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Rick wishes he had the decency to feel guilty. To push Carl off, to feel ashamed, maybe — as it is, he's too in awe of how easily she can bring him pleasure, how beautiful she is, how warm she feels, to do much more than take in a sharp breath.
"Like this," Rick whispers, hands wide as they circle his daughter's hips. He watches as her grip on the arms of his chair tightens for a split second before Carl realizes he's only correcting her movements, slowing them down, making it so she brings him closer with every grind of her hips.
Rick sighs, grip going slack as Carl works her ass over his cock, fingers simply resting over her skin. He throws his head back, reclines onto the chair, sucks in another breath when his movement makes Carl's stutter. "Just like this, honey," he whispers, not missing how the words make her tremble.
He brings one hand up to slide over her back, under the girl's soft, thin shirt, tugs the fabric back down once it's left rumpled by his fingers.
This is a wife's job. It should be Lori here, checking on him, making sure he's headed to bed with her and then finding a way to make him relax, get him to unwind after a hard day of work — instead, it's his fifteen-year-old daughter slipping onto his lap, getting him harder than Lori's ever made him, harder than he's been since before she was born.
He's trying to keep quiet, swallowing his groans, worried about waking Judith up, about what goddamn excuse he's gonna come up with once his wife finds him moaning with their daughter on top of him, but then Carl makes the tiniest of noises, rubs herself over him just right and every single one of his worries is long forgotten. It's not fair, Rick thinks, that Carl is better at this than her mother ever was.
His fingers are barely working but Rick manages to push Carl's sweaty hair back, over one shoulder, makes enough room to glue his chest to her back and press her against him, burying his face in the soft, sweet skin of her neck. One of the straps of her top has fallen, slid down the girl's shoulder. Rick kisses her once and then twice; down Carl's neck, over her shoulder, doesn't stop even as he feels her shake, drag of his stubble making his girl arch for more under his lips.
Rick stays there for what feels like an eternity — riding an eternal high, an eternal torture, cresting and falling over again, helpless against the tide of Carl's movements. He pulls back eventually, once his fingers have started to dig into his daughter's waist once more, once she's starting to whine and he's had his fill. He drops his forehead to her shoulder, nuzzles it slightly, still panting onto her back.
"You know I love you, right, baby?"
"Yeah, dad." comes the girl's automatic answer, as sure as she always is. Rick hums, pleased, those demons that hiss and snarl at him at all times of the day about the sins the sharp pains that come with that extent of agonizing want for his own flesh and blood bring and gives Carl's shoulder another kiss — a wet, cheap reward. Rick knows, even if he tries to fool himself into thinking otherwise at times, even if he forgets about it once Carl has made his mind fuzzy and syrupy-slow all over again, that he will never be able to give his daughter just what she deserves.
He takes the time to fix her clothing, to slip that fallen strap back up his daughter's shoulder in care before he's resting back onto the chair, pushing her off his lap as gently as he can. Rick half-expects Carl to protest, but is happy when she doesn't — the girl only slips off of him before turning around in a rush of dark hair, bending over his chair once more.
Carl plants a kiss on the corner of his mouth, so close to his lips Rick can nearly taste her, the bubblegum of his daughter's youth intoxicating him for a second before she's gone, pulling back, leaving her father dazed and dumbfounded, spent dick twitching valiantly in his pants.
"Good night, dad," she says, soft.
It's too late once Rick finds it within himself to answer but Carl hears it, on the edge of the room, when an answering greeting comes from her father's tired, disheveled form.