Yes, he is of the water, too. Their time together is made up of the elements and suddenly she needs to be back in the water with him. She feels desperate, a little sad.
“Come with me,” she whispers.
He nods, sits up, runs a hand over his stubbled jaw. Smiles at her. And she knows everything is all right again.
She takes his hand and leads him, naked, out onto the beach and down to where the surf crashes on the sand. The sun is just coming over the horizon, an arc of fire in the deep, silvery sky.
They move together into the water, and it is soothing, womblike. The waves surge, wash away, caressing her skin, her naked sex. He pulls her deeper, until the water is waist-high. He holds her there, moves his hand between her thighs, pushes his fingers inside her. She spreads for him, reaches down to torment his cock. She runs her fingers over the cool metal of the ring piercing the head of his cock, tugs on it.
He moans, buries his face in her hair, pushes his cock into her hand. And they float in the water as they did that first time. Only yesterday, and yet it seems a million miles away.
He works her with his hand, fingers deep inside her, his thumb pressing on her clitoris. His hips thrust into her fisted hand, her fingers tight around his beautiful cock. They move together, breathe together, long, gasping pants as they build toward climax.
Pleasure, swift and sure, thrums through her body, taking her higher and higher. And the warm ocean all around them, rocks them, the wild scent of it in her nostrils.
As her body begins that first lovely clench, he murmurs, “I’m coming.”
“Yes,” she answers.
And their bodies buck and writhe with desire unleashed, as wild as the sea. His come floods her hand, hot and thick as honey, while she comes apart. Loose and shivering, her climax moves through her like the waves, rolling, thunderous. As powerful as the tides moving on the earth.
She wraps her legs around his waist. He kisses her cheek, her forehead. And they stay there while the sun comes up, burning golden, then pink, then finally a white glow in the deep blue sky. They are quiet as the world around them awakens, the seabirds sweeping in over the waves. All she can hear is the ocean and the sound of his breath in her ear.
He pulls back finally, watches her face quietly for a moment. Then he says, “I’m leaving today, heading down to Cozumel to do some diving.”
“I hear it’s very beautiful there.”
“It is.” He pauses. “Come with me.”
She smiles, shakes her head. “I can’t. I need to go home. Need to get back to…my life. Deal with some things.” She only realizes as she says it that it’s true.
He nods. “Do you even want to know my name?”
“No. I’m sorry but…”
“It’s all right.”
“You’re not angry?”
“What about this time with you is there to be angry about?” He reaches out, runs a finger down her cheek. “You’re like something out of a dream. Maybe it’s meant to be this way. Dream time.”
“Yes.”
That’s it exactly. He understands.
A wave crests, splashes against them. She blinks the water from her eyes, looks up at him. He leans in and licks the salty water from her lower lip, smiling. His eyes have a languid cast to them, but they are still dark, bottomless. And still seem to see right through her, into her soul. She shivers again, but this time it is not physical pleasure but something deeper.
He knows her; she is sure of it. And it is both comforting and terrifying at the same time. It is why they are here together, as though a force that is far beyond them both has determined that this moment should be.
She won’t question it further. Whatever else may happen doesn’t matter. She is satisfied with knowing this much.
YESTERDAY AND LONG AGO, IN A KINGDOM FAR FROM here but right next door, there lived a handsome young man and his equally beautiful young wife. She had hair the color of sunshine, eyes like a summer sky and skin like rich cream. Her name was Ilina, and the young man loved her more than anything else in the world.
Ilina, for her part, loved her handsome young husband. Pitor was strong, with muscled arms and legs that had no trouble chopping wood or building fences. His hair, the color of the forest’s deepest shadows, hung to his shoulders in ripples like silk, and his eyes shone like the night sky littered with stars.
If Ilina had one small wish, it was that Pitor could be as satisfied with their humble cottage and plot of land as she was, but though her husband worked long and hard, he hated the labor that brought them their food and the roof above their heads. No matter how Ilina tried to soften the small rooms with her handwoven tapestries or delicately embroidered pillows, night after night Pitor looked around their home with dissatisfaction on his face.
“I love you,” she told him. “No matter if we eat on gold and silver or on wooden trenchers, Pitor, I love you.”
But Pitor would not be satisfied, no matter what Ilina did. And each day when he came home from chopping wood in the forest, he grew angrier and more sullen. Nothing Ilina did could move him to smile.
A time of drought and misfortune came upon the land. Pitor had to travel farther and farther into the woods to find trees he could chop for profit, until at last one day he’d traveled so far he couldn’t make it home before dark. Though he ached to return to his beloved Ilina and knew she would worry for his safety, he knew how foolish traveling in the dark would be. He made himself a small camp and prepared to spend the night. He dared not even burn one small portion of the wood he’d gathered, for not only would it be taking food from Ilina’s mouth to use the wood he intended to sell, but the risk of deadly fire in the dry forest was too great. Instead, he pulled his cloak around himself and hunkered down, unable even to sleep lest a beast attack him in the night.
Nevertheless, weariness overtook him, and Pitor’s eyes closed. He dreamed of his love, of her touch and of her kiss, and woke with his cock straining the front of his trousers.
“Ah, sweet,” said a voice from the shadows. “What a prize you hold between your legs. How I long for a man to fill me up with what you’ve got.”
Convinced he was dreaming, Pitor sat up with a shake of his head. Laughter curled like smoke from the darkness. A woman stepped from behind a tree. The sight of her sent fear and desire coursing through him in equal amounts, and Pitor sprang to his feet, his hatchet ready to defend against her.
“You know me?” The woman’s dark hair swirled around her face.
Pitor’s breath heaved. The closer she stepped the more aroused he became, until all he could think of was satisfying the carnal urges flooding him.
The woman was upon him, astride him, before he knew how to object.
“Who are you?” he cried, stricken, for he’d never been unfaithful to his wife before.
“You don’t need to know.”
He turned and was on her before she could escape, the blade of his ax to her throat, but she only laughed. To his shame, his cock twitched and rose at the sound of it. She reached between them to grab and stroke him fully erect.
“You should be better satisfied with what you have, woodsman, else you lose it all. Let me show you what you could have.”
Pitor jerked away from her and lowered the ax.“I love my wife.”
The woman stood, her eyes flashing in a face still covered with shadows. “Come with me and be my love, and we will walk the forest as monarchs.”
He shook his head. “No!”
She tilted her head. “No? Then fuck me once with that sweet prick, and I’ll reward you for your efforts.”