(Untitled)

[sweetsalome]

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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[sweetsalome]

To think of those moments now, for her, make it ten times better and ten times worse for her. There are moments. Very few and far between in which she feels guilt for what they do together in bed. That something that they once had, something sweet and pure, is now gone, forever erased from the map, unable to ever get back no matter how hard they tried. That's the thing, people try too hard to hang on to the past, they try and grab it and recreate it over and over, but you can never go back, that's what Gatsby learned, that there is no going back, that time marches forward and people evolve and grow.

This is just a new stage of growth. She couldn't remain his small, innocent little girl forever, that just wasn't possible. Now. Now they have this, this play. This fucking. This love making. Whatever they want to call it. It's a new level, a new stage, this is how people grow.

Her hands slide over his thighs as she finally lifts her head from his lap and licks her lips. Her hands continue their path upward, over his chest, putting kisses on him as she travels with them. There is always such reluctance to leave his cock but she wants to feel him inside of her once again, that's always what she wants, he should be inside of her.

"I want to swallow you whole. I want to start at your toes and eat you piece by piece, I want to hollow you out so only your bones and skin remain and once you're empty I want to climb inside of you and never, ever leave." Hips to his hips, forehead to his forehead she breathes him in, she stares into his eyes until her hips push down and she takes him inside of her, slowly. Achingly slow.

[soursanguine]

Guilt is a paltry waste of emotion. Richard can at least intellectually understand many things even if he doesn't actually feel them, but guilt--it astonishes him that people could actually allow themselves to feel such a thing. He looks back at those moments and they hammer the point home, and in a strange way the feel related in that they set the stage for their relationship now, but they're separate things. That was their relationship then, and in many ways it is still how he feels about her, protective and adoring, with a desire to love and teach. But it has evolved forward, for the better, and in real life once the big bad wolf eats the little girl in the red hood there's no getting her back out of his stomach--but that just means she's bound to be a part of him forever.

There are fragments of that innocent little girl still within her, like big shards of mirror glass. He has no trouble reconciling the image of his innocent princess with his wicked girl. They bleed into one another, and though her wicked side certainly seems to overtake the other, he has no doubt that his little girl will always be within her. That he'll always be able to catch a glimpse of sweetness in the lilt of her giggle, in the tone of her whine, in her face while she sleeps, in her voice while she pleads.

You can't hold on to the past, no, but sometimes you can merge it with the present.

As those hands and kisses begin to traverse upward, he grins and spreads his arms. His hands frame her beautiful face, fingers tangling in her hair as her body aligns so well with his. His thumb strokes over her cheekbone, back and forth while she speaks, his grin ever-widening. Now that's the kind of declaration of love that makes sense to him, and it makes his heart swell with joy to hear. "Oh, princess, I know exactly what you mean, my darling girl. But don't you know you're already inside me? When you were about two you tore out my heart to make a space for yourself and you've been there ever since."

While she gazes into him and begins to slowly, so slowly impale herself upon his length, he groans and brushes his damp mouth against hers. "I know what you mean. I want to eat you alive. Sometimes I look at you and I want to sink my teeth into your flesh and take a big bite out of you. Oh, Salome, darling, Christ--" His hips press up toward his, slowly working to meet hers. "Babydoll, my bones ache when I look at you."

[sweetsalome]

We take everything with us and leave a little bit of us behind.

It's the principle behind forensics, that for every place that we go, every person we encounter we take something of them and leave behind something as well. He will always be her father, that won't ever change, their relationship will evolve but he will always be the man that is there to guide her and to teach her new things. He will love her and caress her when she gets hurt. There is just now an addition on to it, a new level. Maybe nothing ever remains static but nothing ever really changes either.

One thing is for certain, she will always be her father's child, a daddy's girl, there is no getting around that fact. It's not either one of them wants changed, and why change it? It's been working out so well for him.

He cups her face and she sighs, eyelids fluttering closed as he pushes up slightly and she pushes down to meet in the middle. It never gets old. The feeling of him, the ache when he first enters her, she could do this forever, feeling him, every blessed inch. A sigh, she breathes him in and lets her eyes open slightly to watch him grin up at her. She would be so safe inside of him, forever, wrapping around his skin and in his bones, they could fuse together after years and years and become this new living, breathing, forever thing.

"I ache when I am with out you," the sort of ache that travels down to her soul and twists and squeezes. That somehow finds it's way to her fingers and knuckles as if they were a direct connection between body and soul. It hurts. "Is that what love is? Is it hurt, is it ache when someone is so close that you can feel every cell of them, and hurt when they are far away?" She barely moves her hips, her lips, she remains close, wants to remain still. She wants to remain in this place, to never, ever go home again.

