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Better Sisters	By : Flagg1991 Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 7805 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House and I am not making any money from this story.

Chapter List
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Lincoln Loud twisted in his sheets, a troubled expression on his face. He thrashed his head back and forth, muttering. In his dream, he was alone in the house, stumbling through tilted and shadow filled corridors. There was something, he knew, in the darkness, some horrible creature with claws and teeth. He also knew that no matter where he went, the creature would be there, ready to reach out and grab him, sinking its long, jagged nails into the soft flesh of his arms as it lifted him to its gnashing maw.

He woke with a start, his eyes wide and his breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, he was disoriented, and his heart blasted against his ribcage, then, slowly, the room took shape around him, and he was safe in his own bed. There were no creatures in the darkness, only sisters (and parents).

Still panting, Lincoln sat up and rubbed his head. Moonlight fell through the window, painting the walls with an eerie silver glow. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was midnight. He’d been asleep for just over an hour. Usually the dream came later. When it did come. It wasn’t every night, only every other night, or every two nights. He couldn’t really say. The nights kind of blended together, because even when he didn’t dream, he came awake and lie in bed, a band of anxiety squeezing his chest in a vise-like grip.

Since what happened between him and Lori, the feeling of being an outsider had only increased. That was because compared to how close he felt with her, he felt even more isolated from the others. It disturbed him that it took sex with his sister to make him feel closer to her. What kind of pervert was he? Pervert or not, disgusted with himself or not, he thought about it every night before he fell asleep. He focused not on the way her body felt, or the way her eyes narrowed as she came, but on the sense of oneness, the connection, the way their spirits mingled together, and became, for a brief moment, totally and utterly one. All of the fantasies he’d had about his sisters, all of the times he ached to slip under the covers with them...they went back to that feeling of being a stranger in his own family, a man on the outside looking in. He didn’t want their bodies per se, he wanted to be one with them, he needed it, he yearned for it. If he could turn into smoke and let his sisters absorb him, he would, he would dwell within them, his heart, his soul, melding with theirs.

I have issues, he thought, and uttered a harsh laugh. Yeah, wow, when you laid it all out like that, he wasn’t right. What he needed to do was suck it up and accept the fact that he was a part of this family, he was loved, and that this bullshit about being one with his sisters was just an excuse for him to have dirty thoughts about him. Only it wasn’t, and he knew it. He felt empty. He should try to get some sleep.

He snuggled under the blankets and closed his eyes. In the darkness, he saw Lori’s face, framed by silken hair the color of warm summer wheat, her lips parted and her eyes lidded slits. He remembered the feeling of his fingers threaded through hers. He remembered the feeling of her heart beating in time with his. He smiled at the memory, and it followed him into the shadowy chambers of sleep. When he dreamed, it was of her.

They sat in a circle on the floor, five teenage girls trembling with apprehension. Before them lay an important mission, an undertaking that each secretly wanted. Luan’s spine tingled as she envisioned actually having sex with Lincoln. It was a sensation that was part excitement, and part fear. Her stomach trembled, her breathing was short. In her mind, sex was like death: The Unknown, a dim netherworld that she knew she would one day enter, but didn’t entirely look forward to. She looked forward to it a lot more than she did dying, but...what if Lincoln didn’t like her body? What if it hurt? What if she got so embarrassed by being naked in front of him that she chickened out?

Lynn was having similar thoughts. Sitting Indian style, her hands resting in her lap, she imagined taking off her clothes in front of Lincoln and standing before him bare, vulnerable. She shuddered. Would he like what he saw? Would he want her, or would he shy away? Would it be awkward?

Luna imagined going to her brother, taking him inside of her, and shivered, hating herself just a little.

Leni was placid, her eyes wide and bright. She hummed has she waited for Lori to speak, the sound low and musical. She was not troubled by self-doubt. In fact, it never even occurred to her to worry. She loved Lincoln with all her heart, soul, and mind. Why not love him with her body as well? Was she nervous? A little. Sex is not something one goes into (especially that first time) without anxiety. She couldn’t think of a better boy to share her first time with, though.

