Chapter Text
Simone always had trouble talking with the man who was so often away in her life and never really there when he wasn't, but the way the air around him seemed to vibrate now due to the psilocybin tea's effects made him all the less approachable. She blinked, unable to look away from where her father sat as she hid in the dark hallway. The moment extended and sagged like a long rope of taffy, the darkness swaying at the edges of her vision, pushing her to seek the comfort of a mind more solid than her own. As she watched his steady hands work at manipulating some device, her hesitation to bother him curdled into fear.
On the verge of turning back to find her mother, she heard him softly say, "Come here, Simone."
She swallowed thickly, her already reactive heart rate ticking up as she crossed the threshold into the bright little room, bare feet sinking into old musty carpeting. His focus stayed on the toy in his hands as the mattress groaned under her when she sat next to him. Sweat gathered at the nape of her neck, nervous at having been invited into whatever was going on with her father. She regretted not being sober for the rare chance to glimpse at what was on his mind.
"This was my room... growing up," he told her, his carefully concealed Norwegian accent revealed in the forcefully precise diction of his deep voice, still not looking at her as he fidgeted with the toy. It looked like a plastic robot, but there was something in the way he spoke that kept her from asking any questions or making small talk. Always something left unsaid, always something that kept her waiting, like a song cut short of finishing its melody.
His gray eyes flitted from her face, to her chest, to her folded hands in her lap, and then back into the distance of his thoughts before he said, "You can sleep in this room while we're here. I'm not sure when we're going to be through sorting all this out; there’s much to be done beyond the funeral. Your mother will be returning to the city tomorrow if you'd like to go with her, but I would like your help. It’s your choice, Simone."
Simone's mouth hung open as she was stunned by the request -- a request, not a command or admonishment for once -- before she scrambled to interpret it. She cleared her throat to borrow a moment before replying, "Yeah, uh, I can stay here, I don't mind. Papa."
He turned to her, his steel eyes softened by a smile she couldn’t help but return, a blush warming her cheeks at this unexpected attention from the man. She was delighted that he wanted her around, actually asked for her to help him in something, and she entertained the hope that maybe there would be more moments like this if she stayed. She was snatched from her reverie when the warmth of his hand spread over her knee, the shock of the unexpected touch distracting her from the larger shock of his other hand tilting her chin up toward him. She had only a second to close her slackened mouth before his lips locked over her own, a small noise of surprise choked into the back of her throat. Her heart skipped in its rapid pace as she accepted this strange affection from her father.
Despite her father's aversion to interacting at all intimately with her through her life, he had taken a vigor in doling out a very forceful and awkward physical affection to her in her teen years, no doubt due to her mother's insistence that Simone receive her father's love so she refrained from finding male affection elsewhere. Simone knew that backward reasoning for a fact whenever her mother blamed her father's emotional distance for their daughter’s shortcomings. So, he deigned to bestow a kiss upon her once every day, but he seemed to be unable to perform this task in a conventional way.
His mouth was always too soft against hers, his lips sliding slowly to latch them together rather than the very simple brief surface contact that a familial peck should be. The suck and then drag of his lips onto hers as he would pull away indicated more of a seeking for sensation than a simple gesture, lingering for just a half second too long, pulling away just a bit too slowly. She had always felt awkward and sorry that he tried and failed to fill a role he couldn't; he was just a man who didn't know how to be a dad, he could only kiss her the way he knew how.
As she felt his mouth move against hers now with the drug in her system causing time to extend every second and amplify every sensation, she tried to ignore the response stirring in her body. Then, he tilted his head to better fit their lips together and the hand on her knee opened wider, fingers fanning out over her thigh in a caress. The surprised whimper caught in her throat gave her father a brief pause before he pressed closer. In her mind, she had to cling to the idea that the drug was stretching this moment out inexorably, that he hadn't been kissing her for this long in reality, his lips flexing over hers in a slide of motion that derailed her thoughts into a scrambling mess and curled her toes. The wet center of his mouth opened just slightly, pushing her plush lips apart and igniting a lush spill of heat in her abdomen as she tasted a hint of his saliva. Scotch, the cigarettes he was supposed to quit months ago, the cashews he ate instead of going out to dinner with his wife, and the heat of this forbidden contact tingled at the tip of her tongue.
