sweetsalome | (no subject)

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Life is busy and full, there is always something to do, some place to go.

School, home, practice, homework, some lesson, some other extra circular activity on the day planner. It has been like this ever since she could remember. There isn't ever a whole lot of down time. At some point she decided that she was a shark, any stopping would mean she would completely die.

Or something equally dramatic.

Shutting the front door with her hip, she drops her back pack near the front door and continues further into the house, tossing her gym bag into the laundry room without much of a thought before stepping into the kitchen to find food. Yes, food, there must be something because she is starving.

Headphones in, ipod on, inner debating warring on if she should even bother starting her homework now or waiting for study hall.

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"It's only a big deal if you make it a big deal. I mean, it's kind of a big deal but it's not like we're getting married or anything like that." But it would be pretty awesome if they wereeeeeee~. See, she isn't seeing the big deal or that there could possibly be a difference in how they see what just happened until he actually breaks it down for her and when he does, oh man, that is going to be a pretty earth shattering experience for her.

She gets this from him? What does that even mean?

Wait, did he just use the word 'swag?'

She starts giggling helplessly against his chest, shaking her head. "Noooo swag is like attitude, and I really don't think it's Kosher, I'm pretty sure they can eat pork products." Bad humor is what she got from him, clearly. Urban Dictionary defines swag as: appearance, style, or the way he or she presents them selves. Old man. Sooo funny.

Like he'd send her to therapy. "I doubt that I am going to end up in therapy over this," famous last words. "I am happy like this, with you, and I don't want to do anything to ruin that." Though he might, what the hell, dude, even she gives him a bit of a look when he drapes himself across the fainting couch with his dad of the year routine.

She's gotta get him a mug or something. Outside of the one she bought him one father's day when she was just a little kid.

His eyes close and she makes a face at him.

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."

Rationalization is so easy sometimes, especially when it's something you really, really want. Salome wasn't exactly raised in an environment on 'no,' and 'that's not allowed.' So it seems to her that whatever she really wants she should really get, including her father. It will be a bit of a shock when she figures out that she can't always get what she wants, like the song goes. For the moment however, she can be blissfully unaware of that and just enjoy her own private fantasy with him.

Oddly enough it seems like talking about it (in a subtle, easy way) is helping. Mainly because it is in the form of praise and acceptance instead of shame and denial.

He tickles her and she giggles against him, shrieking first with surprise before putting her arms down to try and protect her bare ribs from his fingers.

"I don't remember that," she admits, climbing on to his lap once again, straddling him and regarding him with a bit of narrow eyed disbelief. "Are you making that up? Who kisses like that anyway, it seems so gross." Her fingers move through his hair, gripping at the headboard behind him as she leans in to kiss him just like that, like they do in the movies. Mouth, tongue, taste. She groans softly for as much of the act as the knowledge that this is so very, very wrong.

Richard breathes a heavy sigh into that sweet mouth of hers, one produced as much by the way she straddles him and the way she groans, as it is by the way she kisses him. A thrill streaks through him at all the new horizons to broaden and explore, hers and his, both. The pads of his fingers drift across her ribs, over that taut stomach that makes him shudder. His tongue, meanwhile, meets with hers, his lips pushing back against hers as though moving to consume. One arm drapes around the back of her neck, his hand creeping over her shoulder.

An entire new avenue to grow close to her with, and an entire new avenue to plunge himself deeper into the most debauched desires. Ah, he loves his life, and he loves his dear little daughter.

Leaning back for air, Richard grins, that lecherous twinkle in his eyes. "See. Positively revolting. Almost as revolting as the idea of inviting you to sleep with me tonight. You wouldn't want that, and you certainly wouldn't want to play together again." His nose brushes up against hers, a playful, put-upon sigh escaping him. "Likewise, you don't want your daddy teaching you all kinds of lovely things about your body, and his. After all, he's just a dirty old man."

His hands lift to comb back her hair while he grins. "And you are a beautiful young siren. My God." Head relaxing back against the pillow, he rakes his gaze over her before finding her face again, his brows knitting. "I hope you haven't been concerned all these years about your carnal interest in me. As far as I'm concerned, it's perfectly touching, and pure, and perfectly natural. Not entirely normal, perhaps, but normal isn't any fun at all, now is it."

She gets that dizzy feeling again as they kiss, it is so intoxicating, she can't help it she wants more. One taste is never enough, in fact just one kiss wakes her up to a whole world of possibilities that didn't seem there before. Sex was there before, she always knew about that, but she wasn't apart of it, not like now, and now the flood gates have opened and she feels a bit more whole and alive delving into it. A slow smile when the kiss breaks and she let's her hands slide down the bare of his chest and let's her lips follow after. Just touching him, all this skin, and this knowledge of how good skin against skin is.

