sweetsalome | (no subject)

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Just because school is off for Christmas break doesn't mean all of her other activities are. There is still swim practice and ballet, everything in between. Yeah, they have some days off, especially ballet, since their performance there is some down time before the next big thing comes along and they need to start working on that. Salome still leaves the house early in the morning, this time for her run with the dog, or attempted run, the puppy doesn't have that whole 'lets run in a straight line with the mistress, yay! isn't this fun?' thing down yet. So when she starts off on the run, she does only half of what she plans and then ends up carrying the ball of fur back.

It's alright, he's getting better.

After the run, there is swimming and time out of the house doing random errands and seeing random friends. By the time that she gets back Salome is exhausted and falls asleep sprawled out on the rug with the puppy, cell phone in hand, pretty much a standard practice with any teenager born.

Usually she is more on point, but she is exhausted and didn't even think about where her father and Delilah might be. Sometimes, it's like ships passing in the night with them.

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It feels as though she is in a dream, a slow, sweet dream that is about to turn very naughty very soon. The heat of him, she can feel it soaking into her skin, he's like the sun, a supernova, bright and ready to destroy everything in it's path in it's last gasp for life. Oh she does love the feeling of him, her fingers move over him, everywhere that she can, and it frustrates the living fuck out of her not to be able to do it with two hands, she just has the one and that's not enough to soak up his touch and the pulse of his skin under her fingertips.

He turns her and undresses her, not unlike what he used to do when she was very little. There are some extreme differences, but he is still tender, and his hands are still familiar and easy all over her. His lips, a brush from his mouth over her shoulder, her bare skin, and it sinks in that this is something that they both crave so desperately, and they just flat out need. This makes everything better. All the touches and the kisses drive away the fight, and all the presses of skin against skin makes her forget even more and more what they were even fighting about.

Her back arches and she groans, fingers twisting into his hair as she offers up more of her breasts to him. "That's right, that's what it's supposed to do, keep you up at night. My perfect, tight cunt that was made for you. Oh you fit just perfectly, don't you?" She kisses over his forehead, to the dark of his hair, all over as he gets her shaking. Fucking Christ she better not be too high to come, no, she is close, she can feel it even now which is good because they are exhausted as hell.

At least it feels good to be on a bed again not made out of plywood and nails and she stretches out as he gets her naked and gets himself naked. Her hips arching and her toes curling into the sheets as he drives her even more out of her mind.

"It's, it's okay, we were both out of our minds. I forgive you, please, forgive me I -" and he slams deep inside of her and she bucks under him her whole form shuddering in relief when he is inside of her. "We're always better off after we fight, we need it, we need to know that after being horrible we can still love each other this much." She finds his mouth in a hard kiss and begins to rock her hips up against his.

"You have a minute to fuck me and get us both off, do you think you can do that, daddy? Oh lets make this one a quickie." The frantic, desperate nature of the quickie always appeals to her, and now it's just practical.

Of course it's something they need. Richard needs this as badly as he needs air. Just to touch her, that's what he needs, to run his hands over her and be close against her warmth. Such overwhelming reassurance, such joy to have her again, every time as wonderful as th efirst time, or better.

The way she shakes, it drives him insane. His hands rove all over her, palms hungry for every inch of flesh they can possibly touch, and his nose fills with the scent of her soft skin the more kisses he plants up and down her throat and jaw and collarbone. He suckles against her flesh, nibbling up to her lips to groan, "It's true, I do. Like two puzzle pieces, one perfectly fitting the other. It's impossible to think about, oh, the beautiful odds. That I should have such a fine little girl, with such a fine form, and such a range of proclivities so much like her father's!"

It truly is the meaning of the word 'blessing'.

"We do, my darling, we do. You and I, the two of us are too intense, Salome, our passions rise to such a fever that they need release, and sometimes that release comes in foolish ways." He strokes his thumb up and down her jaw, eyes boring into hers. "Of course I forgive you. It's all right, baby, no harm done. I'm just glad you're okay, even with two broken fingers, poor girl."