Something in that taste was teasingly out of reach, something so familiar and forgotten, begging to be pursued. Before she could stop herself, she shut her eyes and leaned into his kiss, her hand latched on top of his hold at her thigh. Revulsion at her own impulse seared shame onto her frenzied mind, but he was already kneading the soft flesh under the hem of her skirt and she moaned into him, the rush of thought hazed out by euphoria. She felt more than heard the rough moan rumble from deep in his throat, a sound so thoroughly masculine that a primal fear mounted over her thrill and beckoned her to pull back. His moan ended in a growl at this, his fingers curling into claws at her thigh and parting her lips against his as she gasped at the pain. He charged forward into her parted mouth with his own, his tongue intruding against hers and crowding into her small mouth. Her racing thoughts returned all at once at the glide of that wet muscle sliding against hers. Panic shot through her at the realization of what was happening, a panic furthered by the acknowledgment of what had in fact been happening this entire time in her drug haze. Her eyes snapped open in disbelief, but his eyes were closed and expression blissfully unbothered by the sin they were committing. Her fear and confusion of what he was doing crashed against her fear and confusion of the desire it stoked.
His fingers slid up, thumb digging into the cleft between her thigh and crotch, touching her wetness from over the cotton barrier of her panties as his kiss deepened. His other hand was quick to grab the back of her neck when she tried to jerk away. Caught between the animal distress of being trapped and the security she found within the strength of that same hold, she couldn't move. Her protesting grunts were muffled by his mouth still locked over hers as he pushed her slowly backward, swinging his leg over her until he was straddling her hips to lock her beneath him. When her back hit the mattress and his weight pinned her in place, she looked up at him to find him watching her with such a gentle expression. With her lips tingling from his forceful kiss, her skin electrified with a low current that hummed through her whole body and spiraled tightly in her pelvis, she was not quite able to tell herself it was just the drug. Her fear, confusion, and shame were at odds with the pleasure and heat coursing through her and the conflict must have shown in her expression when he shushed her.
"Sshh, shh, let papa take care of his darling girl," he cooed in a husky whisper more heavily accented than she's ever heard from him, hunching over her with one hand planted on the mattress next to her head and the other stroking her cheek soothingly.
"Papa..." she whimpered thinly, the word escaping her as a tiny plea but then the full meaning behind it slammed a harsh clarity onto her muddled state.
No matter how abstract his distance had made his role in her mind or how twisted her starvation for his affection and approval had become, he was her father and she couldn't let this moment of confusion risk tarnishing their roles forever. She tried to scramble out from under him but his weight on her legs prevented her from budging out even an inch. The hand that had been caressing her cheek slid down to wrap around her neck. The presence of his hand on her throat was enough to freeze her struggle, the threat clear and shocking as she looked back up at his face, closer now than it had been.
"My sweet Simone," he whispered, his other hand disappearing between them and fumbling with something briefly before the sound of a zipper alerted her. She couldn't look away from his face, but the gentleness in his eyes belied the sharp-toothed grin that spread across his face as his hand slipped under her dress. "I've waited so long for you to come to me..."
His hand traveled up, dragging her dress with it until he slipped under her bra. His hips tilted and she felt something smooth and hot slide over her bared thigh. She gasped as her father's calloused hand kneaded her breast and his hips rubbed what she knew must be his penis against her thigh, her body now shaking from the sustained adrenaline. Her own father's cock dragged thick and heavy, his hips canting with an insistence that would not be denied by any sense of wrongness. She had not been held close to her father for such a length of time, never had felt this intensely loved by him before, and she was finding this affection as intoxicating and persuasive as the mushrooms that still sizzled in her blood. This was not the affection she had craved from him, but being held and stroked even in this manner soothed the ache from so many years of its absence. He was so close to her and his breath was hot with scotch against her temple, so she shut her eyes and let herself moan.
