(no subject)

[sweetsalome]

Salome should be used to these little question sessions with her mother, they have been happening for as long as she was able to talk.  Just little sit downs, called, unexpectedly by Susan to talk about her favorite subject: Salome's father.  Sometimes she is incredibly annoyed by them, really, she gives no shits but if Susan wants so badly to know what is going on in Richard's life why doesn't she just bug his house and tap his phone like a sane woman?

It took Salome awhile to catch on, Susan can be subtle when she wants, and there was a certain bitter sadness when she put two and two together.  She didn't want to really hear about her boring day, she just wanted to hear about Richard.  At this point Salome has long stopped caring about her mother.  The reason why she is a daddy's girl is out of necessity, without him no one would pay any attention to her.

Her reaction to Delilah would probably have not been so violent if there was a more evenness in her life.  Oh well.

Whatever, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a soda she just doesn't want to have to answer any questions about the recent appearance of bite marks on her skin.  God damn, you'd think the girls on the swim team had never seen a fucking hicky before.

Comments

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Well, she's got a point. After all, it's not like the needles he uses for his dilaudid aren't clean, and it's not as if he doesn't know where his drugs are coming from. And it's not like they're passing diseases back and forth to each other. He's fairly hygienic about murdering people and cleaning up after, too.

But still, he snorts mildly. "Yeah, yeah, that's what I hear. I've already cut back for you, baby, let a man have his post-fuck cigarette and the occasional one during a roadtrip or in times of stress. I'm not going to die of lung cancer, trust me." No, he foresees a bloody demise for himself, either murderous or sanctioned by the government. But that's still an abstract, for all he knows he'll die at eighty after a long and comfortable life of evil. It's not worth speculating about, as far as he's concerned.

Though it's adorable, how concerned she is.

Lip curling back into a half-grin, Richard offers a helpless shrug. "You get it from me, kiddo. They'll probably have some idea, though. After all, a nubile young girl who might or might not be eighteen on the arm of a man who is--clearly older than that. I'm sure that'll be enough to make it apparent that I'm a creep, if nothing else." The entire time, he seeks to see her better in the periphery of his vision.

Then, of course, she brushes up against him, and he grips the wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white as her hand paws between his thighs. "I should hope so." Richard chuckles, his right hand lifting to graze over the smooth flesh of her stomach, his eyes darting over the highway. Traffic's nothing too bad yet, they might very well make it out of the outer belt and onto the proper road before rush hour. And that makes him feel slightly better about his shirtless daughter feeling him up and making his already nagging hard-on that much worse.

His hand slips around to her back, his fingertips twisting the latch of her bra. Arm draping around her, his palm slides under the wire to cup and squeeze her breast, his eyes flickering between the road and his daughter and that infuriating little hand. "Naughty kitten, you shouldn't get daddy worked up like this. People on the road might see. We could crash. A cop could pull us over."

Of course, all these possibilities only make him harder, so, you know. Take the psychopath's warnings with a grain of salt.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

She is serious about the lung cancer thing, just like she was serious about the thought counting with the gift. Sometimes though, sometimes it feels as though she is raising them and not the other way around and it's not something that she is totally conscious about. People are just interested in the thought of the gift. People will be really upset if someone they loves gets sick and suffers horribly before dying. Yes, Richard and Susan there are real feelings in this world that you just mimic with extreme skill.

Salome just thinks her parents are weird. In an eye rolling way. Sometimes.

"Well they wouldn't be wrong," she tells his shoulder, her fingers still playing with the bulge of him through the fabric of his pants. "You are a creep, but that's okay, dad, I love you because you are." She glances around at the road from her position and then back up her father as his knuckles tighten around the wheel. Nice, very nice. She likes getting those reactions out of him. Pupils expanding, nostrils flaring, and breathing a little harder, oh yeah, she likes that a whole lot.

When his hand reaches around to put the moves on her she whimpers and wiggles a little, her teeth sinking into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt as he gropes such a sensitive part of her. "Should I suck your cock, daddy? That might make it a little better right, making it up to you for getting you so worked up?" Because it's always a good idea to blow your father on the road. It's totally a legit idea.

She would put a shirt on first, so that might make it mildly better. Her hand continues to paw and rub at him, marveling a little at how unbelievably hard he can get. "That sounds a little dangerous though," reconsidering this idea. "Maybe we should wait or something, I don't want us to get in trouble."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

In many ways, Richard is trapped in adolescence. Risk-seeking, lack of empathy, proneness to boredom, no sense that the future will ever really happen. Feelings aren't real, they're just silly chemical processes that weaker people allow to cloud their senses. Like pixies, but scientific.

He's felt grief, though, once, fifteen years ago, when his father figure was dying. It was strange, all that feeling, and done in a day so that when the death actually came he was fine. But still--he felt it, and sometimes he still thinks of Linus, and how he could have been a part of Salome's life, maybe an actual, good influence, and it twists his gut a little with something undefinable.

Not that the experience will get him to, say, relate to Salome's fear of losing him in any real, sincerely compassionate or empathetic way. But still. If she ever gets him to talk about his old tutor, it might be a good place to start a conversation about how feelings really are legitimate.

Of course, right now, none of that crosses his mind. He's too busy trying to focus on the road, trying to restrain himself while his daughter calls him a creep and fondles him through his pants. He grinds his tongue against his teeth, then clenches his jaw at the sound of her whimper. It's the feel of her teeth, though, that gets him to moan, and her statement that gets him hard as a diamond to consider.

