscape. "Are you sure she gave you the right address?" They'd left the city over half an hour ago, replaced by winding roads that cut through dense trees. John had considered turning around more than once already, but every time he did he'd look at his wife and see the smile on her face, the excitement in her eyes. He couldn't remember the last time she looked like that. And that dress. Good Lord, that dress. He couldn't wait to get her home and get her out of it.

Wendy checked her phone again. "Tink says it's just ahead. Second star-shaped gate on the right, then straight on Morning Street."

"Who names a street Morning?" John shook his head. The rich did the weirdest stuff sometimes.

John saw the gate before the sign, but just as Tink had promised, as soon as they were through it, and on Morning Street a house, or rather a palace, snuck into view. They drove for another five minutes before approaching another gate. This one sitting next to an intercom.

An intercom crackled to life as they approached. "Names?"

"Uh... John and Wendy Darling," John answered, suddenly feeling like they were entering a military compound rather than a party.

Silence stretched for several seconds before the gates began to part. "Welcome to Neverland," the disembodied voice said. "Drive safe."

The driveway twisted like a serpent. John drove slow, only able to catch glimpses of the estate while he maneuvered the winding path. The closer they got, the less the building looked like a house and the more it looked like a palace. The entire second floor looked to be one giant pane of glass. Wendy could see people inside. All laughing and enjoying life. They drove across a small bridge, and she noticed the water encircling the house, like a moat surrounding a fortress. For the briefest second, she thought she saw a crocodile in the water, but when she did a double take it seemed to disappear.

"My God," she whispered, leaning forward in her seat. "It's incredible."

John said nothing, too busy processing the collection of vehicles they now approached. A valet area had been established, where young men in emerald green vests directed arriving guests. The vehicles themselves told a story: Lamborghinis, Ferraris, a Bugatti, even a Rolls Royce Phantom. Millions of dollars in automotive craftsmanship lined up like toys.

"I should have gotten the car washed," John muttered as he pulled their family minivan into the designated spot.

Wendy squeezed his hand. "Nobody cares about the car."

But John noted how the valet's eyes briefly registered their vehicle. "Welcome to Neverland, sir, madam."

As they walked toward the entrance, the bass of music pulsed through the ground beneath their feet. Illuminated stepping stones led to massive glass doors that parted automatically as they approached. On either side of them were life-like statues of Peter carved from stone. One was him with a small dagger like he was about to fight. The other, was of him reading a book, a look of pure joy on his face.

"The duality of man," said a voice from in front of them causing both John and Wendy to turn quickly.

And there he stood.

Peter Pannell in his perfectly tailored emerald green suit, which seemed to enhance the unnatural vibrancy of his eyes, the same impossible green. He couldn't have been older than thirty. The first several buttons on his silk shirt were unbuttoned showing off the chest of a man who worked out at least twice a day. He hid a diamond stud earring in his right ear that looked like it was worth more than John's entire yearly salary. His dark hair had been tussled giving the look of a man who pretended not to care at all about his appearance, despite his wardrobe suggesting otherwise. But most bizarre of all, he wasn't wearing shoes. It was perhaps the strangest thing Wendy had ever seen in her life, yet she couldn't help but be captivated by him.

Those eyes found Wendy immediately, sweeping over her with unhurried appreciation that made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

"They say all children grow up," he declared, throwing his arms wide and pulling them both into a hug like they were long lost friends. "Absolute nonsense! Why grow up when growing wild is so much more delicious? Adults call it maturity. I call it surrender."

His voice had an unusual cadence that made John feel dizzy. He wanted to ask about the statues but forgot all about them as he pulled away from the bear hug.

Wendy felt a rush of heat climb her neck as Peter extended his hand to John, his arm still looped around Wendy in a half hug that made her skin feel warm. "John Darling, the calculator of risks! Tink tells me you put price tags on disasters that haven't happened yet. Magnificent profession, speculating on shadows!"

John's shoulders straightened. "I... assess financial exposure. It's a bit more..."

"More boring than how I described it?" Peter laughed, his arm falling away from Wendy. "Probably. Most things are." His attention shifted fully to Wendy, taking her hand not to shake it but to lift it slightly, kissing her knuckles like something from the 18th century. "And Wendy Darling. The missing constellation in our little galaxy. Tink's stories didn't do you justice."

He made no effort to hide the fact that he was looking her over. Wendy felt her cheeks flush as she shared a confused look with John who, to his credit, was biting his tongue as another man ogled his wife. She smiled softly at John, as if to say thank you. Although she couldn't help but noticed his gaze also seemed to be on the swell of her chest.

"Welcome to my humble escape from reality," Peter said, breaking the spell and gesturing grandly to the space around them. He led them to a vintage gumball machine just inside the doors, except instead of gumballs, it contained pills in various colors.

"Happiness dispensary?" he offered, patting the glass dome affectionately. "Blue ones make the music taste better. Pink ones make your skin electric. Green ones, well, those are my personal favorite. They make the whole world sparkle like it did when we were seven."

John's expression tightened into an "I told you so" look directed at Wendy.

She laughed, the sound of it flirtier than she meant. "Maybe later. We should probably start with drinks."

"Wise woman! The night is an orchestra my dear, you don't start with the crescendo." Peter's eyes never left Wendy as he addressed them both. "Besides, Tink would never forgive me if I spirited you away before she gets to show you off. She's been dancing around the house all night singing your praises."

He placed his hand lightly on the small of Wendy's back, guiding them deeper into the house. The touch was brief, professional, yet Wendy felt it like a brand through the thin material of her dress. John noticed too, his stride lengthening slightly to close the gap between them.

Inside the house, everything seemed even further from reality. There had to be at least 200 people in the one room they were in. Their heads all tilted to the sky. Wendy looked up and her mouth went slack. Flying at least 20 feet above them were skilled acrobats who looked like they belonged in cirque du soleil. They were in various states of undress, dancing and flipping through the air without a care in the world.

"The bar is this way," Peter continued, breaking her concentration as he pointed toward a glowing countertop. "Ask for Lorenzo's concoctions. He makes drinks that taste like memories you never knew you had. Fair warning though, in Neverland, we don't measure pours. Time is the only thing we waste around here."

As they continued to walk, Wendy caught glimpses of rooms beyond. There was a pool area where the water seemed to glow. A lounge with sunken seating arranged around a fire where a group of people stood telling stories. And other hallways leading to unknown wings of the house. Wendy had never seen this level of extravagance before. She suddenly realized why Tink hated coming to work on Mondays.

"Don't worry," Peter murmured near Wendy's ear, noticing her wide-eyed assessment. "The night is an endless taffy pull. It stretches exactly as long as the most interesting person needs it to. And you, Wendy Darling, strike me as very, very interesting." He leaned in closer, ensuring John, who seemed to be walking toward a room cast in total darkness, couldn't hear. "And I bet you stretch just as well too."

Fire shot through Wendy's body at the same time that a shiver ran down her spine. She bit her lower lip her head turning to Peter, mesmerized by those perfect green eyes. Before she had time to respond, John was back at her side. "What's in that room?" he asked wondering how and why they kept it so dark.

"All in due time, John." Peter gestured towards the bar. Behind it, through the massive windows, they could see the twinkle of city lights beneath them. The real world suddenly seemed very far away.

---

Chapter 2

"Marvelous, isn't it?" Peter mused, watching Wendy's expression as she sipped Lorenzo's creation. It was a shimmering blue concoction in a frosted glass. "Lorenzo was a chemist before he became my mixologist. This is scientific sorcery!"

Wendy's eyes widened at the rush of flavors. Each sip seemed to trigger a new memory in her head. Summer thunderstorms, secret midnight conversations, the thrill of breaking curfew. "This is incredible," she admitted, already feeling the effects of the alcohol after just a few drinks.

John nodded in agreement, his amber-colored whiskey blend warming him from the inside out. "It's strong. I've never tasted anything like it."

"Of course not," Peter grinned, from his seat on the bar, his bare feet dangling like he was ten. "Mass production kills magic. Lorenzo makes only one of each drink, ever. What you're tasting will never exist again after tonight. Like perfect moments or shooting stars!"

The way he spoke, his view on the world, made it impossible not to smile. Of course, the way he was looking at her while he said it. The way his eyes would dance over her body. It had the same type of wonder as his words, but it sent a thrill pulsing through her that she was certainly not smiling about. She instead looked to John. He still had that permanent scowl on his face, but there was a bit of twinkle in his eye. Perhaps he would loosen up after his drink and enjoy himself the way Wendy knew they both needed.

"The house is—" John began.

"WENDY DARLING!"

The shriek cut through the ambient noise making Wendy blush as Tink materialized from the crowd. She threw her arms around Wendy with such exuberance that blue liquid nearly sloshed onto the marble floor.

"You actually came! Isn't this place just the most incredible, wonderful, magical place you've ever seen? It's like we literally died and went to heaven." Tink's words tumbled out with barely a breath between them. Her pupils were large, not seeming to want to stay in one place for more than a second. She was certainly having a good time.

Up close, her dress was even more revealing than in the photo. The sides cut almost to her hip bones, the neckline so low her chest was in danger of falling out, not that Wendy thought she would mind. Glitter dusted her collarbones and shoulders, catching the light as she talked with her hands.

Wendy looked back over at John and noticed how he looked at Tink. She remembered when he used to look at her like that. She wasn't jealous, well not entirely anyway. But she was determined that by the end of the night John would look at her the same way.

"It's certainly... unique," Wendy agreed, returning the hug with a smile. "We've only just arrived."

"Then you've met practically no one! Catastrophe! Emergency! We must fix this immediately!" Tink looped her arm through Wendy's, and steadying herself in the process. She nodded to two men who had approached with her. "James, Mikey, meet my work wife! Wendy these are the Lost brothers."

The Lost brothers stood out even among the beautiful people filling Peter's home. Both tall and athletic, they shared the same striking blue eyes but little else. James, the older one judging by the subtle lines around his eyes, wore a tailored slate gray pinstripe suit like a gangster from the 1920s. His dark blonde hair was styled into a pseudo mohawk, his smile white and perfect, like he could model for a toothpaste commercial.

"The famous Wendy. Pleasure to finally meet you. The way Tink had been talking about you I was starting to think you were just some fairytale." His handshake lingered, thumb brushing the inside of her wrist causing goosebumps to shoot up her arm.

Michael was his brother's polar opposite, platinum blonde hair pulled back in a manbun, midnight blue suit with no tie, several buttons undone. His smile was more like a smirk, like there was some big secret that only he knew about. Instead of shaking Wendy's hand, like his brother, he pulled her into a half-hug, his fingers tickling her spine.

"Tink's been obsessed with bringing you here for weeks," he said, his arm casually remaining around her shoulders. "Now I understand why. You are absolutely delicious."

"The Lost boys," Peter explained to John, who was watching the interaction with growing discomfort. "Heirs to the Lost Hotel fortune, guardians of mischief, and my first believers when the world said I was just a crazy dropout with nothing but charm and a dream!"

John nodded politely, extending his hand to James, who seemed to be the more approachable of the two. "John Darling."

"Ah yes, the risk assessor," James nodded. "Peter mentioned you might have some interesting business propositions."

"Speaking of which!" Peter exclaimed, hopping down from the bar into a half squat. "John, why don't we step into my office? Get away from this noise and discuss what you had in mind?"

John hesitated, glancing at Wendy now flanked by Tink and Michael, with James hovering nearby. "Maybe another time. We just got here."

