The green of his eyes shone through the haze to guide me, stars in a midnight sky. I dipped my head again and licked the red welt. Now I tasted the wine. Like the wine I'd had eariler. A sweet berry essence with a hint of tobacco, earth and salt. Criss's blood. Clarity returned with every taste. I became all to aware of my hands moving down his bare chest, down his arms, and up again, pausing at every sinew and cord. He was real, no fragment of my imagination. I slid my bottom down off the cabinets, cold linoleum under the balls of my feet as I reached up in tiptoed to kiss his full, quivering mouth.

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