Joni C69: Age of consent is a thorny subject. I've known people under eighteen who could make informed decisions for themselves (such as engaging in sex), and I've known people in their twenties and even thirties who couldn't. There is precious little difference between a sixteen-year-old and an eighteen-year-old in terms of maturity and cognitive ability. You don't magically become ready for sex at eighteen. Morally speaking, it's a fairly complex issue. Legally speaking, a line had to be drawn somewhere, and eighteen seems a logical enough place to do it. I can see it being moved up as these days, people are being called "children" well into their twenties. The smoking age in the US has already gone up. Funny, a sixteen-year-old can't decide to smoke, drink, or have sex, but there are a lot of people who want to give them the vote. Go figure.
Lola Presents: LOL, i know, I've been lazy with editing. I'm terrible.
They say that the brain is the most complex human organ, but Lincoln knew that to be false: It was the heart.
The morning after making love with his little sister, Lincoln came gradually and groggily awake in his bed, a warm bar of morning sunshine lying across his chest. His eyes swam momentarily open, stung against the glare, then fluttered closed again. His mind, fogged with lingering sleep, drifted in the ether as it began to start up, the cogs and wheels grinding rustily at first, then more smoothly. A hot twinge pinched his forehead, and he massaged it with his fingertips. Memories from the night before slowly came back to him: In the car with Lily, drawing with her, powerful and frightening feelings in his chest, Mom and Dad…
Something else happened...something major...something potentially life-changing. It teetered precariously on the verge of revelation and once it dropped into the light, Lincoln knew, nothing would ever be the same.
He tried to beat it back, then to flee when he discovered he couldn't, but it pitched forward and -
Next to him, something moved, and his heart jolted. He unthinkingly turned his head, and his grainy eyes widened in horror: Lily flashed a tired smile, her eyes open to watery slits, her hair messier than usual, and her hand resting on his chest. She was snuggled up to him on her side, one leg tossed over his and her center pressed to his bare leg: He sputtered when he realized the sultry heat of her femininity soaked his skin, her smooth, satiny flesh grazing him maddeningly as she stirred, one eye twitching and a giggle bubbling from her lips at the sudden sensation streaking through her. "Good morning," she said.
It all returned in a nuclear flash - touching the side of her face, kissing her lips, mounting her, mindless in his ardor, spearing himself deep into her boiling well...the moment of blissful release, their bodies shaking together and their breathy moans puffing into the other's ear like sacred vows, the long, sleepless hours he passed staring at the ceiling, confused, conflicted...and hating himself for what he did to his little sister. He should have stopped it from happening, should have known better - he was an adult, for Christ's sake, and he...with a child...his own fucking sister.
In her sleep, Lily clung to him, a faint smile on her lips. She was so achingly beautiful, so precious...he both hated himself for perverting her innocence and longed to wrap his arms around her and never let go. Watching her, the self-loathing drained away and he felt only deep, abiding love. He rolled to his side, held her close, and kissed her forehead. After that, he slept.
Now, in the light of day, the dread returned. Last night, they went too far and what they did could never be undone. She was no longer his sweet little sister, she was something more, something she was not meant to be.
But, Linc, she wanted it.
SHE'S A FUCKING KID! She didn't know what she was doing! Sure, she wanted it, but she's a child, she can't make decisions like that.
His chest tightened and his breathing quickened. Not noticing, Lily hugged him tightly and placed a wet, sizzling kiss to his chest, her hips rocking and her core grinding her leg. Lincoln's dick started to get hard despite himself and coals of desire awoke in his stomach, glowing hotter and hotter as she kissed him again, her small hands running over his torso and her hips rocking faster.
If she kept up, he was going to fuck her again.
Coming alive, he pulled away from her and sat up so quickly his head spun. Lily frowned and pushed herself up on one arm. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"N-Nothing," he stammered and jumped out of bed with a stumble. His heart blasted against his chest and his dick throbbed to be sheathed in its sister. Hot shame burned across his face and he turned away from her. "W-We don't have time, you gotta go."
