Island of the Lost Bonus Epilogue

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It’s been weeks since Bell’s tirade against Neverland and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing the damage she inflicted on our island. Nearly every inch of our land was burnt to the ground, hundreds if not thousands of animals—some I recognized, some whose carcasses were so twisted and mangled I couldn’t even tell what they were, and others who had just come out of their magic-induced slumber—dead. It was a horrifying sight, and that doesn’t take into account all of James’s, friends, his makeshift family, whose lives were lost.

So much death. 

For nothing.

But even in the darkest of days, there’s always a ray of sunshine. That moment when you can finally breathe when it feels like everything you’ve been through might be passed and everything is ready to go back to normal. We aren’t there yet. So much of our land needs to be rebuilt but that’s what I am for Neverland.

It’s rejuvenating bit of Sunshine.

I press my palm to the charred bark of another maple tree. Mira’s magic hums in my veins. It’s a tingle, a prickly sensation that skirts down my spine, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s warm and exciting and made from love; fueled by the Island’s love for itself and the love we have for each other.

But Neverland’s magic is just as punishing as it is giving. Every time I use it, it drains a little more of me. Some days I can bring 20 trees to life before feeling the effects. Other days I can’t even manage to revive ten. I don’t know why or what makes each day different. I just know that there are times when I feel like I am a breath away from death and then there are times when I feel simply tired and need a nap.

Today is an in-between kind of day. The number I’m settling on is seven. If I had set out sooner and rested mid-day, I probably could have revived double. But just as the land needs healing, the cove needs rebuilding. James’s people lost everything. Their houses are ash in the sand. Their effects nothing but whispers in the dark. Friends have perished. Loved ones were buried. Emmit healed as many as he could, more than I thought possible, but we had no place for them to go. James’ ship was overcrowded and emotions were high.

We started with one building, something big enough that people could spread out but also be under one roof. When that was done, we began working on the treehouses. With the exception of mine, no one is allowed to move out of the common house until we have a home for every soul. Mira made some of the pirates anxious. Everyone agreed it would be best to keep her out of the cove until things got back to normal. As for everyone else, how do you choose this person over that one? There was no fair option to offer private housing until they were all complete.

And so my mornings are spent with Pan rebuilding our city and my afternoons are with Peter, healing the land.

I look to the few new bursts of green within a neverending sea of grey. Guilt gnaws at my insides for how little I’ve accomplished. I could push myself to heal more of Neverland. We’ve only just begun to touch the trees outside of the cove, not even an eighth of this island. But today is Friday, the one day a week I cross through the realms to see my sister. 

James worries that if I overextend myself before a voyage, the magic needed to cross between worlds will be too taxing. He fears the whirlpool we portal through will claim my soul and send me to the afterlife. He could be right. We don’t know how far my magic reaches or what lengths it will go to keep me alive. I’d like to think Neverland won’t let me die until I’ve healed her, but over-exerting myself to test the theory isn’t a risk I’m willing to take. So, on Fridays, I don’t push myself as hard as I do the rest of the week.

“Is this the last one for today?” Peter asks, taking in the little details I’m not sure the others would notice. The extra fraction of a second I take to keep my eyes closed when I blink, the way my pace has slowed, the sweat pooling at my brows. I’m fine, but I know he sees the toll today has taken. 

I ignore the question and try to bring my focus back to the maple tree, but my thoughts stray to Peter and his worrying stare. He comes into the forest with me every day, no matter how much I insist I don’t need his help or guidance. I haven’t started healing any part of the island I haven’t already seen. I haven’t stumbled across anything so horrifying it’s given me nightmares. And even if I had, there’s not much he could do. Neverland stripped both him and Pan of their magic when Mira was born. I hold it all, despite wishing I could share my gift with them. I see the longing in their eyes and the guilt they both bear for wishing they had magic again.

I let out a heavy breath, feeling a bit of my life transfer into the tree and watching as the bark builds new layers upon itself. It shifts from a bare and stick chard and black with scars from Bell’s assault, to a lively shade of brown with blooms of bright green blossoming from its branches. The exchange of energy takes less than a minute, but when it’s done my head is woozy. I brace myself against the newly brought-to-life tree until the world steadies itself again. 