This is what it must have felt like after Adam and Eve ate the apple.

"I want to sleep with you tonight!" She protests looking up from her spot on his chest, eyes wide. "And I want to play with you again, I want to learn everything you can teach me about sex. I'm not going to dispute the fact that you are a dirty old man though." A grin as she puts her head back down on his chest and sighs against him.

"I never gave it much thought, I knew it was wrong - I just never thought we would actually do anything about it so it didn't really keep me up at night. I mean, it's not really that big of a deal, its not like we're going to procreate or anything. I know kids that fool around with their step siblings so what's the big deal?"

That reaction is better than he could hope for, and he laughs at the big mismatched eyes that stare up at him. His fingers drift down her neck and back while he smiles fondly.

"Exactly right, darling girl. When the ability to procreate is taken from the picture, and both parties are capable of giving informed consent, in my mind, the whole situation becomes perfectly harmless fun, just a new way to show you how terribly I adore you." Granted, there's that huge power gap between a father and daughter, especially when Richard is the father in question; a number of psychological issues which may arise; and that little detail that some people tend to take sex a bit more seriously than he does, for whatever reason, and tend to acquaint it with romance. But those are just side-issues. The philosophical ones are at least moderately covered.

"There are some mild differences, though, between this and kids playing with their step-siblings. That's a situation of peers, and most people would be less disturbed by that because there's no blood relation. However," he grins and straightens her hair out, stroking and smoothing it, "I am the sort of man who finds the idea of a blood relation intensely erotic, and the idea of step-siblings rather trashy. Because that's simply an act of convenience, and curiosity, or perhaps boredom; whereas in our case, physical acts between you and I are products of intense attraction, and the sincere ardor of a father for his little girl, and vice versa."

His fingers tickle gently along her scalp, petting her as though he were scratching a kitten behind the ears while he drifts into thought. A pair of philosophers once argued that incest is impossible, because there are no sexual roles within the family--so, psychologically speaking, the mind flips back and forth in such a case, not thinking of the blood relation as blood, but rather, as an attractive individual who is convenient and available. This is perhaps the case with hillbillies, but Richard, ever the neo-libertine, is a different case. He finds himself attracted as he is to her not just because she is a nubile young woman who is interested in him, but because she is his daughter. It is the defining aspect, not simply of their relationship, but of his carnal feelings toward her. His is a deliberate, insidious, irresponsible descent into the taboo, into stranger, much more beautiful new ground to guide his daughter through.

"I'm glad you have the sense not to worry about these things. But I wouldn't have expected you to get all wound up about it, anyway, you've always been a clever girl. You take after me that way." Richard shoots her a cheeky grin and pats her shoulder. "But you should know that if you have any concerns, or if you're ever worried about what goes on between you and I or the implications surrounding it--which you shouldn't be--then you can talk to me."

"It helps that we can talk about this, and that you understand. It doesn't feel wrong - or that wrong anyway." Not that it felt wrong before, but that was in the heat of passion, on the cool light of day it is a little different. What he says interests her though and she looks up at him a bit more closely.

"You like it then, that's half the enjoyment for you, that I'm your daughter and we're fucking." It's not really a question, but it is, and she doesn't really seem too upset by that if it is the case. While she finds her father attractive because he is a handsome man, she has to admit that there is a greater thrill and pleasure for her knowing that he is her father. There are a lot of boys at school that she finds cute, but none of them do the things to her that her father does.

She isn't sure how she feels about that. It can't be too wrong, he feels the same way, and that feels very nice. What she does find is that the thought makes her wiggle down against his lap a little bit as her cheeks turn pink with blush.

A happy noise under his touch, almost like a soft purr as she sighs a little and toys with the strap of his belt, an idle touch, she is listening to him - mostly, she has to admit however that her thoughts are a bit distracted and scattered.

"I think I can talk to you about anything. You're good with that," he isn't overly emotional (from what she has seen and of course he has his moments.) He doesn't judge her either, like this, this is easy for her because there is no judgment.

Which leads her to say: "I really want to suck you off right now, but I'm not sure if I'll be good enough."

Richard gives her a cheeky, doggish grin and spreads his hands. "Guilty as charged. I keep warning you that your daddy is a bad man, but you never believe me." He chuckles, then stifles a moan while she blushes and wiggles around. Oh, that sweetness, that darling anxiety of a girl dipping her toes into the pool of sex for the first time. "It's more than that, though. I enjoy it because it gives me a chance to share something special with you. Something that most fathers don't get to share with their daughters."