He didn't see Lily glance at the clock, but he did hear her gasp. "You're right." The sheets rustled and the mattress groaned as she got up. When she brushed past him, he tensed; she didn't speak or stop, which told him it must be late. She opened the door, tentatively poked her head into the hall to see if the coast was clear, then slipped out, leaving it ajar. Alone, Lincoln let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and sagged against the dresser, his hand slapping to his flush forehead in a gesture of distress. Warring emotions jostled for dominance in his heart, and his stomach twisted so hard he doubled over. The feeling of holding her and stroking her hair as she slept, content and peaceful in his arms, was magical, as was caressing her cheek and kissing her, but even though she clearly wanted...this...he couldn't shake the sense of having taken advantage of her. Can a child her age really consent to sex? Are they emotionally and mentally mature enough to fully comprehend what they are doing? She was intelligent, but intelligent or not, she was still eleven, far too young to grasp the enormity of what she was doing. He, on the other hand, wasn't; he knew it was wrong, on his part and hers, he knew that familial bonds are forged to be unbreakable, but that somethings can weaken them...like turning your sister into your lover. Matters of the heart can be messy sometimes...people drift apart, fall out of love, and change all the time, and the relationship dies, bitterly in many cases and...he didn't know, he just fucking didn't, okay? Maybe he was overthinking, maybe he was underthinking, he couldn't tell. Either way, what he and Lily did last night was inherently wrong, and being the adult, he should have put a stop to it.
He didn't, though; he gave into his emotions like an overgrown manboy.
Dropping heavily on the bed, he put his face in his hands and drew a shaky breath. He recalled the look on her face as he made love to her the night before, the shining lust and adoration in her eyes...lust and adoration for him. His heart staggered and his stomach tightened at the memory of her caressing his face and kissing him with passionate abandon.
What should he do? Hate and pity himself? Hate that deep down he didn't hate what he did? Hate that for all his philosophical musings, he was in love with his little sister? Right or wrong, it was done; he could sit and cry because he did it, but that wasn't going to help anything. He needed to know where it went from here. He couldn't avoid her - and, God, didn't want to - but could he really...be her boyfriend? Or…what would their relationship be going forward?
That thought gave him pause. He didn't know how a real boyfriend and girlfriend acted with each other, but he did know what he and Lily had, and he cherished it more than he ever knew - most of his reservations came from the stark terror of losing it. He couldn't if they were simply brother and sister, but with this new and uncharted dynamic, he very well might, and that scared him. If he threw himself into loving her as more than a sister, he opened himself up to the possibility of heartbreak...to her growing up and realizing she didn't want him. People change so much from the time they're eleven; one day she might look at them and think to herself Oh, God, what am I doing? He's my BROTHER.
If he allowed himself to love her as something other than a sister, allowed them to be more than siblings, he could lose what they shared.
But regardless of what he thought, he knew in his heart that it was too late.
He loved her. Loved her laugh, loved her smile, loved her cute, sullen pouts, loved her tenacity and her intelligence, and he loved her kiss. Last night, he thought to himself that kissing her was the point of no return, and it was. He might lose her, he might not...God alone knew...but by touching his lips to hers, he sealed their fate, whatever their fate may be.
What next?
He raked his fingers through his hair and lifted his head.
Well...he and Lily needed to talk. About them. He let her into his heart, and given their new and special bond, she deserved to know how he felt.
An anxious ripple quivered through his stomach and he exhaled heavily through his nose. He'd put that off until later. Maybe tomorrow. For now...
Go have breakfast?
Food was the last thing on his mind, but breakfast was normal...and at breakfast, he would get to see Lily.
Getting to his feet, he grabbed a pair of jeans from the floor, pulled them on, then slipped into yesterday's shirt. In the dining room, Lola, Lana, and Lucy sat at the table, Lana pounding down a microwaved Jimmy Dean sandwich, Lucy staring tiredly down into a mug of coffee, and Lola texting, a sneer on her face and her thumbs flying angrily across the keyboard. She must still be arguing with her boyfriend. Wonder what he did. In the kitchen, he took a mug from the drying rack, filled it with coffee, and sat beside Lana, who obscenely sucked her fingers one by one with a slurping sound that made Lincoln cringe.
"Lana, please," Lola snapped and threw up one hand in a karate chop. "You're getting on my nerves."
Lana jammed her thumb in her mouth and pulled it out slowly. "Go sit somewhere else."
"I was here first."
"I was on this earth first," Lana retorted.
As the oldest, it fell to him to mediate fights the way Lori once had - then Luna because Leni couldn't do it. He knew where that would get him, though, so he kept quiet. Let them rip each other apart.
"You're gonna leave it first too if you keep up," Lola hissed.
Lana's brow darkened. "I'd like to see you try, gap-tooth."
"Turd sucker."
"Glitter bitch."
Lola opened her mouth but Lucy cut her off. "Both of you shut up. You're both annoying."
"Fuck you," Lana and Lola said in unison. Lola got up so roughly her chair wobbled and nearly tippled over. "I don't need this right now." She shoved her phone into the hip pocket of her jeans and stormed out, tossing her blonde hair in a sassy parting shot. Lana waved dismissively and got up too, carrying her plate into the kitchen. Lincoln took a sip of coffee. Where was Lily?
