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A Better Sister	By : Flagg1991 Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 8387 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House, it belongs to Nickelodeon. This was written for fun and not profit.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
You belong here and we’re so glad you are here.

Lying in bed, his hands laced across his chest, Lincoln Loud stared at the ceiling and played those words through his head again and again. He knew, of course, that his sisters loved him. They didn’t always hit him over the head with it, but it was there. It was natural and it was beautiful. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he just didn’t fit in. Her was like a deformed puzzle piece that should fit, but did not. The pain wasn’t as sharp now as it had been earlier...Lori’s words had reassured him...but it was still there, stowed deep in a dark chamber of his soul, a nagging devil on his shoulder who rarely ever spoke, but always watched, and Lincoln was always aware of being watched.

Lori said he stood out because he was the only boy. Certainly that was the root of his anxiety. He was different. He wasn’t one of the girls. He was an island unto himself, even if he didn’t want to be. He was an island that was loved, though, and for now, that was enough. This was his home. This was where he belonged.

He flashed back to Lori’s room, how warm and safe he felt in her arms; nestled against her chest, everything else fell away until the world consisted of only him and her. He could feel the love, and that made him smile now. He remembered her sweet smell and the feeling of her bare leg under his hand. His smile fell and he shoved that thought to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to think that way about her. It wasn’t right. It was a betrayal. He might as well walk into her room and spit in her face. Instead, he thought of her thinking she was a failure as a big sister. That she believed that made Lincoln’s heart ache. She wasn’t. Sure, she could be kind of mean and bossy, but that’s how a big sister’s supposed to be, especially the biggest out of ten. What made her think she was a failure?

Well...what made him think he was an alien?

The human mind is a funny thing, and even when you know there’s a problem, you can’t just snap out of it. He wished he could. He wished Lori could too. He wished she would realize what a great sister she was and that he would realize how much his sisters loved him.

He should really come up with a way to show Lori how much she meant to him. Hmmm. What could he do?

An idea started to form at the back of his mind.

In her room, Lori stretched out on her bed and put her arms behind her head. Leni was already asleep, draped across the bed in her street clothes. Her dress and all of her materials were still on the bed when she passed out, but Lori carefully moved them to Leni’s vanity. Lori remembered when they were young, how Leni would fall asleep anywhere. They’d be in the car on the way home from a movie or a restaurant, and Lori would look over to see her sister with her chin lolling against her chest. She smiled at the memory. It really wasn’t even that long ago. Ten, twelve years? Looking back, it felt more like twenty years.

A fast twenty years.

Since this morning, she had been conscious of time slipping through her fingers. There was a time (and again, not that long ago) where an afternoon stretched into forever. An hour lasted all day, six hours might as well have been the far future, populated by robots and flying cars. Now, she looked back and realized that the entire day passed her by before she even knew what was happening.

She sighed and thought of Lincoln, her only brother, in his own room and probably still feeling like he didn’t quite belong here, like he was watching from the sidelines as she and her sisters lived their lives. She didn’t understand why he felt that way, even as the only boy, but she didn’t really understand why she felt the way she felt either, so there was that. Maybe it was the sheer number of sisters. Maybe if there were only four or six he’d be fine, but with ten...with ten what? He felt outnumbered? He felt like a ghost? An intruder?

Lori’s heart panged with sorrow as she imagined how he must feel. How long? How long had this been going on? Weeks? Months? Years? Is there something she could have done differently? Should she have spent more time with him? Should she have gone out of her way to make him feel more included?

She should have. If the first woman in a boy’s life is his mother, the second is his oldest sister. She bears an implicit responsibility to him, just as he bears an implicit responsibility to her. Lincoln bore his responsibility without complaint. Lori? She failed. She failed everyone, but she especially failed Lincoln, the second man in her life behind her father. God, she was a fuck up.

A horrible thought occurred to her. Do any of her sisters feel the same? Lincoln...he felt like an outsider. Could one of her sisters feel...like a faceless cog-in-the-machine?

Since they were all younger than her, she bore them as much responsibility as she did Lincoln.

I’m a mess.

She thought of her brother alone in his room, feeling unloved, unwanted, as though he were an outsider among his own family, and her heart cracked. She remembered the anguish in his eyes when he looked at her, the way his body shook has he cried. What was she doing? He needed her.

She got up.

And went to her brother.

