(Untitled)
No joke, Salome changed her mind sixteen times when trying to decided if she wanted to meet her birth mom. It wasn't that she was scared but there was a real thought and fear that she would just lose it in the middle of the conversation and she didn't want to lose it. Her father would get upset at Amanda and it wasn't this woman's fault that
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A gaps and a shudder, as much as she wants more, her body is protesting the idea. Every nerve between her legs is on fire and his fingers just make that worse as much as it makes it better. A groan, and a groan as her hips arch and lift toward his fingers. She has to be a mess down there, between her wet and his wet and the dried blood that reminds her of the first time they were together.
She lets her fingers grab in his dark hair, lifting herself up to kiss his mouth hard. "I like being a mes for you though, can you feel all that come that you left in me, dad? Mmmmm filling me up, wanting to continue on the species, if they could, before you snipped yourself." Some more giggling as she twists and pushes into his fingers. "You know I am always a good girl."
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The little groan of hypersensitivity makes him grin, his head lifting into the fingers that grip his hair. "Wouldn't it be terrible if I hadn't gotten fixed? How appalling." He grins, his fingers probing deep as they can go before he lifts them to his lips to lick them clean. "I can taste myself on you. Such a simple, beautiful thing." His mouth presses to hers, breath pouring into her mouth.
"Uh-huh, you're a good girl when it suits you to be one." He chuckles and sits up, chuckling as he remembers the trousers still down around his knees, as if the feeling is just now coming back to his legs. After stripping them away, he slides from bed with a stretch. "Mmhm, and I love seeing you a mess. But I have to take care of my little girl, don't I? Like all those scraped knees and little accidents. This is deeper than those, though, and we want to make sure it heals right. Leaves a pretty scar that won't get infected." Richard pauses to kneel before the edge of the bed and admire the blood that dries smeared upon her thigh, and the lines that stand in dark contrast to her skin. He smiles, kissing just above the wound, his tongue flickering out against the metallic stain.
"Such a beautiful canvas," he says, smiling as he lifts his head away. "I'm looking forward to seeing how lovely it'll be when it heals."
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"You would be the naughtiest monster ever, wouldn't you? Fucking your daughter bare back. We're not inbred rednecks now are we?" They've had this discussion before. The horrific nature of it all, the idea of him being fertile and the both of them being reckless and careless when it comes to birth control. It's one of those disgusting little roleplays that she works out in her head or when they are fucking. In real life there is no way that would ever go down. Medical technology is just a wonderful thing. He licks hiss fingers and she leans up to lick the remaining flavor off of him, giggling and groaning as she does so before he shuts her up with a kiss.
"I think it always suits me to be your good little girl, it's just that you're idea of good is so very wicked." He looks good naked, she probably hasn't mentioned that ever to him, but she loves running her eyes down over his skin, smooth, with a hint of color, he is put together, tight, skinny, with those lines on him that she wants to following with her tongue over and over until her mouth has memorized every last one.
"It's your turn to play doctor, isn't it? I like that a lot, when you take care of me. I like taking care of you too."
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"I'm already the naughtiest monster, baby." He laughs, leaning up to nip at her nose. "I don't need to do something so stupid to prove it." There's plenty of other stupid shit he does to prove it. Or relatively stupid, anyway, since he is generally prudent about how he goes about his stupid activities.
The eyes that rake over him coax another grin from his lips, and he pinches her cheek before turning away. "I suppose that's true. And I suppose even the best girls have their moments." He makes his way to the closet and digs through the suitcase, coming up with a brown bottle and a big square bandage. "I had a feeling that you and I might get to playing a little rough," he says, chuckling as he waves the bottle of peroxide at her, "so I thought it couldn't hurt to bring some things along just in case."
After leaning into the bathroom to place them upon the counter, he grins and plucks Salome from the bed to cradle her in his arms. "I enjoyed having you take care of me. And you did such a good job, baby, I was very impressed with how well you handled that needle. Not a rolling vein or bruise in sight." His nose brushes against hers and he carries her into the bathroom, placing her upon the edge of the counter and running the water in the sink. "I love taking care of you. I've always loved it ever since you were little. It's a funny thing, really." He chuckles and shakes his head while he draws the clean washcloth from its place folded in wait. "I never understood it, there was just kind of a simple pleasure in taking care of you if you'd scraped yourself up."
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A frown when she sees that brown bottle, everyone knows what is in that brown bottle. "It's going to hurt! I don't want it to hurt." He'll take care of her though, she has no doubt about that, and when he scoops her up she holds on to him, her head on his chest as he carries her into the bathroom.
It's only until they are there and she is sitting on the counter, leaning back and spreading her legs, not unlike before, she reaches down to move her fingers over the crusted over initials he put on her. "I think it's just something people like to do, it makes them feel good, it makes them feel in control of the situation. I liked shooting you up, heating the water and the drugs, it was so interesting to do."
