The pleasures of Armitage / Thorin beardy kiss fantasy

[This is not part of the “barbatus” series, but I can’t resist. Best wishes to Richard Armitage and all of the cast and crew for The Hobbit as they celebrate the end of principal photography!]

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Richard Armitage as Thorin Oakenshield, publicity still from Entertainment Weekly tablet edition, July 13, 2012. Source: RichardArmitageNet.com

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Someone called this a “Thorin glamor shot.” And how. This is the first picture I’ve seen that’s specifically made me want to kiss Thorin. I’ve loved Richard Armitage’s beard, and wanted to feel its scrape against my cheek for some time, but this is the first image that pushed me into real Thorin lust. (It may not have hurt that it appeared during a horrible week, of course.) I’ve been able to look off and on at the picture while doing other things and enjoyed the pleasure of turning the possible reasons why over — and over — and over. Contemplating a fantasy kiss.

[I’ve been trying, since I saw it, to read paranoia into this picture somehow, but I can’t. Sorry, Mr. Armitage.]

This picture — which has also doubtless been played with by the graphic artists — works on so many levels for me. First, the tones. The surrounding color makes Armitage’s blue-grey eyes look almost dull gray-dirty copper metallic. That makes Armitage’s already magnetic stare positively arresting — I can’t take my eyes away from him. He’s very serious — but do I still see a trace of that mischief in his glance, particularly in the left eye? And a little hint of experience in the almost invisible eye lines? The warmth also makes his skin look sultry, and this is a slightly unusual effect for him — usually we’re being enticed into wanting to caress the pale coldness of his complexion against darkened hair (Lucas) or else appealed to with his pale rosiness against brown hair (Lee or John Standring). Here, he almost looks tan. Secondly, the hair. Tangles I want to thread my fingers through on the way to grasping the back of his neck, and the discreet placing of the roots just over his natural hairline to give him widow’s peaks, which enhance the impression of a strategic intelligence engendered by his eyes. Third, the side-lighting, which highlights the fascinating minor asymmetries of the face, especially the very imposing left eyebrow and the here almost flat left cheek. It also makes us aware of the buildup of the nose without making it look ridiculous, thus drawing attention to the marked, regal features. Fourth, the lips: thin, and potentially cruel, or at least decisive, but also gently placed together — tenacious but also sensitive? Proud but vulnerable? Sixth, the angle of the head — appraising, but positioned as if perhaps to give a slight, grudging or acknowledging nod in the next frame. (One thing I love to ask about pictures of Armitage is what he’ll look like in the second after the photo, and this photo is particularly pregnant in that regard. There’s a stillness in the picture, but also a tension that suggests that his glance or his lips could move at any second.) Seventh, the beard: it enhances the forward structure of his chin, making him look strong, but also does it with superficially soft-looking fur that makes him look approachable. It elongates an already long jaw — we’ve talked before about the emotional and sensual qualities of the Mannerist moments in Armitage’s body. Mmmmmm. Finally, the neck — the little fold of his throat peeking out from his shirt, a tiny moment of vulnerability. And, although it’s not a feature that makes me want him to kiss me specifically, we should note the position of the hand and messages it sends to the viewer about power and energy.

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So how would this play out? This has to be a seated kiss, as I’m so much taller than Thorin. And I’m not going to give this any plot. It’s just a kiss. I’m pretending I’m sitting on my parents living room sofa. Don’t ask me why Thorin would ever find himself sitting there. It’s just a fantasy.

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You look over at me with that insistent stare, the one with just a little challenge hidden in the corner of your eyes, and you cock your head back a bit and raise your chin. As it comes up, I thread my right arm into your hair, just behind your ears, grasping the nape of your neck, and pull you toward me. Your eyes stay open, now glinting with a bit of amusement, but you keep your mouth closed as I brush my lips down your jawline and feel the bristles. I nibble just a little at the left side of your mustache, my face now very close to yours, as I attempt to look up to gauge your reaction. Now your eyes are closed. I breathe in, timing my breath to yours, and rub my nose up at the corner of yours before moving my upper lip against your mustache and tracing the tip of my tongue, every so slowly, along the margin of your top lip. I hear a growl and laugh a bit inside as my tongue moves on to your lower lip, and suddenly one of your hands comes up against my side and the other to my neck, and you lean in, opening your mouth and crushing your beard right into my lips and chin as your tongue moves deeply, forcefully into my mouth. I hear my throat make sounds I can’t understand as your scent overwhelms me and your tongue probes deeper. When I break off for breath, your lips and your beard brush against my cheek, and then my jaw, and the soft space underneath, and my temple, as your hot breath floods into my ear. My other hand nestles into the beard on your jaw and I pull your lips back to my mouth, aching to feel that bristly scrape against my lip and chin again. I tilt my head so my lips scrape against the top of your goatee as I push in for a renewed taste of your mouth. As you increase the rhythm of our tongues against each other, your beard sensitizes my face so that every stroke of it against my nerves feels like a long, slow, intense scream of pleasure that settles somewhere near my ear drums first, and then travels lower.

You raise your head, and look at me, a slight smile playing over the earlier challenge on your lips. “Does my beard make you squirm?” you ask, as you move your lips back to mine, and my skin prickles, ready for another brush with intense sensation.

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(Obviously, ymmv. Experience suggests that Thorin’s beard is certainly more crinkly and less soft than it looks in photos. Servetus loves the scratch and scrape and doesn’t mind putting a little soothing lotion on around her mouth and lips afterwards as necessary. And bussing through a beard is usually much less abrasive to the female face than smooching around stubble. However, if you like the look, but you’re worried about the rug burn: the experienced beard-grower who wants to be kissing the gentler sex’s softer skin conditions his beard with hair conditioner when he washes his hair; doing so regularly will gradually soften the beard hairs. Especially wiry beards may be helped further by the application of beard oils or butters made for this purpose.)

~ by Servetus on July 7, 2012.