"God, Simone!" he gasped, his hands moving quickly to wrench the dress and bra off her body.
She barely had time to recover from that jostling before her panties were catching at her ankle in his haste to get them off. Dizzy, she watched wide-eyed as he knelt over her, his arousal visible for the first time to her. She had to force herself not to stare at the terrifying size of him. Such polite impulses missed him entirely as he blatantly took in every piece of her newly exposed flesh, the cruel grin gone and she caught the glint of something feral in his eyes. A fresh wave of fear chilled her from the back of her skull and she moved to cover her breasts, but he grabbed her wrists and pushed them away from her body.
She was abruptly aware of how quiet and bleak it was in that unfamiliar room, how even the light overhead only seemed to darken the shadows. He was outlined entirely in darkness above her, a silhouette that could have been any man, but she was deeply ashamed that she couldn't imagine it to be anyone but her father. She tried to swallow past the knot of shame in her throat as he nudged her legs apart.
"Oh, darling girl..." he breathed with an adoration that made her heart ache. Her face burned, unable to look at him as he bent closer to her, his hands holding her knees wide apart. "My sweet, darling Simone..."
She saw out of the corner of her eye that he had begun disrobing. The air moved cold on her molten cunt, but she waited on her back with her legs spread as wide as he had left her, her heartbeat loud in her own ears to fill the terrible silence between sounds of shuffling cloth. Knowing that he wanted her, no matter the horrifying context, closed any options to make this stop. She shut her eyes and savored his praise.
She yelped in surprise when she felt a warm wetness press against her vagina, the yelp followed immediately by a shaking moan as his tongue curled around her clit. She angled her hips up, offering him more to lick and he obliged eagerly, his tongue dipping inside and dragging back up to her clit in slow rotations. She was barely aware of anything outside of how he, her own father, had his face buried between her legs and made her see sparks. Her hands were running through his silvered hair, tightening their hold when she felt him pump two thick fingers into her vagina. She couldn’t think — couldn’t bring herself to think, not when she knew what horror and regret waited to be found behind this pleasure. She would be good. She needed him to see how good she could be.
"Papa... oh, fuck, Papa..." she heard herself panting, the high voice almost unrecognizable to her own ears.
He curled his fingers inside her to rub against the front of her cunt, the friction sparking pure ecstasy along her nerves that was too much, too fast. She tried to push his head away, her leg kicking out in an uncoordinated attempt to scramble backward, heel skidding on the bedding, but his grip on her hip was strong enough to bruise. He sucked at her clit, his tongue stroking quickly and his fingers rubbing hard and tight at that spot inside as she came. Her moans rose in a gasping crescendo, higher and higher in pitch as she clenched around his fingers. She panted as she came down, her skin glowing in a thin sheen of sweat, and she looked down through half-lidded eyes at the man responsible. He gazed up at her with an expression that made her chest hurt with the love she found there, that glint of madness gone and his eyes now warm with adoration.
"Papa..." she whispered, voice wavering on the edge of weeping. It was too late to stop, too late to do anything but go further into this strange, sweet sin. She reached down, grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up her body, unable to stop her babbling, "Please, just... I need you, Papa... I need you so much, I can't stand it, just please…”
She stopped only when she latched her mouth onto his, tasting herself on him and moaning into a desperate kiss. His hands roamed over her body as she savored the scrape of his stubble and the solidness of his body curled between her legs. She began grinding against him, sliding his length between her slick labia, moaning into his mouth in both frustration and pleasure. His hips jerked in response to her efforts, the fat head of his cock squeezing into her before slipping back out and up against her clit, making her break her feverish kiss in a loud gasp.
"Please, Papa, please, please, please," she begged, each plead accentuated with a grind against that teasing hardness.