[soursanguine]

The feeling of her tight around him makes his eyes roll; he groans, the sound trickling down to a soft exhale in time with her sigh. He strokes her face and murmurs her name from behind his massive smile, kissing the corner of her mouth while his arms weave around her body. When he's in to the hilt, he rocks, rather than thrusts, each roll of his hips firm and deliberate within her.

"That's the way I think of it, princess. A hunger for a person. A visceral ache for them." His mouth opens against hers and he inhales to steal her breath, his jaw crying out for her at this very moment. He doesn't feel the hurt she describes when they're apart, no--nor does he feel it with Susan, or Delilah, unless it's been a long time between meetings. He's now and then caught himself missing his daughter--and sometimes even her mother--when the women are on vacation, but absence always makes his heart grow fonder. Space is good, he needs it to breathe.

But the ache, yes, he knows that well. Very well. He feels it even now, in his jaw and his hands. He's known it for her in a platonic way ever since she was little, and now he knows it in a way that feels deeper than that. Moments where he could smother her because he loves her so much have transmuted to the overwhelming desire to sink his teeth into her.

His pelvis grinds against hers, his cock rocking within its confines, and his mouth captures hers. The kisses he gives are consuming, but gentle, his hand still surrounding her face before drifting down to rest upon the back of her neck and shoulder. "The love I feel for you is deeper than the kind any father should dare to feel for his daughter, Salome. I love you so much I could absolutely destroy you."

[sweetsalome]

There is a desire to consume and to be consumed. He tells her about his ache, about his want to wrap his hands around her, or to sink his teeth into her and she is not afraid. There is no fear or worry in her eyes or in her body when he tells her this. Even if she was absolutely certain that he was capable of such a thing she finds that she wouldn't want her life to end in any other way. Oh does she love him. In loving she aches for him, and in loving him she longs for him to end her ache and everything in her life that is not him.

A slow roll of hips, pressing and and pressing and then lifting as she sighs against him and she lets her hands move from either side of his head to his shoulders, over his chest and then back down, kissing him and sighing against his mouth. So deep and heavy, these words, so light and full these touches and caresses. There is a time for hard and frantic, but this, this deep and thorough is something she so badly wants right now. These whispered words between them, sacred and beautiful in a way she knows she will never have with anyone else.

"I want that," she tells him quietly, her fingers moving over his cheek, hips lifting easy and slow. "There is no way else on earth that I would rather go. In your arms, under your teeth, your hands. Just so long as I was with you, just so long as you never, ever let me go. That would be worse then anything else on the face of this planet. I need you so completely, more then air."

[soursanguine]

"My sweet girl." She says such sweet things, things that move even him. It's the kind of compliment he understands, wanting to depart in a specific person's arms. It's a deep thing, trusting someone to do you in, as deep as entrusting someone with your life. Why shouldn't she trust him with his death, he supposes? He brought her into this world, it's only appropriate that he should take her out someday.

But its suitability doesn't make it any less moving; quite the contrary, his heart swells with pride and love, and he rocks within her, tilting his head to plant tender kisses down her neck. His arms around her tighten while he murmurs against her throat. "No, baby, I'll never let you go, you should know that by now. There's nothing you could hope to do to get me to let you go. I don't care...if you're arrested. Or if you got knocked up, or ran off with some stupid boy. You will always, always be mine, I will always be here to hold you when you need it, to help you up and kiss your wounds. My Salome, oh, Salome." He sighs and lifts his head to stare deep into her eyes, beyond them, while his back and hips arch against her with lazy pleasure.

"You could kill a man and I'd help you clean up the body. I will never stop loving you." And in fact, such a thing would probably get him loving her more. "I will be a part of you forever, my darling girl, and you, a big chunk of myself."

[sweetsalome]

This is probably not the best time to do this, but she finds her eyes hot and wet with tears. Is she ever not crying on him? Because it seems like the things that he says, and the moments they are together, tend to be highly emotional, not to mention she is a teenage girl and is prone to acts of extreme emotional. His swelling tends to be on the inside (and on the outside) and her's always seem to be on the outside. It is impossible not to react in such a way. His arms around her, holding her tight, kissing her and whispering against her skin.

"Daddy," she attempts to wrap her arms around him as best as she can, eyes squeezing shut as she sniffles softly and hides her face against his neck, wet with tears that are escaping the confines of her eyes and leaking all over her cheeks and his neck. Because that's the fear, isn't it? To be let go, to be cast aside and forgotten about. To know that he won't let her go, that no matter what he will be there to comfort and to wrap around her in such a way to let her know that he still loves her, touches her deeply. She doesn't know what to say, how to respond, except against him in wet tears. It's been an emotional day and this, this is just icing on the cake.

