<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/d9/5e/74/d95e74b4f84e6e1b7385dbf3e651e596.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>Peter Pan<br/><strong>Alias</strong>Little Flying Eagle, Pete/Petey<br/><strong>Location</strong>Training Chamber<br/><strong>Time</strong>Evening: Two Months Ago<br/><strong>Wearing</strong>Naught but a jaunty green cap with a red feather in it.<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>El<br/><hr/><br/>Pete flailed as El held him down on her cock, trying to grab onto her legs, her wrists, anything to push her away and free himself as his throat protested against the intruder, but his well lubed hands couldn't get a grip, and he was forced to endure, his eyes watering as he belatedly remembered her advice and began trying to swallow, just as she finally freed him. He went limp in her grip, coughing and spluttering; he didn't vomit, but he was retching, finally getting control of himself after a long while (assuming El let him). He glares up at her then, spit and lube still dripping from his chin. "What was that!" he growls hoarsely.