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"Yes, baby, but it'll only hurt for a few seconds." He grins, nipping the corner of her mouth. "Besides, would you rather it hurt for a short time now, or would you rather it hurt a lot more later when they have to amputate your leg?" Chuckling, Richard runs the washcloth under the warm water that pours from the faucet and dabs it lightly around the wound, first cleaning off the blood smeared all across her thigh.
"Indeed, it's lovely to have that type of control." Of course, the reason why it confuses him is because his power is typically not derived from caring for another person; quite the opposite. Although he's noticed the same phenomenon with Delilah. So strange, these women and what they do to him. "Well, you can do it again another time. I'd love to let you, you certainly did a nice job, and I had a lovely time relaxing with you all afternoon." He smiles gently up at her before focusing down on the marks she touches, pressing harder to work the surface of the wound clean of the black-red blood congealing within it.
New blood blooms to the surface, and as it does, he leans up to press his mouth to hers. As he kisses her, Richard unscrews the cap of the bottle with a swift hand and unceremoniously splashes peroxide over the wound. His tongue and lips and teeth never stop working as if to distract her; the chemical sets to work, no doubt furiously burning, but it also does a fine job of getting rid of most of the excess blood upon her thigh.
Magnificent for cleaning all number of things, that stuff.
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It's the idea of being owned. Of being possessed by someone. Knowing that he would tear people down in order to get to her. It gets her stupidly high.
"They wouldn't ever have to do that, I wouldn't let it get infected like that, dad," she gives him a look, he is pulling her leg and she knows it. Nice try old man. Sitting back she lets her head fall against the mirror as she watches him wash off her leg, smirking slightly at the idea of shooting him up once again. She wonders what else he likes to put in his vein outside of the narcotic he exposed her to. They will have to see. She wants him to teach her about all of it, not because she wants to use, but because it fascinates her. She wants to be able to control that.
Even with his mouth against hers she hisses and groans, her nails digging into his bicep as the peroxide burns out anything that shouldn't be in there. It gets her wiggling on the counter top as she tries to move her thigh away from the burn. Fuck that hurts.
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"Famous last words." The phrase is singsong. That little look she gives gets a particular laugh out of him. How many times has he told her that sort of shit? Uh-oh, baby, you got a paper cut? Well, guess we'll have to amputate your finger, get the butcher knife...
While she hisses, he coos, then groans sharply as her nails dig into him. "It's all right, baby," he says, words crooning into her mouth. "That just means it's doing its job, it's all right." He glances down to dab the washcloth over the wound again, wringing it out in the sink and soaking it in clean water. When he dabs it again, the wound starts to look much cleaner, and much clearer, his perfect initials in red relief against her tawny flesh. He smiles fondly, tilting his head as he says, "Look at that, isn't that beautiful. Proof that you're my one and only little girl. Something that you and I and the whole world can look upon. Visual, tangible evidence of how much your daddy loves you."
His grin widens and he kisses her cheek, leaning his forehead against her temple. "And he does love you. Very, very much."
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As a child the idea of losing a finger or a limb because she wouldn't let him at her seemed very, very real. Now she knows that he was just a big fat liar. But she loves him anyway.
"I know, I know," she opens her eyes to look down at the little white bubbles that appear around the edges of her cuts. "It's beautiful, I love it." Like he just gave her a tattoo, and in a sense he sort of did, except those scars will fade over time and he'll have the renew them when they do. Or, she could just man up and actually get that in ink, she will have to push her vanity aside for that however.
Reaching up she smoothes his cheek over with her fingers gently, her eyes closing as she leans against him. "I love you, dad, so much, so, so fucking much. You'll never lose me, you know, I'll always be your little girl, no matter what."
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Really, parenting is just an exercise in creative psychological sadism. He likes to think it was generally pretty easy to tell when he was teasing, though.
"I'm glad. I think it looks quite lovely." He smiles and tilts his head, admiring it, imagining what it'll look like when it's scarred over and rather than blaring red has instead subsided to pale lines against her flesh. Scars are lovelier than tattoos in his eyes; subtle, deceptively natural even when they obviously aren't. There's plenty of time before it fades. And if it does, he'll be happy to do it all over again.
He smiles as her fingers drift over her cheek, as that sweet little promise melts from her mouth. Well, one can hope, but one can never be too sure when she doesn't know the full gravity of his cruelties. Still, he likes the idea of having her forever, always sweet and always completely his. "I know you will," he says as he rinses off the cut with plain water once more before sticking the large square bandage over the wound. "There's no doubt in my mind."
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But yeah, she is pretty sure she used to have a sister at one point . . . whatever happened to her?