"Oh, Christ, baby. And to think you call me a creep--the unbelievable shit that comes out of your mouth, you wicked little minx." He rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his head to speak against the temple of her forehead in a lips-parted, tender kiss.

And then she starts to back out. No, Jesus, no, who the fuck's supposed to be the stupid one who doesn't give a rat's ass about risks? "Salome, kitten, sweetheart, you can't tease a man like that." His pelvis rocks back to let his bulge press up against her hand, the pressure making his heart speed. "Why would you be so cruel to your poor old man? But if the idea of attracting attention makes you nervous," he adds, grinning slyly, "you could always just use your hand. That way, no suspicious heads in laps. And besides, I love the sound of your voice, baby, you can't even imagine."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

"You just like it when I talk dirty to you, and you can't do that when your cock is down my throat." Her fingers go to his fly, he is painfully hard, she can feel the heat and the heavy of him all the way through the fabric of his slacks, he needs this quiet clearly. If she doesn't do something about it he is going to be uncomfortable for so much of the trip. Poor guy.

She is getting a lot better at undoing his pants too, at unzipping him with one hand and fishing his cock out for easy access. Leaning down she does actually give him head, just a bit, wetting the head of him, pushing what she can of him into her mouth and humming happily at the taste of him. There are few things that she likes better in the world then going down on him or playing with his cock. Probably not unlike the enjoyment he gets out of a post fuck cigarette.

Stroking and caressing him with her tongue she carefully pulls her head back, leaving a mound of saliva on the head of him so she can work it into the rest of him when she lifts her head from his lap, grinning at him.

"I love sucking you off, I think we should spend some serious time doing that this weekend." Her hand works him as she talks, moving up and down the length of him, squeezing, keeping her fist tight as she tugs. "See if you can fit down my throat, see how much of your come I can swallow." A kiss to his throat.

"I like it when you come inside of me but wouldn't you like to see how much of you I could swallow in one day? Hmmm you get so hard so quickly too, I bet it could be a lot." Another kiss and then another, up to his ear. "Doesn't every dad want to know how much come their daughter can swallow?"

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Ah, her growing skill makes a man so proud he can't help it. Richard grins, shrugging mildly at her little accusation. "Guilty as charged. But you could whisper the word 'watermelon' in my ear and it'd be sexy as long as your hand was on me. The terrible truth is that I can't resist you."

He's never been able to, but these days it's impossible, completely and utterly. It's been barely a week since their affair began but already he suffers an increasing urge to spoil her even more rotten than he already has. And in moments like this, it's easy to see why; his foot instinctively pushes on the gas as she takes him into that wet mouth, a long moan pouring from his own. Hand tightening so hard he's sure for a moment he'll snap the wheel into pieces, he lifts his foot from the pedal and lets the car relax a little, his right hand stroking through her hair and drawing it back from her face until she lifts her head and leaves him to throb in the grip of her glorious palm.

"I think that can be arranged." He can't help the breadth of his grin, the expression only breaking when he swears or groans in time of the tug of her hand. "We can see about perfecting your technique. Practice makes perfect and all."

And then, oh, Christ, his hand tangles in her hair for a moment before his arm drapes around her and down, fingers creeping beneath that school uniform skirt that seems so fucking sexy all of the sudden he doesn't know what to do with himself. His pelvis rocks up against her hand, each kiss like fire on his neck with a connection straight to his cock.

"You love the taste of it, don't you." Richard chuckles, his fingers pressing up against the crotch of her panties as he speaks. "I'm sure we could do that. You might get sick of it--but seeing what a wet little slut you are for me," he manages a laugh while his knuckles brush up against the damp fabric, "I don't know, maybe you'd be able to swallow a lot of it without getting tired after all."

Richard's left foot pushes so hard into the floor of the car he half-expects it to break through the automobile's body. "Only the ones who love them as much as I love you, my wicked girl." One finger slides beneath the wet fabric of her panties and curls beneath the folds of flesh, caressing and re-acquainting himself with what he hasn't had access to for the past few days. "But in exchange, if daddy lets you suck his cock for hours and hours on end, then he wants to be able to devour that pretty cunt for at least as long." His head tilts, his wet mouth brushing against hers and tongue darting out. His words are a murmur into her mouth before he glances back to the road. "I'm going to make you cum until you cry and beg me to stop, Salome. And even then I might not."

Some people have birthday spankings. The Vaskos have birthday orgasms. All things are subjective.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

The way that he responds to her makes her very, very happy. They may be little things, and not so little things but she tends to notice them, especially when she is already aroused and her head is down in his lap. How his fingers tighten on the steering wheel, how his foot presses to the gas. Yes, that's very nice isn't it? Because she is the one doing that, her mouth on his cock, her hand around his shaft and sac. All these touches leave him impaired and, really, he shouldn't be driving but he's probably done worse while more fucked up, and she is too fucking horny to even care. Especially when his hand reaches around to finger her.

Without knowing the worst it's hard to know what the best feels like. His fingers are clearly the best. Her legs shift and so do her hips so he has better access to her damp panties and soaking cunt. Always wet. Embarrassingly so, annoyingly so, because she is so sure everyone knows it and she can certainly feel it. Sometimes it's appropriate to be wet, like when a boy's hand is down your panties. It is probably less appropriate to be wet when you're giving your father a hand job and his hand down your panties. But so much better. So much.

Her hand moves faster, he touches her and that urges her to touch him more, faster, a bit harder, tugging and flashing around to his sac to give him a squeeze.