"Nonsense!" Peter insisted. "Opportunity pirouettes past while hesitation sits tying its shoes! Besides," he gestured to the group surrounding Wendy, "your wife is in excellent hands."

Wendy caught John's questioning look. "Go," she encouraged. "This is what we came for, right? I'm fine here with Tink." She pressed her lips to his cheek.

"Twenty minutes, tops," Peter promised, already grabbing John's hand and steering him toward a hallway. "We'll solve the problems of your corporate universe and return before the next song ends!"

As they disappeared into the crowd, Wendy felt a momentary pang of anxiety. She took another sip of her drink for courage, the mysterious flavor calming her nerves.

"Now that the chaperone's gone," Michael grinned, "let's introduce you to the real Neverland experience."

James materialized on her other side, effectively bracketing her between the brothers. "Don't look so worried, Wendy. The night's just beginning."

Wendy took another nervous drink, placing the empty glass on the bar as Tink pushed past James and stood beside her. The room began to spin, Wendy's low alcohol tolerance already rearing its head.

"Goodness, you two look like lost puppies who have never seen a beautiful woman before. Let her breathe." Tink nudged the two brothers away, giving Wendy space. Wendy couldn't help but laugh. Tink may have been barely five feet tall, but she was not afraid to push people around to get what she wanted.

"First thing's first." Tink placed her small purse on the bar rummaging through it, before producing a silver pillbox engraved with stars. She opened it to reveal a fine white powder. "Let's fly together, Wendy."

Wendy's eyes widened. "Oh, I don't think-"

"Just a tiny bump," Tink insisted. "It barely counts. Makes everything brighter, more vivid, more real somehow."

"I haven't done anything like that since college," Wendy admitted. "I'm not sure-"

"Like riding a bicycle," James offered, appearing back at her side. "The body remembers."

Michael's hand found the small of her back. "Live a little, Wendy. Don't be afraid to experience youth and joy."

Wendy's cheeks burned. Is that what they thought? That she didn't know how to have a good time? "I'm not sure John would-"

"John's off talking business with Peter," Michael said, his hand sliding lower on her back. "He's doing all the boring grown-up stuff. There's no reason for you to be boring too."

Wendy hesitated, watching Tink dab a small amount on her knuckle, then inhale quickly. A shiver of bliss slid down her tiny frame. "Delicious!"

She dumped a little more on her knuckle. "Don't worry about John, silly. He's with Peter, and if a deal is going to be made he's going to be flying even higher than us."

"You don't think John will be mad?" A ridiculous question, she knew. Tink didn't know John at all, none of them did, but she needed the reassurance in order to do what she was about to do.

"Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all," Tink pressed closer to her. Her chest brushing against Wendy's arm. "While you're here, you don't need to worry about grown-up things. This is literally the most magical place in the world. You came here to have fun, remember?"

The powder on Tink's finger seemed to be taunting her. She felt the eyes of her new friends on her as she weighed her decision. This was a once in a lifetime party. After tonight, she would go back to being the mom of two adorable kids with bills and a job. If she was going to be here, she might as well make the most of it. With a deep breath, Wendy mirrored Tink's actions. A quick inhale, then...

The effect was almost instant. A pleasant burning sensation bloomed in her sinuses before a wave of warmth cascaded down her spine, radiating outward until even her fingertips tingled. Colors intensified dramatically. Tink's green dress now seemed to pulse with its own internal light, the ambient blues of the room deepening to an oceanic richness that made Wendy feel she could dive into the walls themselves.

"Oh," she breathed, her pupils dilating. She ran her fingers across her cheek, moaning softly at the intensity of the self contact. The music that was pumping into the room suddenly seemed more alive, like each note struck a different pleasure center in her brain.

"There she is," James murmured appreciatively, watching the transformation. His voice sounded simultaneously distant and intensely close, as if he were speaking directly into her mind. "Now the magic of the night truly starts."

"The music," she whispered, reaching out her hand. "I can almost see it."

Tink took Wendy's hand, causing her to burn with need. "That's just the beginning. Come on. Dance with me, Wendy. Dance like you did when obligations and expectations were just meaningless words."

Wendy allowed herself to be led through the crowd toward a room where music throbbed and bodies moved in hypnotic rhythm. The Lost brothers followed, their hands resting on Wendy's back causing flames of desire to spark between her thighs.

For the first time in years, she felt completely present in her body. Every sensation magnified, every emotion intensified. The crushing weight of responsibility that had become so familiar she'd stopped noticing it suddenly lifted, leaving her weightless.

"Fly with me, Wendy," Tink said as they reached the dance floor and she threw her arms around her friend's shoulders. Wendy let herself go. Let the music and the lights whisk her away to a far away land. A land where she was forever young, and there would be no consequences.

***

Peter's office occupied the entire west wing of the second floor. As soon as John entered the room he felt like he'd been transported back in time nearly 100 years. The sleek, modern decor of the rest of the house vanished, replaced instead by leather-bound books and antique maps on the wall. The only slightly modern style in the office was the huge bay window beside Peter's desk that overlooked the dance floor.

"Welcome to my thinking room!" Peter announced, bouncing on his toes. "Where all the boring money matters happen so the fun can happen everywhere else. The responsible part of irresponsibility, if you will."

John stepped toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the main floor. From this vantage point, the entire party unfolded like a living tapestry beneath them. He spotted Wendy still at the bar with Tink and the Lost brothers.

"Quite the surveillance system you've got here," John noted, attempting at humor but sounding more critical than intended. From this vantage point he could see almost every inch of the main area.

"Surveillance?" Peter laughed, the sound unexpectedly sharp. "Such a grown-up word for something as simple as watching over what's mine. Haven't you ever wanted to just... watch, John?"

Something about the way he said it made the hairs on the back of John's neck stand up. However, before he could consider a response Peter moved to a bar cart in the corner, crystal containers filled with mysterious liquids catching the light.

"Business first, pleasure second. That's how the best partnerships begin." Peter poured the liquid into two heavy glasses. "This whiskey is older than most mortgages. Aged in barrels that were around when our grandfathers could still see the wonder in the world."

John accepted the glass, inhaling the rich aroma. It smelled like expensive whiskey. "Thank you." He held the glass, clinking it with Peter's before lifting it to his lips. He took a small, guarded, sip, expecting it to burn all the way to his stomach. But it was smooth, and he found himself taking a larger sip before walking toward the desk.

Peter took a long swig of his, setting it on the large mahogany desk before flopping into the leather chair, spinning in a circle. "The best stories are always watched from above. Gods prefer the aerial perspective. I've never understood why men don't as well."

John laughed, then turned to look at Peter directly. "So, you're a God now?"

"Heavens no. Gods are so boring. Too many rules, too much punishment." Peter took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving John's face. "I'm something far more exciting. I'm... possibility." He giggled like he had just told the funniest joke ever. "So, this financial wizardry you mentioned, something about diversifying my risky lifestyle?"

The whiskey slowly burned away the knot of anxiety in John's chest, his shoulders loosened. "Well, I think your lifestyle is..." His eyes were drawn to the window where he watched Tink leading Wendy toward the dance floor. "incredible. But your finances could use some strategic protection."

"Tink has an eye for people who've forgotten how to fly. She believes bringing them here helps them fight their true self." He kicked off the desk, completing another circle in his chair. "Their clipped wings, she likes to call it."

John watched Wendy laugh at something Tink said, her face bright with joy. Was that how she felt? Like John had clipped her wings? The Lost brothers flanked them, but the dancing looked innocent enough. Fun, even. "She does seem... relaxed."

"Forgetting all those things that bring us to an early grave, I hope." Peter refilled John's glass without asking. "That's the magic of this place. It strips away all the pretense, all the suffocating expectations."

"I believe someone such as you would call that protection," Peter continued, drawing out the word. "Always the sensible one, aren't you, John? Always calculating exits before you've even entered the room."

John's jaw tightened. He was losing control of this conversation. "Someone has to think about tomorrow."

"And there lies the tragedy! Tomorrow is a prison most people build themselves." Peter leaned forward onto his elbows. "The most successful partnerships happen between men who understand each other completely. No facades, no corporate masks."

John took another drink, it tasted almost like candy, but still held the warmth of whiskey. "Of course, but someone has to think about the future. My firm specializes in risk management for high-net-worth individuals. With your portfolio, I believe we could structure investments to maximize growth while protecting your core assets..."

"You know what separates the truly successful from the merely comfortable?" Peter interrupted, opening a small wooden box on the table between them. Several lines of white powder were arranged on a mirrored surface. "The willingness to take... calculated risks."

John stiffened. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm fine."

"Fine?" Peter cocked his head, studying John with those unsettling green eyes. "Don't you see? That's the problem. We shouldn't settle for fine," he scoffed, his face contorting as if he was in physical pain. "We shouldn't settle for fine. We should want exquisite, impossible!"

"It's not about that." John glanced toward the window again. Wendy was dancing now, the Lost brothers moving closer. "I just don't think it's appropriate for a business meeting."

"Business meeting?" Peter laughed, the sound sharp. "John, look around. This isn't some sterile conference room. Being one of the boys means trusting one another. Letting go of false pretensions about responsibility."

He leaned back, kicking his bare feet up on the desk. "You're asking me to be part of your family. In Neverland, family shares everything. Secrets, riches... starlight."

John weighed his options. He didn't want to offend Peter in his own home. Especially when he was asking him to make such a big decision. "It's not about trust. The kids are asleep back home. I don't want to be hungover tomorrow."

"Ah, the parent card. The universal anchor that keeps adults tethered to the ground instead of flying through the trees." Peter set the box aside and opened his desk drawer, pulling out a small pipe. "Every major deal I've closed started exactly like this. Two men, honest conversation, shared experiences."

"I can see you're still in corporate mode, John." As he spoke, Peter pulled out a small bag of marijuana, pinching off a healthy piece and placing it in the pipe. "But the biggest opportunities come to those brave enough to step outside their comfort zone."

He pushed the pipe toward John. "The most fascinating thing about prisons is some are so comfortable their inmates forget they're even locked up."

John hesitated, looking from Peter to the pipe. "Guaranteed to evaporate from your system by sunrise, like morning dew," Peter said with a child-like grin.

"I really should get back to Wendy soon."

"Of course." Peter's voice carried a hint of disappointment. "I'm sure she can't wait to get back to her boring life of regrets and responsibilities."

The remark cut deeper than it should have. John looked back out the window. Wendy was pressed between Tink and the Lost brothers now, James's arms wrapped around her hips. He felt the first hints of anger and jealousy watching another man touch his wife, but then he saw the radiant smile on her face, could almost hear the laughter radiating off her as Tink whispered something in her ear.

Did she really have regrets? About their life? About him?

"She's having no trouble letting go," Peter said softly. "Tell me John, when does the risk assessor stop measuring danger and start feeling alive?"

John watched Wendy spin between the Lost brothers, despite the thump of the bass, he could hear her laughter in his head. When had he become the person who stopped having fun? Years of waiting for that promotion that never came, chasing clients who slipped away because he was too cautious, too professional, too safe. Was he about to lose Peter the same way? Miss out on the biggest opportunity of his career because he was afraid to take a risk?

John's grip tightened on his glass. The whiskey was making everything feel distant, dreamy. "One hit, you'll feel like a bird soaring through the night sky."

"Just one," John said, against his better judgment, picking up the pipe. Peter leaned forward with a lighter, watching with satisfaction as John inhaled.