Lincoln sighed and rolled over. He’d been trying to fall asleep for an hour now, but every time he cast his mind adrift, it conjured images that kept him from dropping off, images of Ronnie Anne and Mrs. Johnson and images of Lori and Luan (where are they doing in here?). The latter two bothered him the most. He saw himself kissing Lori, and it excited him, not just physically, but spiritually as well, something that didn’t happen when he thought of kissing other girls. The same thing with Luan. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself kissing them hungrily, desperately, pressing himself, every square inch, against them as if trying to absorb them, or as if trying to allow them to absorb him. What if...? he lost his train of thought as the door creaked slowly open. Heart in throat, he turned as a dark figure slipped into the room, softly closing the door behind it. It came to him and knelt on the bed, the mattress sinking with its weight. Lincoln turned his head, his eyes wide, and saw Lori, her face framed by her golden hair. He blinked. Was he dreaming?

A strange expression crossed her face, and she pursed her lips. “Linc...you look so sad.”

Lincoln blinked again. Did he? He didn’t know.

She pulled back the blanket and got under it with him, her bare leg brushing his and sending a shiver up his spine. He swallowed hard. She settled on her side and looked at him. “Are you alright?” she asked.

His heart was racing. In his briefs, his penis twitched, and he bared his teeth, willing it to stay down. “I’m fine,” he croaked. He forced a weak smile, and rolled onto his own side so that he and Lori were face-to-face, only a matter of inches separating them. The warm smell of her hair caressed his nostrils, and her warm breath tickled his neck. In a spill of moonlight falling through the window, her face was soft and troubled, her brow knitted.

“I...I wanted to see how you were,” she said, then reached out and touched his face. He jerked and involuntarily recoiled.

“Lincoln,” she said, “what’s wrong?” There was a pleading in her eyes

She stroked his cheek, and his breathing became ragged. He imagined touching her, running his hands slowly up and down her silken legs, taking in every curve and contour. He was hard now, and he hated himself. She came to comfort him and he popped a boner. What a piece of scum. He deserved to be an outsider. He deserved to feel out of place...

“Open up to me, Linc,” she said, “I’m here for you.”

Lincoln swallowed again and opened his mouth, but closed it again. He couldn’t tell her. She’d hate him and never want anything to do with him ever again, and while she would be right to do so, he didn’t think he could handle that.

“Please?”

There was so much hurt and desperation in that single word that his resolve to remain silent crumbled. “I-I’ve been having strange thoughts about you,” he said. “And Luan, and Lynn.”

Lori’s brow furrowed. “Like...sex thoughts?”

Shame and self-loathing washed through Lincoln. He opened his mouth to speak, but he knew that if he did he would cry, and he didn’t want to cry in front of Lori. Again. He nodded.

“Lincoln,” he said, “that’s normal.”

“It doesn’t feel normal,” he said, “I feel like a pervert and a piece of shit and like you’ll hate me and I’ll deserve it.”

Lori’s face scrunched slightly, her heart breaking. “I could never hate you,” she said.

“Yes you could.”

There was such misery in his eyes. She couldn’t stand it. Seeing this beautiful, charming, considerate, thoughtful boy in such torment would literally kill her.

She touched his face. Their eyes locked. She leaned in and took his bottom lip between hers. His eyes widened and his body went rigid. She pulled back, looked down into his eyes, and said, “I love you, Lincoln.” She leaned in again, tilting her head, the tips of their noses brushing. She touched his lips with hers, and they opened to admit her tongue, allowing her to explore his mouth. Electricity crackled, and Lori’s heart went pitter-patter against her breast.

For a shocked moment, Lincoln simply lay there, then, coming awake, he kissed her back, one of his hands going to her cheek, into her hair, strands slipping through his fingers. She shivered and giggled into his mouth, goosebumps racing up and down her arms.

When the kiss broke, she tossed her hair out of her face and smiled down at him, her breath as short as his. The look of astonishment on his face was adorable.

“Did you like that?” she asked, already knowing from the crazy beating of his heart that he did.

He nodded.

She took his hand in hers and pressed it to her breast. “Do you feel that?”

He nodded again.

“I liked it too.”

She shifted onto him, planting a knee on either side. His erection rubbed against the crotch of her shorts, and a lightnining bolt of sensation struck her mind. She bent down and kissed the tip of his nose, then his forehead, then the corner of his eye. She moved down (the tip of his shaft grazing slowly, maddeningly, down her soft center) and kissed his cheek, his neck, his skin salty with sweat. He was panting heavily now. She smiled, sat up, and stripped out of her shirt, tossing it aside. His eyes got even wider as they crawled across the swell of her breasts. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her chest, their warmth spreading across her and igniting a fire in her stomach. She threw her head back and moved her hips against him.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“Yes,” he panted.