"I do, you taste so good, and you make such nice noises when you're coming." Her lips return to his shoulder as she groans and pushes her hips back against his fingers for more. "I can't help it, daddy, I think I should stop wearing panties sometimes because I get so wet. It's even worse when you're not around and I have to take care of it by myself. It gets a little better when I can sit on your cock and get you wet too." And she actually wants that very badly right now, irrationally so.

She lets go of his cock with a sigh and reaches down to push out of her panties, leaving them on the floor of the car so his fingers can go unhampered by any pesky clothing. Once they are off she returns her head to his cock, pushing him into her mouth so she can at least fuck one part of herself on him .

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

No doubt her liaison with her inept little boyfriend casts itself in stark comparison to this moment with Richard, whose fingers drift and tease and explore with the expertise lent by years of practice. As far as he's concerned, there's no more appropriate time to be wet than this, and he savors it--Salome can think it annoying all she wants, nothing turns him on as hard and as fast as feeling how desperate she is for him.

"Oh, babydoll, fuck." When she moves faster, his head rocks back against the headrest of the seat. This is a different kind of experience altogether from the one afforded to him by Delilah, and an even further cry from Susan. Between the way she talks and moves and looks, and the very simple fact that she's his Salome, this moment propels itself into immediate bliss. His fingers slide inside her, working in and out, the feel of her tight confines intoxicating after being kept from them.

"You dirty girl. Then it'd drip down your legs and you'd make an awful mess." Richard grins, then refrains from letting out a whine while her hand vanishes. He sees the reason, though, and groans sharply, his pulse pounding in his mouth as much as it does in his dick. "If you're going to wreck your panties, though, I suppose you're probably right. You can stand to go without them now and again when we're together since you can't help yourself near me. Oh, baby, fuck, do you know how sexy it is when you're this wet? How gorgeous it is when it drips down your leg like it did when I fucked you on the couch? Salome, you make my mouth water."

He nearly trembles, ready to burst out of his flesh while Salome goes down on him. Jesus, Christ, sometimes he feels so stupid. His nearly-naked, now-seventeen-year-old daughter in the car with him, giving him a blowjob while he fingers her and tries to drive down the highway. Everything about this is dangerous, and stupid, and it makes the whole thing that much more potent.

While that beautiful mouth does its glorious work, Richard's fingers curl within her again, gliding in and out with that supreme ease that makes him shudder. "Oh, good little girl, I can't wait to fuck you properly, baby, I don't know if you're going to get a chance to surf with all the nasty things your daddy wants to do to you." He laughs, his fingers moving faster, stroking that gorgeous velvet corridor while he moans and sighs and says, "Shit, I didn't realize how much I missed this."

It's difficult, oh so very difficult to maintain speed, watch out for other cars, stay on the road, keep a lane away from other drivers whenever possible, and all the sensation is going to his head and prickling the back of his neck. His mouth waters with envy for his hand, and his hips rock up into her mouth, the pace already growing with urgency to match that of his fingers. "I'm not going to hold it together much longer, baby."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

Ah yes, the night on the couch. That beautiful, wonderful, painful night on the couch. She woke up in his bed the next morning, hips and cunt sore from the pounding that he gave her. So vicious and thorough, completely well deserved. That of course didn't stop her from begging for some more after they had both properly woke up. She likes fucking on his bed even more then in dangerous, unique places. Fucking in his bed is so dirty to her. That bed that she used to crawl up into when she was little because she had a bad dream. Or when he just wanted to take a nap and cuddle with her. Such sweet and innocent memories now tainted with how wet she gets and how hard he fucks her in that bed.

She doesn't go so far as to say that was the bed she was conceived in, but her mind can wander there if she likes, in those dirty, irrational moments. Anything to make it that much more naughty and disturbing. Plus his sheets are smooth and soft and there is room to spread out, she likes it a lot. She likes his fingers in her a lot. They are so much more satisfying then her own, or the boy at school. Even with the fantasies behind her eyelids that he has given her, it just isn't the same as his fingers inside of her, working her to orgasm.

There are a lot of things to reply to when he talks to her like this, but most of the time she tries to focus on the most important or just responds in some blanket way since her brain is too muffled with pleasure he is inflicting on her. In this case she just wants to come. She wants to come and she wants him to come. Not only because she loves it when he does, but because they are in a car and really this is pretty dangerous behavior. Out of all the kinks they share, she doesn't seem to get the thrill that he does over fucking around in dangerous circumstances. It's one thing to want to get caught, to be watched while he is doing dirty things to her, but this could end in death or some serious pain and she isn't down with that.

"You should come down my throat," she lifts her head from his cock, her hips still rocking back against his fingers as she jerks him off since her mouth is busy. "Come for me and I'll come all over your fingers, daddy. Oh fuck, I need that, I've been wanting to come all day." That first one with the boy doesn't count, he wasn't any good so it was like she was on her own with something heavy leaning and breathing all over her.

Her hand works him furiously as she begins to suck on his head, pressing him lightly with her teeth, trying to get him to fall over the edge even as he works her to completion as well. She drips down on to his fingers, legs spreading even further so he can find that spot that always makes her lose it. He is excellent at finding that spot, for sure. If anyone in one of those big rig trucks drives by and looks down, they'll sure get a show.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

He feels similarly. There's something so erotic about screwing her in his bed he can't stand it. Hell, even letting her sleep there after he's had his way with her is more than intense enough. The night after he had her on the couch, the last night he had with her before she went to stay with her mother again, he couldn't help but kiss and touch her while she slept; to bury his face in that neck and breathe in the scent of her skin and know that she was still the same girl who used to beg him for piggyback rides and who came to hide beneath his sheets to keep nightmares at bay.