Richard barks out a wicked laugh, hand sliding over her stomach and down between them, his fingertips playing against her clit while his forehead rests against hers, hips working in and out in a merciless beat. "Of course I can do that in a minute, I could do it in thirty seconds." He chuckles huskily, his free hand gripping her hair to tug her mouth up to his and into a suffocating kiss. His nose pushes against hers while his tongue plunges in against hers, a moan pouring into her mouth straight from his. Each hard stroke of his cock within her is another sharp rush of pleasure over his overwhelmed, completely drained skull, moving swiftly toward the edge. Lips pursing in a series of kisses back to her ear, he growls, "I'll make you cum once quickly now, and tomorrow morning we can spend a nice long time playing with each other as a reward for being such a good, patient girl. Doesn't that sound nice?"

At the moment everything sounds nice. It's impossible not to feel good, not to be on top of the world when he is inside of her, fucking her mercilessly. They both need it so badly, that rush and that snap of ultimate pleasure, there's no need to hold back, there's no attempt on Salome's part to put on a show or try any fancy movies. Hell, she can't even lift her legs to wrap them around him while he thrusts into her. It's completely unnecessary, this isn't a marathon, they would die if it was, the both of them are so exhausted.

Between his cock and his fingers she reaches the edge viciously fast, well within the sixty seconds, until she finds that final push and she comes. It's not a particularly physical climax, that takes so much energy that she doesn't think she actually is capable of writhing around under him like she usually does. Her whole being tenses around him, her body, her cunt, squeezing and fluttering around him as her head falls back and she groans his name, a long, low noise. While it might not be a physically intense orgasm it seems to last forever which is actually really fucking nice.

That wave of pleasure doesn't crest when it usually does and it just goes on and on. Or it feels that way, maybe it's the drugs but she is pretty sure that rush of pleasure lasts so much longer then normally expected. "Daddy, oh, I love you," a soft babble over and over, her body still trembling and pressing weakly up against his. "Come inside of me."

With the two of them there's never any need for pretense. Only the desperation of two bodies seeking to briefly be one, to be close, to give in to the intensity of the pressure that builds between them as a product of their adoration.

As Salome falls back against the pillows, he gives a groan of success, putting all his energy into the rhythm of his hips slamming against hers. The old bed cries out beneath them while she squeezes tight and he simply speeds up for it, spurred by the way his name pours from her lips in a long, deliriously sexy whine of pleasure; it inspires him to catch her lips in a kiss and maul that mouth, heart beating like a drum while he gets closer and closer.

With a wicked grin, he snaps at her lips, growling, "At least I know that if some little rat your own age ever does get his hands on you, there's no being on heaven or earth who could possibly make you feel the way I do." He grins, clutching her trembling form to himself, mouth diving down against her throat, fingers tangling in her hair. Suddenly it hits him, about the time she tells him how she loves him, and he's already tumbling over the edge with an exhausted snarl of a groan while Salome demands he claim her. His arms tighten and her name falls from the jaw that unhinges against her throat, hips working once, twice, three times more in a few final, violent slams while he empties himself deep within her holy cunt.

After everything tonight, the headrush of pleasure hits him like an atomic bomb, and he lies upon her, around her, within her, his breath coming in desperate gasps and his body collapsed. He nuzzles against her, panting, still seeing fireworks in the front of his skull even once he comes down, his entire body slowly sliding against hers, legs tracing legs, heart to heart, mouth to mouth.

"I would never give you up for anything," he says between kisses, "I could never replace you with anyone. If you weren't a part of it, my life would be over. Pointless." His mouth presses to her ear and he exhales suddenly, mouth tracing down her jaw before her adds, "My poor little Rocky Balboa."

And he ducks his mouth against her shoulder, using her to muffle the lunatic sound of his over-exhausted giggling. Then, with a deep breath, he rolls onto his back and pulls her into his arms, tight against his chest, drawing the blanket up over her body. "Daddy still has things to do, he can't fall asleep just yet. But I'll stay here until you fall asleep, my darling, and I'll be here when you wake up. And anything you need when you do is yours, my princess, just wake me up and I'll fetch it."

