Or how, until my last kiss study, my laziness makes me export an article from tumblr. But, please, still on the kiss thematic. You’ve learned by now that I’m quite fond of kissing scenes. But this one is far from being my fav because of the bitch Sarah Caulfield (and because there’s a real lack of alchemy between these two…. everything feels wrong and forced between them * le sigh*)
If I’ve decided to gif it tonight it’s not because I’ve changed my mind but because of a dream I’ve had whilst I was still on drugs (thanks sickness). Being an admirer of his for the past 7 months, I’ve never dreamt of Richard. Ever. Whereas Michael Fassbender has been invading my dreams a little too much for my taste XD. Getting back to the dream, I find some its elements in that kiss, the brusqueness, his way of forcing her into this kiss, the awkwardness.
I remember little, only a scene, but what a scene ! and especially the feelings and sensations, so strong and overwhelming !
We’re in my hometown, in a street, just outside a bar. The cold bites my cheeks. I try in vain to warm my hands by blowing on them. He’s facing me, a smirk on his face. I can’t explain why, but I know we’ve been spending the evening flirting. I want him. I want him so much it’s almost painful, crushing me whole.
We’re chatting mindlessly, and every time his gaze shifts from mine, my stomach and heart are twisting in fear until his eyes fall on me again. I feel so alive when he looks at me. And then all I want is to disappear as his beauty seems suffocating to me. His feminine ways, his elegant gestures. His bright eyes opened to the world. His dazzling look that pierces me, disarms me.
One moment we’re talking, the next is on me, against me, his lips crushed against mine, his right hand intertwined with my hair, forcing me into this kiss, his body pressed against mine, almost hurting me with his brusqueness. His free hand is out to discover my body. I choke under his embrace, his kisses, gasping for air and having this strange tingling sensation in the palms of my hands, light headed, legs weak at the knees.
So I cling to him as if I were drowning, I’m melting into him, blending in him, my nails driven into his neck. His stuble scrapes my face, my mouth but I don’t care. I’m devouring him as he’s devouring me. It’s good and awkward. Soft and passionate, spicy and fragrant. The urgency of the freezing weather is pushing us to embrace each other, to warm us up. This heat is so real.
And I woke up
I don’t know what this dream says about me. It’s interesting that my subconscious, when I never fantasize over a physical intimacy nor dream of him, throws me into Richard’s arms so violently in a kiss more than passionate.