As if on cue, he heard her on the stairs. A moment later, she bounced into the room, dressed in a pair of jeans and a forest green turtle neck that clung lovingly to the swell of her budding breasts and her face glowing with heart-stopping radiance. She hummed an airy tune, and when she turned her big brown eyes on Lincoln, a smile spread across his face. She stopped, leaned over, and kissed his cheek, shocking him. "Hi," she said, then went into the kitchen. He whipped around to see if Lucy had noticed, but she continued staring into her coffee as though trying to summon the witherell to face the day. He and Lily were notoriously close (Lucy derisively called her his shadow), but she never kissed him like that, and it might raise eyebrows.
He'd have to talk to her about that too.
Lana came out of the kitchen and crossed to the living room. Lily followed a few moments later, a bowl of cereal in her hands. She sat across from him and smiled. "Do you want some?" she asked and nodded to it.
Lincoln blinked in surprise. "Uh, n-no, thank you."
"You sure?" she asked playfully arched her brow."I made it with extra love. Well, I assembled it with extra love."
"I'm sure," he confirmed and stole a furtive glance at Lucy; she lifted the cup to her lips and took a long drink, then, with a sigh, got up.
When she was gone, Lincoln leaned over the table and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You have to be careful." he said.
Lily cocked her head quizzically to one side. "What do you mean?"
"Kissing me and stuff," he said and shot a worried look at the kitchen, certain that Lucy would be there, flat and expressionless but disgusted and planning to snitch nevertheless. She wasn't; the splash and gurgle of the sink suggested she was occupied...for the moment.
For a second, Lily looked at him like he was crazy. "Why?" she asked innocently. "I love you." It came out as a simple matter of fact - she loved him and couldn't understand why kissing him in front of their family was wrong.
Lincoln sighed. "I know, a-and I love you too, but things are different now."
Lily's forehead crinkled. "W-Why?" she asked, a stricken note in her voice.
The sink cut off in the kitchen. "We'll talk about it later," he said and sat back just as Lucy came back in. She passed behind him and went into the living room. Lily stared at him for a second, then went back to eating. Shortly, she got up and left with a hesitant, "I have to go now." She hurried out the door before Lincoln could stop her; alone, he drew a deep breath. He said something wrong and hurt her.
Why? she asked. Why are things different?
He didn't know.
Maybe…
...maybe he was wrong…
...and they weren't.
Lily Loud sat in second period math and stared down at the notebook before her; her stomach was a tangled mass of nerves and what Lincoln said that morning rang through her head like funeral bells. Things are different now. That was kind of an ambiguous statement when you get right down to it - it could mean a thousand different things, many of them bad. She assumed he meant things were deeper between them after what happened last night, and if so, he was kinda right. Then again...he was kinda wrong, too. She loved him before they had sex, the loved him when they were having sex, and she loved him right this very moment...loved him so hard it was like a rock in her chest. Maybe things were a little different, but only superficially. Instead of hugging him, she could kiss him now, but the emotion that compelled her was unchanged. If anything, it was stronger.
Maybe that's what he meant. It made sense that if she loved him more now, he must love her more now too.
But what if he meant something else? Was he ashamed of what happened? The whole she's your sister and a kid, why did you do that thing was to be expected, she thought. Last night, she woke up, and when she realized where she was...and what they did...she felt kind of the same way. She loved her brother more than she loved anyone else (even her own parents) but he was her brother and them having sex like that was waaaay wrong.
Then she asked herself one simple question.
Why?
Why was it wrong?
She loved Lincoln and he loved her; she saw it in his eyes and felt it in the way he kissed her. They might be related, but was that really such a big deal? What's the difference between kissing a boy who isn't your brother and kissing a boy who is? She knew, roundabout, that incest produced retarded children because...she wasn't sure...but so what? She didn't care about that, she cared about having Lincoln.
By the time she drifted off again, her mind was made up: She was in love with her brother and she didn't care if it was right, wrong, or something in between.
Presently, she picked up her pencil and absently tapped the eraser against the paper, beating a soft, breathy tempo. The teacher stood at the white board talking, but Lily was too unfocused to make out words - he sounded like one of the grown-ups in the old Charlie Brown show. Wah-wah-wah. She was worried sick that when she got home, Lincoln would tell her he didn't think they should be together - that the happiness she felt the night before was a one time thing and she'd never know it again. Her stomach turned and she nervously chewed her bottom lip. Part of her wanted to skip the rest of the day, go home, and face the music, but another part wanted school to go on and on and on, so that if he was going to break up with her, he couldn't and she could live in the illusion forever.