The effect wasn't immediate like alcohol, but gradual. It was a subtle unfurling of tension, as if someone were slowly loosening each knot in his body. John felt himself melt into the chair. All his anxiety about the kids and the bills seemed to dissolve as he let out a long sigh, his eyes fluttering closed.

Part of him wanted to panic. This was no way for any responsible adult to act. He had smoked weed in college, but that was nothing compared to whatever this was. With each passing second the rational voice in his head telling him to get out of there, to run, was being overshadowed by a sense of calm that told him to just enjoy the ride.

"Better?" Peter's voice sounded distant, like he was floating away.

John tried to nod, but everything felt like air, too light to interact with. He smiled instead, or at least he thought he did. He wasn't sure, and the room began to bleed away, his eyelids refusing to stay open. Peter's musical laugh seeped into his ears causing John to want to laugh along with him as the room and everything in it dissolved into nothing.

***

On the dance floor below them, Wendy was getting flying lessons of her own.

A thin sheet of sweat had already formed on her body as she danced with Tink. The beat seemed to be pulsing through her bloodstream, the music coming more alive than ever before. She was in the center of Tink and the Lost Brothers, their bodies growing closer with each sway of their hips.

Tink stood in front of Wendy, her arms wrapped around the taller woman's neck, her eyes level with the pendant that rested between Wendy's chest. "You're the literal definition of stunning," Tink yelled over the music, freeing her left hand from around Wendy's neck. "And this necklace is absolutely breathtaking."

Wendy sucked in air as Tink's silver-tipped nails slid across her skin making fire ignite in Wendy's core as she examined the jewelry. James used the opportunity to pull her closer, his arms wrapping around her hips and resting on her exposed thigh.

Michael stepped closer to Wendy's side, not wanting to be excluded, his fingers coming to rest on her stomach creating a sort of cocoon of warmth and sensation that made it hard for Wendy to breathe. Every touch seemed to light up her nerve endings like a Christmas tree. The stimulation was overwhelming, making Wendy feel like she was falling into a deep, dark pit. One that she never wanted to dig out of.

"This is insane, I feel so..." Wendy lost her words, her body arching into their collective touch.

"Peter always says, insanity is just another word for freedom," Tink giggled, her touch now tracing the small chain at Wendy's throat. "This is how life should feel, not like those boring Monday meetings."

Wendy opened her mouth to disagree, but found herself nodding instead. Tink was right, Wendy hadn't felt this good since she was in college, maybe even before that. She had been so busy ensuring everyone else was happy that she no longer remembered the definition of the word. Electricity pulsed through her, causing her fingertips to tingle. She'd told John that she wanted to enjoy herself tonight. So, why did it still feel like she was holding on to something when every ounce of her was screaming to let it go?

"Your pulse is racing," James whispered, his lips brushing against the curve of her neck. His fingers found the spot where her thigh met hip, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp as he began to grind into her. "That's not fear, Wendy." His fingers maintained their steady pressure, making it harder for her to think straight. "You don't have to be perfect all the time."

Wendy blinked, allowing the euphoric sensation to wash over her. The music still pulsed in her ears, but it sounded muted, like she was in a well. When she opened her eyes, she saw Tink's smile grow larger, she seemed to be closer now, but it was hard to tell. All she could do was stare at her glossy lips. They looked so full, so delicate.

She licked her lips, wanting them to match the moisture of Tink's. From the corner of her eye she saw movement, she assumed it was Michael, but she wasn't sure, she was too focused on the slight curl of Tink's mouth, the way it seemed to be the perfect shade of pink with just a hint of red. She wondered what those lips felt like, they were probably soft, like a cloud. And the taste, probably like cherries or strawberries.

Michael's fingers slid up her ribs, brushing the side of her chest. She was also faintly aware of James's touch sliding across her thigh, getting dangerously close to a place no man other than John had touched in over a decade. But she couldn't focus on that right now, Tink's mouth had parted slightly, her tongue, dainty compared to John's, slid from between them. Wendy's entire body was engulfed in a flame of lust, she couldn't understand what was coming over her, but in that moment all she wanted was to focus on were those lips.

Without further thought, Wendy leaned forward, her lips finding Tink's in an instant. Her tongue darting past her lips in search of her friend's. The kiss was everything Wendy needed, and she heard herself moan into the other woman's mouth. The kiss did nothing however to stop the inferno growing within her. Wendy reached out, pulled Tink's body tighter to her as the urgency of the kiss grew.

The kiss deepened, and Wendy felt herself drowning in sensation. Tink's lips were impossibly soft, tasting faintly of champagne and cherry blossoms. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to fire at once. The fairy dust amplified not just the physical contact but the emotional liberation of the moment. Wendy's skin prickled with desire. For the first time since she married John, she was giving herself permission to just let go and have fun. The responsible mother, the dutiful wife, the careful woman who always considered consequences—that person felt like a costume she'd finally been allowed to shed. For the first time in years, Wendy was kissing someone because she wanted to, not because it was expected or scheduled or part of maintaining her marriage. The freedom was intoxicating, more potent than any drug.

When they finally broke apart, Wendy's eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated and breathing unsteady. She'd never kissed a girl before, not like that at least. The music buzzed around her, but it felt softer, like they were in their own little cocoon with colors dancing around them.

"Mmm," Tink hummed, running her tongue slowly across her bottom lip. "You taste like secrets and strawberries." Her fingers traced the chain of Wendy's necklace, the touch sending sparks down her spine. "I bet the boys would love a taste too."

Heat flooded Wendy's cheeks as she became acutely aware of James and Michael still pressed against her, their hands never having left her body during the kiss. "Tink, I—" She started to step back, but Michael's grip on her waist tightened slightly, the hard lump pressed against her backside taking her breath away.

"This is literal heaven, Wendy," Tink laughed, her voice bright and careless. "We're all friends here. Don't overthink it." She gestured to James with a theatrical flourish. "James has the most incredible mouth. Don't you, James?"

James's smile deepened. Wendy had never been into bad boys before, but something about the menacing way he looked at her caused little jolts of lightning to shoot through her core. Before she could process what was happening his lips were on Wendy's neck where it met her shoulder. "Tink's right," he murmured against her skin, his breath warm and intoxicating. "I do."

Wendy's knees nearly buckled as his mouth worked against her neck, tongue flicking across her pulse point. "Ahhh," she moaned, as the music drowned out the sound. She didn't know if it was the rush of another man's lips on her body, or the drugs racing through her system, but it felt like a hundred mouths were all on her skin at once. All making direct contact with nerve endings. Her hands unconsciously gripped the jacket of his suit, pulling him harder into her. Her hips rolling on their own, making him gasp against her neck.

"See?" Tink's voice sounded distant. Like she was on another planet. "You're practically melting. When's the last time you felt so... alive." Through half-lidded eyes, Wendy watched Tink fly away. Or maybe she was just dancing?

Never, Wendy thought, but couldn't form the words. Michael materialized in front of her, his lips finding the other side of her neck, his fingertips brushing against her arms causing goosebumps to explode across her skin. His technique was different from his brother's. His lips were softer, more teasing, like butterfly wings against her skin.

"This is—" Wendy tried to protest, but the words came out as more of a sigh than an objection.

"The most fun you've had in years?" James whispered against her ear, his arms wrapping around her, fingers sprawled out resting on her exposed thigh.

"But John..."

"Is taking care of all the important stuff so you can have fun. That's why you came here, right? To have fun?" As he spoke, James's fingers slid further up Wendy's thigh, disappearing under her short dress.

Michael pulled back slightly, his blue eyes locked on hers. "Just a taste," he said softly, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "That's all."

Wendy's breath caught. She should say no. Should step away. Should find John and go home to their safe, predictable life. But the fairy dust coursed through her veins like liquid starlight, and James's fingers... She shuddered as his thumb brushed along her hip. She tried to maneuver her body. To pull away? To guide his fingers toward the furnace between her legs? She couldn't think straight. She was drunk, or high or...

"You're still stuck in the real world. Break free, Wendy. Join us in a place where you never have to grow up." James's words cut through her fog just as his lips brushed against the back side of her ear. His hand rested on her hip, his fingers lightly pressed against the front of her damp thong, his strong arms holding her in place, not allowing her to grind into it, something she suddenly wanted more than anything in the world.

When Michael leaned down this time, Wendy didn't pull away. She stood frozen, heart hammering against her ribs, as his lips brushed hers with agonizing gentleness. Asking permission with each soft touch.

Wendy's resolve crumbled like sand. Her lips parted slightly, and Michael took the invitation, deepening the kiss with an eagerness that made her toes curl in her heels. Behind her, James finally released his death grip on her waist, allowing Wendy to press into his fingers.

"Mmmmmm," she moaned into Michael's mouth, with more enthusiasm than she intended. James's fingers sank into the soft fabric of her panties applying just enough pressure to make Wendy see stars. Her arms wrapped around the neck of Michael, sucking his tongue into her mouth.

When James finally pulled away, Wendy was breathless and dizzy, clinging to both brothers for support.

"That looked absolutely delicious," Tink declared, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. "You look absolutely parched." She held up a cup of something blue. Wendy smiled weakly, taking the cup and downing its contents in one drink.

The fruity drink instantly cooled Wendy's overheated body. The aftertaste giving a sort of coconut vibe. Before she could properly thank her friend, James's fingers disappeared from her body giving her a sense of loss. She was quickly spun around, her hand clutching Michael's tattooed arm to ensure she didn't fall. Her gaze was now on James, his smirk playful and wild.

"My turn?" he asked, his fingers curling around the base of her neck.

This time, Wendy leaned in before so much as a second thought. Her inhibitions shattered as her lips brushed against the older brother's. His kiss was exactly what she expected, demanding, firm. He bit down on her bottom lip, fisting her hair in his hand as his kiss consumed her.

James's kiss left Wendy's world spinning, a trail of spit connecting her with the taller brother as they finally broke apart. Her mind was in a deep fog. It was like all she could focus on was the attention she was getting. The heat that started in her core had grown into an inferno and ignited every part of her body.

"Your body is on fire. It's so delicious." James kept in constant contact with Wendy. His arms around her waist, pulling her body tight against his. Like his brother, he allowed his fingers to slide over her exposed thigh.

"Oh my God, you three look absolutely perfect together," Tink's voice cut through the haze, though she didn't seem surprised by what she found. Her eyes sparkled with something that might have been satisfaction as she took in the scene.

Wendy's body tensed for a moment, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Tink, I—"

"Was just enjoying this song," Michael interjected from behind her. Wendy's hips were still moving, but becoming less of a dance, and more of a sway, a response to contact from her partners.

"Well don't let me stop you." Tink smiled up at Wendy, her eyes saying everything her words didn't. "I was just going to go rescue John from his boring meeting with Peter. Is that man always so serious?"

"Yessss," Wendy sighed although more to James's lips on her collarbone than Tink's words. Between her hungry kisses, and Michael's strong arms wrapped around her she felt like she was being swept away in an ocean of maddening bliss. It was getting harder and harder to convince herself to fight the current.

"Do you want to come with me to find them? I know the boys can be a little... much when left to their own devices." She gave them each a stern look, but it did nothing to stop the wave of pleasure they were delivering to Wendy.

"I should..."

Michael's fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her inner thigh and Wendy sighed, throwing her head back to rest on his strong chest.

"One more song," Michael whispered, his fingers teasing the edge of her panties, where the fabric hugged the crease of her thigh.

"Yeah, one more song," James repeated, his lips pressed against the top of her chest as his tongue explored the valley between them.

