I do not own the Loud House, which is the property of Nickelodeon and its affiliates.

The kiss was as mindblowing as it had been every time before. Sparks flew in his mind as he slowly caressed the skin peeking out below her shirt that had just began to slide up, goosebumps following his fingers' path. The two lay atop his bed, and lost themselves in their private moment. No doubt they may only have a short time together, but yet to them it didn't matter, every moment was special.

She shivered below him, moaning into his mouth, arms snaked around his neck. She pressed him further into her body, his chest colliding with her breasts as his fingers danced upwards along her sides.

Their kiss broke, and he slowly opened his eyes to gaze at the girl he loved. They both were panting, regaining the breaths they had lost during their intimate moment. He looked into her eyes and witnessed such a wide array of emotion. They revealed hunger and lust, no doubt, but also love and tenderness, with a sweet sense of satisfaction that they had this moment together, alone at last. This, was true love. Pure, unadulterated, love.

He bent his head down, moving it to the left side of her neck, and kissed her gently there. She wiggled below him, calling out his name so lightly it could barely have been considered a whisper. This drove him to continue his assault on her uncovered neck, nibbling at the tender flesh, with every bite followed by a light kiss. His fingers continued their dance, driving the girl wild, blushing and grinding and pulling as though to pull them into becoming one being. Her legs wrapped around his lower body, providing more friction for the two, moans now being drawn from both. His mind was in overdrive, addicted to the tastes, smells and sounds she made as she grounded them together.

She made a move for the bottom of his shirt, but he quickly reached down and stopped her hands, lazily bringing them up above her head. She whined now, annoyed that they were still fully clothed, desperately wanting him. All of him. He pulled back from her neck and smiled down at her, before delivering a light peck on her nose. He looked into those beautiful brown eyes again, with all the love he could convey to her. She blushed a deep red under that gaze, looking away abashed. She knew he was toying with her, that he was in control, and it drove her wild. Outside, she was the leader, and he was the follower. But in here, she became a puddle of mush under his eyes.

He bent down and kissed her again, and finally released his imprisonment of her hands. Her lips were swollen, and yet so soft, welding to his own. He wanted to touch her face, and bring her as close to him as he could, and so he brought his hands to her cheeks and softly ran his fingers across them. She reciprocated this, before allowing her hands to slowly reach back and comb through his locks, gently playing with his hair as to not disturb the moment. He knew she loved to play with it, especially the cowlick that he had always donned. He could never get it under control, but she never seemed to mind. She always reminded him how much she loved it, and how handsome she thought he was.

He drew his hands from her face, still deep in their kiss, and dragged them down to her breasts, the couple giving just enough room to allow access to her sensitive body. His hands were sandwhiched between the two lovers, and he could feel the racing heartbeat below her shirt. He began to massage her chest, and she moaned into his mouth again, pleased that he had finally stopped teasing her. Her hands left his hair, and reached down again to his shirt bottom, quickly grabbing and yanking upwards before he could stop her again. He allowed it this time, and pulled away from their kiss so she could slip it over his head.

She traced her fingers along his chest and stomach, drawing simple shapes and lines. He loved the way her fingers felt on him, and he let her draw a moment longer before he shimmied backwards. This gave her room to sit up, and as she did so, he began to lift her shirt above her head. He was much more methodical in his movement, making sure to stroke her toned body the whole way up. She shivered as he reached her chest, and stopped his movement, to all her to take the rest off herself whilst he watched. She happily obliged, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling the fabric over her soft locks, reavealing the tanned and soft skin beneath. The freckles on her face were also found there, and many a time he kissed her body based on how many he could count that day. He never got a chance to finish, with the two always advancing before he could.

As her shit covered her face, he began his assault on her chest again, uncovered this time from his minstrations. The way her breasts dropped always drive him wild, even during something as simple as this. He felt the unbridled need to just bite and suck, and did so. She moaned for the umpteenth time as the fabric was pulled over her head and abruptly tossed away. He continued his work, knowing all of her weak spots, with the ridge between her breasts hacing been one of many.

She reached for the button on his shorts to pop it open. She needed him, and would push him backwards and tug them off herself if he tried to tease her further, he knew that. But as the button was undone and the zipper slowly slipped down, a low, almost indistinguishable sound began to ring behind him. He turned around to observe the offending object, just for the sound to grow louder, more agitated. When he turned back to face her and ask if she had heard the noise, he was greeted by emptiness.

And suddenly, he was awake in his own bed, alone. Lincoln sat up, and sighed.

—-

Lincoln really hated that dream. He had been having it more frequently as of late, and it bothered him to no end. Not only had the identity of the girl continued to elude him, but he was never able to get much further than that moment. What he wouldn't give to just find out who it was.

Lincoln had recently been forced to wake up earlier than usual as a result of these dreams, just to avoid the laughter from his sisters. The first time it happened, he didn't notice how "visible" he had been until he waited in line for the bathroom, only for his sister Luan to notice and begin her ritual of jokes.

'Looks like you had a hard night, huh Linc?' she began, snickering. 'You're dream must have made you feel real tight!'

Lincoln had frowned at that, looking down only to notice his erection pressing out against his tight outline was very visible, and after the dream that night, the slight stain was a dead giveaway of how he was emotionally at that time. He blushed profusely, and tried to escape only to run into Luna who had been in line behind him.

'Someone's up early, eh bro?' Luna laughed.

His other sisters had heard the fuss and come out from their rooms or turned around in line, followed by a chorus of their laughter.

'Watch out!' Lynn had proclaimed, 'Linc may have a bone to pick with us!' His other sisters tossed out more insults and mocked him, so he ran to his room and changed into his clothes for the day. He waited some time before finally emerging to use the restroom and get breakfast, but for the rest of the morning the insults hadn't stopped.

Linc shivered in fear of the memory, and quickly rose from his bed to run to the bathroom, positive he'd be the first in to relieve himself and prep for the day. There would be no jokes at his expense today, at least not over his boner.

—

Lynn awoke to the sound of the bathroom door closing, and sighed. She knew Lincoln was in there, and she'd have to wait. It used to be that she was the first in, but after they messed with their brother last week, he never was up later than first.

She rolled over and looked up at the ceiling, frowning. She knew it had been funny, but the irony was she had been having dreams of her own. And not those of championships and victory, but of passion and intensity. Ones causing her stomach to flutter and loins to stir. She knew they were the same kind of dreams Linc was having, but unlike him, she knew who was plaguing her all these nights. A boy with a cute little cowlick that rose above his white hair, that wore an orange polo and sat around in his spare time reading comics in his tight undies. It had been her brother. And she hated it.

Hey guys, new-ish writer here. Wanted to write an ongoing story about the lives of the Louds through Lincoln's eyes, with some additional perspectives thrown in. M rating is there to be safe, may (or may not) eventually have some kind of actual sexual content, and possible loudcest if I decide to roll with that. Characters will be slightly aged up, mostly because at their current ages I feel just a little weird writing romantic or other moments about.

One last note, may or may not include some sort of "superpower(s)" element to give the family an edge over others, but nothing resulting in gratuitous violence, this is still, after all, a cartoon.