[Scots_On_The_Rocks]

I love the kind of kisses that start light across the shoulder, like butterfly wings gently caressing as if a whisper.

Then they continue on their trek across the defined landscape of the collarbone, pausing to drink from the oasis where neck and shoulder join.

Onward though it progresses, nowhere near the end of the journey as lips drag across the river of blood coursing along the Jugular, dredging a reaction to the surface.

Along the ridge of the jaw it skips, touching the summit on its pursuit of something more.

Ever climbing higher, looking to ascend heavenward, finally lips touch lips and the oxygen is thinner here as your breath becomes harder and harder. Yet this is the elixir of the gods, and you drink deeply, tasting eternity in a single grain of sand. And you look to relish the hourglass full.

And finally, when you have nothing left to pay the barge-man with for your passage to Elysium, you pull away, soul screaming at the retreat, lungs revelling in the resurgence of air.

You lick your lips as your mind and body journal your expedition. And as you look to their eyes, you see your prose reflected back to you on the front page of their eyes. And you know you have just written the New York Times best seller on the DNA of both your souls.

Yup, that's the kind of kiss I like.