This happens with every revival, we know to expect this response, and still, Peter worries. He sets a hand on my lower back, just in case my legs give out and I need him to catch me. That has only happened once, the first day I tried healing a palm tree, but he’s always ready should I need him.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” he warns. The pressure of his palm shifts from a steady presence to a soothing rub as I find my legs again. “Slow down, Darling, there’s no rush. We have all of eternity to bring Neverland back to life.”

“I’m fine,” I insist because I am. From the start of his warning to now I feel better. The magic may take from me but it knows I’m trying to help and so it in turn heals me as well. Something it didn’t willfully do for Peter when he needed help. More guilt.

Peter looks up at the sky, noting how the orange hues bleed into the bright blue canvas. It won’t be long before twilight and we still have to reach the world pool before the final ray of light dips behind the horizon. “We should head back”

I nod, agreeing reluctantly. I want to stay and keep working. No one else can do this, not even Emmit. His gift only works for beings with beating hearts. All of these plants are still alive. Their roots run deep beneath the Island’s surface, grasping at any shred of life they can, but because they don’t have blood flowing within them Emmit’s powers are useless. The Island is solely dependent on me, but I need to eat. Take a shower. And hopefully, have a little fun before our voyage. 

After all, it is Friday.

I haven’t seen James since he sailed into the sunrise on Monday. He’s been forging new deals with the God of the Underworld and working with Emmit to bridge the broken bond between those of us left in Neverland and the Gods of Old. Emmit has cautioned that someday soon I’ll be expected to meet with them too, and when the time comes I will. But until then, I will happily stay rooted between this world and mine. 

Peter and I are out of the woods within minutes of deciding to leave and walking up the ramp to our new treehouse. Ours. Not just mine. 

The first treehouse we built is the largest on the island, having five rooms, a kitchen, a living room, and two bathrooms. The plan is to build two smaller ones on either side of me once the cove is redone. One for Peter. The other for Pan. Just in case things get weird or one of us needs some distance I want them to have somewhere that’s their own,

Although, if someone had told me a few weeks ago that I would want this big house all to myself, I would have called them crazy. I fought with Peter and James for days about who would be sleeping where. They both insisted that I needed my own space and were willing to stay on the Jolly Rodger or in the common house until all the treehouses were finished, but I wanted them close. 

It didn’t take a lot of convincing. Pan hated the idea of not sleeping by my side and truthfully, I think the other two only pushed because they worried something might happen if I were alone at night. After three days of a pathetic attempt at arguing, they conceded. We designed my tree house so that each of my boys could have their own room while making mine enough to hold us all should we choose. We also decided to skip the rope ladder entry. The concept was great for keeping critters from making their way into the living quarters, but most of the Island’s creatures are dead or in hiding these days. 

And it’s damn near impossible to maneuver up one of those things while carrying an infant.  

Plus the way the ladders were orchestrated, they left a hole in the floor. We probably could have put a hatch of some sort and kept the original treehouse design, but I didn’t want to risk someone accidentally locking me out or worse, forgetting to close the door. It would be my luck once Mira starts walking that she would fall through a hole and break something. The last thing we need is a hospital trip in the human world and to have CPS called. So we decided that a ramp with chest-high and knee-high railings on both sides was a better option. Are the double railings overkill? Probably, but better safe than sorry.

Peter opens the front door for me and the smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air. My stomach rumbles as Pan greets me with a slice of avocado toast and freshly squeezed cloudberry lemonade. I smile brightly both excited to be home and to be greeted with food. I eagerly take the offering and moan when I take my first bite. It’s heaven in my mouth and I am starving. 

“You’re back early,” Pan grins, watching me sink my teeth into the afternoon snack. “And famished.” 

“I’m going to take a shower,” Peter strolls past us and smirks, those blue eyes lingering on my mouth a little too long before he shifts his attention away.

I can tell he doesn’t want to leave, but he’s respecting that we’ve spent the last three hours together, offering Pan a few uninterrupted moments before James arrives. My boys are good like that. They respect my desire to be together while granting each other the chance to have their own needs met. 

