Siren

Slowly, the couple made its way to the seaside. Tristan extracted his sunglasses, shielding his grey eyes from the sun. Despite it being only April, it already shone harshly.

Frances' heart hummed as she walked, from the man by her side and his declarations. And for once, the perspective of a seabath – how was he going to react to that ? She wondered – only ranked second in the things that made her tick. An exceptional feat, for usually, nothing quite beat the call of a seagull. Yet, she felt like his presence by her side was the best gift, the most life changing even that would ever happen to her. As if she had drawn all her luck for a lifetime and been granted her greatest wish. Him. His laugh, his gentleness, his heart, his incredibly handsome body and deep eyes. Frances slowed down, setting her head against his shoulder, breathing deeply. Strangely, the smell of the sea didn't reach them, albeit they could see it a hundred meters away; the wind came from the backcountry.

It didn't matter, for the wide expanse of salted water twinkled in the afternoon light, calling her in. And even if her dress wasn't too adapted to the conditions, Frances wasn't about to back down from such an opportunity. Her swimming costume already lay beneath the layers of the long cotton garment…

Tristan paused by the beach's side and watched her as she kicked her shoes away and leapt upon the sand, twirling in delight. His lips quirked, and she was pretty sure that beneath the sunglasses, a gleam of amusement shone within the depth of his grey eyes.

— "Come, my love", she quipped without realising that it was the first time she didn't call him by his name.

— "Right away, lady of mine", he answered.

His leather shoes joined hers in the overgrown bag, and they walked to the shoreline, hand in hand. Of course, he had stolen said bag; a gentleman never let the lady carry his items. At once, the sand insinuated between his toes, warm under his feet until they trod onto the wet area… the temperature change caused a hiss to escape him.

Frances plunged a very careful toe into the water, laughing as Tristan recoiled further up. Then she turned to the sea, considering her options; she had never, never come across water without bathing. It was an unspoken agreement with herself, a rule that stated than whenever she was lucky enough to find the shore, she would take advantage of it. Poking her tongue between her teeth, she estimated the water temperature. 15 degrees, at most. Not unusual for the month of April. She'd done worse with her little brother. The absence of waves, though, would make it a little more difficult but hey ! She had the best of men on shore to warm her up.

So she pulled her long dress over her head, revealing the plain one piece bathing suit.

— "Are you going in ?"

His smooth voice never failed to seduce her and Frances turned to him with a smile. Tristan's eyebrows rose ; he pulled the sunglasses over his head, then looked her in the eye.

— "Are you serious ?"

She nodded, then left a tender kiss upon his lips. Then, inch by inch, she walked into the water. She knew people were talking, watching her as if she was an alien; narrow-minded folk who didn't bath until the water was safely over 23 degrees. But Frances hailed from the north; her soul belonged to the British isles, at best. Scandinavia, perhaps. And she was proud that Tristan had not tried to deter her, nor lecture her for her foolishness. His eyes, though, kept her in sight. And when, at last, her head dropped under the waves, the icy clutches of the sea caused her to gasp. Frances didn't stay underneath; Tristan would worry, and she felt like her head had been dropped into a vice.

The bath didn't last long, but it brought her so much energy, such solace that it was well worth it. When Frances emerged from the sea, she felt cleaned up from the past months of worry and heartache. Grown, a new person able to make the right choices in her life. The ones that would make her happy, despite her parent's wishes and aspirations. And when her gaze met Tristan's silhouette, a tall man standing over the ridicule waves, she knew she had found a gem. His special smile, this slight quirk of his lips, greeted her when she came near.

— "Are you a seal?" he asked playfully.

Rather than take offense, Frances yapped twice, making him laugh. She would never get enough of it, the sound rumbling like a storm in his chest, a ripple of happiness. Her hand settled over his beating heart, droplets dampening the fabric. Tristan gasped, grabbing her hand into his. Warm, the contrast so intense that it was almost scorching.

— "You're frozen!", he gasped.

— "Do not worry, it's warm, we'll walk along the shore"

She had brought no towel and the young woman left her skin to dry in the sun, the hot wind performing its job easily. As they walked, talking about her love for the sea, Frances reached in her oversized bag to extract a set of biscuits. She tore the paper away, and handed one to Tristan. The man snorted then, considering the piece of cake he had not seen since his childhood.

— "Dinosaur biscuits ? Really ?"

Frances grinned without shame.

