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Her face was just starting to fade into view, thanks to the moonlight, when he felt a pair of cool hands cupping his chin. The mermaid snapped out of her trance and eyed his hand warily for a moment. The whirlwind in his mind was primarily focused on the memory of touch, and having held her. Then, in a single fluid motion, she offered her own hand, and slipped her fingers into the cracks between his. Then, in a single fluid motion, she offered her own hand, and slipped her fingers into the cracks between his. The water would have been cold if either of them had been able to feel it whatsoever. He wouldn’t be that lucky, would he? Josiah paused, to let them both catch their breath, mouths still passionately pressed together. The mermaid was waiting, in the usual spot, with her eyes on the usual target. And how often is it as intimate, and meaningful?