Something that makes sense to him, something that has more substance. A potent, physical way to lay claim to her--he's always been a protective, possessive father, and this is only bound to make it worse. Or better, depending on one's perspective. Certainly from his.

"I'm glad to know you feel that way, babydoll." He smiles fondly, letting her do what she will as she lies upon him and plays around with his belt, his paternal feelings stronger than they've ever been. Papa wolf and the helpless little creature who stumbled into his heart despite the difficulties involved in a young bachelor rearing an intelligent daughter. Isn't she just adora--

--Wow. He laughs for just a note or two, more of surprise than anything else, since boy, that was out of left field. Not that he's complaining at all. At all. There's an intersection where adorable and sexy blend perfectly and although she's still more on the adorable side of the line, that intersection seems just the place for her. Grinning, Richard sweeps his fingertips down her bicep, then back up to her shoulder. "Well, now, it's something that takes a bit of practice, yes. But daddy would be more than happy to teach you how to play with his cock. You haven't had much of a chance to even see it properly, yet."

He grins, feeling absolutely vile, filthy, that wicked glint in his eyes while he coos to her. "And you'd ought to get acquainted with it, since you're bound to see it more often. Though, you want to know a secret?" He lifts his brows and murmurs conspiratorially. "The fact that you want to use that pretty little mouth of yours is a good indicator that you'll do a fine job once you get the hang of it."

Of course. He wouldn't have been so into it if there wasn't a little bit of that naughty, perverse want going through him. He admits it, and that, well that is just music to her ears. For the first time she sees something a little dark in him that she doesn't think was there before. It is so easy for her to over look the possibly bad parts of him, especially since she loves him madly. "I thought that we decided that doesn't make us bad, daddy."

A smirk and she let's her fingers move down over the soft trail of hairs that lead to his pants, and is a little surprised when he starts laughing. It isn't a mean laugh, but its the first that she has heard through out this experience so she finds herself blushing hotly again and chewing on her bottom lip till he gives approval of her want, then she can feel herself blushing a little less, but not a whole loot less.

"I've done it before," she admits quietly, "but they were with boys," glancing up at him she takes her time, deliberately slow with undoing his belt, sliding the leather free and then going to work on his zipper. As if she was defusing a bomb instead of undoing his pants.

"You'll have to tell me how you like it, daddy, and we'll have to go slow because your cock is so big." Maybe she is being a little more innocent then need be, but she loves the dark look in his eyes when she is. Oh yes, he wants to teach her, and she very much wants to learn.

:her fingers in the waistband of his boxers and slacks to ease them down. He really should be naked.

"Well, it doesn't make you bad, princess. But your daddy should probably know better, and instead he wants to eat you up." Richard grins when she chews on her lip, resisting the urge to pinch those reddened cheeks. Jesus, God, she's too much, just too much of everything. Too cute, too sweet, too erotic, too young, too-- "Oh, Salome." He sighs and shakes his head, smiling. "I love you to pieces, darling girl."

There's a flash of anger behind his eyes, like a little bolt of white lightning, when she confesses she's given boys head. It's not a shock, of course, but that doesn't stop the fact from hitting a possessive nerve that gives him the instant urge to go choke some hapless teenage boy to death with his bare hands. But for now, he lets it go, a half-sneer, half-smile on his lips while he tilts his head. "Naughty little thing. Boys your age aren't worth the ten seconds it takes for a pretty girl like you to get them to cum."

A mental note to have a little discussion about that little gem of information gets tucked away and saved for later. Because that's not gonna fly, especially not anymore.

It's easy to overlook for now, though, between the so-sweet things she says and the hands that slide away his boxers. He sits up to help her, kicking off his trousers and tossing them with the rest of the abandoned clothes. The air is refreshing, and his anticipation is already relatively apparent, though he takes a moment before lying back down, taking Salome's face in his hands and examining her before shaking his head. He chuckles, sighing in that heavy, dreamy artist's way as he kisses her hard on the mouth and lies back down. "This doesn't even feel real, princess, I keep expecting to wake up. When did you get so attractive, Salome?"

He smirks, combing his fingers back through her hair, brows lifting. "Take it as slow as you like, sweetheart. I'm hardly expecting you to fit the whole thing down that pretty throat of yours, particularly not yet. But that's what those lovely hands of yours can help with."

"I think you know perfectly well what to do, and I like that you know that." And she beams wildly when he tells her that he loves her to pieces. "I love you too," except their definitions might be slightly different, but that's a conversation for another time and place, because Salome says it is. Why not have a little fun now and consequences be damned? They can wait for another night or another morning when they are not so excited about playing with each other.

"I know, but I wanted to see if I could do it, if I could make them come - and I could." Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, it wasn't totally about a sex thing, it was more about learning, and a little bit about power and control. It was nice making them say and do things because she could make them come, it was a thrill. Plus it was nice to be fawned over and sought after as well.