Luckily for her lifespan, Salome may not be as desperate for stupid risk-taking as her father is--but fucking Richard is a dangerous enough activity all on its own. Catch him on the wrong day--or the right one--and that shit can get scary. Fast. Just ask Delilah. There's been more than one night where she's sincerely wondered whether or not she was going to be alive when he finished with her.

Silly girl. Some women just don't realize they're worth so much more alive.

Richard manages a grin, although it's hard with how much he has to focus on everything and fight back the delirious feeling in his skull, the fading high and the incoming rush of orgasm that lingers just in the edges of his senses like actors waiting in the wings for their cue. His fingers work harder, their tempo increasing to a desperate, merciless rush, and his toes curl inside his shoes while she tells him she's been waiting all day.

"You insatiable, vile little thing, oh, Salome" The pace of his hand grows rough, a shudder overcoming him while she spreads and drips and ruins the upholstery of his car but how could he possibly care? All he wants is to cum, and for her to do the same, and maybe it's the car that passes by them, or maybe it's the press of her teeth, or simply the foolish, ridiculous urgency of it all, but he curses, foot hitting the gas and hand slipping enough to hit the horn while he lets himself go, the pleasure filling his head so hard that his back arches and he struggles, struggles to keep his eyes open and on the road and his vision clear enough to keep from crashing.

The car weaves a little, but he rights it, fighting back the swimming of his skull. Richard moans, the noise lowering into a sigh as he manages to pull it together enough to focus properly on the road again, and with a half-grin, half-sneer, he glances down to Salome.

"Wicked girl. Don't get daddy so excited in the car. This is a ten-hour drive, young lady. You shouldn't put us in danger like that." His grin widens to a teasing breadth while his fingers still work within her. "If it wasn't your birthday you might be in trouble for that."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

He lets himself go and she takes him. Hand squeezing pumping and tugging him as he releases into her mouth and she swallows it all down, drinking and taking what he has to give her as if it was as simple and necessary as a drink of water. She loves it when he comes, when he gets thick and ram-rod stiff and just releases inside of her. She did that, the reason he is so worked up is because of her. It is such a head rush. Along with it all there is of course that feeling of what they are doing is wrong. So, so wrong. They shouldn't be doing this. It's not socially acceptable, and as a father he is crossing so many boundaries that should never be crossed.

She doesn't care. She loves it, and so does he, the dirty old pervert.

She fucks her mouth on him until she can feel that tightening and that growing in the pit of her stomach that travels right down to between her legs. Cunt squeezing his fingers tugging them deeper inside of her as she comes around him. That's when she releases his cock and puts her face against his thigh, crying out as her body trembles and her fingers grip at his seat.

"Daddy, oh fuck, oh fuck that feels good." A groan into his thigh and she sort of arches like a cat, hips humping air and his fingers all at the same time. "I can't wait till you fuck me properly when we get there, there is nothing that compares to your cock inside of me." A gasp out and she slowly starts to settle down, her heart racing a mile a minute but her hips finally stilling.

"Oh daddy, I love you so much." For a moment she just rests there against him, eyes closed, her breathing slowing and evening out against his thigh.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Sometimes he worries she's capable of breaking his fingers. Good way to get them broken, though, although good luck explaining it to the ER doctor. The wild thrusts of her hips captures all his attention and he watches, his mouth watering as his eyes streak over the arch of her back. The sound of her pleasure is the best part, though, it always is--it's the tone of her voice, the fact that she calls him 'daddy'.

Oh, yes, so wrong. Horrible, disgusting, a vile abuse of his power and the trust of his daughter. And that just all makes it so much better, especially considering how much she wants the trust to be violated along with the rest of her.

As her hips slow, Richard slides his fingers from her and licks them clean, sighing sharply at the taste. Then his hand lowers to stroke her hair and the back of her neck as she rests against his thigh, a small smile on his face. "I love you, too, baby, you don't even understand how much I love you." It turns him on to say, just as much as it turns him on to hear, both her declaration and his adding a few extra sparks even in the void left by receding pleasure. "I can't wait to play with you, either. We'll have to stop over in a little hotel tonight, so we can play some, then."

He grins, feeling absolutely disgusting. "I'm like Humbert Humbert taking Lolita from hotel to hotel across the country." And he laughs, pushing Salome's hair back behind her ear while she rests in his lap. "'Salome, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. She was Sal, plain Sal in the morning, standing five foot seven in one sock. But in my arms she was always Salome.'" Again, he laughs, his chuckle dark as mahogany, until it drifts off to leave him with a grin and a helpless sigh.

"My darling girl, it's such a joy to spoil you. Do you know how proud I am of you?" Oh, sure, some things need some work, like that rage, for instance; but he'll turn it into something constructive, he just knows it. "You are an utter delight. Why don't you go ahead and put on some clothes, baby." He grins, twirling her hair around his fingers before lifting his hand away.

"You should have seen the look on your face when you saw me in the office. Hilarious."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

A slow stretch and then a yawn against his thigh as she closes her eyes and just sort of dozes off as he talks above her. It takes some time for her to start moving again, the car is warm and she is tired from school and her orgasm, but really she needs to get dressed. Sitting up she blows blond hair away from her face before leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth before she tucks him back into his pants, he can zip and adjust as he would like.

