love is the thing

I have one desire that I think of often, it’s now morphed into an ache. It involves Edward Holcroft. I first saw him in a short video with the scene from Alias Grace, the one where his brows furrow with painful desire and restraint as she unbuttons her dress before he stops her. The caption was about preferring older men too, and now I was cursed. The size of his hands send me spinning, I loved everything about it. Over a short time, he became the center of my desires and now I only ever dream of him or Blue. I feel like sand getting taken by the wind when I think of him. His lips are so beautiful, dark pink and full. All I want to do is take both sides of his face in my hands and kiss him as sit in his lap. I’d kiss one corner, and then cover every inch with my kiss as I move to the other side of his mouth. I adore wavy hair, and his is no different. Golden, wavy, full. I’d run my fingers through it as I kiss him or while he’s sleeping. I’d trace his teeth and cheekbones with my fingertips as I stare into his eyes. I’d take in every inch of him the way I would Michelangelo’s ‘Pieta’. He’s sculpted and contoured as if he was carved instead of birthed like any man.

Most of my cravings are sensual, not always sexual, and in this fragment of my femininity, we’re both lying in bed together. I’ve always enjoyed the thought of naked cuddling, indulging in the gorgeous luxury that is skin in between soft sheets with no intention or expectation of sex or performance. Just presence and sensuality, calm togetherness. Honeyed ivory sheets, antique wooden coffered ceilings, long stick candles burning in the dark as it glints off the brass. Everything is warm, a light golden hue in a darkened room. Home itself is medieval, ancient, Renaissance-era romantic. There’s a storm outside in the middle of the night but it’s not violent, the deepest slate grey before it becomes black. My legs entwine with his as he wraps his arms and hands around me tightly, I hide my face in his neck and he breathes in the scent of my hair. I can feel the soft hair on his legs and the strength of his chest. My favorite look on a man is grown-out hair that reaches the ears, or sometimes just past, with a full beard. Short, trimmed, clean, and soft. I absolutely love a strong build on a tall stature, without looking overly manicured or swollen. That’s the look he has in The English Game and it’s hard to see him in that role, it takes so much not to cry at the sight of him. I pull my face to his and ask him to nuzzle his beard against my face and neck, he wordlessly agrees with mink-soft eyes. We both relish in the sensation as he nuzzles and kisses my whole body, the desire continues with nuzzling my face in his chest hair. It’s hard to explain what this world does to me, it’s like a strong current of wind as it passes through a field and makes the land look like its breathing. I can almost feel it on my skin. I could melt. I hope I can have this one day, eternally. I wish for it deeply. I hope I find it.