She helps him with his pants, hands moving over his thighs as he reaches to take her face in his hands. He has such a nice touch, and he looks at her as though he has never really seen her before, or maybe it's just in a different way that he is seeing her. "I don't know," she gives him a crooked grin, her hand slipping between his legs, up the underside of his cock as they gaze at one another. "You don't have to worry about this being a dream though, it's not, it's real do you want me to pinch you to make sure?"

Which is probably not something you say to a man who's cock you are holding.

Grinning still she lowers her head and takes some time exploring him, lightly touching with just her fingertips and then the flat of her hand, down his length, his shaft and then up to the silky smooth of his head. Such an interesting toy to play with and she puts her lips on him, just around the head, tongue rubbing against the underside as she sucks him.

Wasn't a sex thing, feh. That doesn't change anything when it comes to the urge to put her in a little box to keep the disgusting boys in her classes away from her, although he would be proud of the power angle involved in her motives. But if it's attention she wants, he's more than happy to give it to her.

Chuckling, Richard smooths her brow, an inhalation sweeping over his head as that hand brushes against him and flares up his nerves. "No, no," he pats her cheek, grinning down at her, "I don't think you need to pinch me, sweetheart. I'm sure I'm just fine."

He sighs sharply as her hands trace over him, the teasing touch of her fingers and palms growing more glorious by the second. "There's no pressure, babydoll. Just get to know it. Have fun with it. See, you're clearly already doing a good job. Look at the state you manage to get me in. My God." By the time her mouth is against him he's hard enough to give a diamond a run for its money, and a low hiss of a moan peels from his lips. Richard sits up, gathering her hair back with one hand, while the other reaches over to squeeze her free hand affectionately.

Oh, yes, he needs to find something nice to give her after this. No matter how new she is to the whole thing, her enthusiasm for learning is admirable as it is lovely.

Another low sigh of appreciation comes from him, and his hand squeezes tight around hers before releasing it. "When you're using that beautiful mouth of yours, wrap one of your hands nice and tight around the shaft. Like you're giving a handjob." He gives her a calculating little look--presumably she's given those before--but his fond smile never fails. "Let it take care of what your mouth can't. And don't forget there's more than just a cock there, darling. My God, you've got a beautiful tongue, oh, my little girl. My pride and joy."

It's like he's teaching her how to ride a bike properly all over again. Except much, much more fun.

It is nice to be able to hear what to do, what is necessary to make him happy and to make him feel good. As opposed to some boy tangling his fingers in her hair and shoving her head down on to his cock. Daddy makes much nicer noises then those boys, and feels so much better, tastes better, but that could be a combination of the both of them on him that makes him taste like that. And so hard. She groans at the feeling of him, how hard and thick, as though he could break in half if she touche him the wrong way.

Her fingers wrap around his shaft and wherever her mouth doesn't reach she touches, strokes, caresses, her head sliding down a bit further to take more of him. There is no way at this point in time she can take all of him but she will certain work on that, and work on pleasing him with what she can take. Her hand of course helps, and she slides it down the base of him and use the heel of her hand to press against his sac. At that movement she lifts her gaze up to look at him, yes or no? Is that okay?

He is good at making noises, at letting her know what is good and what is less then good - however at the moment it appears that all is good. Except of course for the fact that she is ruining another pair of panties with how wet he is getting her. She hums happily at his praise, soaking it up like a sponge.

God damn. She makes his head ache, more on a conceptual level than anything else, once upon a time she was small and completely innocent, and now she's nearly an adult and going to town in his lap. It could bring a tear to a man's eye, it really could, they grow up into vile little deviants so fast. Jesus, he could buy her a car for this.

As the heel of her hand presses up against the sac, he growls out a shuddering moan of pleasure. His thumb strokes gently over the temple of her forehead, hips rocking while she plays and squeezes and sucks. "Oh, Christ, that's my good girl. Just like that. You can rub it a little, too, nice and firm."

While she enjoys herself down between his legs, he reaches forward to maneuver her hips around, more to the side to give him an angle to access what's between her legs. A petite, active, flexible girl like her, he can't keep his hands from her body, her back, her hips, that adorable little ass of hers, those thighs. Years of breaking and entering now and again--and occasionally running--have left him dextrous, as well, enough that it's little issue for him to lean when he's got her hips at the right angle in order to brush his knuckles up against her panties, or let them creep just beneath.