“What do you want to do next?” she asked, looking down at him.

He chewed his lip, a look of uncertainy in his eyes.

“Whatever you want, Lincoln,” she said.

“I-I want to touch your body.”

Grinning, she rolled off and lay next to him. He rolled onto his side and drank in the sight of her naked chest, her flat stomach, the soft V pointing to her most secret place, the place she intended to share with him.

He hesitated, and she smiled. “Touch me.”

Nodding, he laid one trembling hand on her stomach, which quivered under his touch. He left it there for a moment, then slowly slid it north, leaving a trail of burning desire in its wake. He cupped one of her breasts, and she sighed.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked worriedly.

She shook her head. “No. You made me feel good.”

Nodding, he trailed his hand back down her stomach, and Lori shuddered, the spot between her legs, the spot never before touched by another, getting hotter, leaking in anticipation. When he reached the band of her shorts, he stopped, and Lori could sense his hesitation.

“Take them off,” she said.

He hooked his fingers into them, scratching her soft flesh as he did (God, I’m so close). He pulled them down her legs slowly, and she bit her bottom lip as the fabric grazed her fevered flesh. He pulled them around her ankles, and she was nude, her body bared before her brother, the cool air flowing over her, tantalizing her like phantom fingers. She rubbed her legs together and let out a soft, whispery moan.

Opening her eyes, she looked down at her brother. He was on his knees, staring down at her passage, wonder in his eyes. She smiled and opened her legs, giving him a better view. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

He shifted, and she felt his hands on her inner thighs. I’m so hot down there I might burn his hand.

He traced the lines between her legs and her public mound, and she hissed over clenched teeth. He cupped her in his hand, and the warm pressure made her eyes roll into the back of her head. She grabbed a handful of the sheet and dug her heels into the bed.

“Lori?” he asked tentatively.

“Hmmm?”

“Can...can I...?”

“Please.”

He shifted, and in a moment, his arms were splayed on either side of her, the throbbing tip of his member pressed faint inches from her opening. She reached down, took him in her hand (so warm, so hard) and positioned him. Then she let go and nodded.

He entered her slowly, his breathing fast and shallow. He probably wouldn’t last long, but that was okay; neither would she. He scraped against her inner walls, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. He either thrust or fell the last bit, and she winced as her hymen popped. It was pain, but of the sweetest kind.

Slowly, he pulled back and then thrust again, spearing her core. She jumped, and moaned. She could already feel the pressure rising, ready to boil over at the slightest breath of movement. She was rushing up, up, up, nearing the mountaintop, and in her foggy mind, she knew it would be a long, long way down.

Lincoln was panting hard, his body quaking against hers. He thrust one more time, and Lori reached the summit, her body spasming and hot fire radiating out from her core, enveloping her entire being. Her walls clamped down on Lincoln, and in the moment before he finished, he had a revelation: In this moment, he was as close to Lori as anyone could ever be.

Afterwards, Lincoln fell asleep in Lori’s arms. They talked for a while, their voices sleepy. “How do you feel?” she’d asked him, her hand resting on his chest.

He looked at her, his brow furrowed as he tried to find the words. He thought back to the fantasies he’d had of his sisters. He knew now that he had them not because he was attracted to them, but because he desperately wanted to be close with them, and when he was with Lori just now, they were one: One breath, one whisper, one heartbeat...one flesh. It was something deeper than sex. It transcended sex. Sex itself didn’t matter. What mattered was the joining together of souls. He felt closer to Lori than he had to anyone ever. He knew her in the sweetest and most intimate way possible.

He tried to articulate these thoughts, but fumbled.

“I know what you mean,” she said.

Now, toward dawn, Lori slipped out of his bed and returned to her own room. Alone under the covers, she stared at the ceiling, her being in turmoil. She thought of Lincoln’s beatific smile as he slept in her arms, and her heart swelled, but it also broke. He was so young, so innocent, and she destroyed that.

She thought of what he said about feeling closer to her. What if this is what he needed to not feel like some kind of alien? A deep, profound connection? A becoming of one?

An idea came to her then.

The only problem: Would the others go along with it?
- 4
- 5
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A Better Sister