“Alright,” Lori said, lifting her hand. There were four coffee stirrers in her fist, each cut to a different length. One was blue, one was green, one was pink, and the final one was orange. There were only four because she’d already slept with him; they were already as close as two people can ever be in this world. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen again...

Leni drew first, taking the green one. Luna was next with orange. Luan got pink. Lynn took blue.

They each held their straws up.

“Lucky Luan,” Lori smiled playfully.

Luan gulped, that deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes again, her face a dark pink. Her heart beat so erratically that she could barely breath, and her stomach rolled. She felt like she was going to be sick.

“Aw, look at her blush,” Luna said.

“She’s so nervous she’ll probably puke on him,” Lynn added through a taunting grin.

“Shut up,” Luan said and covered her face with her hands.

Leni squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t be scared,” the older girl said, “you’re just going to be spending time with your brother.”

“Sexy time,” Luna said.

“Shut up!” Luan laughed.

“Well, Luan, you get first crack,” Lori said. “Do you...uh...want any pointers or anything?”

Luan didn’t reply. She did, but she was too embarrassed to ask.

Sensing this, Lori said, “Well...Lincoln loves you, and he’s a great guy, so if you don’t overthink it and let nature take its course, you’ll have fun.”

“What...what should I do? What should I say? What should I wear?”

“Clean underwear,” Lynn said. Luna laughed and raised her palm for a high five. Lynn smacked it. “But really...maybe no underwear?”

“Less to take off,” Luna said.

“He can just hike her skirt up...”

“Stop!” Luan laughed, taking her hands away from her face and trying to look menacing.

“When are you going to do it?” Lori asked.

“I don’t know,” Luan replied. Part of her wanted to put it off...but another, larger part wanted to go to him now.

“What about tomorrow?”

Luan swallowed. “Sure. Tomorrow.”

It was tomorrow. Saturday. Luan sat on her bed, her arms crossed over her chest. Her skin was flush, her heart was gently pounding, and butterfly wings tickled the inside of her stomach. She barely slept the night before, bouts of fitful sleep punctuated by long periods of lying awake and worrying. Today was the day she would lose her virginity...if Lincoln would have her.

She took her ponytail in her hand and worriedly wrung it.

A knock came at the door, startling her, and she looked up. “Yeah?”

It opened, and Lynn slipped in. “H-Hey,” she said.

“Hey.”

She came over and sat down. “I...I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m okay,” Luan said, a slight tremor in her voice. That was a lie: She felt like a pan of quaking jelly. She was sure that if she tried to stand, her knees would give out and she would fall.

“You look nervous,” Lynn said.

She shrugged. “A little.”

A lot.

But she was excited too. The spot between her legs simmered with the promise of being touched.

“You know,” Lynn said, “you just have to...you know...plunge right in. Like Lori said, don’t overthink it.”

Luan nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.” She sighed. “Where’s Lincoln?”

“He’s playing video games in his room.”

Their parents had taken the younger kids to Chuckie Cheese at Lori’s insistence so that she and Lincoln could be “alone.”

Luan took a deep breath. “Well...I guess I should go play with him.”

Lynn smiled. “There you go.”

Luan got up, her legs holding her, and went out into the hall. She looked back, and Lynn put her fists out in front of her and mimed humping. Luan laughed, shook her head, and went to Lincoln’s door, which stood open. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the bed, a controller in his hands. He stared up at the screen, his face scrunched in concentration. She traced the soft curve of his jaw with her eyes, the outline of his muscular arms. He was coming into his masculinity, and Luan felt lightheaded.

Alright. Be sexy. But be natural. Don’t just jump him. Build it up....and make it special.

She licked her dry lips. “Knock, knock.”

Lincoln whipped his head around like a man who’d just heard a gunshot. When he saw it was her, he relaxed. “Hey. Who’s there?”

“Oh,” Luan said, putting her index finger to her chin, “just your loving older sister who wants to hang with you.”

Lincoln’s brow furrowed. “Oh.” He looked at the screen and then back at her. “What do you want to do?”

Her stomach lurched. Be cool. Let nature take its course.

“Play a video game with you, silly,” she said. She came into the room and shut the door, subtly thumbing the push lock.

“Really?” he asked. “I thought you hated video games.”