— "My favourites"

He considered her a moment, the siren of his heart. Her long reddish hair lay now along her back, drying in the sun in a fiery hot mess. Still, despite the salt – the Mediterranean was so heavily mineralised ! – the ringlets were already forming at the bottom, dancing over her hips. Her lips, so welcoming, were slowly returning to their original color; this rosy hue that he adored. For long, he had wondered if the contrast between her skin and lips came from discreet make up; he now knew it wasn't the case. He had devoured those lips, nipped them, caressed them with his tongue altogether and they still looked like those of Snow White.

She looked… refreshed. And incredibly happy. As if a burden had remained behind, washed away by the sea. Nonetheless, her skin was still cold to the touch, and he lost no time dragging her into their room for a shower, mindful of his sandy feet.

— "You need to get warm", he told her before retreating.

Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, still frozen. Wide chocolate eyes sent him an innocent look – too innocent – and his eyes travelled to the lip she was biting now.

— "You're the best warmer I could ever get", she purred.

Warm blood poured into his veins, the need to have her almost overwhelming as he growled. The instant later, Frances was flung against the tiled wall of the shower, his tongue swirling in her mouth. When he pulled away, she chuckled at his dazed look.

— "Are you sure you don't want to undress first ?"

Tristan blinked, a sheepish grin pulling his lips up before he yanked his t-shirt away. Frances flung her dress over her head, then proceeded to remove her plain, one-piece suit, leaving her naked in the shower. Fully exposed, in plain light. Tristan paused, his fingers struggling with the buttons of his jeans, watching her as she twisted the knob. A curtain of warm water fell from the ceiling, droplets hitting her long hair, painting in in darker hues than her vibrant mix of red and brown. The strands spread along her back, accentuating the curve of her slim waist and arched hips. Long legs on display, rounded calves as she let the water soothe the salted skin, firm buttocks, tight waist…

She was, to him, an ultimate beauty. Be it her body, her features or her soul, he ached for her. The result of which was now throbbing in his pants. So Tristan freed himself from the rest of his clothes and approached his woman, stark naked. Wisps of vapor swirled around him, greeting him like an old friend as his arms wrapped around her middle, his lips kissing her shoulder gently. Frances hummed in appreciation, pulling slightly away from the curtain of water to grant him a better access to her skin.

— "You still taste salty"

— "Then wash it way"

His loins clenched, the idea of his hands roaming her body so freely causing too much blood to go south. Yet, he wasn't about to refuse such an opportunity. Where had the shy young woman gone ? Replaced by a diamond of sensuality ? Perhaps he had always read her wrong, for in school, she maintained distance so easily. Perhaps she trusted him to come close, only opening her arms to people that wouldn't take advantage of her. Because hell, if other men knew how beautiful, how sensual she was. How she rasped his name whenever he worked her to completion… Damn, there would be a queue waiting at her door. No. Better this way.

Tristan worked a lather in between his eager fingers, and while she did her own hair, his large hands spread the soap over her back, her shoulders and her stomach. Then he knelt to wash her legs, marvelling at the strength of her calves – ice skating – and the harmony of her lovely feet. Frances wiggled her toes out of his grasp with a squeak. Ticklish ! His laughter filled the room, mirth and fondness mingled for this little woman who made his world brighten.

Then he stood again and she reached for his hands, pushing them all the way up her arms, dragging her own fingers in between his. Sweet, sweet torture, to caress such a beautiful woman without taking a nip. The water still ran over his back, adding to the sensations of her skin sliding over his. A pure delight.

Would he dare ? After she had rinced her hair, he embraced her entirely, bringing his slick hands around her middle, snaking up to her rounded breast. She melted against him, welcoming the touch, dragging his hands across her chest and stomach in a burning caress. Tristan growled then, muscles on fire, pulling her close as his fingers dug in between her thighs. The young woman arched in his grasp, finding his very eager erection with a gasp.

— "You're a beautiful woman, Frances", he explained. "You can't expect me to wash your body and keep my cool"

She turned around and watched him with a look of pure adoration.

— "You're a very handsome man yourself, Tristan. I never got to tell you, it would have been slightly out of line in school"

She stood on her tip toes, claiming his mouth. The kiss deepened at once; hands roaming across his waist, she pushed him sideways under the stream of water until his back hit the wall. Then she pulled away and her lips travelled across his jaw, her body flush against his until she took a step back

— "And I intend to enjoy it", she murmured in his ear.

There was such a promise there that Tristan shivered. What came next, though…