[Prompt: bathtime together in the sea/private pool]


He hears her draw in a breath, the sound of the waves pulling into her lungs, and he shivers with a sigh of bliss.

"Do you like it?" he whispers.

Her eyes are the same sapphire as the waves they behold, her hand cool in his like the breath of the sea breeze that wraps around them and send her hair fluttering and sparkling like diamonds in the moonlight.

"It's beautiful," she says, and the stars are glimmering in her eyes with wonder. She has never seen the sea, not like this. Her life has been spent shuffled between trader and trader, the sea only a source of sickness and pain from being crammed together in the slums of a ship's belly. But in Atlantis, the sea is divine. Her eyes shine and he can see that for once, she is allowed to see the sea for what it truly is: beauty, and peace.

He slides his arm around her waist and sighs into her hair. It smells clean, clear, like desert sands from where she was taken.

"Do you want to go closer?"


He watches her dip one bare toe into the surf, mouth opening with wonder.

"It's warm."

"The gods send us warm waters here."

She steps farther into the water and he notes the way the silver waves caress her feet, the way her toes press into the sand and wriggle with a quiet delight at the softness of it. She turns towards him, hair falling around her shoulders like she is made of the water itself, and she reaches her hand for him.

"Come out with me," she says.

He smiles as he grips her hand, slips out of his boots allows himself to be pulled into the gentle tide so that the waves roll around him and soak into the bottoms of his pants. She laughs, dancing farther into the waves.

"Catch me," she says, and she runs.

He chases her, chases the sound of her starlight laugh, the water spraying up into the sky around them and hanging, sparkles of moonlight. She squeaks as he wraps his arms around her from behind with a soft "caught you, princess" and then they are both squealing as they lose their balance and fall into the water.

Both heads crash up for air and her laugh carries up to the sky.

"Now look what you've done—we're soaked!"

"That's what you get for playing hard to get," he laughs.

Her hand entangles into his hair and she draws him close so that their faces are close together. She glistens with water, its as if the starlight has been liquefied and used to anoint her—she glows. Her eyes search his like moon searches the sea.

"Kiss me," she whispers then. Low, breathy, pleading. "Please."

She doesn't even need to ask. His own hands come to cup her face and they pull themselves towards each other, a desperate pressing of lips as though they hope to become one creature, one part of the ocean waves. He can taste the ocean on her, the swell of the sea and all that it contains and the depth of her soul like an unending ocean that wants to swallow him up completely and wholly so that he only exists within her, and he wants it—oh, god, he wants her to do it.

The kiss ends with a hazy uncertainty, as though neither are certain yet who they are without that connection of lips and hands and bodies.

He presses her to him, lets the ocean water seep between them, and her hands tighten around his waist as she breathes into his shoulder, the breath of the ocean itself in his arms.