Slipping back into her seat she fixes her bra and unzips her skirt, that ends up on the floor and she ends up with her panties back on her. "Except she wasn't his daughter," and yeah, they actually do read that book in school and he probably wouldn't be too interested in sitting in on the class that discusses it. Surprisingly most of the kids don't share his opinion on the book, nor her's. She tends to side with her father on these things, only because she feels the same way as him, he expresses himself so much more eloquently then she does.

"I was scared I had no idea what was going on, I thought something bad had happened." Because when your father shows up at school that generally means something bad has happened. Sitting back in her seat she sighs, fully dressed, shorts tank top. Stretching out her legs she looks over at him and smiles before putting her head back on his shoulder.

"Not funny, meanie."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

"No, she wasn't, and you're not a twelve-year-old. Thank God." One hand on the wheel, he reaches into his lap and zips himself up with a smirk. "But the principle is arguably comparable. More Ada Or Ardor than Lolita, really." Sighing, Richard stretches out as much as he can in the cramped driver's side, wishing he had a bed to lie in right about now. Just a little space to relax in.

Oh, man, when they get to the hotel tonight he's probably just going to pass out. Poor Salome, he can already see her getting in a huff when he's beat. But, he can make it up for her when they're in the beach hotel.

"Poor baby, having such a cruel father." Richard laughs and pats her head, his fingers curling through her hair like a main stroking a favored feline between the ears. "I'm sorry, but it's incredibly funny and that's just all there is to that."

With Salome's head on his shoulder and as relaxed as he is now that all that's been taken care of, suddenly the prospect of driving for so long doesn't seem so bad. And it won't be, not really. They just have to make it out of West Virginia alive, then they can stop for the night and get an early start. Someday he'll trust her enough that if they ever take a trip like this again, she can be conscripted into driving; but, for now, he figures it's better that he stick right where he is.

"So what'd your mother have to say about your neck?" He grins crookedly. "I hope you had a good story for your girlfriends, too."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

Jerk, passing out on her like that. Though she might do the same. After a shower of course and then she will curl up with him and enjoy the comfort of some crummy hotel bed knowing that she gets to spend the rest of the week with just them. It will be the best thing ever. Also, they should totally stop and eat because if he doesn't feed her then she will be forced to eat his thigh or something and then there will be no one to blame but himself.

Seriously. She is a growing teenager and if she doesn't eat every couple of hours she will become unstable, like any good star and then explode. Or shrink down to a whit dwarf. Pretty to look at, but not very bright.

"I do have a cruel father, whatever shall I do." Her hand moves over his chest and she fiddles with the fabric of his shirt idly, her eyes opening and then closing in long, slow blinks. She probably shouldn't fall asleep in the car now otherwise she won't be tired when they get to the hotel.

Yeah. Right.

"She said something about how you shouldn't find out about it because you wouldn't like it. I told her that it was just some older boy who did it. I don't think she is very nice, I mean, she behaves like a high school enemy instead of a mom. Like she's just waiting for the right opportunity to crush me."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Ah, the dance of her fingertips across his chest--glory, plain and simple. He could kiss her hand down to the bone, even her fingerprints are beautiful.

Richard snorts at her description of Susan. "Your mother is...I shouldn't really say anything about her, babydoll, but she's just a very...competitive woman." She's a bitch, a raving, utter bitch and he'd like to hatefuck her until her pelvis shatters. "And even though you're her child, she probably views you subconsciously as a kind of threat. So take that as a compliment, if you can."

What kind of threat, he couldn't possibly imagine, although both parents are well aware of how easily Salome could be used against the other and it has produced a tense ceasefire, indeed. All Susan would have to do is throw out a few little implications about the real story behind Richard's mother's death, and all Richard would have to do is tell Salome all about how her mother is the real reason for his bad leg. Granted, crippling a man isn't quite on par with murder, but with as attached to him as Salome is, he wouldn't expect her to react very well to that little fun fact.

Still, he wants to save it until it's absolutely necessary. It's better that the girl remain uninvolved for as long as possible, and it's frankly a miracle that she is.

"But your mother cares about you very much. Now, she doesn't love you as much as I do," he offers a cheeky grin, "but I don't think anybody could love you as much as I do, babydoll. Maybe when you meet somebody who does you'll have my blessing to hold his hand on a date."

He chuckles, smirking as they pass a highway patrol officer's speed-trap, and sets the cruise control to have one less thing to worry about. "Your mother wouldn't crush you, though, don't worry." Mostly because she would gain nothing from it.

Unless Richard pissed her off. Then she would have no compunctions about making Salome suffer for it.

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

"I don't really think that I can." It's a sort of cosmic what-the-fuck moment right there. What the fuck indeed. She is a seventeen year old girl and what sort of competition is she told that old bitch? "I really think that is incredibly fucked up, she isn't seventeen, does she know that?" She doesn't want to be in competition with anyone over anything, she doesn't like it, unless it's for sports that's something different, but really, her mother? What the fuck is that shit? She doesn't like it at all. Not even a little bit.

And now she can't sleep, she is troubled by the whole thing. And creeped out. She didn't like her mother before, but it is getting harder and harder to even pretend to do so. It's not just typical teenage stuff, there is some of that, but most of it is just a slow revelation to how fucked up she is. That revelation is muted when it comes to her father, mainly because he does shower her what she thinks is honest, genuine affection and kindness. She soaks it up, what she doesn't get from mom she can get from dad.

At the moment and any given moment later, she would have no problem destroying that bitch, she would love to do so actually.

Talking about the future doesn't really help with her feelings of isolation in her desperate cling to him. "I won't find anyone," because she can't imagine finding anyone who loves her like he loves her. Can't imagine him letting her actually be with someone other then him. Sure, it's nice to think and plan about, but she has a feeling down in her gut that she will spend the rest of her life as an outer planet.