While his left hand teases gently against those damp lips, his right gathers her hair to keep it from her face. "Aren't you a wonderful girl, you-- ah, Salome." His eyes squeeze shut for a fraction of a second and his fingers tangle up in those blonde locks. "Take care not to suck too, babydoll, daddy's going to have convulsions. Let your lips get nice and tight." He grins, tilting his head as he gazes down upon her, entranced by the perverse, glorious vision. "How does it feel, going down on your father? The father you dreamed about, does it taste as you imagined?"

That's the kind of conversation she wants to have at school when she drives up in a shiny new car. Oh wow, nice set of wheels? How did you manage to swing that? Oh, no big deal, just gave my dad a blow job, he really likes those apparently. Who needs to save up and wait till some big birthday celebration? Shit, if she knew that she would have been going down on him years ago.

Salome actually has no idea those thoughts are swimming around inside of his head, she certainly doesn't expect anything from this, well, she expects something but it really has nothing to do with material possessions.

Breathing in, she nods slightly around him and presses her fingers and palm to him, rubbing and feeling him up just as he told her to. As his hips rock she tries to keep with that motion, trying to use it to guide how she takes him in and out of her mouth. It requires some multitasking skills certainly, it was a lot easier when she rode him, and she even got a pretty good workout out of it, her thighs still ache slightly.

When he pulls her around she complies, tilting her body as he would like, offering herself up to him with a little whimper and sigh before going back to what she is currently working on. That is until he presses against her and that's when she groans out against him, a shudder rolling down her back as her eyes squeeze tight and she eagerly spreads her legs for him. His touch makes it harder and more necessary to get him off, to get him off means that she'll get off, and she needs it, it's like a sickness and there is no cure except for him.

Her lips tighten around him, her whole hand does as well and she sucks harder and strokes him with a sort of nearly aggressive grip. "Yes," she manages the words and looks up and over at him, eye glassy and lips swollen from taking him in. "It's better then I imagined. I've always wanted your cock in my mouth, dad." And she bows her head once again to continue on with her job.

The way she groans around his cock is divine, but Christ, oh, it's that face, that face and those beautiful words that get him right down to the gut. He could kiss that swollen mouth if it wasn't busy, but far be it from him to interrupt what it's in the middle of.He exhales through his teeth, awestruck.

He had no idea. None. But the way she whimpers, moans, the tight grasp of her hand and the enthusiasm in the way her mouth works--God, she's not lying, she really has wanted this. His little daughter, how funny, was she ever really innocent in the first place? How long has she wanted him like this? It's astounding, bizarre, so deliciously wrong he can't stand it, oh, there's no father prouder of his little girl than he is of Salome, he's sure of it.

"You know I can't resist giving you what you want, Salome. Jesus, Christ." The pleasure pulses straight up from his cock and swims around in his head, twisting with the conceptual rapture brought on by the situation entire; his fingers slither up against her clit, approving, affectionate as her motions increase in their intensity. He moans low, crooning and murmuring encouragement and praise when he can manage the words, but the sensation is too hard to fight through and he succumbs to it, the tempo divine as her mouth, as her eyes, as her.

Everything combines until it's too intense for him to take it, and his fingers pause in their moments momentarily while his body gives an instinctual arch up into her mouth. Richard grips her thigh firmly, a shuddering breath tearing through him, the pleasure in his chest like the rising cry of a tea kettle. "Ah-- Salome, sweetheart, fuck, you're so--ah, beautiful, my Salome, my darling. I can't last much longer, I'm going to cum, if you don't want to swallow just spit it out, daddy doesn't mind, just let me see those beautiful eyes, look at me, princess."

Fingers twisting up and tugging through her hair, and one hand gripping that beautiful young flesh, he moans and writhes beneath her, hips lifting while he hits an unavoidable peak that arrives with a sharp snarl of her name. Euphoria bursts from his hips to his head and back down, not as potent as the first climax, certainly, but still good, marvelous enough that while he lets go he only barely retains any sense of place or space at all, his vision consumed by those beautiful patchwork eyes he's seen a thousand times without ever entirely seeing.

What a girl.

She wants him. There is no denying, no being blind to that fact. She has wanted him for such a long time. The person she wanted most in the world, emotionally, mentally, and finally physically. The only person she can trust and turn to when she needs something even if it isn't a big need. He has been there. And for most daughters this is probably the case with them and their fathers (there are of course exceptions to this). Except, somewhere along the way, instead of finding another man that mirrored the example set by her father to become physical with, she just, well, went for him. A single man, handsome, and of course receptive to the idea. He has never been standoff-ish when it comes to sex, he has never forbid her from seeing boys, sex has never been a dirty thing in their home.

So maybe this was a long time coming. Maybe it was meant to be, there was no avoiding it. Maybe it was just genetic, passed on from father to daughter like his love for fine art.