He growled out a low groan and tilted his hips, the tip twitching against her opening as he grabbed her neck once more to stop her from sliding down onto it. She was hardly aware of the fear, shame and despair that screamed from some distant space in her mind, but she heeded the threat of that large hand at her throat. He stared into her eyes, not letting her look away even if she tried as he slowly pushed himself inside. Inch by inch, he pressed into her, the painful stretch forcing small sounds of discomfort from her among the gasping pleasure of it.
"I love you," she heard herself whisper, voice cracking and foreign to her.
She flinched and sucked in a sharp gasp when he was finally fully inside, the tears that had been threatening now spilling in hot trails down her face. A sob wracked her frame, followed by another as he began to move.
"Oh Christ, you feel so fucking good, darling girl," he growled, his cheek nuzzling the wet path of her tears.
Bewilderment stirred a fuzzy awareness in her at her crying, but when she looked to him, her vision was too blurred with tears to see any hint from him as to how she should react. The steady, slow rocking of his thrusts told her enough to make her bite her lip and keep her weeping quiet.
"Harder," she whispered, her voice ragged and close to his ear. “Make me ache... please, Papa.”
At first, she wasn't sure if he had heard her, but then his nails dug into the pliant flesh of her hips and he started pushing into her forcefully. She cried out with each punishing thrust, his already too-large size now feeling as though he was bruising her inside, but she met each thrust eagerly. She wasn't sure why, but she needed him to make this a punishment. She needed to be good for him, needed him to make her good. He scratched at her hips, dragging swollen pink lines that spotted with blood, and she hoped some of them went deep enough for a lasting scar. The thought of looking in the mirror later and admiring them as proof of his affection made her smile through the pain.
His mouth was at her neck when he began groaning out something in his native tongue, his rich baritone rough and dark. Her arms, not long enough to fully wrap around the powerful shoulders above her, pulled him more closely down onto her torso so she could feel his words vibrating through his chest. The voice that had so long enchanted her throughout her entire life was bewitching her into yet higher arousal now as the foreign words curled enticingly against her sensitive neck. His strange, beautiful words were peppered with her name, no hint of the American pronunciation, and it stuck out in her mind that she had always felt like a slightly different person when he addressed her, this woman he calls See-mohn.
His thrusts became more quick and short, almost as though he didn't want to leave her before he was driving back into her, staying deep and smashing against her limit with each ram of his hips. This consistent closeness rocked his lower abdomen flush against her, rubbing her clit between them, this onslaught of sensation too much. Her whole body drew taught like a bowstring ready to release, clenching down hard on him as his hips stuttered with a telltale urgency. The twitch of him inside of her as he began to ejaculate, his deep voice groaning out his climax, sent her over the edge with him. Her head swam as she felt him swell and spill inside her with a heat that tingled on her bruised flesh, the wooziness crashing over her with an exhaustion that darkened her vision.
When she blinked away that darkness, he was laid out heavily on top of her, his arms wrapped around her in an almost crushing embrace as he panted into her neck. He was still buried inside her, slowly softening and slippery with both of their fluids, her cunt erratically contracting around him from aftershocks of her orgasm, her breath hitching and shuddering softly. Her mind was clouded, thoughts blessedly still distant and muted as they stayed holding each other in this moment suspended from time. Eventually, he slowly pulled away from her, looking down at her sweat-slicked body as he knelt on his heels between her legs. The bleak silence seeped through the warmth buzzing through her as he stared, his expression returning to his unreadable mask as she searched carefully for any reaction in him, anything at all to tell her if this was a mistake or... something else. She didn’t know what else this could have been. She didn’t know why she needed it to be anything else at all.
“I'm sorry,” he said, and then she watched him rise from the bed and walk out into the dark hallway, not even picking up his clothes as he left.
Simone’s head dropped back onto the mattress and she stared up at the yellowed ceiling in that small, silent room. Despite her scratched hips and bruised sex, despite the chill of the night air, despite the scream building in her mind, she felt only the emptiness of his absence.