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Deviant Desires	By : Flagg1991 Category: +G through L > The Loud House Views: 8519 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Loud House and will not profit from this story

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
The overfull beach bag started to slip down Luna's arm, and she pulled it back over her shoulder with an exasperated sigh. Sam stood ahead of her, dressed in sandals and a flowing white tank top that covered her pink bikini, and Lincoln brought up the rear. Luna could not see him, but she could feel his presence, warm, close, and comforting, and her stomach pitched like the deck of a ship on stormy seas. They had been waiting in line outside the concrete outbuilding separating the parking lot from Coates Memorial Pool for nearly ten minutes, and every time she heard the rustle of Lincoln shifting his weight from one foot to the other, her heart jumped into her throat and her midsection tingled like a glass of the Alka Seltzer Pop-Pop used to drink. Plop-plop, fizz-fizz.
Her lame attempt at humor did little to distract her from the thoughts that had been plaguing her since the night before, and the sensation of Lincoln's eyes on her back - whether real or imagined - niggled her like the insistant prod of a tiny pebble in a shoe. The afternoon was barely seventy-eight degrees, but her face glowed bright red and sweat dampened her shaggy brown hair. Lincoln moved again, and she tensed; for a second, she was so sure he would cup her hips in his hands that when he didn't, she blinked in confusion.
At the head of the line, a woman with leathery skin, eyes hidden behind bug eye sunglasses, tore tokens from a sheet, handed one to each guest, and waved them through the gate. Beyond, kids and teeangers splashed and frollicked in the pool while their mothers sunbathed nearby.
The bag started to slip again, and Luna hefted it up.
When Sam suggested they go somewhere, Luna expected the park, or the bowling alley, or even the movies. Don't get her wrong, swimming was great, but watching her shirtless brother, pecs glistening with water, was not a good idea. Not now.
Last night, she told Sam that she didn't have feelings for Lincoln, and she meant it, but lying in the darkness and fighting to sleep, thoughts of him played through her head on an endless loop and the flutter of a million butterfly wings kissed the lining of her stomach. Every memory she had made with him bubbled unbidden to the surface of her mind, every laugh, every hug, every time she looked into his eyes and wanted to kiss him so badly she shook. She begged God and herself to stop, but the visions kept coming, and she knotted more and more until she could barely breathe. She pictured herself running her fingers through his hair and hesitantly forming her lips to his, and it was so beautiful...so natural...that she ached for it to be real.
Revulsion filled her and she rolled restively onto her side, one arm jutting over the edge of the mattress and the other wedged between her cheek and the pillow. The illuminated numerals on the bedside clock cycled through minutes, then hours, time speeding up toward dawn until the night streaked headlong to sunrise like a shooting star. She closed out the images of Lincoln again and again, but they always wormed their way back in, and with them an odd and worrisome mixture of shame and excitement.
She stretched out on her back, laced her hands over her chest, and gazed up at the ceiling, mind full, heart heavy. Why did she feel this way?
Sam, she decided, it was Sam.
She had been telling herself that all night, but deep in her heart, she knew it wasn't true. Sam may have pointed out the way she acted with Lincoln and brought it to the forefront of her mind, but she didn't put those feelings there; they had been locked in her breast since she was fifteen years old. There were nights where she lay awake much like she did now, listening to the gentle sound of Luan's breathing and hugging a pillow to her chest because she was alone, a girl on the cusp of womanhood and tormented by emotions both new and old. Her body was changing, her brain was shifting and reshaping, and sometimes, she just wanted someone to talk to, sit near, someone to listen to her or just be with her.
This desire...this need...blossomed at the same time as her awakening sexuality, so it made sense that the two could become almost inextricably entwined like two saplings growing side by side. She didn't want someone to simply be there, she wanted them to hold her in their arms, their tacky flesh stuck inseparably to hers; she didn't want to just touch them, she wanted to hold their face in her hands and stare up into their eyes as they made love to her, their hearts, sighes, and bodies one, indivisible.
How many times did she realize the face in her fantasies was her brother's? How many long, moonlit nights did she consider stealing into his room and getting under the covers with him?
More than she cared to admit, even to herself.
She never allowed those thoughts to go any farther; they began with her slipping out of her bed and ended with her snuggling Lincoln like a teddy bear. She knew, on some subconscious level, that letting them progress would lead her somewhere she ought not go, a way fraught with danger. She wanted to relish every detail and let it take her where it would, but she was never quite brave enough.
Then she met Sam.
She threw herself into the blonde like a woman desperately clutching a life ring. Even now, she loved Sam and didn't regret it one little bit, but something was bugging her, a small but needling what-if that grew and gathered strength, turning from an inaudible whisper in the back of her head to a crisp, clear question:
What if she never met Sam?