At first glance, all three of them seem to have the same love language—protection—but in reality, they’re vastly different.

James is my golden retriever. Loyal. Protective. And craves affection. When he’s home, he likes to sit on the floor between my legs or lay on the couch with his head in my lap, so that my fingers can run his hair. His love language is touch and I give it to him every chance I can. 

Peter doesn’t require as much. We spend our afternoons together, reviving the Neverland forest and our night‘s talking about books. He likes the classics, although I guess that makes sense since that’s what he was raised with. He tries to convince me that they’re better than my romance novels, but he’s wrong and one day when he finds a book that makes him want to set the world on fire he’ll realize it. There’s nothing wrong with the classics. Many of today’s stories are based on them, but due to the era in which they were written, they lack that spark that modern books bring. AKA the spice.

Pan’s love language is life. He wants to explore all of it and has no hesitations. His current fascination is food. He cooks everything and insists on feeding me. It’s weird, but also kind of cute, so I let him. Besides, I like watching his reactions. The curiosity. The joy. Occasionally a hint of fear when he thinks I don’t like what he’s made. Pan has the eyes of a child and the body of a man. Sometimes, I wish I could see the world the way he does.

“What do you think?” There it is. That flick of nervousness. I wonder how many variations of guacamole he made this afternoon before choosing this recipe as today’s favorite. But as fast as I see the emotion it shifts to excitement and I can’t help but smile. “I tried different seasoning in the avocado when I smashed it.” 

“It’s divine,” I tell him. As far as guac goes, it’s good. Not as good as yesterday’s pumpkin bread, but I enjoy it. “Thank you.”

“Avocado is the worst,” Peter says dismissively as he walks into the room. Droplets of water trail down his chest as he rubs a towel through his freshly showered hair. My gaze follows those beads down the divots of his sculpted stomach, all the way to his bare cock, hard and ready to be ridden.

“Says you. I rather like it.” Pan snatches the last bite from my fingers and shoves it in his mouth just to prove a point. He glares, always eager to remind his brother that they are no longer one. They have different needs. Different likes. Different desires. 

“Whatever.” Peter snakes toward us with a hungry look in his eye. My nipples pucker and my body prepares for what’s about to happen. “I’d rather eat something else.” 

He wraps his arm around my waist and effortlessly lowers me to the floor. He wastes no time as my back settles against the cold wooden planks and shimmies my pants to my knees. He spreads my legs and kisses up my thigh, running his tongue against my sensitive skin as I push myself onto my elbows and try to remember to breathe. It feels good. So deliciously good. It hasn’t been that long since we’ve fucked, less than twenty-four hours, but the way my body is reacting to his touch you’d think it’s been years.

Peter pulls the lace panties I slipped on this morning aside and it’s not until he presses his lips and tongue against my center and the air is forced into my lungs that I’m able to take a breath. My heart races, and I struggle to bite back a groan of longing while he teases me, licking around but never finding that one perfect spot. Caressing but never entering me with either his fingers or tongue. I claw at his head and try to force some part of his face inside me but Peter is calculated. His moves purposefully slow and drawn out. It’s torture.

“You’ll never make her come like that.” Pan stands over us, his cock hard in his shorts, watching. “I’m happy to show you what she likes.”

Peter shifts, placing all of his weight on one arm, and gives Pan a vulgar gesture. One that ends with the raised finger buried inside of me. I bite back a smile and try to contain the bliss that comes from him playing between my folds. The first orgasm of the day is unlike any other. It’s stronger and deserves to be relished, not lost in the heat of the moment, but it builds so quickly. As much as I want to hold onto the feeling I can’t. Satisfaction releases in a burst of hot pleasure and I melt into a puddle on the floor.

Peter smirks and brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting my sticky sweetness. “So much better than avocado.”

My gaze drifts up to Pan. At some point, his shorts ended up on the floor, boxers too, so his fist could wrap around his length. He strokes himself. Slow. Steady pumps. Never taking his eyes off me. “Maybe I should taste her for myself.”

