I saw the new X-Men film yesterday (review tomorrow! Are you sick of reading comic-related topics on this here blogge yet? TOO BAD!), and. Well. Michael Fassbender is extremely hot.
So is Andrew Garfield (who is not in the movie, lest you be confused. TANGENT AHOY). So is Johnny Depp; so is Ewan McGregor; so are Timothy Olyphant and Jacob Pitts and David Tennant and Matt Smith. So are a lot of men, and a lot of women. Watching extremely hot people mack on and do the ditty with other extremely hot people is one of the pleasurable pastimes of being human, especially when there's a coherent plot and some good editing and sweet costume and set design going on too. And yes, Fassbender's character does kiss another character.
There are many kinds of kisses. There is the Jim Sturgess/Evan Rachel Wood kiss in Across the Universe--a jaw-stretching kiss where you can see the, AHEM, temporomandibular joint articulate (I used to be an anthropology student, sometimes I can't help myself_. There are the not-kisses of THE dance scene in Dirty Dancing--you know the one--where lips lots of body parts that aren't other lips. There is the fireworks-in-the-background kiss in Moulin Rouge!, where Satine and Christian melt into each other and somehow her lipstick is not marred; then there's the Hex kiss, which I have gif'd here before, with maximum slow-mo tongue visibility. There are pecks and makeouts and sloppy licks and kisses on the forehead which manage to be chaste and hot at the same time and everything in between.
All are very nice. But the nicest thing about scenes like this is their ability to jostle my body's memory. I watch Baby let her head drop back and Johnny nibble her throat and it translates to my manfriend's lips on my throat. There is scant room in my head for inserting myself into whatever steamy scene is being carried out on the screen. Certainly fantasies are important, but when one is being enacted in front of me, body memory is immediate and imperative. I look at the arch of Arthur Darvill's nose and see my manfriend J's nose instead. It's Fassbender's eyebrows that are quirking, but all I can see is how the same expression would look on J.
I don't know that I'm explaining this adequately. All I know is that ultimately the person I want to kiss the most, despite all my use of adjectives like "smoking" and "unfathomably gorgeous" to describe various famous people, is the guy sitting in the Poang.