She rubs her cheek up against his shoulder and turns her head to sink her teeth into him lightly before letting his shoulder go. "I'm not worried."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I think it's fucked up, too, baby." And you know when he thinks it's fucked up, there's a problem. He doesn't like the way Susan treats Salome from what he's seen and divined--as far as he's concerned, she may have carried the girl for nine months, but Salome is his. And while Susan agrees, she'd rather keep the girl to dangle her over his head then to completely give her over without a fight. "Yeah, she wishes she were still half as fine as you are. But it's like a...I don't know, a subconscious, Freudian thing. It's not intentional." Probably. "She's just still got the hots for me and she doesn't like anything that takes my attention from her. Or anybody's attention from her."

He'd pay good money to watch Salome destroy Susan. Hell, he'd give her tips, gleefully assist her. But there's still a big chunk of him that craves Susan like heroin, like cigarettes--something he knows objectively to be poison, but oh, fuck, it's good poison. The best. Besides, as dangerous as she is, she's also good at covering his ass when he's in a scrape, and she's a good source of income and support for both his daughter and his artwork.

But if he had half a chance and access to her money, he'd crush her windpipe without a second thought.

The trouble with Richard's feelings for Salome is that they are genuine--by his standards. By the standards of the rest of the world, they are hollow, depraved, vile and selfish, these feelings, this praise. But as his late mother always told him, one can only do one's best with what one can.

Oh, look at him justify.

"Well, maybe you will. Maybe not. People get all fucking wound up about not falling in love. It's good to be independent. And, you know, even if you don't find anybody, your daddy will always be here for you, baby. Until you find somebody who kisses the ground you walk on enough to be worthy of five minutes of your presence, I'll be glad to take care of you." Read: 'I'll be glad to possess and manipulate you', but it's about equivalent for him.

He grins at the way her teeth sink into him--that habit is so cute every time she does it he doesn't know whether to fuck her or cuddle her or both--and bends his head to kiss the bridge of her nose, and then her mouth. "I love it when you do that, princess." His nose brushing over hers, he lifts his head to gaze out over the road. "I'm glad you're not worried. That old bat's not worth worrying about. You're better than she is in more ways than I could count, so just remember that when she grates on your nerves. And, hey, you have to deal with her one day less a week now, you can't beat that."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

"If she does, then why aren't you guys still together? There are better ways of winning a guy back then being a crazy bitch to your daughter. It doesn't even make a lick of sense." Salome will soon find that a lot of what goes on in their household doesn't make any sense at all. At least not from the outside. From the inside it will, sooner or later make sense, or be seen as normal. It's either adapt to the crazy environment or get out. But her father is here and she loves him and he is her sun, to be cut off from him would be like death and she can't imagine that for one second.

So she will cling to him and spend as much time with him as possible instead of in her mother's house. Or at least try to. It doesn't seem to Sal that Susan would be too mad at that, just as long as she has some sort of hold on her, like an owner letting it's puppy off the leash to wonder about in the backyard so it doesn't actually need to be walked.

If Salome is recognized as Susan's legitimate daughter, then any money that would come from Susan's death would be given to Sal. Unless there is a sort of trust or will set up that would name another beneficiary. So if Sal was set loose on the woman, and just so long as she was never caught, that money could very well end up coming back to Richard - in one way or the other.

Just saying. Food for thought.

"I want to be someone's one and only," she admits. "I want that, I don't think it's something I'll ever get but I want that. I know that you'll take care of me, dad, but there will always be someone else there, like Delilah. I know that. That's not ever going to change." Acceptance is the first step, right? She doesn't know where to go outside of that, but she feels a want to be the sun to someone's universe, not just an orbiting planet or moon.

She smiles when he kisses her nose and then when she tips her head up she takes his kiss and smiles once again against his mouth. "When I bite you? I like doing that, I want to be able to leave a mark on you one day, like you leave marks on me. I'm not worried about mom, I would just like to have some sort of relationship with her that doesn't involve fear of being eaten or used against you, that's all."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

"Because...things are more complicated than that." He picks his words with the utmost prudence, unwilling to reveal too much. "We are both very...intense people, and we are-- she does not feel I am worthy of her." He sighs, eyes rolling. "The situation was complicated. I had just turned seventeen when I met her, she was a mentor to me. But we had a falling out, and she decided that before I could become her peer, I needed to grow at a distance."

He remembers distinctly that last fight, after he'd come back from the ER in a wheelchair. She said, 'I find my gardens grow best when given minimal intervention.' And then, she left, and a few months later she came back with a baby, calling infant Salome 'a lesson in responsibility that you sorely require before you're worthy of so much as kissing my feet.'

The bitch. His fingers wrap tight around the steering wheel as if it were her throat. "It's complicated," he says again, adding, "I don't feel anymore the way I did for her then. I was a boy, she was the first woman who was genuinely interesting, it was stupid. But there's no point in regretting it, particularly since I ended up with you." He squeezes Salome and gives her an affectionate little glance before attending to the highway.

He's probably considered that, but he's also well aware that Susan has considered that as much as he has. For all he knows, her will states that her finances should be generously donated to some veterans' charity, or the ASPCA. The bitch covers any angle, and it's entirely like her that she should go out of her way to ensure that Richard would never gain so much as a cent in wake of her untimely demise. After all, she knows him well enough to know he would think just that way.