“I think you should,” I taunt.

Peter chuckles and lifts my foot. He unlaces my boots then tosses them and my pants aside. He steps back and then gestures for his brother to take his place, adding a mocking look that says as if you could do better

Pan doesn’t give Peter the satisfaction of a rebuttal. His sole focus is me and my wet pussy. I tremble with anticipation, wanting so much more than the tease Peter gave me. Pan kisses me, his tongue moving with tailored precision having learned exactly what I like. If he were any other man, I’d worry about having been the only woman he’s experienced but Pan never makes me feel like he needs more. Or different. He grabs my hips and flips me onto my stomach. I wiggle my ass, lifting it higher into the air and bending low. From afar, it looks like I’m bowing to my men when really it’s them who worship me. 

I wasn’t sure how this was going to work out, loving multiple men at one time. If I’m honest, it was intimidating. I never wanted one to feel left out or less than the other. But these two… Peter and Pan are an extension of each other. They hit differently, neither better than the other, satisfying parts of me the other didn’t reach. 

Pan grips my ass and spreads my cheeks open. He sucks on my clit while his tongue licks, and laps, and pokes my center. The pressure building inside me is greedy. It wants more. I need more. I moan Pan’s name, my eyes fluttering as the word leaves my lips. His fingers press tighter into my hips and he pushes his tongue deeper.

Peter, never wanting to be left out of the fun, knees in front of me. He reaches for the back of my shirt and rips the collar until the hole is wide enough that the fabric almost falls off of me. He unclasps my bra. I shift my weight from one side to the other so my breasts can fall free and Peter reaches for them. He grabs one, carefully massaging while holding my nipple between his fingers. My back arches. I’m getting close again, so beautifully close. Pan senses my release and chuckles. The sound vibrates against my lips and then there’s nothing. 

I’ve been cut off. 

I bite my lip to keep from whimpering. I’m not above begging if that’s what Pan wants but I don’t think it is. He doesn’t have an ego that needs to be fed. So why?

I get my answer as the head of his dick presses against my center. I wiggle and inch backward wanting to feel him, but Pan only teases. I hear him pop a finger into his mouth and wait. Seconds feel like hours, and he gives me nothing. I back my ass up more, hoping to spear some part of him, but all I find is his leg. I shamelessly rub myself against it. If either of these boys knew what they were doing to me, truly knew, they’d understand. 

Peter smirks. He wraps my hair around his hand and pulls me to look up at him. “Such a filthy, darling girl.” His thumb brushes the pillow of my lip. “Are you ready for us?”

“Please,” I say, looking up into Peter’s ice-blue eyes. 

“Open wide, darling,” He instructs and I listen, like the good little girl he wants me to be but instead of waiting for Peter to decide when I get rewarded, I take my prize. I wrap my fingers around the base of his cock and lean into his length. Peter grabs my hair again, moaning my name. It must finally break Pan’s reserve because he pushes into me. My pussy is slick, wet from waiting. His fingers curl around my hips until they dig into my skin just hard enough to hurt. There’s such a beautiful line between pleasure and pain, one I find myself dancing often, and I love it. 

I suck Peter hard, pulling him as deep into my throat as I can, struggling to breathe while Pan takes me from behind. One of my boys moans, a throaty, low, rough sound, that tells me the waiting was just as tortuous for him as it was for me. Pan’s strokes quicken. He hits me harder, deeper, touching the sweet spot that only he seems to find. I suck Peter harder matching the intensity for as long as I can. He groans my name again right as Pan’s thumb presses into my ass. That does it for me. I come all over him and shortly after I feel a warmth inside me. We don’t try to prevent the unlikely. All of them have come inside me multiple times since we took Neverland back. We aren’t hoping for another baby, but we wouldn’t be unhappy if we had one either.

I grab Peter’s balls, wanting him to find the same, sweet release. They’re tight so he’s probably close too. I suck and suck while Pan continues to stroke me with what’s left of his hardon. My gaze drifts upward to Peter as he looks down at me. He oozes confidence, reminding me that he was once a king, and in a roundabout way he still is. I press on that spot between his balls and ass, his magic button, hoping that will finally tip him over the edge, but it doesn’t.

