they move in a series of caresses that glide up and down my spine

The days pass mundanely, from one to the next. The sea drifts aimessly in kind, clouds rolling and wind billowing more than buffetting; the inherent laziness cannot be swayed even by the torpid knowledge that there is something, someone, down there beneath them - someone that speaks, and spins, and jokes, and wiles.

Would they be even half so enchanted, were the long-haired man possessing of feet, rather than fins?

Addam, approaching from distance, watches Minoth deliver to Flora one last sweet kiss with astonishing care before those fins, brilliant orange, surge up and by, towards the target of his affection.