She isn't sad, but just, deeply touched and moved by what he is telling her and that she completely and utterly believes it. "I love you," all broken and whispered wet. "I love you so much. I won't ever stop. I won't ever leave you, I swear."

[soursanguine]

Of course it's the best time to do that. Her tears are beautiful, and, he's come to notice recently, thoroughly sexy. It seems like lately every time she cries he wants to wrap her up in his arms and cuddle her while he fucks her senseless. There's nothing so beautiful as all that raw emotion, and no clearer way to see the effect he has upon her. It's beautiful, it drives him mad, and madder still when she squeaks his name and hides her face against his neck to cry like she has a thousand times before.

"Shsh, baby, it's okay, Daddy's here." His arms tighten around her, one hand resting upon the back of her head while his other arm cradles her back. "And he'll always be here. Always, always. Cry to your pretty heart's content, he'll never do anything but kiss those delicious tears from your eyes."

Unless she gives him a reason to leave her--a good reason, a damn good reason--he absolutely sees no reason to leave her. It would be silly. She's one of his most valuable possessions, there's no way he could bring himself to throw her away even if she did end up burning down their house. Her fragile little whispers only seem to hammer the point home, his fingers curling in her hair and his chin resting upon the top of her head, a wolf curling around its pup.

It's cute, she says it as if she has a say in the matter one way or another. "I know you won't, baby. You're mine forever." His lips purse and he kisses the crown of her skull, his hips rocking slow against hers. "You and I are bound to each other by love, and blood, and many other things besides, it seems. So never worry. I have little doubt that we'll both be there for one another whenever we really need to be."

[sweetsalome]

His consoling is the sweetest thing there is, and the comfort she finds from him fucking her through it is both satisfying and arousing. A few tears certainly isn't going to stop either one of them. She wants him even if her face gets wet and her eyes start leaking helplessly. His arms keep her close, and his hips remind her that he is still very much there for her and there is life outside of her tears which is easy to lose sight of.

She feels like she felt a million years ago when she was tiny and woke up from a nightmare and he was there to comfort and take her in his arms. It's a beautiful feeling to know that even after all those years have past that he will still wrap around her and comfort her, even though it's not fear that she is currently feeling. In moments like this, there is no way she could ever rise to hurt him or leave him. Too bad there is no way to bottle this feeling, to keep it on her at all times to take out when she is in need of reminding when he isn't there with her, or if he is there, he can't pull her on to his lap like this and reassure her.

Her fingers wrap around his shoulders and she sniffles a little bit, her hips picking up the slow pace that he is giving her, taking her mind off the tears and off the current overwhelming happiness and ache that he put in her that inspired those tears. He will always be there to kiss her hair, to whisper into her ear. "Forever," she agrees quietly before putting a soft, wet kiss on the heated skin of his throat. A few more kisses up the line of his throat to his ear, where she rests her forehead for a moment. "You're so good to me. I'll love you for ten thousand years."

[soursanguine]

As she whispers in his ear, Richard smiles softly, his hands drifting up and down the smooth skin of her back with lazy ease that comes in time with the rocking of their hips. "And I'll love you ten thousand more than that." The 'so there' is unspoken, and he turns his head to grin upon her before moving to kiss the saltwater tears that run so sweet down her cheeks. His tongue darts out across one, and he sighs, his fingertips ghosting across the curve of her shoulder blade.

Those tears are like nectar, so sweet, so beautiful. He pecks her cheek and nuzzles up against her wet flesh, humming against her with a low sigh of bliss. "I can't help but be good to you,you're my weakness, baby. My heel." And how. If she wasn't, Susan wouldn't have any power over him.

Sitting up, Richard keeps her pinned to his chest to let her rock in his lap while his hips arch and grind in time with hers. He tilts her head back to kiss her mouth and jaw, smiling as he does. "You're so beautiful when you cry, babydoll, you know that? I hate to see you cry as much as I love it."

[sweetsalome]

Salome is more then okay with that, he can love her ten thousand more, and she will love him ten thousand after his, they can leap frog off of one another until the sun grows cold. There is no losers in this situation. It makes her smile actually when he tries to one up her on length of love.

"I didn't mean to cry on you during sex," she whispers and finally pulls back to look up at him with a slight smile. Her hand moves back over his cheek and then down over his throat and neck, pushing away all the wet that she left there when she pressed close and cried on him like the little girl that she is. Of course he doesn't mind, he never minds anything when it comes to her. Well there are some things, but most of the time he takes her as she is and tells her that he loves her despite it all.