Would she have uncovered the courage (or the weakness) to leave her bed in the dead of night and climb into her brother's?
She never found out, and for the past seven years, she assumed that she never would. It was over, she had moved on, she was with Sam and Lincoln was only her brother. She and Sam eventually moved away from Royal Woods and settled into their own life. Her adolescent attraction to Lincoln faded. She seldomly saw him, but when she did, her heart always swelled with sisterly love. As a kid, she was mixed up and felt something for him that she shouldn't have, but she didn't, she reasoned, feel it for no reason. He was a great guy and she loved and appreciated him. End of story.
But was it just that? Was it really? Every time he was around, she felt good, far better than she had any right to feel. In the days leading up to his visits, she walked around on a cloud of anticipation, and on the appointed day, her heart palpitated with the giddiness of a small girl. She told herself she was just happy to see her brother, but somewhere in the folds of her soul, she knew it wasn't that, not really. She loved Luan and Lola and Lily and Mom and Dad just as much, but the promise of seeing them didn't make her stomach quiver, it didn't preoccupy her mind for a week or two in advance, she never looked at the clock and willed time to speed up so she could have them already.
Jesus...Sam was right.
Completely right.
She was into Lincoln.
But was she really? None of these thoughts or emotions had crystallized until yesterday, when Sam started acting funny at the restaurant. Before then, she was a normal girl glad to see her brother after a long time.
The line moved several paces forward, and Luna gripped the strap so hard her knuckles turned white. She didn't want to think about this anymore, she just wanted things to go back to normal. The slow, painful throb of her heart and the hollow gnashing in the pit of her stomach, however, told her that they wouldn't. Like a biblical prophet, she had been shown a life-changing revelation and there was no going back. She could flee like Jonah from Nineveh, but she would have to face the Lord eventually.
In this case, Lord being her unsisterly love for Lincoln.
Her guts twisted and hot bile rose in the back of her throat. Feeling this way wasn't normal...or good...or healthy, but could she really deny what was in her heart? Could she keep telling herself it wasn't there even though it was, and in spades?
Yes...she could. She could keep on lying, blaming Sam, and inventing elaborate justifications, but the fact of the matter was, she was…
Shame and fear swept through her like a brushfire and she quashed that thought before it could form.
She didn't want to go there. If she did, her life really would change. She didn't know how exactly, but it would...and probably for the worst.
Presently, Sam reached the head of the line. "Three, please," she said.
The woman ripped three tickets from her sheet, one-by-one, then handed them over. Sam turned and gave two to Luna. Luna gave one to Lincoln without meeting his eyes. He took it and they went in.
A number of plastic patio tables cast in the shade of big, spreading umbrellas crowded a wide space to one side of the pool. Many of them were occupied, but a few standing against the chain-link fence were free. Sam went to one and Luna followed, halting when a little girl in a one piece bathing suit darted across her path. Sam picked a table nestled in the corner where two lengths of fence met and dropped into a chair with a weary sigh. Luna dropped her bag onto the table and sank into a chair to Sam's right, while Lincoln sat directly across from them. "That line was crap," Sam said and flopped her head back.
"That's some crap too," Lincoln said and jutted his chin toward the pool. It was packed so tight that the people inside could barely move.
"Yeah, it is," Sam said, "but I'm still going in." She sat forward and slipped her tank top over her head in a spill of blonde hair. Luna's eyes were inexorably drawn to her small breasts and taut stomach, her silvery belly-button ring glinting like a lascivious wink. She rarely put it in because it irritated her skin. Why was she wearing it now?
Luna turned away just in time to catch Lincoln staring; their eyes briefly met, and Luna's heart squeezed. She darted her gaze to her lap and steeled herself against the tingle in her midsection.
So..this was it, huh? She really did carry a flame for Lincoln.
A humorless laugh lodged in her throat and turned into a miserable moan, but before she could give it voice, she swallowed it down like a jagged little pill. This was wrong...sick...and Lincoln could never find out. God, what would he think? What would he do?
He was too nice, too beautiful, to ever turn his back on her, but the terrible knowledge that his own sister was in love with him, like a crazed pervert, would always come between them, a wall topped with razor wire where they had once been only a placid meadow.
She couldn't do that. Her relationship with Lincoln was one of the best things in her life and she couldn't bear the thought of losing it. She'd rather deal with this...whatever you want to call it -
Love
- than risk destroying something so precious.
How could she go on like normal when things were so different now? How could she hug her brother, speak to him, even look at him with this burden on her chest? How could she pretend that the feelings she had didn't exist, and that her emotions were pure when they weren't?
"You going in with me, Linc?" Sam asked and glanced at Lincoln.
