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[sweetsalome]

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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[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

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.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

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?"

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

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!"

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

"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."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

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.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

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.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

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."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

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."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

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?"

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

It's impossible to know what Susan wants. Richard has no idea what she wants. Obviously, yes, she wants him as a semi-permanent boytoy whom she can have whenever she likes, she likes him as her errand boy-slash-employee, she likes to hold Salome over his head as the greatest debt and threat imaginable, but why, he doesn't quite understand. She claims he has potential, claims she sees him growing more and more every time she sees him, but to what end, he doesn't know. And why him, he doesn't know.

But Salome is worth the occasional irritation of dealing with her insane mother. She was a complete accident, yes, and for the first five or six years of her life his existence was a day-in, day-out horrorshow spurred on by producing a child at nineteen, even one so sweet and adorable as she was when she was little. No nineteen-year-old boy, particularly not one like Richard, is ready for a child. But he finds himself glad he persevered, since these days he's rather grown accustomed to her face.

"You were a surprise, yes. But not unwanted." This is a lie, but he makes it sound gentle, reassuring, earnest and warm. She says such sweet things, his girl, he supposes the least he can do is soften reality to make it gentler for her. "I was younger, and stupider when you were little. But that doesn't mean you were unwanted."

Chuckling, Richard bends to kiss the bridge of her nose. "And I can't imagine a lovelier daughter." For more reasons than one. "Of course you can sleep with me, darling, I already said you could. How could I possibly turn you away after all this? Besides, I want to be able to hold you." He grins, teeth snapping shut a centimeter from the tip of her nose. "But you have to finish at least a bit of your homework before you go to bed."

In the future, he'll have to make sure her work is finished before he lets her get frisky. But, hey, first times are different. Spontaneous and emotional all that. For now, he can more than overlook it.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

There is no way for her to tell if he is lying or not. Well, there probably is a way, but she isn't going to go looking for it, for mainly the same reason most people don't go looking for it, the lie is so much nicer then reality. Why question such a beautiful, wonderful lie? Of course she was wanted, it was just a surprise, she can totally buy that, hook, line and sinker. It could be worse, he could have told the truth and that would have crushed her tiny self, and even the fact that he did lie to her can be seen as a sweetness.

Some people will tell themselves crazy stuff to get through the night.

Smiling she snuggles and nuzzles against his chest with a sigh, her hand still roaming over him as he caresses and murmurs to her. Ugh, real life, somewhere outside her bedroom is real life and she should actually deal with it. The worst choice ever to have to make, sleep or food, sleep or food? Because at this point all she wants to do is pass out in his arms and not move for a very long time. Oddly enough she thinks better about complaining and resisting the homework, clearly there is some sort of parenting magic in having sex with your child.

"I'm tired though, and hungry," a sigh against his shoulder and she looks up at him. "I'll do my homework over dinner, how about that?"

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Wow. He's not a fan of bargaining, but he'll take it over out-and-out complaining--or, God forbid, whining--any day. Parenting magic, indeed. This is great. It's not only a new way to bond, but it's like a whole new tool in his arsenal in the war that is having a teenager. Once they get over that whole little Delilah issue, things'll be peachy.

Totally.

Richard laughs low, having been only barely holding on to consciousness, himself. "Baby, you've got no idea what hungry and tired feels like. You've taken it right out of me." If nothing else, this is a good fix for his insomnia. "I'm going to have to crawl downstairs."

He stretches, bending down to plant a couple of playful smooches down her neck--has it always been this lovely?--before pulling her down to his chest and kissing the top of her head. His fingertips grope around on the bedside table for the girlie little lamp, and when he shuts it off, his arms drape around her waist. "Let's just take a little nap for a couple of minutes, the food's not going anywhere. I can only pretend to crack the whip about your homework when I'm more awake."

What a peculiar feeling it is, to be lying in his daughter's bed, having completely desecrated it right along with her, that lovely, lithe body up against his with no barrier between their flesh. He grins in the dark of her room and kisses her shoulder, taking a deep breath as much to steady himself as to savor the scent of her.

A stupid idea, and thoughtless, and one that may very well end up scarring the poor girl for life. But she seems to have enjoyed it, and there are certainly worse crimes in the world.

If he had a conscience, he's sure it'd be perfectly clean.