Her arms and legs wrap around him as he sits up on the bed, sighing deeply as she bounces on his lap, little thrusts to go along with the rocking and grinding of his hip into hers. "I think I am kind of messy when I cry," she looks up at him with a smile, her lips brushing over his after his tongue presses to her cheek. A deep breath in and she nuzzles his cheek in return, kissing his face over and over as she sighs out a groan against him. "I love you all over, I love you absolutely, no matter what."

[soursanguine]

"That makes it even better." His grin is as much as leer as it is a glowing smile, and he kisses her other cheek until it, too, is mostly free of fresh tears. His own throat is damp until she runs her hand over it to rid him of it. "You're welcome to cry on me any time, baby, I love it when you do." And how.

"Messy, maybe, but I think it's beautiful. All that pure, sweet emotion pouring out of you." It's nothing he could possibly comprehend on any real level, but oh, God, he can certainly admire it. Especially in moments like these, when his entire body seems to be contained in that one point within hers, when his hands can't possibly touch her skin enough.

"That's what I like to hear, baby." He grins, devilish, and nips the tip of her nose. "You better remember that, young lady." He squeezes her tight and presses his hand to her abdomen, his lips capturing hers. "I'd hate to have to remind you."

[sweetsalome]

Oh she kisses and kisses him, all over his mouth, her hands over his back and his shoulders as she continues to squirm in his lap. What a wicked position, so innocent and vile all at the same time. Any little girl could sit in her father's lap and talk about what she is feeling or how her day went. But this. This is her impaling herself on him over and over in little tiny thrusts that work to grind more of herself down on top of him, that work to hit that spot inside of her that just completely throws her over the edge and makes her scream with pleasure.

So good. So very nice. Her hands all over him and his hands all over her, she can breathe up against his chest and sink her teeth into his collar, sucking on the bite of skin all while she grinds down on top of him. She wants to tear him apart, to grip and rip him till her fingers stop aching and all she can feel is the squish and crunch of him under her nails and between her fingers.

"You won't have to ever remind me, I'm yours."

[soursanguine]

Goddamn, reassuring her is a good thing. Not only does it do its job, but it nets him this as a reward--all those pretty tears, all these beautiful kisses. As her teeth press into his skin he groans; his fingers tangle up into her hair, stroking her scalp in encouragement. One arm around the small of her back, he leans forward and leans her back to give him access to her neck and shoulders. He plants a few boiling open-mouthed kisses upon her clavicle, his tongue darting out against her skin while he works his way down to her breast.

Like father, like daughter. He could tear her limb from limb in moments like these, as a reaction to the beautiful, suffocating intimacy between the two of them. He lifts his head to grin at her promise, tongue ghosting against her lips while the hand around her back finds a place to play between her legs and double her pleasure. "No? Even if I'm the wickedest, cruelest man who ever lived, you'll still be mine?"

[sweetsalome]

"It depends if you were being wicked and cruel to me or to someone else." Because Salome is nothing if not pragmatic in these types of situations. A stretch out over the bed and she offers herself up to him, her throat, her breasts, all of it in a deep sigh. So, so good, he feels like heaven on top of her. She likes to feel the weight of him when they are together like this. It's a reassuring feeling a sign to know that he is very much still there, especially when his fingers find their way in between her legs and she cries out, her back arching and a shudder running down the length of her spine.

"I'll still be yours, I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky." Her hands through his hair and her head ducking to capture his mouth in a brutally hard kiss. That's when she tries to wiggle away from him, and turn over. The weight of him on top of her reminds her how good it feels when he is taking her from behind. She wants him to push her down into the mattress with the power of those hips.

[soursanguine]

"To someone else, of course, princess." He grins, one hand fitting to the throat he runs his mouth over as if in absolute worship. "How could I ever be cruel to you, my darling girl? What blasphemy that would be." Unless she deserved it, but he finds that unlikely. Probably. Hopefully.

As she wiggles away from him, he very nearly growls; then, though, she turns over and lifts that beautiful little backside into the air, and he reels forward to reclaim what's his. He plants a trail of kisses up her thighs and over her ass and the small of her back, one hand gripping her shoulder while the other hand slides him home again. He groans sharply, his hand tightening around her while his hips slide against hers, the animalistic position one that always seems to do something to his brain. In an instant, the gentle rocking from before has been replaced by the merciless pound of his hips into hers, one hand bracing her pelvis to keep it still while the other pushes her upper half down into the bed. The silk confines are so tight he can barely stand it, his entire body screaming for her while the mattress sings along.

"Oh, Christ, babydoll, such a good little girl." A groan pours from his chest over the sound of wet flesh hitting wet flesh. "You feel so perfect around daddy's cock, Salome, you can't imagine."