The opportunity presented itself and there was no way she was going to turn it down, to ignore it and let it slip by. There is no way she could stop. It's out of her hands, it's an impossible draw, like a moth to the flame and she doesn't even bother fighting them.

She sucks him in, pressing her lips down around his cock taking as much of him in as possible, taking everything that she needs from him, eager to give him everything he needs in return. Hands rubbing, grabbing and massaging him while her head bobs up and down quickly. Looking up at him when he commands it, he wants her gaze, and she wants his fingers and she wants him to come in her mouth. She feels whole, wet, panting and writhing with saliva, with come, sweat that gathers at the nape of her neck and collects at her joints. Never before has something like this come over her, and he is the sole cause of it.

Her hips arch and press up against his fingers as he comes inside of her mouth. She swallow it all down, licking and gulping down what he gives her, breathing him in and shuddering in response. His taste, so deep and thick, her teeth drag over his cock and she slurps and slurps until there is nothing left. Even when he is completely empty she doesn't pull her mouth away from his cock, she continues to lick and stroke him, as if he could simply get hard again, as if he possessed the ability to have multiple orgasms.

She just wants everything that he could possibly give her.

Poor Salome, sweet Salome. She can have him physically, and he'll always be her adoring, doting daddy, but she can't have more of him than that simply because he has nothing more he's capable of giving her. This, and those long, tender moments after, these are what he can give her, and doubtless their relationship will at least strengthen (or, more appropriately, further enmesh) in some ways even if he has to break her heart. All the love he can give her is hers, and though it grows now, and he can see a new avenue of connection, even his most paternal love is a possessive thing full of poison and all-consuming bile. Especially now, now he wants to put her in a pretty little cage to let her sing for him, now he thinks about how nice it would be to have her come by more often, now he wonders what else she inherited from him on a psychological level to which he has been previously unaware.

But right now, at this moment, he's just gone, lost completely while he groans--Christ, she swallowed, of course she swallowed, his little angel. His fingers comb through her hair while ecstasy rushes through his blood, his skull lighting up like a pinball machine until the waves of pleasure begin to ebb away and he comes back down. Consciousness starts to return, first with better awareness of her lovely eyes, then her face, and the fact that she's still suckling and stroking him, still using that tongue, and his toes curl. His hands flex, too, like the claws of a cat, a low murmur of a growl coming from between his barely-parted lips. Richard shudders, ever-so-gently giving her hair a little tug to coax her up.

As soon as she's near enough, he lunges upon that beautiful mouth, pressing a hard kiss to the swollen lips that he moans to kiss and suckle upon as though her mouth contains ambrosia--as far as he's concerned, it does, but that may be what he tasted between her legs. While he kisses her, his tongue slipping into her mouth and against hers, his hand slips into her panties and his fingers play rapidly against her clit. He lifts his head to breath, one hand upon the nape of her neck to keep her from looking many places but his eyes while he pleasures her, eyes that burn with deviant, vile hungers as much as they fog with afterglow.

"That was lovely, Salome, what a wonderful girl you are." His mouth closes down around her lower lip and he sucks upon it, forefinger and thumb working to hit every sensitive spot upon the surface of that gorgeous pussy. The tone in his voice is a hurried, husky murmur, low and dark as mahogany bookshelves. "See, you already do such a good job, I don't think I have to teach you too much about sucking my cock, do I? My naughty little girl, wasting your time and your energy on those hideous boys at your school, and they don't even appreciate it. They don't understand what a privilege it is, the little animals. But daddy does, Salome, daddy appreciates you and all you do for him." He grins, one finger sliding inside her while his thumb pushes down upon that most sensitive spot. "Who's my good girl, princess? And my wicked one, too?"

These are all the things that she is will so quickly learn. It's just one of those things, like learning to ride a bike and falling off a few times and scraping yourself up. A few bruises, some blood and you will learn to stay on your bike and not fall off. Or something like that. There is always a little blood and broken things in life.

And when it hits there will be so much blood and so many broken things. Though whether that will be on Salome or her father, that remains to be seen. Maybe a little bit of both, as it usually is, and that's probably how they will like it. It runs in their blood.

It's only when he tugs her from between his legs does she actually look up and realize that he has come and he (for the time) is finished. Which is slightly disappointing. The kiss that he pulls her into makes up for it, and she falls against him, into his mouth, against his chest, her arms wrapping around him as he takes her. Such a kiss. Her head is already swimming from what she performed on him and now, now she can't breath any oxygen that isn't his, and she greedily takes it while offering up what was just on her tongue.

