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My tongue is restless, dying of curiosity about every millimeter of your skin. I start at the base of your chin, feeling the soft texture and firmness of your jaw under my mouth. A slow, deliberate lick that barely touches your skin, just to taste your most basic essence. My tongue ascends, drawing a wet and warm path that stops at the corner of your lips, but I don't taste them, not yet. I continue going up, tracing the contour of your cheek, feeling how it trembles under my breath. I reach your forehead and place a flat, almost reverential lick, soaking your skin while my eyes lock onto yours.