Richard snorts. Marriage is an unnerving enough concept, thanks. But, the fact that she seems to think it isn't a big deal is at least somewhat reassuring, because outside of the fact that culture dictates that it be some kind of tremendous, flip-turning life upside-down kind of deal, he doesn't see it as one. He understands conceptually that incest is supposed to be some horrid, scarring experience, but it's not like he was messing around with her when she was ten. This is a sixteen year old girl. Sixteen year old girls have sex drives. If he wasn't going to do it, somebody else was, and then he would have had to bust some kneecaps.
If rationalization were a superpower, he'd make himself a costume and go be a villain. Because he is excellent.
Besides--he enjoyed the hell out of it, physically and mentally, and more than simply for the taboo. He's been wearing this big, gawky mask, play-acting for sixteen years. It's nice to have room to breathe around her, to have a few moments where he doesn't have to worry too much about what's inside of him showing through. Restraint still has to be exercised, of course, but if anything could possibly foster the healthiest unhealthy relationship between a psychopath and the apple of his eye, this sort of thing is it.
Chuckling at the face she makes, Richard digs his fingers into her ribs to tickle her until he gets at least a squeal, then kisses the temple of her forehead. "Well, I'm glad you're happy. I'll let it go for now, then." Which is a relief to him, although the next time he mentions Delilah he's sure shit's gonna go down. "You are really something else, Salome. I can't tell you how pleased I am." He grins, flicking a glance down the form that stretches out, those long, tawny limbs that drape against his and across the bed. A shiver overcomes him, his mouth burying itself against her neck, her shoulder. The scent of her soft skin is nearly overwhelming even in the heady afterglow; he chuckles darkly, planting a tender little peck against her pulse.
"I remember when you were little. I don't remember how little, but you kissed me and tried to slip me tongue because that's how you'd seen people kiss in movies and you didn't know the difference." He laughs. "It was adorable, and hilarious. Do you remember that? I had to explain to you that that's how you kiss a boyfriend, not how you kiss daddy. And yet here we are." Richard nuzzles against her ear, kissing the ridge while his fingertips drift between her shoulder blades, his touch ultra-light and sweet.
"I'm quite happy with the adjustment to my previous lesson, I must say."
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If rationalization were a superpower, he'd make himself a costume and go be a villain. Because he is excellent.
Besides--he enjoyed the hell out of it, physically and mentally, and more than simply for the taboo. He's been wearing this big, gawky mask, play-acting for sixteen years. It's nice to have room to breathe around her, to have a few moments where he doesn't have to worry too much about what's inside of him showing through. Restraint still has to be exercised, of course, but if anything could possibly foster the healthiest unhealthy relationship between a psychopath and the apple of his eye, this sort of thing is it.
Chuckling at the face she makes, Richard digs his fingers into her ribs to tickle her until he gets at least a squeal, then kisses the temple of her forehead. "Well, I'm glad you're happy. I'll let it go for now, then." Which is a relief to him, although the next time he mentions Delilah he's sure shit's gonna go down. "You are really something else, Salome. I can't tell you how pleased I am." He grins, flicking a glance down the form that stretches out, those long, tawny limbs that drape against his and across the bed. A shiver overcomes him, his mouth burying itself against her neck, her shoulder. The scent of her soft skin is nearly overwhelming even in the heady afterglow; he chuckles darkly, planting a tender little peck against her pulse.
"I remember when you were little. I don't remember how little, but you kissed me and tried to slip me tongue because that's how you'd seen people kiss in movies and you didn't know the difference." He laughs. "It was adorable, and hilarious. Do you remember that? I had to explain to you that that's how you kiss a boyfriend, not how you kiss daddy. And yet here we are." Richard nuzzles against her ear, kissing the ridge while his fingertips drift between her shoulder blades, his touch ultra-light and sweet.
"I'm quite happy with the adjustment to my previous lesson, I must say."