He is probably painfully right about that. No one her age could make her feel as good as he does, he knows her inside and out, what to say, how to touch her and hold her. How to fuck her and bring her to the most amazing and glorious orgasms ever. Everyone else would just be a disappointment, a waste of time, a reminder that they aren't him. He perhaps ruined her for life when it comes to sex and she has no idea how she feels abut that.

She doesn't feel or think much about anything at the moment. Her brain is awash with pleasure and with the pain medications that make everything fuzzy and white. She wraps her arm around, holding him weakly as he finishes off in her, oh she does love it when he comes inside of her, so wicked.

Everything, everyone goes limp and she nuzzles up against him, eyes refusing to open as they share kisses and touches. She is fading, her body spent and her brain screaming for sleep. She dozes off lightly a few times and then wakens to a sort of twilight conscious. "I love you, papa, you'll never be without me. How could I leave you? You're my favorite. And not just because you make me come." A sleepy smile and she groans when he rolls.

Movement is bad, her stomach lurches but settles down when they do. "Don't go, just sleep, papa, you need to sleep. I don't need anything." She starts to pet his head, playing with his hair as she starts to fade once again. "There, there, we'll go to sleep now. Shhhh."

Poor Richard is just barely hanging on to the tatters of consciousness, himself. After everything that's happened in the past five to six hours, he feels like he's been riding a roller coaster nonstop for the entire time and now it's left him completely drained. And yet, there's still so much more to do. A mother works from sun to sun, but a father's (and serial killer's) work is never done.

He much prefers his spin on the old poem.

"No! No, you trecherous little-- uugh." His eyes close and his mouth falls open while she plays with his hair, the feeling indescribable. He groans quietly, leaning into the touch of her hand, trying to hang on despite the fact that his eyes are closed. There is important shit to do, goddammit, he has to finish cleaning up, has to wake Delilah up or leave her a note to let her know what's happening, that they're going to have to wait another day or two because of Salome's fingers.

Barely, barely, he hangs on by the tips of his nails, though he does still momentarily, fading in and out, his muscles unwinding. He lingers, waits, listens to her breathing, for that familiar pattern that indicates her slow descent into that miraculous teenage death-sleep. When he hears it, he'll drag himself out of bed and pull on jeans, away from her only as long as it takes to move what's in the attic down to the freezer in the basement, to check on the dog and make sure it's in bed, to shower, and then to rouse Delilah, who comes out of her dream when he strokes her shoulder and kisses her pale ear.

"Pussycat, wake up."

"Mmnhm-mm?" Delilah stretches out and turns, her eyes sealed shut even if she's sort of awake. "What's wrong?"

"Salome broke her fingers earlier," he says softly, stroking Delilah's hair. "We went to the ER, she'll be in a cast for awhile."

"Oh no!" Her reaction is maybe a little muted because she's so tired and it's such an odd hour and her eyes are still closed so she's not really completely conscious. "Poor thing."

"I know, tell me about it. But it means we'll have to push the wedding back a few days, maybe, since tomorrow she and I will both be useless."

Smiling in her half-awake state, Delilah turns and nuzzles her face against the pillow as much as she does Richard's arm. "I've already waited a while. I can wait a few more days, I don't care. I'm just so happy to marry you, I'd wait forever for it."

With a chuckle, Richard bends down and kisses the nape of her neck. "Well, you won't have to wait very long. And this way you'll have time to plan whatever you like. Anyway, kitten, go back to sleep. I'm going to sleep with my poor little patient tonight in case she needs anything."

"Okay, sweetie, sleep tight, you should bring me the dog."

He smooches her shoulder as he stands, saying, "Not on your life is that dog drooling and shedding in my bed. Good night, darling."

As he leaves her in peace, he chuckles his way back to Salome's room, and then, finally, at three in the morning, he strips off his clothes, slides into Salome's bed, pulls the sleeping girl into his arms, closes his eyes and is unconscious so fast it's like he's been hit over the back of the head by the sandman.

Oh, yeah, he is going to have some crazy-ass dreams tonight. That is for goddamn sure.

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