“You could join,” Peter says gruffly. 

I lift my head and replace my mouth with my hand on Peter’s cock as I look up. James leans against the doorframe, his dark-lined eyes glistening with delight as I lick the taste of pre-come from my lips. I run over to him on jump into his arms. He smells like cedar and sea salt. I bury my face in his chest, ignoring the warmth dripping down my legs and the two naked men patiently waiting for my return, and enjoy having him here again. 

“No need to stop on meh account.” He leans down and presses a chaste kiss on my forehead. “I want her all to meh’self when yehr finished.”

I look up, wanting him just as badly as I want the others. Each of my boys has a piece of my heart and while I love them all wholly, I’m never complete unless we’re all together. I touch James’ cheek. “We don’t have enough time tonight though, do we?”

James grabs my wrist and turns it to kiss the inside of my palm. “‘Fraid not, sunshine. But there’s always tomorrow.”

“I’m not waiting until tomorrow.” I grab James by the shirt and tug him over to the couch. 

He follows, without asking what I want, letting me be the one in control. I don’t often tell my boys what I want. I like being dominated and relishing in the way they worship my body, but I’ve waited five days for this man. I’m not wasting a precious night because we have to leave in forty-five minutes. A quick fuck done right can be better than a long drawn-out one and if all goes the way I hope, I can satisfy each of my boys in half of that.

“Lie down,” I instruct. Again, James does what I say. I glance over at Peter and Pan, fearful they’ll think I’ve abandoned them. I haven’t. I have a plan, one I’m hoping James doesn’t freak out about. I just need a few minutes to get everything in place.

I unzip James’ pants and grab his dick. It’s hard, the way I like it. I lean down and wrap my lips around him. James’ eyes flutter closed and he exhales a breath of relief and pleasure. I don’t know what he’s been through out on the open water but I do know that he hasn’t been with anyone since he left. 

I climb onto James and slide onto him. James pushes upright, shifting the angle, and kisses me. He kisses me without worry of what his brothers will think or giving any acknowledgment that I was between two naked men a moment ago. That is the beauty of what we have. There’s no jealousy. No judgment. Just love. 

I give him my undivided attention, letting him savor my heat. I think this feeling, sinking inside me after being gone for so long, is similar to what my first orgasm feels like. I can come over and over again in one session, each release different than the last, but a man only gets that one release. It’s a cruel trick of fate from the Gods, which is why I think this moment, the first few seconds after entry, is the closest they get to an orgasm without achieving one and ruining the experience.

James buries his face into the side of my neck, his lips feverishly tasting my skin. He grips my hips and guides me up and down his length. My lashes flutter as my fingers dig into his back, making new marks on his already-marred skin. I love Peter and Pan, but something about James makes me feel safe, like I could curl into his arms and never have a care in the world again. 

“I missed you,” he says, moving me at a pace that is more tortuous than anything else. He worships my body with his hands, sliding a palm up my back, holding my ass with the other until his control finally breaks. 

“I missed you too.” I press my palm to his chest and push James to lie back. “But I’m in control tonight. Will you let me do what I want?”

“We can do anything you’d like, sunshine.”

I smile, relieved and excited. James has no idea what he’s agreed to, but his word is his bond. He won’t take it back no matter how uncomfortable he feels. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”

I ride him, trying to find the perfect angle that still feels good while I lean over James. Sweet James who has no idea what I’m about to do.

“Peter?” I call out seductively. 

There’s a flash of heat in his eyes. He strides over without me needing to finish my thought and climbs onto the couch behind me. James stills, realizing he’s about to take place in his first threesome, and drops his hands from my hips. 

I grab his wrist and move his fingers to my chest. “Trust me.”

“With my life,” James replies, but I hear the hesitation. I lean down and kiss him, hoping to ease his nerves. 

Peter grips my ass and lifts me to a better angle. We’ve done this a few times already and have figured out what works, what hurts, and what sends us both over the edge. But we haven’t tried it with anyone else yet. This will be a first, something the four of us can share together. Something I’m hoping that goes well and we can do again.