A flicker of trepidation flashed across his face. "Uh...I dunno, it's really packed."
"So?" she asked. "Someone gets in your way, just elbow them in the ribs. Works every time." She turned to Luna. "What about you?"
Luna scratched the back of her gritty neck. "I guess," she said. Might as well. What else was she going to do, sit here and keep thinking about not thinking about Lincoln? Yeah, no.
"Well," Sam said and got to her feet, "let's go."
Without waiting for them, she brushed past, fingertips trailing teasingly through Luna's hair, and started for the pool. Her bottoms stretched tight over her pert, heart-shaped ass. Luna's eyes went from the gente ridges of her shoulder blades to the dimples at the base of her spine. A picture of Lincoln's bare chest began to form in her mind, and she shook her head to dispel it. She became aware of him across the table, and jumped to her feet so suddenly she nearly fell over.
Nope, sorry, I might do something we'll both regret later on.
Keeping her head down, Luna scurried after Sam, and Lincoln followed at a distance, his eyes glued to his feet like a chastised boy cowering against his mother's reproach. Luna glanced back at him. Was it just her, or had he been acting weird today?
A terrible thought came to her.
Did Sam say something?
Her blood turned to ice water and her step faltered. Sam wouldn't have done that, not after their talk last night.
Would she?
At the stairs leading into the pool, Sam dipped her toes into the water to test the temperature, then stepped tentatively in. "How is it?" Lincoln asked.
Sam held her thumb up. "Geat."
Supporting herself on the railing, Luna stepped in and winced. "It's cold," she said.
"You'll get used to it."
Lincoln was next. He made no sound as he waded in but the cute way his face contorted told Luna everything she needed to know.
Then the water reached his crotch and he sucked a sharp gasp through his teeth. Luna didn't have a...you know...but it looked so painful that she winced in sympathy. "You alright, Linc?" she asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest as if to absorb and transfer as much warmth to his shivery bits as possible, and Luna noticed for the first time that he was bare chested again. Her heart skipped a scandalized beat, but when she ordered her head to turn away, her brain went rouge and refused to deliver the order to her neck muscles. "Yeah," he chattered, "it's just really cold."
"Oh, don't be a baby," Sam said. Without warning, a wave of cold water broke over Luna's shoulder and splashed Lincoln's chest. He let out a cry and stumbled back against the concrete lip. Luna heart rocketed into her throat and goosebumps raced up and down her arms.
"Bitch,' she blurted. She wheeled around, and Sam favored her with a bratty smirk. Her brows arched challengingly. Luna pursed her lips, cupped her hand, and stuck it in the water.
The defiant look on Sam's face drained away and she fell back a step. "Wait, no…"
Ignoring her, Luna twisted around, then let fly. Sam threw her arms up to protect her face and squealed when the water hit her. "It's cold!"
"I know," Luna said.
"You're a dick."
"You were a dick first."
Sam splashed back, this time with both hands, and Luna whipped her head to the side, taking the brunt of the attack right to her ear. She started to splash back, but Sam held up her hands. "Wait, truce!"
Someone bumped into Luna from behind with a curt, "'Scuse me," and a little boy trudged between her and Sam on his way to the deep end. If she let loose on Sam, she'd wind up taking out a bunch of innocent bystanders too.
"Fine," she said, then jabbed a finger at Sam, "you're lucky."
Sam blew a kiss and Luna swatted it playfully away.
Remembering Lincoln, Luna looked around and spotted him by the buoys separating the shallow end from the deep, only his head and shoulders visible above the surface. He propelled himself off the side with his feet and glided to the other side like a fish. There, he stood up, and this chest and stomach glistened just as it had in her fantasy. The world gradually shrank away until she was blind and deaf to the din of splashing and laughter around her. Her eyes went instantly to the chiseled V pointing to the waistband of his shorts and to apex of his masculinity beyond, and suddenly she was hot all over. Her throat closed to a tiny pinprick and that same old flutter from before stirred in her stomach like a memory both pleasant and perverse. Lincoln tilted his head back, brushed his sodden white hair out of his face, and basked in the warming rays of the sun.
She traced the outline of his muscles with her eyes, her teeth unconsciously nibbling her lower lip. Her center clenched and unclenched in a slow, steady rhythm that sent pulsing rings of sensation into her chest.
A pair of arms closed around her from behind and she tensed. "What'cha lookin' at?" Sam asked and planted her chin on Luna's shoulder.
"Nothing," Luna said quickly.
Sam's fingers laced over Luna's stomach and her breasts flattened against her back. Her breath tickled the side of Luna's neck and made her shiver. "Oh, you're looking at something, alright." She followed Luna's gaze, and Luna could feel the smile spreading across her girlfriend's lips.
