He's tried. He really has. For sixteen years--or ten, at least, after he got past the first six years of horror at the idea of being a young twenty-something with a child--he's really made an effort to be a good father. After all, he never had one, not a real one; so being a good father to his precious little girl felt like a 'fuck you' to his own. It hasn't been always easy. As darling as she's always been, and as much as she's always managed to stir something protective in him, he's had muted thoughts--not to be cruel to her or anything, but maybe just to put a pillow over her face. Something easy, harmless, that would let him have freedom.
But he resisted, because as silly as it sounds, he enjoys being a father. And Salome, of course, is very dear to him, for many reasons. Maybe partly because she keeps him on his toes.
The idea of something like this happening has crossed his mind in the abstract, but he never considered what he would do. It was always just an absent 'what-if' floating past in the dead of night, like what if she ran off with a boyfriend or what if she gets hooked on crack. Nothing he actually expected. But now that it's here, he can't deny how much he wants it, from way down in the back of his gut to the nerves in his skin. His brain snaps into high-gear when it comes to rationalization.
She's young, so young, and beautiful, and his. When she tells him she wants him, the adrenaline shoots through him. Yeah, young, but sixteen's not so young, and there's no harm in it, and she's so sweet, so darling. Look at the way she blushes! It's the highest compliment possible. He'd be doing her a favor, educating her, maybe keeping her out of trouble at the hands of boys her age.
And, frankly, the whole idea is almost as thrilling as the idea of his own mother. Now this is a feeling he can understand.
Oh, God, he could gobble her up. Particularly when she kisses him again; this time, he leans into it, into her, one hand finding the nape of her neck. Everything in him gives in and he takes control, his kisses hungry and confident, his lips firm as they press against the ones that send little sparks through him. The whole thing feels unreal, and so magnificent; his breath slithers out to ghost against hers, and his tongue finds its way to tease against her lips.
Tilting his forehead against hers, Richard drills holes through her eyes with his gaze, his fingers stroking the soft skin down the nape of her neck. "You don't want me, Salome." His nose brushes over hers, the heat rushing beneath his skin unbearably. "Out of all the boys in the world, why your daddy? He's a bad man, you know. Bad, bad, you don't want to be with a bad man, baby. A bad man is tempted to encourage you in a situation like this." His lips graze hers. "I'm going to say it again: this is a bad idea, little girl."
But that doesn't mean he's about to say 'no', because all his favorite ideas are bad ones.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-07-29 04:49 pm (UTC)He's tried. He really has. For sixteen years--or ten, at least, after he got past the first six years of horror at the idea of being a young twenty-something with a child--he's really made an effort to be a good father. After all, he never had one, not a real one; so being a good father to his precious little girl felt like a 'fuck you' to his own. It hasn't been always easy. As darling as she's always been, and as much as she's always managed to stir something protective in him, he's had muted thoughts--not to be cruel to her or anything, but maybe just to put a pillow over her face. Something easy, harmless, that would let him have freedom.
But he resisted, because as silly as it sounds, he enjoys being a father. And Salome, of course, is very dear to him, for many reasons. Maybe partly because she keeps him on his toes.
The idea of something like this happening has crossed his mind in the abstract, but he never considered what he would do. It was always just an absent 'what-if' floating past in the dead of night, like what if she ran off with a boyfriend or what if she gets hooked on crack. Nothing he actually expected. But now that it's here, he can't deny how much he wants it, from way down in the back of his gut to the nerves in his skin. His brain snaps into high-gear when it comes to rationalization.
She's young, so young, and beautiful, and his. When she tells him she wants him, the adrenaline shoots through him. Yeah, young, but sixteen's not so young, and there's no harm in it, and she's so sweet, so darling. Look at the way she blushes! It's the highest compliment possible. He'd be doing her a favor, educating her, maybe keeping her out of trouble at the hands of boys her age.
And, frankly, the whole idea is almost as thrilling as the idea of his own mother. Now this is a feeling he can understand.
Oh, God, he could gobble her up. Particularly when she kisses him again; this time, he leans into it, into her, one hand finding the nape of her neck. Everything in him gives in and he takes control, his kisses hungry and confident, his lips firm as they press against the ones that send little sparks through him. The whole thing feels unreal, and so magnificent; his breath slithers out to ghost against hers, and his tongue finds its way to tease against her lips.
Tilting his forehead against hers, Richard drills holes through her eyes with his gaze, his fingers stroking the soft skin down the nape of her neck. "You don't want me, Salome." His nose brushes over hers, the heat rushing beneath his skin unbearably. "Out of all the boys in the world, why your daddy? He's a bad man, you know. Bad, bad, you don't want to be with a bad man, baby. A bad man is tempted to encourage you in a situation like this." His lips graze hers. "I'm going to say it again: this is a bad idea, little girl."
But that doesn't mean he's about to say 'no', because all his favorite ideas are bad ones.