"Ahhh," Wendy's eyes snapped shut. Her hand sliding up the smooth skin of the back of James's head. "One... one more song. I'll be fine," she said breathlessly, her hips grinding against Michael.

In the flashing lights and sea of bodies, the three of them moved as one. The music pulsed through Wendy's bloodstream, each beat syncing with her racing heart. Michael's hands splayed across her stomach, thumbs tracing patterns that made her nerve endings sing. James's mouth worked its way up from the valley between her breasts to the hollow of her throat, teeth grazing sensitive skin.

Then she felt it. James's fingers sliding higher beneath her dress, past the boundary of her thigh, seeking the heat between her legs.

For a split second, she allowed her legs to part slightly. She sucked in air as James's digit pressed against her bare, wet, heat. Then, using every ounce of willpower she could muster, she placed her hand on his wrist and pushed his fingers away.

John's face materialized in her mind. Not angry, not disappointed. Just... there. Real. Solid. The father of her children. Her husband of ten years. She could picture him exactly as he'd looked tonight, straightening his tie in their bedroom mirror, that nervous smile when he'd complimented her dress.

"Wait." The word came out breathier than she intended, undermined by the way her body arched into Michael's chest. "Wait, I... this is too fast."

Michael's hands stilled against her stomach. James pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his expression shifting. For a heartbeat she thought she saw calculation there, a predator recognizing the need for a different approach. Then his face softened into understanding.

"Hey, of course." James's thumb stroked the inside of her wrist where her pulse hammered. "We're just trying to have a good time, is all. We can do whatever you want."

"Whatever you like," Michael repeated, his voice warm against her ear. His hands remained on her waist, a steady presence rather than demanding one. "You just let us know what that is"

Wendy's thoughts tumbled over themselves, slippery and hard to grasp. Her whole body was alive and there was a part of her, a larger part than she cared to admit that wanted nothing more than to allow Michael to have his way with her. But she knew it was wrong. So deliciously wrong. She should stop. Should step away entirely. Find John and go home, back to her kids and her mundane life.

But the fairy dust still sang in her veins, and James's eyes were so blue in the strobing lights, and Michael's body felt so solid behind her, and when was the last time she'd felt this alive?

"Kissing is okay," she heard herself say, the rationalization spilling out too quickly. "And touching. But... over clothes. Just..." She couldn't quite finish the sentence, couldn't articulate where the line was when she wasn't entirely sure herself.

"Just not too far," Michael finished gently. His hands moved to safer territory, palms smoothing up her ribcage, making her nipples painfully hard. "We can do that. Right, James?"

"Absolutely." James's hand remained on her hip, no longer seeking to move higher. "Whatever you're comfortable with, beautiful. We have all night."

Relief and disappointment warred in Wendy's chest. She'd set a boundary. She was still in control. This was fine. It was just dancing, just kissing. Nothing she couldn't explain away tomorrow as the influence of alcohol and atmosphere.

Nothing she couldn't forgive herself for.

James leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away. When she didn't, his lips found hers in a kiss that was somehow both softer and more consuming than before. His tongue traced her bottom lip, requesting rather than demanding entrance. When she opened to him, he made a sound deep in his throat that sent heat pooling low in her belly.

Behind her, Michael's mouth worked the curve where her neck met her shoulder, each kiss deliberate and maddeningly gentle. His hands stayed exactly where they were, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts through her dress in a touch that was barely there but impossible to ignore.

"You taste like liquorish," James murmured against her mouth, and the line should have been absurd but somehow wasn't. His hand cupped her face, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, his other palm pressed flat against the small of her back applying just enough force to make her press into his manhood.

Michael's teeth grazed her earlobe and she gasped into James's mouth. "You're so responsive," Michael breathed. "Every little touch makes you tremble."

It was true. Her body had become a live wire, every nerve ending hyperaware. The silk of her dress felt like liquid fire against her skin. When James's hand slid to her hip, thumb pressing just above her hipbone, she arched involuntarily.

"That's it," James encouraged, breaking their kiss to watch her face. "Let yourself go, Wendy. You don't have to think so hard."

But that was exactly what she needed to do, think. The fairy dust made everything feel distant and dreamy, made her forget why she'd been so careful all these years. When Michael's hand ventured slightly higher, cupping the outside of her breast through the dress, she knew she should stop him.

Instead, she pressed into his palm.

"So perfect," Michael murmured, his other hand sliding around to her stomach, pulling her tighter against him. She could feel every inch of him now, including the hard length pressing against her lower back. She could tell he was larger than John and even though she knew it was wrong, she couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like inside of her.

James's mouth found hers again, this kiss more insistent. His hand joined his brother's at her hip, both of them now holding her between them. The thin fabric of her dress felt like nothing, like it barely existed. When James's thumb brushed across her nipple, she moaned into his mouth, rationalizing to herself that it was still over her dress.

"God, that sound," James growled, his control slipping. "Do that again."

Michael obliged, his palm pressing more firmly against her breast, thumb circling the taut peak. Wendy's head fell back onto his shoulder, breaking the kiss with James, her breath coming in short gasps. The music pounded around them but it seemed distant now, drowned out by her own racing heartbeat.

This was too much. This was exactly enough. She couldn't tell the difference anymore.

James took advantage of her exposed throat, his mouth hot against her pulse point. "You're so beautiful when you let go." His hand slid to her lower back, fingertips dancing along the base of her spine. "I can feel you fighting it. Fighting yourself."

"I'm not..." But she was. Every muscle in her body was tensed, caught between diving deeper and pulling away.

"It's okay to want this," Michael said against her ear. His hand left her breast to tilt her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. Even in the dim, strobing light, she could see the heat there. "We're not asking you to do anything you don't want. Are we?"

And that was the problem, wasn't it? She did want this. Wanted their hands on her, wanted their mouths, wanted to forget about mortgages and parent-teacher conferences and the slow death of spontaneity. The fairy dust hadn't created these desires, it had just stripped away the layers of guilt and responsibility that usually kept them buried.

"No," she admitted, the word barely audible. "You're not."

James's smile was wolfish. "Then stop thinking so much." His hand slid lower, cupping her ass through the dress, squeezing. "Live a little."

When Michael's lips found hers this time, Wendy surrendered to it. His kiss was different from his brother's, more patient, more exploratory. His tongue swept against hers in slow strokes that made her knees weak. Behind her, James's hands roamed freely over her ass and thighs, always remaining outside her dress but somehow making that limitation feel more erotic than if he'd stripped her bare.

"You're so tense," James murmured, his palms smoothing up the outside of her thighs, pulling her dress higher but not quite high enough to expose anything. "Let us help you relax."

His hands slid around to her inner thighs, pressing them apart slightly. Wendy's breath hitched. He wasn't touching her, not really, but the promise of it made her head spin.

"Still okay?" Michael asked against her lips, his hand returning to her breast.

She should say no. Should stop this before it went any further. But James's hands were so warm on her inner thighs, and Michael's thumb was circling her nipple again, and her entire body felt like it might combust if they stopped touching her.

"Yessss," she breathed, the word dissolving into a moan as James's teeth found her neck.

When James's hand slid between her thighs again, Wendy tensed. But he didn't go further than before. His palm simply rested against the inside of her thigh, his fingers splayed wide, applying gentle pressure. Over her dress. Still over her dress.

"Breathe," he instructed, his mouth at her ear. "Just feel."

She did. Felt Michael's hand kneading her breast, his palm creating delicious friction through the thin fabric. Felt James's hand so close to where she ached, the heat of it radiating through her dress. Felt the hard press of their bodies against hers, front and back, surrounding her.

Felt herself losing the battle between should and want.

"We should..." Wendy struggled to form words. "I need... a break. I need..."

"Fresh air?" Michael suggested, his hand sliding from her breast to her waist. "There's a terrace. Quieter. Cooler."

James nodded against her neck. "Or we could find Peter and John. See how that boring business talk is going."

The way he said it made it clear which option he preferred. And the terrifying, exhilarating truth was that Wendy preferred it too. Some distant part of her knew that going anywhere private with them was a terrible idea. That "fresh air" was just a euphemism for taking this further than she'd already allowed.

But that voice was so faint now, drowned by fairy dust and desire and the way her body hummed with need.

"Just for a minute," she heard herself say. "To cool down."

Michael's smile spread slowly, triumphantly. "Of course. Just a minute." He took her hand, his fingers lacing through hers. He shared a look with his brother, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

James's hand settled on her lower back, guiding her. "This way."

---

Chapter 3

The room wouldn't stop spinning. John closed his eyes, afraid that the spinning would make him sick and he didn't want to risk losing a potential client over something as simple as a weak stomach, after just a few hits from a pipe.

When John opened his eyes, the leather chair beneath him was gone. Peter's office had dissolved. Or maybe he'd dissolved into it. Now, he was standing at his front door.

He frowned, looking at his watch and trying to understand what was happening. 9:17PM. He was just getting off work, but how could that be possible? How much time had he lost? How many days? His hands began to shake as he opened the front door, hoping to see Wendy and try to understand what was happening.

A chill had washed over him as he entered the house, and he made a note to turn down the AC. As the door shut behind him, he saw Wendy asleep on the sofa. The house was quiet, she mush have already gotten the kids to bed. He hated missing bed time, hated that Wendy always fell asleep on the couch.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, kneeling in front of the sofa and giving Wendy a shake. "Kids go down okay?"

Wendy sat up from the sofa, giving John a light smile as she rubbed her neck. "Yeah, not too bad," she whispered, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Sam got an 'A' on his math test. He wanted to show you, but." She trailed off, and John could swear he saw tears in her eyes.

"I know. I'm sorry. The Sanderson file needed my attention and—"

"Something always needs your attention." She wasn't looking at him, but John could tell from her tone she was angry.

"I know. Tomorrow will be better. I'll make sure to get off on time."

"You said that yesterday, John." Her hand went to her cheek. "You always say that."

"Hey, don't cry," he whispered, he rushed over to the sofa to sit next to her, but when he went to put his arm around her she vanished.

"What the hell?" He shot to his feet, and suddenly he was standing outside the front door again. He glanced at his watch, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. 9:17PM.

He rushed through the door, startling Wendy awake as he struggled to catch his breath, his pulse racing.

"You're late," Wendy said, flatly. "The kids went down about an hour ago. Dinner is on the stove."

"Wendy, I—"

"Had an important meeting. I know." She let out a strangled sigh, shaking her head. "But we are important too, John. The kids miss you... I miss you."

It felt like a weight was sitting on his chest. Tears stung the back of his eyes as he rushed over to her, but just like before the moment he reached her she seemed to vanish into thin air only for him to find himself in front of the door again at exactly 9:17.

And again.

And again.

Each time, John moved faster. Apologized quicker. Reached for Wendy more desperately. But the result was always the same. Just as he reached her, she would dissolve like smoke and he'd be back at the front door.

After the tenth time, or maybe the hundredth, he wiped the tears that had streaked his face and refused to walk through the door. He didn't want to keep living this nightmare, he couldn't do it. He would rather die than go through the door one more time to see the way his wife looked at him, to know the kids were already in bed and she would wake up angry with him.

All at once, there was a bright light, and the world was spinning again. He couldn't understand what was happening to him. Was this what people went though when they talked about having a bad trip? He closed his eyes, waiting for the fury of the storm to die down and he felt like he was back on solid ground. When he opened his eyes this time, he was standing in their bedroom. Wendy was at the center of the bed wearing a bright red teddy that he hadn't seen in years. The tops of her chest stuck out as the silk fabric dipped down. Her manicured nails, pink with white tips, slowly pulled at the hem on the gown, exposing her creamy thighs.

"Care to join me?" she asked, with a sultry voice. She was giving him her best bedroom eyes. It was a look he hadn't seen in what felt like forever.

John tried to move toward her, but he was frozen in place. A quick glance at his feet revealed why. Client folders were sprawled out in front of him. He picked up the first one, the Sanderson file. He just needed to sign off on the report. A pen materialized and he quickly scribbled his name, the file crumbling away into the ether. He took a step toward the bed, but another file lay in his way. This time it was the Henderson file. He picked it up, it was thicker than the previous one. He remembered when he made that deal. The company had been downsizing, John was on the cusp of losing his job, and with it likely the house, but the Henderson deal came through at the last second and had saved him from the cutting block.

"Hurry, baby. It's been so long." Wendy let the strap of the teddy fall from her shoulder, the pink flesh of her nipple coming into view taut with anticipation.

"I'll... I'll be right there," John stammered, finding the last page of the report and vaporizing the file with the swipe of his pen. But the moment it was gone three more took it's place, each one more important than the last.

"I've been so lonely, John. I need you." She had fallen to her back now, the silk material pulled up to her hip, her fingers disappearing under the thin fabric of panties. "Mmm, God I need you," she purred, her eyes fluttering closed.

John's hands moved frantically, signing off on the Baker account, all three volumes, but the moment the last one crumbled away, a dozen more materialized. Client proposals. Risk assessments. Thompson's performance reviews. Each one urgent, each one necessary, each one standing between him and his wife.

"John, please," Wendy gasped, her hand moving faster beneath the silk. Her other hand moved to her breast, pushing the teddy aside, exposing herself fully. "I need... I need you to..."

"I'm trying!" John was wading through papers now, up to his waist. For every file he signed, three more appeared. He watched Wendy withering on the bed, the sound of her arousal filling his ears as he signed file after file. Each file just as important as the last, each one getting him closer to that promotion and financial freedom. But what was the price?

"Oh, God. I need it so bad, baby. Please don't make me wait." His slacks grew tighter as he waded through the paperwork, desperate to make love to his wife. He didn't want to keep her waiting. He needed it just as bad as she did, but he had to get through this mountain of paperwork. He couldn't afford to let a deal slip through his hands and risk losing it all.

The smell of her arousal filled the room. Her panties had become so wet they crumbled against her leg, her bald slit glistening with her growing desire.

"Oh... I'm right there. So close..." Her tongue danced across her top lip, hips lifting off the beg as her speed increased. "I just need a little... Ugh, baby, I need you. I need—"

But the papers were multiplying exponentially now. Fifty files became a hundred became five hundred. An avalanche of responsibility burying him, rising to his chest, his shoulders, drowning him in good intentions and necessary sacrifices.

"Uhhhh..." Wendy groaned in defeat. Her movements stilled. Her breath labored as her fingers slowed over her clit. She'd finished without him. It wasn't the toe-curling release she'd hoped for, that she could have achieved with a willing partner, but it was enough to get her through the night.

She rolled to her side as John watched helpless, her breathing beginning to slow. "It's fine, babe. Just take care of your work. I'll... see you in the morning."

John fell to his knees, the paperwork stacking over his head, drowning him, suffocating him until he began to fall.

***

John gasped, his eyes snapping open. The papers were gone. He was back in Peter's leather chair, the office dim around him. He shot up, glancing at his watch. It was just after ten, barely any time had passed at all.

He brought his hand to his forehead, damp with sweat. The dream he'd had was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. His heart thudded in his chest as he glanced toward the window over looking the dance floor, the vibration of the base rattling through his legs. He tried to stand, but couldn't, it was like he was in quicksand.

"I've never understood couples who claim to be in love." Peter's voice drifted from somewhere, but John couldn't see him. "It's like they think they own the other person, even if it means locking them away to rot."

"What?" John's voice came out hoarse. He turned, searching for the source.

"You've built such a beautiful cage, John." The words seemed to pulse with the bass from downstairs. "Bars in the shape of mortgages. Locks rooted in responsibility." Peter's laugh was whimsical, like he was amazed. "They say your wedding night is the happiest night of your life. Is that because afterward you're just a caged animal?"

"That's not—" John tried to stand again. This time his legs obeyed, carrying him toward the window overlooking the dance floor.

"I've always found birds in the wild to be the happiest. They soar from sky to sky completely unburdened. Their feathers are the brightest, their songs the prettiest."

Below them the mass of bodies seemed to part, until John was looking right into Wendy's eyes. She was still between the Lost brothers, just like he'd remembered, but this time her body language was completely different.

"Caged birds start to fade," Peter continued. "Until all that's left is a shell of what could have been. You see, even the subconscious knows when it's not truly free."

A giggle swept over John, Wendy's giggle. It was sounded like she was sitting right next to him it was so clear. But, on the dance floor, she wrapped her hands around James's neck, while Michael's hand slipped between her thigh.

"Oh, God. That feels so good."

John's breath caught. That wasn't possible. He was two floors up, the music was deafening, but he could hear every word. Every gasp.

"You're so wound up," Michael whispered against her ear, as her head fell back against his chest.

"It's... Oh God, it's been too long." Wendy's lips found James's as Michael's fingers completed their journey.

"I need this," Wendy breathed, her head falling back against Michael's chest. "You have no idea how badly I need this."

The words drove into John's chest like nails. She was right, it had been too long. Even the other night on the sofa, Wendy had stroked him to climax and he'd just left her, forgotten. What kind of husband did that? She deserved better, she deserved...

"Ahhh, yes." Wendy's head was thrashing on Michael's chest, the sound of her body sucking his fingers into her echoed in John's head filling his body with a warmth he didn't expect.

"Now there's a bird that is truly beautiful when she's allowed to soar." Peter's voice curled around him. "When she's not left waiting for her husband's return. When she isn't the only parent present in her children's lives."

John's hand pressed against the glass. He should go down there. Should stop this. Should—

Wendy's hand went to the front of James's pants. The sound of his zipper opening was like a shotgun blast in John's ears. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, his body responded. His manhood was suddenly aching with need as he watched Wendy's fingers disappear inside the open zipper.

"You feel amazing. I can't wait to see how tight you feel around this." Michael nipped at her ear as he undid his pants.

Wendy looked like she was in another world. Her eyes were closed, her breathing heavy as she stroked the man in front of her, her lower half responding in kind to the man behind her.

"You've been watching her fade for years." Peter's words were the loudest of all, no matter how much John tried to tune him out.. "Dimming herself to fit into the cage you built. And now look, she's incandescent."

Wendy's dress had slipped lower. James's mouth found her breast while Michael freed himself between her thighs. Her fingers tangled in the blonde mohawk, pulling him closer, her hips moving with his touch.

"Please," she moaned, her voice thick with need. "I want—Mmm, I need—"

For a moment, Wendy's body went rigid. John watched her chest heave, watched her fingers tighten in James's hair. Her free hand stretched behind her body, finding Michael's naked manhood.

John's hand found the front of his pants. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't understand why he was so aroused. He couldn't remember the last time he was this turned on. What the hell was wrong with him? The sight revolted him. Excited him. He didn't know which feeling scared him more.

Then she pushed Michael away.

"I can't." Her voice broke. "I want to. You have no idea how badly I want to... but I can't."

"Fascinating." Peter's voice held dark amusement. "The cage you built is so well-constructed, she locks herself inside it even when you're not watching. She's both prisoner and warden now."

John should have felt relieved when she pulled away, but instead he felt a weird sense of disappointment. His erection throbbed in his pants, making him look away in shame. He couldn't explain why the thought of seeing her let herself go aroused him so much.

"I'm... I'm not that person," he heard Wendy whisper before adjusting her dress and rushing off the dance floor.

"You see that?" Peter's voice taunted. "She can't even tell the type of person she is anymore. She's a bird with no wings at all. Truly tragic."

John wanted to scream that it wasn't his fault. Wendy was a good person. He wasn't holding her back, she just understood the sacrifices they were both making. But the world around him began to fracture.

"—John? Hey, can you hear me?"

His eyes drifted opened, his thoughts fluttering through the fog as reality began to come back into focus. The scent of vanilla and champagne floated through the air, green glitter dotting his vision. Wendy, he thought to himself nuzzling into the warmth of her breast, smashed against his face.

"Comfy, huh?" Tink's voice was honeyed and electric. Her glossy pink lips twisted with mischief as John realized the gravity of his mistake.

“I’m—” John started, shifting awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to... I don't know what happened."

"I do," Tink said with a giggle, shifting her body to allow John to sit up, and in the process allowing him a quick glance straight down the front her her low cut dress. "Peter keeps the good stuff stashed up here. Sounds like you got a taste of the good life."

His cheeks burned. The combination of the weed, and his utter embarrassment. "I should... find Wendy."

"She's dancing." She glanced toward the window. “But I guess you already know that. She's having the time of her life.” She glanced at the front of his pants, tight with arousal.

John's face burned hotter. Of course she'd noticed. He scrambled for an explanation that didn't involve admitting his dream. "I just... waking up like that. You were..." He gestured vaguely at her dress, unable to finish.

"Ah." Her smile widened. "Well, that's one explanation."

"What's the other?"

"Relax, John," Tink whispered, taking a step toward him and letting her silver-tipped nail slide across his thigh. "Everyone should be allowed to be a little naughty, every now and then."

John's throat tightened as he sucked in air. Was she coming on to him, or was she suggesting something already happened with Wendy? Were both things true?

"I had a dream. At least, I think it was a dream." John rubbed his head, like a headache was suddenly coming on. "I saw her with the brothers. She... I thought she was going to..."

He couldn't get the words out, but Tink nodded in understanding, looping her arm around his elbow and pulling him to his feet. "Ah... so that's why..." Her fingers brushed the front of his pants and John nearly leapt from his skin.

"No!" He looked at her in horror, but she didn't seem to be judging him at all. She simply held his gaze, a slight curl to her lips. "I mean... she stopped her herself. Nothing... nothing happened."

"But part of you wanted it to, right? Because you've never really seen that side of her before?"

John's jaw tightened. How could he explain the twisted knot in his chest? The relief and disappointment warring inside him? "I..." How could he admit it? That watching her want something, even if it wasn't him, had excited him more than anything in years?

"It's okay," Tink said, reaching out and taking his hand. "Nothing happens here that we don't want to happen."

"But what if—"

She pulled him toward the door. "Shh. Let's go find her. See what she's actually up to instead of what your drug-addled brain conjured." They stepped into the hallway, and Tink paused again. "Who knows, maybe along the way you'll realize that seeing her fly may be the very thing you needed all along. You've just been too afraid to admit it to yourself."

---

Chapter 4

The chill of the night air hit Wendy as soon as she stepped onto the terrace, but her body still burned with what happened. She was far enough from the dance floor that the music became muffled, but the bass still pulsed through her. She gripped the marble railing, the cold stone grounding her as her mind spun.

The Lost brothers had offered to get her another drink. She'd nodded, needing space, needing air, needing to think without Michael's hands on her waist or James's mouth on her neck.

I can't.

The words she'd gasped on the dance floor echoed in her head, but they felt hollow now. Dishonest. Because the truth was messier than that. The truth was she'd wanted James's fingers inside her. Had opened her legs for him. Had only stopped because some automatic reflex kicked in, some programmed response that screamed wrong, wrong, you're married, this is wrong.

