Work Text:
He wakes up on the shore with sand plastered against his face, starlight harsh on his eyes - but she is there, her hand on his chest, her face pale with worry. “What happened?” he asks, as thoughts of blood and kisses assault his mind.
“I saved you,” Syrena answers. She leans closer, her tail still in the shallows, and kisses him with the taste of salt on her lips. Philip’s hand trembles as he presses it against her cheek, cold with sea water.
Her hand travels down his chest, over neatly healed wounds; his stomach flutters at the memory of death breathing down his neck. It had been her that saved him, not his God. God’s hand had guided him to this strange, beautiful creature, this woman with soft lips and gentle hands.
She captures his moan with her kiss and comes further onto land, her hands everywhere at once as if she is greedy for him; as if she has waited for eternities for him to arrive. He lets her take what she wants, lost in her kiss, a drowning man clinging to the shore.