Peter enters me, slowly, careful not to push too hard or too fast. This first feeling, the stretching is the most uncomfortable. It borders that line between pleasure and pain, but also has a hint of awkwardness. My brain doesn’t know how to process what’s going on until Peter is fully inside. 

“James.” My voice cracks. I can’t help it. I have so much built-up anticipation and he hasn’t moved since Peter entered me. I can feel them both, one pressing against each other through my walls, and even that has me on the edge of coming. “I’m gonna need you to fuck me now.”

He rocks his hips slowly at first, gauging how each movement affects us. Spots fill my vision within seconds as a whole-body orgasm claims me. Peter feels everything tighten, my ass included and begins to take his pleasure. They find a rhythm, working together, that would bring me to my knees if I wasn’t already on them. Everything is perfect. This is what I wanted, feeling full and satisfied in a way we haven’t had yet. All I’m missing is Pan.

I reach my hand out and invite him to join us. He stands at the edge of the couch and lets me decide how I want him. I barely need a second to choose before pulling him closer and into my mouth. I was wrong. This is perfection. 

Peter finishes first, pulling out and coming on my ass rather than inside it. He leans over and kisses the small of my back before stepping off the couch. I glance at him and Pan pulls his cock from my mouth.

“What?” I whimper, wanting to satisfy him too.

Pan drops to his knees and kisses me, our tongues finding a practiced rhythm that sends a wave of warm shivers down my spine. “I’m not to come again, beautiful, but thank you.” I nod as he steps away too, heading down the hallway and to the bathroom to start a shower.

James pulls out too and my heart stops. He hasn’t come and for a moment I wonder if I’ve fucked things up. I bite my lip as he lifts me off of his lap, tears on the brink of falling. It felt so good. We were so perfect.

“On yehr knees, sunshine,” James says and the relief I feel in that moment has never been so great. I lean onto the armrest of the couch and pop my ass up again. I don’t know which hole he wants. He could take either. I just want him to come. I don’t feel right leaving him unsatisfied.

“That was cruel, my love.” James smack my ass. He barely gives the sting time to settle before pushing inside me again. His strokes are punishing, and maybe I deserve them, but they’re amazing too. “I know to love yeh I have to share yeh, But yehr mine when their with me. Understand?”

He drives into me, catching a desperate moan as I say, “Yes.” 

He fucks me hard, claiming what's his. Releasing the tension he carries that I’ve yet to ask about. I let him use my body as his release because I’ve already used his for what I needed. His hips drive me into the the side of the couch and I claw at the fabric to keep myself grounded. He waits until I’ve come one more time, always careful to meet my needs before satisfying his own. 

I collapse on the couch satisfied and exhausted. 

“You look like you need this.” Peter extends a glass of water to me. I thank him and swallow half of it in one breath before offering the rest to James. Peter’s lips lift into a lazy smile and he tilts his head toward the hallway. “The shower is hot. You two should get cleaned up. We’ve got to leave soon if we’re going to cross over tonight.”

“No time. I need to get Mira ready.” Changed. Fed. A bag packed. The million and one steps that have to be done when traveling with a child. Car rides. Magical boat trips. It’s all the same. Kids make going places so much more complicated than simply walking out the door.

“Pan’s taking care of her. I’ll pack the travel bag.” He steps forward and kisses my forehead. “Stop worrying for five minutes and go take a shower. We’ve got this.”

He’s right. We do. Me, Peter, Pan, and James. 

I used to think Wendy was a fool for leaving Neverland, when I believed the lies woven into the fairytale and thought she only had one man loving her. I didn’t know how wrong the story was, or how the choice to leave was never hers. And I never could have imagined that when I got my tattoo all those moons ago that I would become one of Neverland’s lost, let alone it’s queen. Yet here I am, living an impossible life, loved by three amazing men in a world that shouldn’t exist. Is this life perfect? No, but I wouldn’t choose any other.

“Go,” Peter says, stepping back. “Or we’ll be late for our next adventure.”

He winks and I can’t help but laugh. My Peter. Always ready to take on an adventure.