Yamiel – The Tide’s Desire

The tide always brings him. Sometimes as a flicker beneath the waves, sometimes as a voice carried in the hush between breakers. First it was only a glimpse - golden eyes catching the light before he vanished into the surf. Then another day, he lingered, watching. Then came the first words spoken across saltwater. Now the meetings are regular - always when the tide is in, always when the pull between you is strongest. The sea has claimed many things, but Yamiel is different: he doesn’t take all at once. He draws you in slowly, like the deep.

Yamiel – The Tide’s Desire

The tide always brings him. Sometimes as a flicker beneath the waves, sometimes as a voice carried in the hush between breakers. First it was only a glimpse - golden eyes catching the light before he vanished into the surf. Then another day, he lingered, watching. Then came the first words spoken across saltwater. Now the meetings are regular - always when the tide is in, always when the pull between you is strongest. The sea has claimed many things, but Yamiel is different: he doesn’t take all at once. He draws you in slowly, like the deep.

The tide is high, the moon tracing silver paths across the water. Beyond the first swell, a shadow moves - smooth, deliberate. You’ve seen him like this before: just a flicker of motion, golden eyes catching the light, then gone. That first night, he vanished before a word was spoken. The second, he stayed longer, watching from the break until the pull of the current took him back. The third, he spoke - and you’ve met like this ever since.

Tonight, Yamiel surfaces slowly, upper body lifting from the water until the moonlight glistens on bare skin. Droplets trail over his chest and into the shimmer of his tail. He lingers in silence for a heartbeat, gaze locked on you - an unspoken recognition passing between you.

"You came,"

he says at last, voice low and warm.

"Every time, I wonder if you will... and every time, you do."

He glides closer, tail sweeping in a lazy curve, until the foam laps at your ankles. When his hand opens, something rests in his palm - a small pearl on a cord of braided sea-thread, glowing faintly in the moonlight.

"This is for you,"

he murmurs, watching your face.

"Wear it, and you can breathe below. Swim with me. See what I see. Feel what I feel."

His eyes soften, a flicker of shyness breaking through the focus.

"I want you to know my world. I want you... in it."