"Fuck," it's the only word she can manage after she cries out, hips arching, nails digging into his back. His fingers. "Fucking Christ," his hand needs more room, and she needs to wiggle and push her panties down her legs, wet fabric smearing over her thighs as she spreads her legs for him. Yes, that's what she needs, his cock is currently out of commission but his fingers certainly will do. Her hips arch and start pushing against him, there is that ache again, and she is getting so used to that and it promises so many good things.

"I am," she can barely whisper it out, cunt already tightening around his fingers. "I am, daddy! Oh, please, right there," that spot, just a little more of that spot. She clings to him, grasping at his back and reaching for his mouth with her own. "Daddy!"

"That's right, you are." Her nails dig sharply into his back and he groans; the way she cries out reverberates down through his bones like a miniature climax, his head swimming while she keens her little curses in his arms and squirms to the tune of his fingers. "My gorgeous little Salome, that's right, you're daddy's clever girl."

It's how helpless she is when she loses control that really gets him, he thinks. It's as intensely erotic as it is darling. He doesn't know whether to fuck her or protect her or both when she squirms and swears like this, when she calls for him and begs him to keep going when he hits the right patch of flesh. He could listen to her cry out like this all night, there's little else that's sweeter.

"Daddy's going to make you cum like you never have before." He kisses her mouth, his tongue brushing over hers. "I'm going to teach you all kinds of lovely things about your body that you didn't even know about, make you feel ways that none of the stupid little oafs your age have any clue about." A second finger joins the first and they both twitch upwards in a come-hither motion, drumming rapidly against that spot that gets such a gorgeous reaction out of her. It's difficult not to be too rough in light of her recent, ahem, physical induction into the world of sex, but he's still firm, still quick with his fingers, particularly when the heel of his palm rocks down to grind against her clit.

Lips pushing hard against hers, Richard practically sucks the air out of her lungs with his kiss, groaning as he drags her nearer and nearer to climax with each passing second of merciless pleasure. "Oh, this little cunt of yours is so beautiful, so tight, oh, Salome, the way you move with my fingers inside you is so sexy I can't stand it." If he kisses her much harder she's going to go into school with bruises on her mouth, but God, he can't help it, when she's in the throes of pleasure it's as if he's seeing her nuder than naked, like his eyes can burrow right under her flesh and see her at an elemental level.

With a short glance down to the beautiful sight of his hand at work upon his daughter's soaked cunt, Richard glances back to her to look her dead in the pleasure-fogged eyes and grin. His words come in a long croon, poetry with something poison now behind them, lecherous and perverse as they are sweet and tender. "Oh, Salome, Daddy loves you."

The orgasm that hits her, hits her like a ton of bricks. It slams into her chest and lungs like his lips slam into her mouth and she can go nowhere though her body does seem to try. She writhes, thrashing around, clinging to him trying to pull him even closer as her feet push and shove at the sheets that were, at one time, neatly tucked around the mattress and uniform with the blanket neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Everything is a mess, not only the sheets, but herself, their clothes, scattered to every corner of the room. She feels just like that. Tight and scattered all at the same time forcing her to twist and to try and gather herself up even more even as she gives herself over to him.

He is steady, holding her tight, keeping her on his fingers, holding her mouth as though she was having a seizure instead of having an orgasm. Without him there she would surly hurt herself, without him there she probably wouldn't be in this very state. At this very moment, there is no where else in the world she would rather be.

She soaks his hand, as wet as he has made her it's amazing she has anything left for this orgasm, but she most clearly does and probably will have some shortly after this orgasm as well. Everything clamps down around him, nails in his back, teeth on his bottom lip, clashing as she snarls and growls, not unlike him when he sneers at her in his own excitable state. She doesn't even think, just acts, thrusting and biting, crying out as the pleasure and her father consumes her, dragging her under and keeping her there until she can no longer respond, no longer react.

When she is finally spent, her head and body sags against his chest, her body still twitching but not as violently as before, now it is more a low murmur. Her head feels heavy, mouth numb, swollen, her brain is soggy and weak. Fingers lightly moving over his back, holding him still. What a perverse image, him cradling her, his fingers deep inside of her, naughty daddy.

"I love you, I need you." She hides her face against his chest, so spent, so satisfied.

Richard moans, lets his darling little girl tear him up, flail and claw and bite in his arms like a kitten getting too wound up during a play-fight. The sight and sensation is breathtaking, utterly beautiful, and so pure. His sweet girl, more exposed than any man has ever made her, having a moment so pure that it strikes him as surprising that he doesn't burn up to touch her while she drowns in rapture.

Now that is sheer beauty.

"I know, baby, daddy's here. I'm right here." Slowly, gently, his fingers slip from her while her face disappears against his chest the way it always has when she's frightened, or sleepy, or shy, or sweet. His soaked fingers lift to his mouth and he licks them clean, the taste of her streaking through him with a shudder at how real all this is, and how wonderful she tastes.