When the bell rang, she gathered her things and joined a flood of kids streaming out into the crowded hall. Sunlight spilled in through the slot windows on the main doors and bathed the tile floor like liquid fire; the scent of sawdust, drifted through the vents from the second floor, which was being renovated, filled the air, and the din of five hundred chattering voices formed a low, toneless cacophony. Lily looked around for A-Man-Duh and her goon squad, but they weren't in evidence, whew. At her locker, she put in the combination, opened the door, and shoved her books in. Nex she made her way to the cafeteria, dread building in her stomach. She was bound to see A-Man-Duh in there - she always did. She would skip and spend lunch in the library, but if she got caught it was automatic detention; part of the school's new zero tolerance policy on ditching.
You know...if schools enforced their anti-bullying measures as stringently as they did their other rules, we'd have a lot fewer kids snapping and coming to class with bazookas. Just sayin'.
In the cafeteria, she paused and searched the room for signs of Ugly, Uglier, and Ugliest: Long tables sat in the middle, kids clustered round like disciples without a Jesus. Not seeing her foes (they were kind of her predators, but she didn't like to admit that), she got in line behind a seventh grade boy in a headband bragging to his buddy how big his thing was. 12 and a half inches, bro, I swear. Lily instantly went back to Lincoln's thing and warmth swelled in her depths. She didn't get to see it too much, but she did get to play with it a little before she fell asleep - the skin was surprisingly soft. She expected it to be hard, since that's what boys were. You know, Oh, I'm so hard. He was when he was inside of her...it hurt at first, but after a few minutes, it felt so good that just thinking about it was making her hot.
The line moved forward, and Headband grabbed a tray from a stack at the head of a counter. Lunch ladies in aprons and hairnets stood over metal serving pans laden with gunk, gloop, and crap (Royal County Schools had bad food, is what she meant). My Dad says one day it'll be as big as his. Headband's Friend rolled his eyes. How big was Lincoln's? She didn't take the time to sit there and measure it, but did it matter? Boys put such emphasis on penis size, but as long as it does what it's supposed to, size doesn't really count. In fact, Lincoln could stand to be a little smaller; even now, a full twelve hours after they did it, her insides still ached a little. Before getting dressed, she took a quick shower, and while she wasn't surprised to find blood smeared across her thighs (natural, from what the books said), it did throw a little start into her. What if it wasn't just the normal discharge associated with losing one's virginity? What if something was terrible wrong and she was going to die? Aside from the soreness, however, she felt fine.
Well...the soreness and worry, but worry wouldn't kill her.
Unless she did it too long and too hard and had a heart attack or something, but that wouldn't realistically happen until she was at least forty-five. Forever away.
Her turn came, and she slipped a tray from the stack, then moved along the counter, stopping and allowing each lunch lady in turn to slop something onto her plate: Pallid green beans, lumpy (and probably cold) mashed potatoes, a thin slice of mystery meat soaked in poop colored gravy, and a roll so hard it could double as a projectile if the the student body decided to rise up against the teachers. Take that, Mr. Coverdale. *bam*
Going through the door back into the cafeteria proper, she swept the assemblage with her gaze and spotted an empty table by the wall. She started over, then froze when a familiar voice snorted behind her. "Oh, hi, Lily."
Like a cancerous needle in a haystack...she found A-Man-Duh. Taking a deep breath, she turned on her heels just as the bully pointed a can of soda at her and popped the top: Cold, carbonated sugar water shot out and sprayed Lily's face. She gasped in shock and squeezed her eyes closed.
Just as soon as it started, it was over. Her face, hair, lunch, and shirt were soaked. She smacked her lips distastefully - Pepsi. Why couldn't it have been Coke? "Oops," A-Man-Duh said with exaggerated insincerity, "sorry, Lil." Her hazel eyes flashed with reptilian malice, and her lips carved up in a cold, wicked smile. "I should really be more careful."
Rage formed in Lily's chest like a glowing lump of coal, and her grip on the tray tightened. "Yeah," she said, "you should."
A-Man-Duh hummed in the back of her throat like a rattlesnake preparing to strike. She took a step forward, and Lily tensed. "If it's any consolation," the bully said and held out her Pepsi, "you can have the rest." She dropped the can onto the tray and brushed past Lily with a high, mocking laugh.
The fury in Lily's breast spread into her stomach, and her teeth ground together with a rough, grating sound. Guess I'm not having lunch.