"Well, I'm sure you'll get it, princess. What man wouldn't want you?" He heaves a mild sigh at the mention of Delilah's name. There, too, is a situation fraught with complication. He is hungry for her, desperate for her, but if Salome could manage to be exactly what he needed then he would throw the woman over for his daughter in a heartbeat--the trouble is molding Salome into that which he craves, and the fact that there is a thrill in having access to three women at once, all three of whom symbolize something intensely different. And, the sad fact of the matter is that, even if Salome were his one and only, he would still be tempted to stray, and, moreover, still view her first and foremost as his daughter.

"I am a complicated man, Salome, and I require complicated things of my long-term lover. But you give me a thousand beautiful things that she couldn't," he adds, squeezing her, "so never feel jealous. The way you make me feel--Delilah could never hope to stir the tenderness in me that you do. But I understand wanting to be the center of someone's attention, I know that very well." He stares grimly upon the road, picturing Susan's face line for line, molecule for molecule. "But you shouldn't feel as though nobody will want you in the way you desire, because you are divine. Divine, divine." He places a sharp peck upon the crown of her head and focuses again upon the highway.

"So sink your teeth into me, sweetheart." There's no forethought into his statement, just gentle want, this moment of delirious intimacy on the hypnotic road the stretches on without end. "Leave your mark. It's going to be a week or more before anybody else sees my body, baby, there's no harm in leaving a bruise or scratch in the first few days."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

See, Salome can't imagine that. She can't imagine a sun like him not being the center of a persons universe. She can't imagine him not being worthy of someone else. In her mind, she can't picture anyone caring for Susan the way that he seemed to do. She has seen her with boyfriends, play things, but they never really lasted and Salome never got attached to them or paid them much mind. After awhile she learned to to grow attached to fading things and they would always just disappear after some time.

"I was a really cute baby," she tells him with a smile, her hand moving over his chest, petting and caressing him through his shirt as she smiles over the past. She likes that he views his past relationship not a waste because he got her out of the deal. That makes her feel warm and fuzzy all over. Because she likes to feel like she was something good that came out of that whole bitter affair. She still can't believe she came from that woman though. She can see herself as his child, she sees it in very real ways.

"There's a difference between wanting me and wanting me. It's a difference between wanting to fuck me and wanting to be with me. I mean I could probably get anyone to fuck me. Someone who will stick around and deal with my craziness is something that I want. Like you, you handle me. I want someone like you." It's probably best this way, it is one thing to know that she is precious to him and he has other women in his life, then to think that she is his one and only and then to find that she is not. That would destroy her in such a violent way, probably more so then when she first learned about Delilah. Slowly she is coming to learn the benefits of her position.

"I know, I'm not upset, I mean, I am learning, I am getting used to things and I think I am okay with things now. She's nice, I don't know if we'll ever be BFF's but I like what I am to you. I know that no one else can be like I am." She is his daughter, and he won't have another one, so she is cemented in a way that no other woman is in his life.

A smile and she pulls down the collar of his shirt and leans in to sink her teeth into his skin. Sucking on the salty taste of him, pulling at the skin as she inhales his scent and stretches to press her chest to his arm. Marking him in such a new, delicious way. "Mine. My papa." Her fingers move up the back of his head, disappearing into the dark hair of her father. "I love you because no matter what no one will ever replace what we are to one another."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

The truth is that Richard is a masochist, through and through, and the poison Susan offered him was more appealing than any dream he could have possibly conceptualized.

"You were, you were adorable, even to me. And I detest babies; even moreso when you showed up." Ah, yes, the warm and fuzzy bullseye. The truth is that she certainly is something good that came out of the nonsense, but still, every now and then he wishes Susan were never a part of his life. Of course, if it wasn't for her, and Salome, he'd be in prison. So, there are distinct benefits.

Often, he doesn't believe that Salome is Susan's. But it seems irrational to accuse the mother of being unrelated to her daughter, so he's pushed the moments of doubt aside and focused on the clear evidence of his own relation.

His tongue digs in against his teeth. Richard wants to be with her, but not in the way she wishes, so he lets it go. "You're not crazy, baby." That's a lie. "You're just a teenager." Truth. "You're too young to worry about all this bullshit, kitten, you're seventeen. Wait until you're my age to let it stress you out. I'm glad, though, that you're savoring every moment for what it is. Because it's the truth." His grip tightens. "There's nobody who could ever take your place. I'll never have another child, and even if, by some miracle--or nightmare--I did, then that child would never manage to compete with you. Never, ever." Certainly not anymore. "You're my darling Salome. It's impossible for you to have competition."

Then, she tugs down his collar, and her teeth sink in, and he groans softly while she suckles against his flesh. The fabric of her shirt gathers in his fist and he sighs sharply. "Oh, yes, baby, your papa, your daddy, nobody else's, never, no matter what." Her fingers creep into his scalp and his eyes roll. He hates letting the girl have such control over him, but oh, God, he can't help it. "You're more to me than you could know, my blood, my life, my darling daughter. Who else would I drive ten hours for?"

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

"I bet you were not happy when I showed up. I understand that, if I got pregnant now I would not be happy at fucking all. I know that you probably could have ditched me, had nothing to do with me, but you didn't, you stuck around and I am really glad you did." She gives him a gentle kiss on his temple after that, it means a lot to her and he may or may not be able to understand that. Maybe he could, with his own father situation, she wants him to know that she doesn't take it for granted, even if she is crazy at time.