She combs her fingers through his hair, still leaning back, watching him, her skin breaking out into goosebumps from the cool of the counter and the water he is cleaning her off with. She likes sitting still and watching him move and take care of her. It reminds her of when she was very little and everything would magically be better under his kisses. Things aren't much different now, except his kisses have become a little deeper and harder.
"Will you love me even when I am old?" The side of her foot rubs up against the side of his leg, over his hip and up his flank slowly. "Or if I get fat or have wrinkles?"
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Richard leans down to press a kiss to the surface of the bandage, ultra-light and tender, by force of habit as much as affection. When he leans back up and her foot brushes against his leg and creeps up, he laughs and takes hold of her ankle. "I think that's a much more pressing concern for me than it is for you, darling girl. Of course I'll love you when you're old." He almost says 'After all, just look at your mother', but then catches himself, since love really isn't the right word when it comes to what he feels for Susan. Nor is hate. It's something else entirely, something strange and confusing even to him, and there's no reason to give Salome something else to be jealous of. Instead, he simply smiles and nips her nose. "I somehow doubt you'll ever get fat. I'll love you no matter what, baby. Wrinkles here and there can be perfectly charming."
Grinning, Richard tilts his head to kiss the edge of her foot, his thumb massaging gently into the arch. "What about me? Before you know it I'll have gray hair and crow's feet. Lines all over my face. What are you going to do then?"
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"Ooooh," her head falls back a little when he starts to give her the foot massage, nice, very, very nice, that feels so fucking good. Her toes spread and she sighs a little, giving her long leg over to him. She doubts that she will get fat as well, she is always moving and doing, it's hard to get too fat when you're always moving, and she'll always swim and surf, so that is motivation as well, as is looking good naked. After awhile the body processes and breaks down thing differently but as long as she remains on top of it she shouldn't be too worried about it. Even her biological mom doesn't look too bad and that's after years of abusing drugs. "You'll love me when I'm old," and she grins at him giving him a rather dopy look as she enjoys his touch.
"I dunno about you though . . ." she pretends to think about it, looking him over through half open eyes. "I mean, I kind of only like you because you're really hot," yup, that's the only reason. Though, he is, he is hot, and he is surprisingly young, but that's what happens when you knock up whores young. Even her friends comment on his appearance, maybe because most of their father's are old.
"Guys with gray hair can be hot though, you know, like George Clooney, ladies go fucking crazy for him."
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Richard chuckles while she melts under the touch of his hand. It's like a superpower, it really is. He knows every place to touch her, to make her fall to pieces for him, whether or not the intent is sexual. He plants an innocent peck upon the tips of her toes and nibbles his way up her shin before setting her leg down and taking her by the hand to coax her from the sink.
When she pretends to think about his question, though, he gives a melodramatic gasp and places a hand upon his heart. "How you wound me! Tsk, so you're just using me for my body? Oh, you've broken my heart, princess, here I thought you loved me." His hands zero in on her ribs right away and assault all the familiar places, until finally he plucks her from the floor and slings her over his shoulder.
"So we like gray-haired men, do we. Remind me to never leave you alone with your grandfather if you ever get the chance," he says, chuckling in a dark, humorless way. Not that Julius would know what to do with her if he had her, but even if the man lost the tatters of morals he tried so hard to hold on to, it wouldn't end well for the old man. Not a bit. Richard would sense a disturbance in the force and show up to strangle him to death.
After dumping her upon the bed, Richard bends to kiss the corner of her mouth. "But I suppose it's reassuring to know that I might still be hot when I'm old."
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"Yes, yes, I am just using you for your body and good looks. It's about time you figured out how shallow I am," a laugh and she starts to wiggle and giggle in his hands, trying to protect herself from the tickling he is giving her. It stops because he stops and then she is upside down over his back, giving her the perfect opportunity to play his ass like a bongo drum. Ricky Ricardo would be proud.
When he dumps her on the bed she starts laughing all over again, bouncing a few times before stretching her long limbs out and groaning happily at the soft of the mattress. Much nicer then the bed. "Would you be really, really mad if grandpa fucked me?" She has had that thought before, stalking the old man and coming on to him just to make her father insane with rage. It seems like a lot of work, and she doesn't actually think she has met his dad before, so maybe she would take one look at him and totally nix that idea.
"I am pretty sure that when you get old you will still be hot."
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The danger tastes real to Richard only because Julius is a fairly good-looking guy. Yeah, he looks tired, but so many years of blackmail and emotional abuse will do that to a man. Aside from that, he bears a striking resemblance to his son, but with much grayer hair and a far more lined face. It's a fact that reassures Richard, knowing he'll likely age as well as Julius has, but it puts him on edge, and the idea of Salome getting such a thought in her head boils his blood.
"But I don't know what I'm getting upset about." He smirks and takes her face in his hands, drawing her close to brush his mouth over hers. "He wouldn't know what to do with you if he did get his hands on you."
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