A/n: This was my gift to Miss AmelieGray on her birthday. As always, Yellowglue is my word-wizard.

I walk up on him crouched at the tupperware cabinet looking for a lid. Last night's steak lay flayed on the counter.

"Hi", I say, and he stalks to where I stand like a lion.

He crawls under my skirt, my favorite skirt, so busy with colors that it bleeds it's vibrancy on my other garments with regularity.

He laps his way up my thighs like a kitten seeking milk and I moan behind my teeth, clamped tightly to my bottom lip to ground me.

I trap my hands in my hair and sigh as I churn. 99 red balloons go by underneath my skin, but it's just every life in which I've ever loved him.

I hold tight to my braids, the ropes anchoring the hot air balloon of my heart. The balloons begin to pop, white stars against my eyelids and I open them to see the phantom of his body beneath my skirt.

He looks up at me, through the shear material and I can just make out the microscopic cliff created by his eyelashes. His mouth stretches into that smile that makes my face so so red, and begins again.

I am sweet buttercream all for him and the spoon to lick it from, slowly, with so much heat that I melt.

I can feel it slide down my skin, but I can't stop it. I'm floating so high now, the sky in my mind is just black. There's no color here, outside the atmosphere.

We are Romeo and Juliet under the covers in technicolor.

"Yond light is not daylight; I know it, I.

It is some meteor that the sun exhales

To be to thee this night a torchbearer"

Do you remember the parachute game? Standing in a circle, every one connected by one small handle. We'd throw it up in the air and dive under the colors, encased in a rainbow. There was always giggling, feeling like the world was gone as long as we stayed under the slick material.

Your dive is deeper, a long breast-stroke that leaves me breathless. I gasped for air and the rainbow slithers down around us, pressing colors to your skin as you press in to me.

You throw away our parachute. It tangles around our ankles as well fall and I laugh, seeing my heart as a ball, bouncing along on top of the circus-tent cloth you've staked around my body.

But you swallow it down, my laugh and my heart and we're under again. Grounded to this bed but flying, our hands the handles. We're never coming down.

My skirt is a puddle on the floor where you finally staked your claim.