Already, he wants more of her, and already he can see how big an issue this is going to be, not just because she's going to throw a fit once she finds out he has no plans on leaving Delilah, but because once his girlfriend moves in, it's going to be difficult to sneak around. There's always a way, of course, always, and it's not as though Delilah will be lingering around all the time, always, once she meets Salome and once she moves in. But with this to hide from Delilah, and something decidedly worse to hide from Salome--he'd ought to buy a padlock for the storage freezer in the cellar, that reminds him--things are going to be quite difficult.

Luckily, he enjoys a challenge, and Salome is more than worth it. It's important for a man to be close to his daughter, especially when she's around this age. And as he cradles her close in her afterglow, sings softly to her with his lips against the crown of her head, he fights back a dark grin, indeed.

She feels so blissfully safe, unaware. There, but not there, floating somewhere but completely locked down and unable to totally float away, it is a weird and happy feeling that she is more then happy to embrace. Her head on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. What would she do if he wasn't here? There is this fear, sudden and intense, of what would happen if he was not there, holding her and keeping her tied down to realty. When she was very little and it was very quiet she would think such horrible thoughts in the dark of her bedroom. These thoughts would terrify her, the thought of infinity, the idea that something goes on forever and ever and never stops. Like looking into a mirror in front of you to look at a mirror behind you.

She used to think that he would die too. That one day he would disappear, be gone forever, and what would she do then? Where would he go? Where would she go? And she would make herself so sad and so terrified late at night by herself. She thinks about that thought now, about how absolutely alone she would be without him. There needs to be a time when she doesn't so completely depend on him, but he makes it so easy, taking her in, holding her. Invincible, immortal, forever and always.

"I remember when I had to get my tonsils out and I was so scared to go in there and go under. I don't even remember why, I just knew that it was cold and scary. The only time I felt that everything was going to be okay was when you were there. When it was over I remember crying and asking for you. I always remember that, especially late at night, when it's so dark and everything feels so empty and lonely."

Cooing, Richard leans back and glances down into her face, pushing back her hair so he can get a proper glimpse of her eyes, hear her voice unmuffled by anything. His fingertips trace around her ears, his arms fitting perfectly around her as they always have, and his nose brushes against hers as he places a tender kiss of paternal adoration upon the edge of her mouth.

"My poor baby, I remember that. Your mother called me, annoyed that you were asking after me instead of wanting just her." He snorts, lowering, then kisses the tip of her nose. "You know I'll always be there for you when you need it, Salome. You are incredibly important to me." More important than his car or his house. "I am...aware that I am not always the best father in the conventional senses, nor the easiest to get along with from time to time, but you are very dear to me, and I want only the loveliest things for you, my pet. And I will always be there to protect you and keep you safe." His hands tighten reflexively around her and he glances askance, a faint sneer on his lips. "And so help me God, Salome, if anybody ever hurts you, then they will have to answer to me, and the results will not be pretty for them."

Shit knows he gave evil enough looks to boys on the playground who tried to smooch her when she was little. After all this business, if a boy even looks at her crooked he's going to walk away from it missing some teeth.

With a gentle peck at the corner of her eye, Richard comes back to the moment and smiles softly. "It's that old saying. 'A son is a son until he finds a wife, but a daughter's a daughter for all of her life.' As long as I can, I'll be here to protect you and comfort you, princess. I promise you."

A slight smile at that. Yes, mother never lets her forget that. She isn't sure how she is supposed to atone for that, or what more the woman wants. It wasn't like she was very conscious of that fact at the time, how mad it made her, how she should have wanted the parent that was there. Not that Susan ever wanted to be there. Sometimes, she gets this very faint impression that she isn't or wasn't wanted. Kids are amazingly perceptive about that, and she has always had a sort of nagging feeling deep within her that she probably wasn't at all planned.

Still, people make do with what they have, what they are given. He hasn't been the most perfect father but then again what father has? It's hard for her to say what is wore or what is better then what she has been given, things seem to move smoothly enough as it is, and she can't recall a time where he flat out told her he never wanted her so he has done at least some things right in raising her.

"You're so protective of me," and she smiles into his chest, hugging him tight before loosening her grip just a little bit. "I know I probably wasn't something you wanted, but I am glad that you're my dad. I can't imagine anyone else but you," her voice is soft and earnest, and she keeps her eyes shut for most of that before she can open them and gaze up at him. She feels very lucky to have him, and outside of their play together as well. Probably not the most emotionally open guy on the planet, he has never denied her (out of necessities) or ever hurt her, and she knows that.

"Can we sleep together tonight?"