"Ahhh...I totally understand now."
Luna breathed a long suffering sigh. "Sam, I told you -"
"I don't mind if you look," Same said, "just as long as I can look too. He's really cute, isn't he?"
"No," Luna said. She meant it as a resounding pronouncement, but it came out as a plea. No, he's not cute, please leave me alone and stop talking about this. I'm begging you.
Did Sam do that?
Of course she didn't.
Her lips and nose smooshed against the side of Luna's neck, and Luna shuddered. "Yes he is," Sam said. Her hands crept down Luna's stomach, one finger tracing the line running between her naval and the top of her bikini bottoms. Luna jumped, and Sam uttered an evil little giggle. "I don't know why you're fighting this so hard, Luna," she said. One hand drifted up, fingertips kissing Luna's ribs, and the other down, tendrils of paralyzing sensation plunging into Luna's core. Her breathing quickened and her heart slammed so hard she could barely hear the sound of Sam's ragged panting. Luna swallowed and tried to speak, to tell Sam to knock it off, but her voice broke. Across the pool, Lincoln leaned back against the edge, arms bent like wings on either side of him, and Luna's eyes fixed on his slick chest. Between his body and Sam's teasing touch, she was getting turned on, her sex welling with desire and her lips pinching the fabric of her bikini.
Sam's hand crept over her breast, her thumb finding her stiff nipple with expert precision. Her other hand slid over Luna's bikini bottom, her middle finger dipping between her folds and stroking her innermost being. Luna's heart pounded, her cheeks burned, and her hips moved dumbly forward, her body seeking release. "S-Sam," she stuttered, "stop."
There were people all around, but none of them were looking...yet.
Sam kissed Luna's neck. "Your heart's really racing," she said huskily. "And I bet you're really wet."
Her fingertips wiggled past Luna's waistband and knotted in Luna's pubic hair. Luna clamped her thighs closed, trapping Sam's hand, and Sam kneaded her nipple in return. Pangs of pleasure cut through Luna's center, and her eyelids fluttered. Part of her wanted Sam to stop, but another part wanted her to keep going, to pluck the nub of her arousal until she came undone in front of everyone.
"It's not all from me...is it?" Sam asked.
Fire raged in Luna's stomach and smoke filled her brain. What wasn't all from Sam?
Sam kissed her earlobe. "I'm not the only reason you're horny," she said "You're horny for Lincoln too."
Yes, Jesus yes, she was so fucking horny for him and had been since she was a little girl. She dreamed of fucking him so many times, touched herself to the image until she was hot and shaking. She longed so hard to cover his entire body in slow, sensual kisses, from the crown of his forehead to the tips of his toes, to take him into her mouth and make love to his dick with her tongue until he couldn't take anymore and filled her mouth. She wanted to touch it, kiss it lick it, to show him how much she loved him, how much he meant to her, how desperately she appreciated him being there for her.
Sam's finger skimmed her pulsing clit through the bikini, and a moan escaped Luna's lips. She started to give voice to her feelings, to confess to Sam, God, and herself that she lusted for her little brother (and didn't care who fucking knew it anymore), but a sharp whistle blow cut her off, and she and Sam both jolted.
A squat, severe faced woman in a white polo shirt and red shorts,her eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, stood on the apron skirting the pool, her hands fisted to her hips and her lips pulled down in a sour frown. Luna's heart sank.
"Blondie, brunette, outta the pool," the woman said and hooked her thumb over her shoulder.
Lincoln glanced over and furrowed his brows in confusion. He obviously hadn't seen what Sam was doing to Luna. Luna opened her mouth to protest, but the woman's glare intensified, and Luna instinctively knew that if she fought, the lifeguard would come in and make her leave.
"Yes, ma'am," Sam and Luna said in unison. They lowered their heads like scolded children and slunk up the stairs with their tails between their legs. Lincoln hesitated a moment, then got out too.
"What were you guys doing?" he asked on the walk home, a note of bewilderment in his voice.
Luna stared down at her feet, conflicting thoughts and emotions raging through her. Back at the pool, all of her defenses crumbled in one earth-shattering moment, and the truths she had been hiding from herself...and all the memories she had tried to forget...came roaring out like a destructive tidal wave.
She meant everything she said...err...thought, though.
She did love Lincoln.
She did used to touch herself while thinking about him.
She did want him.
She could freely admit that to herself now...but not to him, and not to Sam.
"Horseplaying," she heard herself say, and Sam laughed.
"Horseplaying?" Lincoln asked incredulously.
Luna looked up at him. Back lit against the glare of the midday sun, his face was pinched in bafflement, and Luna beamed because he was beautiful.
No matter what expression he wore.
"Horseplay," she confirmed.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Deviant Desires