“I changed my mind,” she said and got down onto her knees. “My beloved little brother likes them, so I do too.”

His brow furrowed. “O-okay.” He reached under the bed and brought out a second controller. He leaned over and plugged it into the console. Luan watched him, her heart racing faster. She could feel herself blushing. Did he notice?

“Here,” he said, handing her the controller.

“Thanks, Linc,” she said, taking it from him, making sure to brush her fingertips against the back of his hand. He looked at her strangely.

“Are you feeling okay? Your face looks like a cherry.”

She searched her mind for a cherry based quip, but couldn’t find one. Her mind was outracing her heart.

“I’m just hot is all,” she said, settling next to him, leaning back on her knees. “Like you.”

He raised an eyebrow. She was making this awkward. Stupid. She looked up at the screen. “So, what are we playing?”

“Steal that Car 3,” Lincoln said. On the screen, two animated men stood side-by-side in an alleyway. At the end was a busy city street.

“What’s it about?” Luan asked.

“Stealing cars,” Lincoln said.

“Oh. Should have seen that coming.”

“Yeah, what’d you expect?”

On the screen, Lincoln’s character started running, leaving Luan’s behind. She looked down at the controller, seeing only a confusion of buttons and knobs, and pressed a triangle. Her avatar threw a punch at midair. She hit a square, and it started running. At the end of the alley, Lincoln’s character turned around. “Watch this,” Lincoln said, and Luan did...as Lincoln’s guy whipped out an AK47 and blew her guy away, his body jerking and spinning.

“Lincoln!” she laughed, turning to him.

He was grinning ear-to-ear.

Her character appeared back on screen, right next to Lincoln’s, and pursing her lips, she pounded a circle button. Her guy kicked Lincoln’s in the chin, the latter flying into traffic, where a speeding car ran him over, killing him.

He gaped.

“Ha!” Luan said, turning smugly to her brother. “And that, Lincoln Loud, is how I get my kicks.”

“I know this game much better than you,” he said, “you’re going down.”

“You want me to?”

“Yeah,” he said, obviously missing the quip.

Onscreen, his produced a chainsaw and cut hers in half; his pulled out a knife and stabbed hers in the gut; his carjacked someone and chased her down the middle of the street. She laughed and screamed when the fender hit her character and he slipped under the tires, dying in the process. Lincoln was laughing too, a sweet sound that melted her nerves. She sidled closer to him, her bare knee touching his leg.

Lincoln tried to keep his eyes on the screen, but he was hyper aware of Luan next to him: Her warmth, her smell. He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye, admiring the soft curve of her chin, her slender throat, the gentle swell of her budding breasts. Her ponytail laid limply over her right shoulder, and Lincoln resisted the urge to take in his hand and stroke it.

He glanced back at the screen, his heart pounding and his penis starting to stir. Stay down, please. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his man was standing placidly on the sidewalk, engulfed in flames. He let out a startled cry. Luan’s was s in the street, a flamethrower in his hands. “No!” he screamed, tapping the run button. It was too late. He fell to his knees and flopped face down onto the pavement.

Luan laughed. “I always knew you were flaming, Lincoln.”

He respawned, and Luan shot him in the head with a pistol. Damn. She was picking it up quick. He allowed himself another furtive look. Her throat was so soft, so delicate. He wanted to kiss it.

Luan turned slightly, a grin playing at the corner of her lips. She knew he was looking at her...and she liked it! Lincoln swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. She looked at him full-on and smiled, her eyes big and shining. “I have an idea for a game,” she said, and was it Lincoln’s imagination, or was her tone suggestive?
“W-What?” he asked.

She turned, leaned over, and unplugged her controller from the console. Still smiling, she handed it to him and turned on her knees, putting her wrists together in the small of her back. “Tie my hands.”

Lincoln started. “W-What?”

“Tie my hands,” she said over her shoulder.

Lincoln swallowed again. His penis was slamming against the inside of his briefs, begging for release. He leaned forward and, with trembling hands, tied the cord around Luan’s wrists. She leaned back into him, her hair falling against Lincoln’s face. “We’re bound to have fun,” she purred.

When he was done, she turned and leaned back, a sexy smile on her face. Lincoln took a deep breath. Was this really happening?