Because two absent parents and she wouldn't be half the person she is today, maybe she would have still had all those lessons and different things to keep her busy but she would be such a lonely and shy little girl, desperate for any affection. Though if Richard would have split Susan would probably have seen no use for the child and perhaps would have given her up, or just gotten rid of her totally.

Not that Sal has any idea that could have been one of the things that happened.

"I know all those things, sometimes I forget though, it's hard to keep things in perspective." Especially when someone shows up to make your father look and act all stupid. Things are starting to make sense now, in these clear moments when she is alone with him and they are talking like this. Things tend to get blurry and she loses direction when her emotions rule her behavior and she feels unglued and unhinged.

Her tongue moves over the mark she left on him, smoothing the bruised flesh, kissing it with a sigh. "I don't know, but she better have an incredible snatch for you to do so. Why didn't we just fly? We could have, you know. I like this, a road trip, everyone always talks about going on road trips but they never do." She is just stupidly happy to spend time with him, so, so happy.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

If she got pregnant now he'd probably choke her to death, but that's a whole different story. He simply chuckles at the very possibility, brushing it aside and shaking his head. "It was very odd, I'll say that much. After all, I was a nineteen-year-old boy. But I couldn't help but stick around."

And stick it to his own absent father in doing so. After all, he was much younger and much less well-equipped than Julius was at the time of his conception--and what better way to rub it in the old man's face, even if he wasn't looking? Besides, Salome was a girl. It struck him as particularly foolish and cruel to turn away a girl who hadn't done anything to earn it. In his own, nihilistic opinion, the greatest cruelty is existing in the first place, because it only guarantees further agonies; the greatest philosophical duty of a father to his child is to soften the damage already done.

The old man who died when she was two was a good influence in her life after all. And these days, there's not a single moment that he's anything but grateful for her presence in his life. Perversity is tenderness to him, and he is truly riveted by the bone-deep adoration that stings him when he looks upon her. The very idea of anyone being worth so much as a comparison to her--ridiculous. He remembers those chubby hands and fingers grasping at his nose, his keys, his jaw, and he remembers the mixture of disgust and fascination at the knowledge that this was his, his creation, his life, his legacy.

No. That kind of stunning, heavy moment is only capable of happening to him once. Salome has the title, and it's impossible that anybody could hope to compare. He'll let Delilah think that a child of hers could, but that's simply because she would go mad after all she's let slide.

"Such language." He laughs, shaking his head in as much disapproval as he can possibly manage. "I didn't want to fly because it's cheaper to drive, and I rather like driving. Just like I enjoy spending all this time with you." His hand slides down, resting in her lap to squeeze her knee. "It's important that you and I should bond, particularly in the way our relationship is blossoming. And what better way to do that than being stuck in a car with your dear old dad?"

Richard sighs heavily, leaning into the touch of her mouth. "I love you. I want to know you. I feel that I don't know you at all. You're a new person to me."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

If she got pregnant now she would certainly take care of it before he ever found out because that would mean that someone other then him has come inside of her and he has made it clear that no man should do so. Plus, she doesn't want to twist up her life in that kind of way at the moment, or, ever if at all possible. She doesn't see the appeal of children, they are messy, and noisy and don't do what you want them to do, why bother having any? That being said she is awfully glad he had her and did what she doubts she could ever do.

Cheek still on his shoulder she practically hugs his arm, keeping it close as she thinks about their conversation and where it is leading to her in her head. Generally they steer her toward memories of youth, growing up and being sometimes being small and moments that are so big she still remembers them. "I remember you took me to the first day of first grade, and I was so, so scared and I didn't want you to leave, but you promised me that I would have fun and that you would be there when I got out and you were, and I did. You were there, you didn't forget about me." Because there were times when she was forgotten, and on the Richter scale of childhood trauma that is pretty high up there. Comparatively speaking.

Laughing she lets her forehead press and roll over his shoulder as he reprimands her over her use of snatch. Very funny.

"I don't understand why you feel that you don't know me? You probably know me better then anyone else in the world, I mean you've been there from the beginning and I don't think I am a very deep well of psychological surprises."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Well-thought, Salome. Well-thought, indeed. Richard would be proud to know his daughter's thoughts on children. It would leave him with that secure, comfy feeling, reassured in knowing that he'd raised a sensible girl. Now and then he catches an episode of Maury and has nightmares, after all--a man needs to be comforted by the knowledge that his daughter isn't moronic.

"I remember that." Richard grins crookedly, helpless in the grip she has latched firmly around her arm. "You got all teary, it was adorable. I could have devoured you then and there." Those irresistible tears. Even then, especially then, he was helpless. Big, pure beads pure as water from the fountain of youth, they twisted his heart as soon as she was old enough to have a personality and haven't stopped doing it since. "How could I possibly forget about you? How could anyone?" Clearly, Susan has glossed over the days she's forgotten Salome at school. If she really wants to get her father riled up, she could tell him.

"I was stunned that day, it shocked me, how fast you'd already grown. Sometimes it still shocks me. Especially now." His smile widens and he nuzzles against her hair, straightening the path of the car between the lines. "You've certainly surprised me in the past week, Salome. You're--ah, my God. I can't comprehend it. I know you, I know that I know you. But I could never have anticipated...any of this."

His head tilts, his lungs swimming in the aura that surrounds her. "I feel I don't know you because of all this. I feel I don't know you because I never expected to fuck my daughter, to adore her so much, to suddenly find myself a thousand times more consumed by her than I ever was before." Lips brushing against her cheek, he hums and leans against her. "You're simply amazing to me, darling girl. That's all. You're a deeper well of psychological surprises than you might expect."