But was it the stopping that felt wrong? Or the wanting?

She took a shaky breath, her thighs clenching together against the ache that still hadn't faded. Her body was a traitor, still humming with need, still remembering the heat of their hands, the promise in their touches. She'd been so close. So desperately, achingly close.

Below her, darkness unfurled in every direction. A pair of neatly trimmed hedges emerged from the void like small islands, everything else swallowed by the night. A loose strand of hair drifted across her vision and she brushed it back, her hand trembling.

When was the last time she'd wanted something this badly? When was the last time she'd felt so... desired? She knew it wasn't fair. John was a good man. He worked hard to provide for them, to ensure Wendy and the kids had everything they needed. So why did she feel so unhappy?

John's face materialized in her mind. He wasn't smiling, but he also wasn't angry. He looked how he always did... distant. It was the same look as when he'd fallen asleep on the sofa during movie night. Was he even thinking about her right now? Or was he absorbed in spreadsheets and portfolio discussions to worry about his wife and mother of his children?

The thought sent a spike of resentment through her chest.

She'd come here tonight telling herself it was for him. For his career. For their future. But standing here with her pulse still racing and her body still aching, she could finally admit the truth: she'd wanted permission to feel alive again. She'd wanted to feel desired. She'd wanted to remember what it felt like when someone looked at her and saw Wendy instead of Mom or Mrs. Darling or another item on an endless to-do list.

"I thought I'd find you out here."

Wendy spun, her heart lurching. Peter stood in the doorway, barefoot and composed, those impossible green eyes reading her like an open book.

"I was just—" She stopped, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

"Hiding." He said it matter-of-factly as he moved closer. "From the boys or from yourself?" His head tilted slightly. "From the real Wendy Darling."

Heat flooded her cheeks. "You don't know anything about me."

"Believe it or not, I was once like you." Boyish wonder seemed to flick behind his eyes. A youthful charm he seemed to turn on like a secret weapon. "We have all these pressures from the outside world. Expectations of who we are and what we should do." He took a few steps closer to her and Wendy found herself holding her breath. "Respectable mothers don't dress like that. Good wives don't kiss other women."

Wendy buried her face into her shoulder trying to hide the embarrassment.

"The first time I threw a party like this I was told it would hurt my public image. That I was just burning money and it would be gone in a year." He rolled his eyes, reaching out and taking her hand in his. "It's all utter nonsense. Stupid people saying stupid things because they are jealous."

"Jealous?"

"That you allow yourself to be free. That you don't let the false ceiling that confines them stop you from soaring."

"It's different for me." Her voice came out sharper than intended. "I have a husband. I have children. I can't just—"

"Can't what? Feel pleasure? Want things?" Peter's laugh was soft, almost sad.

"That's not fair."

His touch danced up her wrist. It was different than the way Michael and James touched her. It was almost playful, but still she felt sparks. "You carry everyone else's happiness like fireflies in a jar. So desperate to keep their lights alive that you let yours go dim." His voice softened. "What about your light, Wendy?"

"I chose this life." But even as she said it, she heard the doubt creeping in.

"Or did you just stop choosing anything else?" Peter reached out releasing her hand, and tucked a curl behind her ear. "There's a difference between sacrifice and surrender. One is noble. The other is just... sad."

Wendy's breath caught. "I love my family."

"I believe you." His hand dropped. "But what if loving them doesn't mean erasing yourself? What if you're allowed to be more than one thing?"

"I'm a mother. A wife. I can't—"

"Be a woman?" He finished. "Can't want? Can't need?" His eyes searched hers. "You've been told wanting is selfish. That pleasure is something you earn through sacrifice. Absolute nonsense." His smile was almost boyish. "Joy isn't a reward, Wendy. It's a birthright you've been taught to surrender."

She shook her head, but the words were burrowing under her skin, finding all the tender places she'd tried to ignore. "John would—"

"John is discovering his own truths tonight," Peter interrupted gently. "What if some moments exist just to exist? Shooting stars don't apologize for burning bright."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It is simple. You've just been convinced it's complicated." He gestured back toward the party. "That room is filled with people who have learned we don't have to choose between happiness and being a good person. We can have both. We can still fly. We just have to let ourselves."

The terrace door opened. James and Michael stepped out, a shimmering blue drink in Michael's hand, but they didn't approach. They waited in the doorway, as if sensing this moment belonged to Peter.

Peter took the glass from Michael without looking away from Wendy. He held it out to her. "Lorenzo made this one special. It tastes like midnight and honey, and all the things you've been denying yourself."

Wendy's hand trembled as she reached for it. Her fingers brushed Peter's, the contact sending sparks up her arm. She brought the glass to her lips, and he was right. It tasted like darkness and sweetness, like permission and danger all at once.

The liquid warmth spread through her chest, loosening something that had been wound tight for years.

"What is it Wendy Darling truly wants?" Peter asked, genuinely curious. "Not what John wants. Not what the kids need. Not what you think you should want. What does Wendy want?"

"I want..." Her voice trembled. "I want to stop feeling guilty for wanting anything at all."

"Then stop." He said it so simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. His hand found her face, tilting her chin up to meet those impossible green eyes. "The cage you've built is unlocked, Wendy. You're both prisoner and warden. All you have to do is step out."

Her breath caught. Heat pooled low in her belly, that constant ache flaring back to life. He was right. Or maybe she just wanted him to be right. Maybe it didn't matter which.

"You're not taking something from John by claiming yourself," Peter said softly. "You're not betraying your children by remembering you're human." His thumb traced her cheekbone. "You're just... flying. The way you were always meant to."

"And if I can't go back? If I—"

"You won't want to go back. No one ever does." Peter's smile widened. "Let go, Wendy. Let that sad, dimmed version of yourself go. Be the woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to claim it."

She should pull away. Should go find John and leave before she did something she couldn't undo.

Instead, she closed the distance between them, her chest pressing against his.

Peter met her halfway, but when his lips touched hers, it wasn't the demanding heat of James or the teasing softness of Michael. It was something else entirely. Gentle. Understanding. Yet somehow it set off fireworks. She was the eager one, wanting more, pushing for a deeper kiss.

Her hands came up to grip his emerald jacket, needing him to give her everything the brothers had promised. But Peter held back, controlled, letting her take what she needed without overwhelming her.

When they finally broke apart, Wendy's eyes fluttered open. Her breathing was unsteady, her lips tingling. Something fundamental had shifted. The guilt that had been eating at her, the voice screaming that she was wrong and bad and terrible had quieted. Not disappeared, but reduced to a whisper she could finally ignore.

Peter's thumb traced her bottom lip. "See? That wasn't so terrible, was it?"

She shook her head, unable to speak. Because it wasn't terrible at all. It was liberation.

Peter stepped back, and as if on cue, the Lost brothers moved to either side of her. James's hand found the small of her back. Michael's fingers traced her arm. She didn't pull away. Peter's smile widened. "Now," he said softly, "are you ready to fly?"

Wendy bit her lip. She looked at the brothers then back at Peter. Instead of answering him, she placed her hand behind his head and pulled him into another kiss.

***

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tink asked, looping her arm through John's arm as they descended the stairs.

John's face burned as he avoided looking at her. It wasn't just the embarrassment of her finding him hard. It was also the way the lights hit the glitter sitting atop of her chest, making the deep cut of her shirt nearly impossible not to look down.

"I... I need to find Wendy."

"Mmm-hmm." Tink's free hand patted his arm. "We'll find her. But like, whatever it was seemed to make quite the... impression." Her eyes darted to the obvious bulge in his pants and John considered throwing himself down the steps.

"It wasn't... I mean... Can we not."

John wanted to die. Wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. The dream was still fresh on his mind. The image of Wendy's hand moving between her legs. The sound of her moaning as James's fingers disappeared inside her. The shameful, inexplicable heat that had flooded his body watching it all unfold.

"Okay, okay." They rounded the corner the corner where a couple was pressed against the wall making out like a couple of horny teenagers. John gave them a confused look as he sidestepped them. The music began to fade, the rumble of the crowd disappearing until it was clear they were the only two in the hallway. "If you want, I can tell you about my first party here. I literally died."

"You didn't... actually, yeah. I would love to hear about it." John realized that if she was talking about her first experience at least she wouldn't ask him about his dream.

"So I was dating this guy Malcom for like ever," Tink began, her usual manic energy calming as they slowed their pace. "And we were so boring, John. Like, catastrophically boring. Dead bedroom, barely talked, neither of us really knew why we were still together."

They passed through a quieter section of the house. Tall windows looked out onto gardens John couldn't quite see in the darkness. The bass from the dance floor was distant now, muffled by layers of walls and expensive soundproofing.

"Peter invited me here and I literally begged Malcom to come because I thought maybe it would, I don't know, fix us or whatever." She laughed. "God, I was so naive."

"What happened?"

"I..." She licked her lips, looking up at John through her lashes. "I sorta hooked up with someone else."

John's throat tightened. Why was she telling him this? He thought about the dream, about the way Wendy came alive unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

"I mean, he was super hot and Malcom was just... Have you ever done something that like you thought Wendy may hate but then when you told her she liked it?"

He considered the question, his hand running through his hair as he racked his brain. "There was one time..." He paused mid-sentence unsure if he actually wanted to share the story. "I told her about a girlfriend in college. She used to do this thing when she..." John suddenly felt warm. "When she went down on me."

Tink watched him, a slight smile on her face, but she didn't judge him, didn't interrupt.

"I told Wendy about it once when I was drunk. I thought she would be furious but she actually..." The front of his pants grew tight. "It ended up being the best night of sex we'd had in a long time."

Tink nodded, like she understood exactly what he meant. "That's exactly what happened with Malcom." She put her hand on his chest, a jolt of lightning following it. "Malcom caught us together, mid act. I thought he'd be furious." Tink's voice went soft from the memory. "But when I looked over at him, he wasn't angry at all. He was hard. Like couldn't even stand up straight, hard."

The walls felt like they were closing in around him. John stumbled, nearly taking Tink down with him. That's how he'd felt in the dream. That's how he felt now, just thinking about it.

"We went home that night and had the best sex of our entire relationship," Tink continued. "Like something just... unlocked in both of us. For six months we were closer than we'd been in years. I thought we'd figured it out. That we'd discovered this secret that made everything better."

John's pulse hammered, his tongue so thick he didn't think he'd be able to speak. "Wha... what happened?"

Tink stopped walking, turning to face him. She brought her hand to his cheek, her touch feather-light. For a moment John thought she was going to try to kiss him, but she just giggled. "We broke up."

John's heart stopped. He had to reach out and grab the wall to stop from falling. That was his biggest fear, the reason he could never admit what his dream was about. It was why he needed to find Wendy.

"Look at me." Tink's other hand framed his face, her features more serious than he'd ever seen them. "But it had nothing to do with what happened here." Her gaze held his. "Our issue was never our sex life. It wasn't because of one night at a party. The issue was that we just didn't love each other. It ended because we realized we'd been holding on to something that was never really there."

She stepped closer, her hand moving from his face to rest over his heart. John could feel his pulse racing against her palm.

"But you and Wendy? John, that's so different." Her eyes searched his face. "The way she talks about you at work. The way her whole face changes when she mentions you or the kids. That's real love. Like, deep, married, I'd do anything for them love."

The words did little to ease the knot of anxiety in his stomach.

"The party didn't end our relationship, John. It made us hold on to each other even tighter."