She went to the trash can and dropped the entire tray in - let the janitor fish it out. Turning around, she stalked off and went to the girl's room next to the gym, where she got a wad of paper towels from the dispenser and dried her shirt the best she could. She got the worst of it off, but the fabric was still damp and cold on her skin, and the reek of Pepsi remained, pillaging her nose like a Viking raiding party. Giving up, she looked at herself in the mirror and sighed at what she saw: Messy hair, sallow skin, rabbit teeth, eyes big and doe-like with timidity. No wonder she got picked on. She'd pick on her too.
Actually, no she wouldn't...because she knew how bad being picked on made one feel.
The bell rang then, and head hung in despair, she dragged herself to her locker, got her history book, and went to class, where she settled into thoughts of Lincoln. She really hoped he didn't want to break up with her or something. She handled being bullied, called names, and laughed at, but she couldn't handle that.
At the end of the day, she grabbed her coat from her locker, slipped it on, and walked home through the golden autumn sunshine, head down and hands in her pockets. She fought to keep from running, but only half succeeded; her steps were quick and hurried, and by the time she got home, she was sweating and out of breath. Inside, the living room stood empty - her parents were at work and her sisters probably hadn't gotten home yet.
She climbed the stairs like a woman to her doom, and stood outside of Lincoln's door for a long minute, building herself up for what was to come. She knocked, and he called out for her to come in. She turned the knob and slipped in, closing the door behind her.
Lincoln sat at his desk, bent over his computer and dressed in a short sleeve orange button up over a white shirt. He looked over his shoulder, a wan smile creeping across his face, and Lily's heartbeat sped up: It might be weird to call a boy beautiful, but that's exactly what he was, beautiful. Dappled in sunlight like a golden dress, he looked like an angel, and Lily's breath left her in a rush; her knees shook and keeping herself upright took every ounce of self-control she had. "Hey," he said.
"Hi," she gushed, and suppressed a dumb girly giggle. He watched her expectantly, and she darted her eyes nervously to her feet. "You, uh...you said we had to talk."
Lincoln sucked his lips in and nodded profoundly. Lily's heart raced even faster. Was she overthinking things, or did he look grim? He looked kind of grim, like what he was going to say would be Bad News. "Yeah, we...we do." He motioned to the bed, and Lily came over and sat, her hands lacing between her knees. Sharp, quivering pangs went through her and she nervously licked her lips. Lincoln studied her for a moment as if trying to think of a way to start, then drew a sigh. "Y-You know what we did last night was...was wrong, right?"
That question hit Lily like a bullet, and she stiffened. "No it wasn't," she said quickly.
"Yes it was," Lincoln said. He focused intently on his lap. Mournful. He looked mournful. "We're brother and sister and…"
"I don't care," Lily blurted. Her chest was tight and she could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate. "I love you."
Lincoln lifted his head, and in his eyes, Lily saw the same pain she saw the night before. "I love you too," he said. "And I'm afraid of losing you."
"Losing me?" she asked dumbly.
Taking a deep breath, Lincoln started to talk. "I love you, and a big part of me wants to...to be more than, I guess, siblings, but relationships like that end. You mean everything to me and if we become more, I might lose you. Things might change between us and I don't want that...but I do want more." He sighed and went on, Lily listening rapt. He thought that if they were together and eventually broke up, it would affect their brother-sister relationship "Which I really value."
"People change," he said, "and you might decide that you want someone else one day or…"
"But I won't," she cut in with absolute confidence. "You're everything I could ever want."
Lincoln smiled tightly. "I just don't want us to stop being what we are now because of something messy down the road."
When he was finished, she considered his words for a long time. She could see what he meant - she loved and valued their relationship too - but she was sure she loved him and always would, as both a brother and a lover. Even if he fell out of love with her and found someone else, she would be there for him, because that's what you do when you love someone unconditionally.
She said as much, and Lincoln chuckled. "That won't happen," he said. He turned back to the desk and shot her a lopsided grin. "Wanna draw?"
"Yes," she said instantly.
He took his tablet out and laid it on the surface. He hesitated, then, in a shy, boyish tone that turned her stomach to jelly: "Do you wanna collaborate?"
By way of answer, she got up, went over, and sat on his lap, one arm snaking around his neck. He circled her hips and drew her close, the safe, warm feeling of being held by her big brother making her weak. She turned her head, and their gazes locked. "I love you," he said, those three simple words sending her over the moon and filling her with bursting happiness.
"I love you too," she said. She leaned forward, and he met her half way, their kiss slow and revealing at first, then quick and hungry as their passions rose. He held her face in her hands and shoved his fingers into her hair, and she ran her fingers down his chest, then under his shirt. Hugging her, he started to get to his feet, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding on with the total faith of a child.
He laid her gently on the bed, and in the light of the waning October sun, they collaborated.
Twice.