“W-What’s this game called?” Lincoln asked.

“It’s called,” she said, leaning in closer, “do whatever you want to Luan.”

A thrill ran through his body. He let out a shallow, shuddery breath. He drank in the sight of the beautiful creature before him. Her ponytail falling down her shoulder, her teeth grazing her bottom lip, her eyes narrow, the hem of her skirt pooled around her knees. He tried to speak, but there was a lump in his throat. “Anything?” he finally managed.

She smiled and leaned even closer. Their faces were almost touching. “Any. Thing. You. Want.”

Her breath was hot against his face, her smell all around him. He trembled, too shaky to move, to even lean in and meet her lips.

She grinned, sensing his distress. Tilting her head, she leaned in, her lips touching his, their tongues meeting and dancing slowly. Lincoln’s hand fluttered to her cheek, and she trembled, a tiny laugh filling his mouth. She pulled back and looked at him. Her face was red. She was breathing heavy.

Lincoln got up on his knees, touched her face again, and gazed into her eyes, his heart crashing. He leaned in, and they kissed again, more urgently this time. They spilled onto the floor, Lincoln on top, his hands running up the sides of her head, her hair threading through his fingers. She trembled, her body fevered mush, putty in his hands. She kissed him deeply, the sweet taste of his mouth intoxicating, his boy-scent filling her nose and mind until she couldn’t think, could only feel, could speak, could only gasp. The slick, secret spot between her legs throbbed hotly. She dug her heels into the carpet, and Lincoln ran his hand up her outer thigh, under her shirt, to the band of her panties, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“God,” she moaned into Lincoln’s mouth. He pulled back, panted, and she shifted, the damp fabric of her underwear teasing a sigh from her lips. She swallowed. “I want you,” she said, and Lincoln smiled. His fingertips danced across her pubic mound, sending tendrils of delight into her quaking sex. He slipped his fingers in, and pulled slowly, a mischievous grin on his face. Slipping his other hand along the top of her other leg, he hooked his fingers in and yanked; the last barrier between her and her brother’s eyes, his fingers, slid down her legs and around her ankles, tickling her, teasing her, tormenting her.

Still grinning, Lincoln unzipped his pants and pulled them down. Luan strained to look, gasping when his rigid penis popped out, the tip already leaking. She marveled at its texture, its contours, how literally hot it looked, how it throbbed with each beat of his heart. She arched her back and squeezed her legs as close together as she could.

Planting his arms on either side of her, he bucked his hips, and his head slid up her dank valley, driving her wild with passion. If her hands weren’t tied, she’d grab him by his shirt and draw him into her.

“I can’t wait anymore,” she gasped.

He pulled back, and when it touched her passage, she went faint. “I love you, Luan,” he said.

“I love you,” she moaned.

He pushed into her gently, his head parting the folds of her flower, the feeling of it scraping against her walls both painful and pleasurable. With a jerk, he sank into her, and she jumped, her mind blanking out. He thrust again; leaning heavily on his left arm, he rested his right hand on her breast. The feeling of her heart slamming against it made him dizzy, and he fell a little before catching himself, pushing deeper into his sister. They were one.

With every thrust, Luan lifted her hips, her eyes squinted first in pain, then in ecstasy. She could feel her orgasm rushing up to meet her the way hot pavement might rush to meet a jumper. She was jumping alright, jumping into a canyon of endless pleasure, endless passion. Lincoln grunted, and she felt him grow inside of her. A second later, warmth flooded her, and she smacked the pavement, her body shaking and a scream building in her throat. She bit her lip, and it came out as a long, throaty sigh.

For a while she floated on tides of bliss. When she came back, Lincoln was on his side next to her, holding her tight, his hand under her shirt, under her bra, cupping her shaking breast. She turned to him, and their eyes met. Under his hand, her heartbeat quickened. She could feel his seed drying on her inner thighs.

“I’d make a joke but my mind isn’t working right,” she said, and giggled. She leaned in, and he licked her lips. She sighed and laughed. “How was that for a game?”

He smiled beautifully. “I’d play again,” he said.

“Good,” she nodded.

She very much wanted to play this game again sometime.
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Better Sisters