John leaned against the wall, his mind racing. He tried to remember the last time he and Wendy had a date night. When was the last time he took vacation? Work had consumed him lately and if he was being honest with himself, he had no idea when it was going to slow down.

The dream flashed through his mind again and his fingers began to twitch. Wendy on the couch, falling asleep alone. Wendy telling him the kids missed him. Wendy in their bed, touching herself, begging him to come to her while he drowned in paperwork that never fucking ended.

His chest tightened. "I've been a shitty husband."

"You've been an overwhelmed one," Tink corrected. "There's a difference."

"I can't even remember the last time I really did something for her." John's hands fisted in his hair.

"She knows that what you do at work is for her. For the kids." She took his hand and squeezed it. "But sometimes, a woman needs... more. Even if we can't admit it."

It was hard to breathe. It felt like someone was sitting on his chest.. "I fell asleep during movie night last week. She'd been looking forward to it all day and I just... passed out on the couch."

"Okay, so you fucked up. You're human." Tink's hand went to his chest, over his heart. "But here's the thing. You're here right now because part of you knows something needs to change. That dream you had, that wasn't random. It was showing you what you've been too scared to see."

"That I'm turned on by my wife fucking other men?" John blushed and looked at his feet.

"Are you?" Tink asked quietly. "Or are you turned on because she was finally getting what she needed? Because someone was paying attention to her?"

John wobbled on unsteady ground. That was it, wasn't it? In the dream, Wendy hadn't looked at James like she wanted him. She'd looked like she was finally being allowed to lose control.

"I... fuck. I've been so absent that watching someone else make her feel good..." He couldn't finish, but Tink nodded like she understood. "In my dream," John's voice was so low he wasn't sure Tink heard him. "I saw her..." his hands fidgeted and he ended up holding them in front of his body. "She was touching herself, but I couldn't get to her. She was begging me to come to bed and I... work has been so busy."

Tink's fingers threaded through his hair, trying to comfort him but not wanting to interrupt.

"She finished without me," he continued, his voice cracking. "I watched her give up and finish alone because I was too busy with work that never ended. Work that was always more important than being there for her."

"John—"

"But that's not the worst part." He forced himself to meet Tink's eyes, even as tears welled in his. He wanted to see her reaction to what he was about to admit. "The worst part was after." He took a breath and swallowed. "I saw her... with the Lost Brothers. James had his fingers inside her and she was so... God, Tink, she was so sexy. So desperate for it. Making these sounds I haven't heard in years. Maybe ever."

Her fingers continued to work through his hair as she nodded softly, like she knew what was coming next.

"And I was hard," John admitted, disgusted by the confession. "Watching another man touch my wife, seeing her respond like that, seeing her want it so badly. It made me harder than I've been in months and I don't... I don't understand what that means about me."

"It means you want to see your wife happy. That her happiness makes you happy."

"It means I'm fucked up."

"No." She pulled him into a hug. "It mean you care about her happiness, and it's kind of hot."

He took a step back, breaking the hug, afraid she'd feel him stiffen against her soft flesh and get the wrong idea. He wanted her to be wrong, or maybe he wanted her to be right and it felt wrong to admit it? He wasn't sure anymore. All he knew for certain was that he was painfully hard and needed to find his wife.

They paused at the terrace door. Through the frosted glass John could see movement but couldn't make out who it was. Still, he knew deep down it was Wendy and the thought terrified and excited him all at once.

John closed his eyes. His mind was a war zone of guilt and arousal. In the dream, Wendy had been incandescent. Not because of James specifically, but because someone was touching her exactly how she needed.

"I don't know if I can do this," he admitted. "I don't know if I can be... like Malcom. I can't be okay with—"

"Then don't decide right now." Tink's hand moved from his chest to his face, making him look at her. "Just... keep an open mind. See what happens. You might surprise yourself."

"What if I lose her?" The fear finally broke through, raw and desperate. "What if she realizes she doesn't need me? That she's happier without—"

"John." Tink's voice cut through his spiral. "Wendy came here with you. She could've come alone, but she didn't. She wanted you here. She wants you in this with her."

"But what if—"

"Stop going there." Tink's voice softened. "You've spent so long worried the worst-case scenario that you've forgotten good things can happen too."

John took a shaky breath. She was right. He'd spent years calculating risks, preparing for failure. When had he stopped believing things could work out? Through the frosted glass of the terrace door, he could see movement. His heart hammered. Part of him wanted to turn away. The safer part. The part that had been in control for a decade.

But the other part—the part that had woken up hard from a dream of his wife's pleasure—that part wanted to see what would happen.

"Wendy adores you," Tink said softly, her fingers grazing the front of his pants. "If you tell her you want her to stop she will." She squeezed gently and John's hips jerked forward. "But I don't think you want that."

She opened the terrace door. "The first step in flying, is letting yourself fall."

---

Chapter 5

The terrace door swung open and the sight before John stole his breath. He tried to process the scene in front of him, but it was like a puzzle with incorrect pieces. Wendy stood by the railing in front of him, her dress twisted and bunched to one side. Peter was behind her, his hand clearly under her dress and based on the wet sloshing sounds coming from them he had found his mark.

James was just off to the side of her, his face mashed against hers as they shared a wet, sloppy kiss. A kiss that made John's chest ache so badly he thought he was having a heart attack. Michael was off to the other side of Wendy, his fingers gently gliding across her exposed skin making her pant. He was slowly unbuttoning his own shirt, as Wendy's hand blindly slid across his large frame.

"Oh fuck," Tink whispered, taking John's hand, but her voice felt distant, swallowed by the rush in his ears. All he could see was his wife. All he could hear were her moans, and the slick sounds coming from between her thighs.

John knew he should have felt rage. That he should have raced across the terrace and ripped his wife away. Instead, he stood there frozen and harder than he'd ever been.

A trail of spit connected James and Wendy as he broke their kiss. "I think this is only getting in the way now," he said, as he and his brother worked to pull the straps from her shoulder.

Wendy's eyes fluttered open and immediately found John. Time seemed to slow as they stared into each other's eyes.

A bolt of lightning tore through him as he took in his wife's expression. He could see the fear in her eyes, the guilt, but also the desire. The desperate hope that just because John was there that didn't mean she needed to stop. That he would watch her fly.

The zipper on her dress descended. Inch by inch, tooth by tooth, the sound impossibly loud in the suspended moment. Wendy's eyes never left John's. She was trembling now—not from fear, but from the weight of what was happening. The permission being granted without words. The freedom being offered without conditions.

James pushed the dress off her shoulders. The midnight blue silk pooled at her waist, then slipped further, catching briefly on her hips before falling completely. She wore only a black lace bra and matching thong underneath, but even those felt like obstacles, flimsy last defenses begging to be stripped aside.

John swallowed. His pulse hammered in his ears. Every instinct screamed at him to stop this, to pull her away, to reclaim what was his. But beneath the panic was something older now. Something he could no longer deny. Something that had been growing since the dream, since Tink’s story, since the moment he finally spoke the truth to himself.

John nodded. Just once. Barely perceptible. But Wendy saw it. A smile materialized on her lips, the fear in her eyes melting away.

Even with Peter’s hand still working between her thighs, James’s mouth trailing down her neck, and Michael’s fingers unclasping her bra, she looked at her husband like he was the only man in the world, like they shared a secret no one else could fathom.

In that moment, they both knew he could stop it if he wanted to. Instead, he mouthed I love you, and Wendy’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Oh God,” she breathed, her head falling back against Peter’s shoulder as he pulled her thong aside. “Ohhh…”

John’s jaw went slack. His eyes went wide. Wendy’s bare pussy was on full display now—her smooth folds stretched around two of Peter’s fingers as his thumb worked slow circles over her clit.

“Fuck, she’s soaked,” James said, lowering himself beside her. Peter’s fingers slid free, proving the point as he dragged her thong down her toned legs. James didn’t wait for it to fall away. He surged forward, and Wendy’s hips arched as his mouth found her. Her hands flew to his head, fingers gripping the dark hair of his mohawk.

“Oh fuck—oh Jesus—just like that. Just—”

John’s hand moved to the front of his pants. He was so hard it ached, watching his wife unravel under the attention of three other men. His hands shook as he unzipped. His cock throbbed free, already slick with precum.

“John,” Tink whispered, her hand on his arm. “You should wait until we get to the good part.” Her fingers slid slowly toward his wrist. “I can—”

“No.” The word came out strained as he turned away from her. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted to Tink—quite the opposite—but in that moment, all he could focus on was Wendy.

James’s hands slid over Wendy’s ass, lifting one leg from the ground as his tongue continued its assault. Her panties dangled helplessly from her ankle as Michael gathered the fabric and tugged it free, steadying her by the arm.

Wendy's head fell back onto Peter who seemed to be watching John more than he was Wendy. Michael however, didn't pay John any mind. He kissed down Wendy's neck with a hunger, his teeth scraping her skin and making her whimper. His teeth clamped down on her nipples, harder than John had ever bitten her, and she shoved her chest into him, feeding him more of her tit.

"Unngh fuck. What are you doing to me," she whined, bouncing on one foot.

James never broke rhythm below her. Whatever he was doing was working and Wendy rolled her hips, fisting his hair.

"Careful," Peter warned from behind her. "Toys that aren't used to that much attention are often the first to break."

"Oh, my... oh God. Ohhhh fuck."

The strength left her legs all at once. James withdrew, grinning at his handiwork, his mouth and chin slick. Wendy's vision blurred, her eyes rolling back as the orgasm continued its assault. She swayed, boneless, and would have collapsed completely if Peter and Michael hadn't been there to catch her. They guided her down, until she was kneeling on cold marble, the shock of stone against her knees anchoring her as tremors continued to roll through her body.

John watched his wife's body tremble through the aftershocks of her orgasm, his hand barely touching his cock afraid he may explode at any moment. Tink pressed against him, he could feel the softness of her flesh against his arm, but couldn't tear his gaze away from Wendy who was still trying to catch her breath.

James was the first to move, taking a step back as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He passed a look to his brother and the two of them were standing on either side of Wendy, the sound of their zippers lowering filling the quiet space.

John staggered backward nearly knocking Tink over. He couldn't believe what he was witnessing. James's cock sprung free first. It was about the same size as John's but thicker and pierced at the tip. The metal caught the light and it looked like it was winking at John in his overly-stimulated state. Michael was next. His manhood was longer, more intimidating. He stepped closer to Wendy, running the crown of it over her cheek.

"I believe, I'm next," he said, wrapping his hand around the base of his shaft and running his fingers through her hair.

Wendy looked between the two men in front of her, biting her lip. Then her attention turned to John. She watched him as he stroked himself. "I'm not sure which one to choose," she said, seductively. Without breaking eye contact with her husband she leaned to the left, running her tongue along the underside of James's shaft.

"Mmm." She continued to stare at her husband as she leaned to the right, circling the tip of Michael's cock. "It's so big. I don't know if—"

"Mmmph," came Wendy's muffled cry as Michael pulled her forward, stretching her jaw. John watched in stunned silence as her throat worked, desperate to please him. She gagged slightly as he pushed deeper, but it only seemed to solidify her drive to take him deeper.

"Fuuuuck she's good at that." Michael began to pump his hips forward, feeding more of his cock into Wendy's eager mouth.

"Don't hog her," James protested, hip checking Michael and making Wendy release his cock with a loud 'pop'. He grabbed her hair pulling her mouth around his waiting hardness.

