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[sweetsalome]

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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[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

That would be nice actually, to be able to finally get him all the way down her throat but she would like to be able to do it one day without the aid of drugs, it feels a little like cheating. She purrs softly into his ear, the tip of her nose rubbing over the slight stubble that covers his cheek. She likes him like this, hard, wanting, nearly killing them in traffic for a little taste of her. And she will continue to tease him, to rub his thigh and toward the bulge in his jeans. "So hard, so big, how did you get such a big cock, daddy? And how did you have a lovely little girl that knows just how big your prick is, how you throb, and how you taste?" She teases softly, kissing him, groping him and taking little gropes of him while he speeds toward their garage.

And she is rewarded with the arch of his hips that makes her grin broadly.

Wrapping her arm and legs around him she presses the hot of her crotch against his, it takes all of herself control not to rub and grind against him. If she did he would probably fall over and they would break more things which might delay his marriage just a little longer.

"Are you going to resist me now, daddy? Don't you want to put it inside of me just a little bit?" She kisses his mouth as he takes her through the garage and to the kitchen. "Maybe you can put me on the table and put your cock in me, just a little bit, please daddy?"

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

"Good genetics, and good luck. All kinds of marvelous luck on that last one." He laughs and strokes her jaw, crooning, "Or perhaps it's genetic knowledge. Something passed through to your subconscious, the knowledge that Daddy's cock is the perfect size for that tight cunt of yours."

Cheating, nothing. Practice is practice, an achievement an achievement regardless of whether it comes with the assistance of drugs. As she gropes and paws, he slowly loses his mind, so that when he's finally got his arms wrapped around her body and her legs wound around him he's hard and desperately wanting.

And he wants it twice as badly when she presses up against him. He groans, hungry, and presses her tighter to him, hips arching to grind against her crotch. That plea, that kiss--he loses himself in the wet sweetness of her kiss, returning it with twice the eager desire she delivers. Just a little bit, she says, just a little bit. It's impossible to deny, and he groans, clutching her closer to him as he makes his way up the stairs. "Come on, we'll go to your bed and play there so when Daddy passes out he won't risk concussion."

And it sounds so nice, laying the girl down in the soft of the bed and comforting her in it, flesh and limbs and desperate reunion after such a wild fight. Putting most of her weight on his right side, Richard climbs the stairs with her in his arms, proving once and for all that she'll never be too big to carry. He takes her straight to her room, turning on the light and then laying her back amidst the covers, pressing a vicious kiss to her mouth while his hands strip off his jacket, then rove all over her body, sliding up her shirt and over the smooth flesh of her stomach.

"I suppose I've got to get you to sleep some way, after all."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

"Subconscious? Maybe you were whispering in my ear while I was asleep during my formative years." And she laughs but then turns calm for a moment, almost serious. No, he would never do that, not even a little bit, she doesn't even remotely believe it. He is so many things but an instrument into her plunge into incest? No, never, not even a little bit. She remembers the surprise in his eyes when she came on to him in that clumsy, almost aggressive way that she did that day. No, he didn't plan anything, it seems more to her that he is right about the genetic knowledge, maybe just a predisposition to wanting familial flesh.

"No matter how tired you are, you'll always want to put your cock in me, won't you, daddy?" She kisses him as he walks, good arm draped around his shoulders, holding him close as he walks to the stairs. "Strong, handsome, insatiable, daddy. My dark king, insidious incubus." Whispers in his ear and when he gets her to her room she kicks off her slip on shoes and when he lays her down on the bed she groans happily. It's so tempting, tempting to just pass out, but he is groping her and she is wiggling to get out of her clothes, pulling her tee-shirt up and off and then bra next as she fumbles for his kiss. "Fuck I can't do this with this hand." She turns slightly to offer her back and the bra hook to him.

"Don't fall asleep inside of me," her laugh is slurred but it's still there. God getting naked is so much easier with two hands and it feels like forever to get her clothes off, to become naked for him, like everything is moving in slow motion. Except the throbbing, her cunt aches, as much as she aches to sleep she can't, she needs him, only he can make it stop.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

Richard gives a laugh of horror. "That's a terrifying thought, my God. No, no, I think it's simply woven in our genes, my darling. The deep inherent knowledge that family is the source of all the greatest bonds, the bonds a person truly craves. All that intimacy, that trust, that love, it's all right here, already a part of him.

He chuckles, his lips twitching into a tremendous grin. "It's true, my darling, so true. I could hike across the Sahara without water for a week and still fuck you without pause as soon as I reached you. The very edge of death couldn't stop me from wanting you." He grins under all that praise of her, simply awash with it, swimming in every glowing syllable.

"That's exactly so, my darling." He nuzzles against the curve of her throat, crooning, "An incubus, a rake, an animal for you. You fill me up with so much want, Salome, oh God. To kiss you and hold you and torment you and crush you with the force of just how much I love you." He steals the breath from her lungs with his kiss and then leans back while she pulls her t-shirt off, cooing as she complains about her one-handed issue.

"Well, what else am I here for," he says with a chuckle while he helps her, kissing down the nape of her neck with the kind of ravenous hunger one finds in a starving man who, having thought he might never eat again, finds himself presented with a feast and is overcome with ecstasy. With the twist of a thumb and forefinger, he unclasps the underwire, then slides it from her shoulders and tosses it away while at the same time running his hands over her breast, her stomach, one sliding to open her pants.

Tongue tracing along the ridge of her ear, Richard takes a shuddering breath and manages a husky little chuckle. "I couldn't if I tried. That cunt of yours keeps me up at night." Gently, he lays her back down upon the bed, his mouth kissing over her breast. While his lips close down around one beautiful little rosebud nipple, his hands swiftly work to strip open his pants. He kicks off his shoes and socks, then tears down his boxers and jeans before tending to Salome, whose pants he removes completely with a gasp of sharp appreciation as he stares down upon her draped before him.

"Jesus," he breathes, "Jesus, Jesus, you don't know how bad I've wanted this for the past hour. All those pretty tears, oh, baby, you make Daddy want nothing more than to take care of you." His fingers slide between her thighs, running over her panties before yanking those away to leave her damp and bare before him. His thumb strokes back and forth over her clit, then his forefinger takes over the work, and meanwhile his mouth finds hers. He becomes so painfully conscious of his cock that he can't stand it, feeling every hard inch as it twitches in anticipation. He grinds against her wet pussy, fingertips capturing her chin to look her in the eyes as he slides inside, lips capturing hers.

"Nothing matters, no one else matters, Salome, I don't care what the circumstances are. My only child, flesh of my flesh, oh Salome, I would do anything for you. Daddy's sorry he got so frustrated," his words rise in a howl of a groan as he slams himself deeper inside of her. "He's sorry he didn't think. But he'll take care of you, princess. He'll make it up to you, and meanwhile aren't we so much closer for it?" He grins, nipping at her lower lip, testosterone still surging through him after the conflict, still making him want her more than almost ever. "One fleeting fight, a little pain, and suddenly each of us remembers how madly we love one another. Oh, my one and only daughter, my Salome, my soul."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

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.

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

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?"

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

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."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

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."

[sweetsalome.livejournal.com]

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."

[soursanguine.livejournal.com]

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.