"If I could be anywhere in the world right now, I'd be right on your jean line."

[lissie_pissie]

I'm drunk, so absolutely drunk. He's completely intoxicating and I want nothing more than to ride the buzz and then pass out under his care. Wake up next to him and the only signs of hangover are sore arms and legs and bruises on my lip - all of which are completely welcome anyway. It's the same high with a better hangover, plus it's completely free. I love the way we kiss. Inventive. Raw and messy, not because we don't know what we're doing, but because we just care so much. I can't even get it out. Every time he kisses me, I feel so much more than lips on lips. I feel fucking everything. I feel it in my gut and my ribcage and the tips of my fingers. And at some points it can be so beautifully delicate and slow - antithetical juxtaposition at its sweetest. We start and never stop. I cannot even wait to love him. I've cried over men before, but always because they've hurt and stung - never because they've been so beautiful. It seems I've found a diamond. I have never in my life felt such amazing and beautiful luck. I probably don't even deserve him, but he says I've got that backwards.

"I cleaned my act up before I asked you out. I wanted to get all my shit together because I had a feeling about you."

He told me he missed me before he even left. And he thanked me for letting him kiss me so much. I asked him if this was real life. Apparently it is. The Wizard of Oz was on when he got here and I never turned it off. We kissed and tapped our fingers on each other in time with their songs. Little by little he's destroying my beautiful wickedness. I ran my hand down his throat as she said it. I'm melting.