She moaned around him, the vibration drawing a guttural groan from James as his head fell back in helpless bliss. Watching her move between them, John felt that strange, unwanted surge of pride twist in his chest as his wife took control of both men. Her hand slid to the base of Michael, stroking him slowly while she sank James deep, swallowing him to the root. She surfaced with a sharp gasp, breath trembling, before turning and guiding herself onto Michael in one smooth, unbroken motion.

Movement from behind the three of them caught John's attention. He'd forgotten about Peter who was now completely naked and standing behind her. The wet slurping and gagging faded away as Peter placed his hand on the small of Wendy's back making her arch like a cat. "You know what separates a garden from a wilderness, John?" his tone was conversational, his green eyes ever playful as they found John across the terrace even as his cock pressed against Wendy's entrance. "Both have flowers. Both have beauty. But one is controlled, manicured, told where to grow and when to bloom."

His fingers gripped Wendy's hips, thumbs sinking into the soft flesh. "The other?" Peter gave an approving groan. "The other grows wild. Tangles and sprawls and reaches toward the sun." He leaned down, his teeth grazing Wendy's shoulder. "That's when nature is most honest."

Wendy’s eyes snapped open, immediately seeking John. Even with Michael and James standing before her, with Peter behind her, with everything poised to tip past the point of return, she searched for him.

"Ohhh, God. Ohhh fuck."

Michael's cock slipped from her mouth, James's held idly in her hand as John watched another man's cock disappear inside his wife.

This was it. The moment John had both dreaded and anticipated since opening the terrace door. Another man was inside his wife. Not his fingers, not his mouth, but his cock. Peter Pannell was fucking Wendy, and John was watching it happen, and the reality of it made him dizzy. His hand was still wrapped around himself, his cock painfully hard. He was mesmerized, unable to look away from his wife's face as it contorted in pleasure.

Peter just smiled at John, like they were the closest of friends. After what John was experiencing maybe that wasn't so far from the truth. He started slow at first, allowing Wendy to get used to the feeling of a new dick inside her. John felt drool forming on his bottom lip watching between his wife's legs, seeing how she stretched around another man.

Wendy's mouth hung open, and James pushed himself inside. Once she tasted him, she came down on him with a renewed hunger. Like she was proving to herself she could handle it.

James's head fell back, a groan escaping him. "Fuck, that's good. That's so—"

"Mmhmmm. Mmmhmm." Wendy pushed her hips backward, meeting Peter's thrust as he and James worked into a rhythm. Then Michael pulled her toward him and Wendy's moaned echoed through the night sky

"Oh, God. Yes, yes, yes!"

Peter's hips began to move faster, pulling almost completely free before slamming back into her. Each thrust pushed Wendy forward onto Michael, each withdrawal pulled her back. The brothers caught on quickly, James stepping closer so Wendy didn't have to reach so far. Soon they found a rhythm with Peter pushing in as Wendy took Michael deeper, then pulling out as she came up for air and back down onto James.

Heavy panting began to drown out all other noise and John realized it wasn't coming from Wendy but next to him. He looked to his side where Tink had settled onto the floor, her dress hiked over her hips as her fingers worked into her tight passage under the slightest whisper of hair.

His orgasm was close. Watching Tink's fingers disappear into herself, her other hand clutching at her breast through the shimmering green fabric, her eyes locked on the scene unfolding before them. It was all too much and brought him even closer to the edge. But before he could tip over, Wendy's voice cut through the haze.

"Oh God. Oh fuck. John—"

His attention snapped back to his wife. Peter had increased his pace, each thrust driving deeper, harder. Wendy's arms trembled, barely holding her weight as she struggled to keep Michael in her mouth.

"He's so big. I'm going to—I can't—"

Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat. Spit and precum covered her chin, dripping down to her chest. Her makeup had run, leaving dark streaks down her cheeks. She looked absolutely destroyed, and John couldn't help but think how sexy she looked in that moment.

That image, his proper, responsible wife reduced to this trembling as she pleasured three dicks, shattered the last of John's control. His hand moved frantically over his cock as his orgasm crashed through him. He came hard, in his hand while his wife was being claimed right in front of him. He continued to stroke himself through it, the warmth of his own cum on his wrist only added to the moment even as he began to deflate.

"Beautiful," Peter breathed, never breaking rhythm. "You see, Wendy? Even from across the void, you and John are still tangled together. Still reaching for the same sun."

Beside John, Tink whimpered. Her fingers worked faster, her back arching off the ground as her own orgasm took her. She bit her lip to stay quiet, but soft mewls escaped anyway as her body convulsed.

"Mmmph. Fuck. Ohhhhh..."

The three men began a brutal rhythm that had Wendy flailing like a ragdoll.

"Every star burns brightest just before dawn," Peter's breathing was becoming labored. "I can feel you getting closer to the sun. Show your husband how you shine."

"Fuck, I'm close," James groaned, his hand fisting in Wendy's hair as she turned to take him deep. He pulled out, stroking himself as he tilted her face up. "I'm going to paint that pretty face."

"Yesss," Wendy moaned, before Michael claimed her mouth.

"Let go," Peter commanded, his hand reaching around to find her clit. "Stop holding onto the shore. Let the current take you."

James moved in front of her as Michael pulled back, both brothers stroking themselves inches from her face. Peter's fingers worked her clit in tight circles as he buried himself deep, grinding against her.

Wendy's scream was muffled by James sliding back between her lips, but John heard it anyway. Heard the raw, uninhibited sound of his wife cumming for the second time that night. Her whole body went rigid, then dissolved into shudders as the orgasm tore through her.

"There—" Peter's rhythm faltered. "There it is. The moment gravity loses its hold." His hips stuttered, and with one final thrust he was still. John was transfixed, he could see Peter's cock pulsing, filling Wendy with his seed. The sight should have destroyed him. Instead, he could already feel his shaft start to swell again.

"Open wide," James grunted, his hand moving faster. Wendy obeyed, tongue out, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. James came with a roar, the first rope hitting her tongue before he angled higher, painting her lips, her cheek, her forehead.

"My turn," Michael growled, positioning himself as his release hit. Hot streaks landed across Wendy's chest, her collarbone, one catching her neck. She was marked, claimed, utterly debauched.

Peter withdrew carefully, and without his support, Wendy collapsed onto the marble. She lay there trembling, covered in sweat and cum and her own release, breathing hard. But when her eyes found John's across the terrace, she was smiling.

John's legs moved before his brain caught up. He crossed the terrace, dropped to his knees beside his wife, and pulled her into his arms. She was sticky and sweaty and smelled like sex and other men, but she was his. Still his.

"I love you," she whispered against his neck. "God, I love you so much. Are you okay? Tell me you're okay."

"I'm okay," John managed, his voice rough. "I'm more than okay."

She pulled back to look at him, searching his face for any sign of regret or anger. Finding none, her smile widened. "I... I can't believe we just did that."

"Yeah." John cupped her face, his thumb brushing away a streak of mascara and something else he didn't want to think about. "You were so sexy."

"So like," Tink's voice came from behind them, still slightly breathless, "this is usually the part where the husband reclaims his wife." She'd adjusted her dress back into place and was watching them with knowing eyes. "You know, reminds her who she belongs to. Most guys need that after... well, after all that."

John looked down at Wendy, still cradled in his arms. Her body was covered in evidence of other men, but her eyes were only for him. "I can't wait to get you home."

Wendy's eyes filled with tears. Happy tears this time. "God, how did I get so lucky?"

"I ask myself the same thing," John said, kissing her forehead.

Peter and the Lost brothers had made themselves presentable again, their composure restored like they'd just finished a business meeting rather than thoroughly fucking a married woman. The brothers headed inside without ceremony, but Peter paused at the terrace door.

"My people will reach out on Monday," he said, those green eyes finding John's. "We'll discuss portfolios and risk management and all those delightfully boring adult things." His smile widened. "Welcome to the family, John Darling. Something tells me you're going to fit right in."

Then he was gone, leaving John and Wendy alone on the terrace with Tink hovering nearby.

"We should probably get cleaned up," Wendy said softly, though she made no move to leave John's arms.

"Probably," John agreed, but neither of them moved.

They sat there in the aftermath, holding each other, both knowing that everything had changed and nothing had changed. They were still John and Wendy Darling. Still parents. Still partners. Still in love.

Just flying now.

---

Chapter 6

The sand was warm beneath the beach towel as the sound of Wendy sucking the last of her daiquiri overpowered the calm of the ocean. They had talked about taking a vacation in the Caribbean for years, now just four short months after signing the largest client in firm history they were doing just that. Four months since John started leaving work at five. Four months since their marriage had transformed from suffocating to soaring.

"Weren't you supposed to go over the Henderson file this week?" Wendy set her empty glass in the sand. "I'll understand if you need to jump on a conference call for a couple of hours."

"I have subordinates who can handle Henderson." John adjusted his sunglasses, watching a seagull dive for something in the surf. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

Wendy lowered her oversized sunglasses and turned her head smiling.

"Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

"Your husband learned something important." John reached over, taking her hand. "Work and bills and stress will always be there. We don't get many chances like this. To just have peace and be... young again."

"For a minute there I thought you were going to say something about flying."

Movement caught John's eye as a volleyball game started up about twenty yards down the beach. A group of twenty-somethings, all tanned and toned, setting up a net. One guy in particular stood out. Six feet tall, maybe taller. Bronzed skin that suggested he lived at the beach rather than just visited. Muscles on top of muscles.

"Maybe we can do that too."

Wendy followed his gaze. John watched the way she sucked in air, the way her hand balled into a fist and then relaxed.

Four months ago, that would have triggered panic. Jealousy. The desperate need to reclaim her attention.

Now? Now it sent heat pooling in his gut.

"You should join them," John said casually.

"What?"

"The game." He nodded toward the group. "You used to play in high school. I'm sure they wouldn't mind a gorgeous woman jumping in."

"John—"

"I'm going to grab us a couple more drinks from the bar anyway." He sat up, brushing sand from his swim trunks. "Might take me a while. The line's always long this time of day."

Wendy bit her lip, that tell she had when she was processing something she wanted but wasn't sure she should take. Her eyes flicked back to the volleyball game. To the tall bronzed guy who was currently spiking the ball.

"I haven't played in years," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Then you're due." John stood, offering her his hand. When she took it, he pulled her up, close enough that only she could hear his next words. "Go play, Wendy. Have fun. I'll be... watching."

Her pupils dilated. Her breath caught. "You're sure?" She understood exactly what he was offering.

John cupped her face, and kissed her gently on the lips. "I've never been more sure of anything."

She pulled him into her, and pressed her tongue into his mouth. His hardness pressed against her leg and she moaned into his mouth.

"In that case, you may also want to grab some water," she gave him a mischievous grin. "It may be a very long... session." She turned and jogged toward the volley game.

John watched her approach, watched the tall guy's eyes widen with appreciation as Wendy asked if they needed another player. He watched the man grin and welcome her in, not bothering to hide how he was checking her out.

He shook his head and laughed amazed at where life had taken him then headed toward the beach bar, but not before glancing back one more time. Wendy was already in the game, diving for a ball, her laughter carrying over the sound of the waves. The tall guy was watching her with obvious interest.

His phone buzzed as he stood in line.

Tink: How's Cabo?

John glanced back at Wendy giving a hug to the bronze man after he spiked the ball. He snapped a picture and waited for Tink's reply.

Tink: YESSSS. I'm so proud of you.

*END*