Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha or any characters related to it for that matter but I do own the plot of this story and the original characters that may appear in it.
Letter from the sea
Once upon a time, there was a love story. Somewhere at the sea. Or far away. He was always gone, but he sent me the most beautiful love letters. I went crazy with desire only reading them. One day he did not came back from his travels, but I kept the letters. Even now, they smell of seaweed and shellfish, as if time itself remained pickled in those lines. I was young, darlings, and madly in love with a sailor. And he always missed me.
"I'm so close to the stars my love and the sea is boiling beneath me as if it is a howl of a rabid beast. It is like my own roar of longing. I hate it sometimes for keeping me so far away from you, but maybe without it I would not realize how much I want you. Do not forget me, my woman. I am afraid sometimes that who knows what evil happenings could take you away from me.
Your lips burnt by the sun and by the sea, only I know how to feed them, and only then I feel truly home, when you break in the middle in my arms and lay your cheek on my chest.
Home. Cannot wait to get home.
I will lose then the string of caresses and whispers, we will knit our breathings and we will breathe one to another, one by another, and then, in the sweet intimacy of the hips we will dance sniffing each other until dawn. How I like it when you resist, sacred and impenetrable like a statue, and then you surrender and I desecrate you leisurely, I devour you like a sweet booty, only mine.
I yearn to dance with my tongue on your frail body. To follow delicately the world of your curves until they become soft and horny under my sun beaten palms. Till that magic opening of yours becomes wet and sweet and I only throw my anchor inside.
You, my last port and the only one that brings me back from the sea, you, my oasis of pleasure in which I portray with my tongue galleries of pure ecstasy.
I will sip your mysterious womanhood and I will lick it, in the same way the waves of the sea lick the mussels stranded on the shores, in frantic drum sounds and after a climax of sensual movements. I am crazy, aren't I, my love? Yes, I know, I am crazy for you.
I remember, even now, the playful way in which you twisted your ankle and lifted your leg over my head and embraced my shoulder with it. You were naked and unashamed, you were laughing in waves and telling me: "wreck once more, my sailor, for always, over and over again, only here, beside me, in me" and in your eyes you had that animalic exhaustion of a rosy evening. My love, after each storm when the evenings go in the depths, I miss you even more, the sea groans and rocks me as if she wants to anger me. But I know fully well that I always guided only after your moans and after your glance with which you used to bite me until pain sometimes, and until madness other times.
Ah, I'm losing my mind here, the ports are farer and emptier of meaning, I feel the sexual call from my groins and I can hardly restrain myself every night to not bite off the mast. I would roar at the moon like the white wolves in their steppes if I would not know that you are waiting for me with your hand eave over your eyes, somewhere, out there, on the balcony where we made wild love and drunk our lips until we were out of air.
Your lips, my love, like the ruby wine of Tuscany and voluptuous as the sun baked coral melons. Your fingers, my love, which chased away so many dark thoughts, so many ghosts that I brought back with me from the sea. I go crazy here for not knowing what you are doing, I go crazy especially when I imagine that another man could hold you in his arms and could taste the hotness of your lips. But no, you would not do that, I know, you love me, I feel it in the way your body calls mine. I dream you every night, my little woman with long black hair and full lips of honey, who knows so well how to kiss away my fears, but then in the morning I feel wounded to death when the dream disappears in the morning between the fog above the water. The sea always takes you away from me, my love… or is that the sea takes me?
From what can I reconstruct you if not from these line, over and over, your long distance sailor… "
I waited for him for two years to come back from his journeys, in that time we fed each other with letters, letters that smell of seaweed and sand. Sometimes damp from the drops of seawater that were joyful jumping on the ship's wooden deck. I could hardly decipher his small writing transformed into salt.
Last days, I discovered them in an old box that I nearly thrown away. I reread them and I cried, I do not remember why. Maybe because one day he did not came back and I never found out what happened. Maybe because I was so fragile and I was able to madly love a ghost. Maybe because there are times in my life when I stay with my hand eave over my eyes and wait for the ships to come back in the port and bring me my sailor close. Who knows?
AN: Here it is a small piece that kept bugging me for day so I had to get it out of my system, hope you like it, and take a minute to review. Also this story will have no second chapter it is an one shot.
Astarte.
