This really is arousing. I so rarely see these images this bright and clear. I can see the light in Jack's buckle, some detail of his chest and abdomen, and I'm really far from disappointed.
The definition in these parts of Jack further intoxicates the direction in my mind that Ennis is likely to venture. Personally, seeing this picture brightened helps my imagination place my own hand upon Jack in the tent. The warmth is palpable which spreads from my palm to .. other places. When I think of Ennis' hand slowly running down Jack's abdomen and into private property, in my mind I get the feeling that the warmth felt goes from comfortable flesh to campfire. It's a bit of a sensory overload. At the instance of full exposure, one gets a snapshot: a close up of Jack's bright orange campfire lit genitalia with the knowledge of the fire crackling, the not so distance pines swaying in a much cooler atmosphere, Ennis' flannel caressing other areas of Jack, inducing distraction that seems to sing in chorus with a palm that whispers a flame between two legs. It's all of that condensed into a still frame in the mind that holds the image just before pornographic and keeps it at, rather, a romantic marriage of time and place, trees still providing backup hums; I believe that the deception of an orange night kept Ennis' (and Jack's) psyche somewhere between petrified and animated, frozen and thawed, able and willing, comfortably numb, and then just ... one.
All I'm saying is in the snapshot is the demeanor that speaks of the sex that cannot come without the love. And I find it composed in the air of this scene.
Relevance:
