AN: Wow! 100 followers! I had not expected my first ever fanfiction to be read and enjoyed so much. Thank you all for reading! This fanfic is (very nearly) finished, and I will be releasing the final three chapters over the course of February 2023. I would like to remind more sensitive readers that this fic has content warnings listed in the first chapter. Enjoy reading, and much literary love! ~pastelcigar
Armed with a watering pail, Lincoln tends to an eternal field of lilies. He floats through the bed of white petals, lying perfectly motionless like a mummy in a sarcophagus, carried by the rocking waves of the wind through the stamens. There are butterflies abound, and soft sylvan dust settles midway across the sky at eye height. Dust particles briefly, but aggressively, reflect the late evening sunlight, creating a glimmering shimmering spectacle all around him. His floating drifts him to a particular flower: an unremarkable one, except that one of its petals has browned and cracked in the absence of moisture. Lincoln stares at the flower, observes it, and then decides to act. He awkwardly gets up on his feet from floating in mid-air, and squats down near the flower, being very careful not to trample any others. He angles his watering pail to water the lily, but the watering spout comes off, and water pours out in excess, drowning the flower. He panics and tries to angle the watering pail away, but no matter what position he contorts himself in, the stream of water finds the cursed lily. In his panic, he tramples all the previously perfect flowers around him. The soil underneath gets far too soggy, and washes away, exposing the nodules on the rotten roots. He sinks into the ground up to his knees, and cannot move his legs. The exposed roots writhe and clasp around his left arm. All the petals of the lily fall off, sequentially. Then all the petals fall off all the other lilies in the field. They brown, crack, rot, and fade away. The entire life cycle of the lilies around him — planting, germination, sprouting seeding, flowering — flashes by in mere seconds, and repeats. They whither, die, live, whither, die, live. Every cycle picks up the pace, living and dying faster and faster until all lilies are both alive and dead in each eye blink. A tidal wave of mud and rotten petals washes over him, and he cannot move out of its way. The mud is in his eyes, his mouth, his ears and nose, drowning utterly and completely. In a desperate final thrashing as his life ebbs away from him, he hits his head, and finds himself on his bedroom carpet, his duvet launched over his desk. He is covered in sweat.
He uses his hand to compress his head where he fell, and looks around. It is dark still. He turns to the alarm clock on his desk, but it is obscured by his blanket. He can see a dim red glow through the dishevelled duvet cover, betraying its location. Annoyed, he gets up and gives the duvet a yank, and several items - his desk lamp, a notebook, two comic books, a pencil, a pen, an eraser, and, crucially, the alarm clock - fall and clatter on the ground. Lincoln groans, then stoops down and picks up the alarm clock. Red dot-matrix numbers glare on his groggy face: 06:02, it screams at him. Damn, it's too early to get up but too late to go back to sleep. And after waking up was so eventful, he was wide awake anyway. He carelessly thwomped the fallen items back onto his desk and threw his duvet back on the bed. He contemplated reading some Ace Savvy until breakfast, but he wasn't enjoying those as much as he used to. He found it increasingly difficult to focus on them, and laugh at them as he had done. He had agreed with Clyde to go to the comic book store today after school, to buy the latest issue. He started to wonder whether he should. The sweat on Lincoln's body turned cold as he stood uncovered in his room. He could use a shower, and no one would be using it at this hour anyway. He grabbed a towel and some clean underwear and headed for the bathroom. As he passed the hallway, quietly, so as to not wake anyone up, he took note of the rooms of his sleeping sisters. Lynn and Lucy were right next door to him, with the staircase leading to the living room opposite that. While he passed Luna's and Luan's room, opposite Lori and Leni's room, his sneaking got interrupted by the creaking of a door. On his right, he saw a door opening, and Luan exiting, toothbrush and towel in hand.
Lincoln froze. As Luan turned around and saw Lincoln unexpectedly standing there, she jumped and dropped her toothbrush.
"Luan, sorry, I—" Lincoln whispered and stammered, as he bent down to grab her fallen toothbrush off the floor.
"Lincoln! No, don't touch—"
"Here." Lincoln presented the toothbrush, and Luan snatched it out of his hand.
"What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't sleep. I was going to take a shower, but you can brush your teeth first if you want."
Lincoln bent and motioned towards the bathroom door as if he was a bellboy.
"I — I was also going to shower. It could be a while."
"That's fine. Just go. I'll go after you."
Luan remained standing there for a few seconds, however. "Look, Lincoln," she started, but when Lincoln looked at her to listen, he saw how her eyes changed, and how she turned around and went into the bathroom without ever finishing her whispers.
With nothing to do but wait until Luan was finished, Lincoln headed back to his room. He sat on his irregularly piled-up covers and thought back on his first time with Luna. The incident that had started it all. It crossed his mind every single day that he entered that bathroom. If he had decided to go shower a little later just now, and Luan hadn't closed the door...
Don't you feel close to me, Lincoln?
No, there's no way, right? Surely, Luan would have told him to stop, or more likely still, it would never have started in the first place. Right? If there had been another Loud sister in the shower that fateful day, it never would have happened. All his troubles would never have happened. He was sure of it. Lori would've for sure screamed and told him to get lost. And Leni, uh...
I saw you staring at the beach, Linkie.
Well, never mind her, but certainly Luan... Lynn would've kicked her out herself, for sure. And Lucy, he didn't want to do anything with Lucy, for certain. Or was it for certain? He remembered how he had accidentally soiled her last summer. He remembered how her tongue had licked it off, slowly.
I think I feel it too.
No, no, he must have imagined it. Or had he? How certain was he that he didn't have feelings for Lucy, really? And what happened with Lana... No, that was just a moment. A second, no more. A second of complete idiocy, that he quickly corrected. If Lana had been in that bathroom that day, he wouldn't... He would never...
There's nothing to explain about being a shitty brother.
Lincoln started to sob. He would. Fuck, he did. He had wanted to be a good brother. He tried so hard. But now, he had made mistakes he couldn't undo. They could never be a normal, happy family again. It was the fall of the House of Loud, and it was all his fault.
After a seemingly neverending spell of feeling sorry for himself, his self-pity was rudely interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Lincoln? The shower's free for you," Luan's voice sounded from the other side.
Lincoln lethargically dragged himself off the bed and opened the door. Luan stood at its opposite end, her hair dripping wet, and a towel tied around her loosely. When Lincoln looked up at her to make eye contact, he saw how Luan's eyes got bigger, then narrower, in a pitying look. Even in the dark, she must've seen how red his eyes were. Her face bore the echo of a smile. Luan looked a Lincoln awhile, and then clumsily pulled his head into a one-armed hug, using the other arm to keep the towel from falling off of her. Some of Luan's wet hair brushed his bare back, trickling cold droplets on his shoulder blades.
"Lincoln, I'm sorry. I — I don't hate you."
"You have every right to."
"Maybe. But I don't. You're my little brother, and... I don't want to lose you. Okay? I don't want to lose anyone."
At that, Lincoln let out muffled sobs onto Luan's towel.
Luan grazed his hair. "Hey, Lincoln, ssh, it's okay. Lincoln." Worried, she looked around, and gently pushed Lincoln back into his room, and she closed the door behind them. She kept a bit of distance now.
"I'm sorry I kissed you, Luan."
At that Luan's demeanour changed. She adopted the body and voice of a stern older sister, modelled after Lori, though not in an unfriendly way.
"Look, Lincoln, that I don't hate you doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you. Okay? I am. What you've done is incredibly stupid, and I won't excuse it — but I forgive you. I do. I know you're sorry about it, and I am too. But what you've done to Luna..." Luan swallowed gravely. "I don't know what to do anymore, Lincoln. I think I'm only making things worse. You... You were..." Whatever Luan was trying to say pained her greatly. "Luna — was always happiest around you. So, I need you, to do that, somehow. I need you to try. I really do. I have done everything I could to — I've tried to — I, I just can't."
Luan was sobbing now. Lincoln wanted to hug her, but the previous hug had, despite the lack of ulterior motives, been strangely intimate between her wet barely-covered body and him wearing only his underwear. Lincoln just felt guilty. He couldn't accept Luan's forgiveness, she didn't know half of it.
"Please, Lincoln. I'm so scared that she'll... That she might... Please, Lincoln. You have to stop the boulder. Please—" tears choked out the remainder of her pleas.
Lincoln wasn't completely following what she was getting at, but he had never seen Luan look this helpless before. It was different from her tearful desperation at the beach, this was deep-rooted helplessness. He saw the fear in her eyes, and it physically hurt him to see it. He would do anything to see a smile on her face.
"I'll try."
—
The breakfast was pancakes. Lincoln prodded the stack of buttered gluten with his fork absent-mindedly. He loved pancakes, but he couldn't enjoy them with this pit in his stomach. He was worried about talking to Luna. She wasn't at the breakfast table — as was to be expected — but he would have to talk to her after school. Except, he has already arranged to meet Clyde to go buy the new Ace Savvy comic that releases today: Ace in the Hole. That means it would have to wait until after dinner.
His thoughts were disrupted by his mother's sharp gasp.
"Lucy!"
Lincoln turned his head to see Lucy's face thickened and covered in bruises. Her lip had split, and the area around it had gotten reddened with irritation.
"I fell," Lucy said monotonously.
"Lynn, do you have something to do with this," Rita demanded.
Lynn did not say anything. Lynn Sr., however, walked into the dining room with a stack of fresh pancakes.
"Hey, hey, why the yelling on this beautiful morning?"
"Honey, look what Lynn is doing to Lucy," Rita said as she pathetically gestured to Lucy's face.
"I told you, mom, I fell. Lynn has nothing to do with this."
"Yeah right," Lola started. "Lynn is always tackling people outside. She got my best pageant dress RUINED with stains."
"Now now kids, settle down." Lynn Sr. put down the pancakes and gestured for everyone to be calm, then turned to his wife. "Honey, if Lucy says she fell, then she must have fallen. There's no reason to doubt her, right? Why would someone lie in this family? Take a deep breath." Rita obeyed. "Are you alright, Lucy?"
"Yes. Fine. I just fell. It's no big deal." Lincoln could hear that Lucy was clearly uncomfortable with all the attention drawn towards her.
"Well, as grandpa Leonard always said: there's no hurt that isn't healed with a pancake," Lynn Sr. responded cheerfully. "So let's enjoy breakfast."
—
"We're not going to the comic book store, Clyde. We're going to Flip's."
"Flip's? It's not really the weather for milkshakes."
"I'm buying cigarettes."
"Oh."
They walked in silence. Lincoln went inside alone and returned with a pack of cigarettes. They walked around the corner of the desolate store, near the entrance to the toilet. Lincoln peeled at the plastic wrapper and opened the packet nervously.
"You know, Lincoln, smoking is really addictive. And it could get you cancer. Dr Lopez says-—"
Lincoln interrupted him sternly, without looking at him. "I don't care what Dr Lopez says. I had a nightmare. I fucked two of my sisters, kissed another, was caught accidentally ejaculating another, and can barely control myself around another two. My mom doesn't trust me anymore, and she's right to. My family is falling apart. My fucking hair is white. I need a fucking cigarette."
"Well, uh..." Clyde paused for a long time, seemingly in thought. "If you put it that way."
Clyde stared at him while he inhaled the first drag from the cigarette. Lincoln let out a short and sharp cough, which he caught in his puffed-up cheeks. Tiny smoke clouds exited through his nose and at the side of his lips.
"Aren't you afraid your parents will be angry if they catch you smoking?"
"Honestly, Clyde," Lincoln paused to cough, "I'm more concerned about them catching me sleeping with one of my sisters. But so far they've done a pretty shit job at playing detective."
"Well uh, fair enough."
"Besides," he took another drag, more successfully this time. No cough. "I've seen Lori smoking in the garage many times. They've never caught her either, I don't think."
"Lori smokes?"
"Like a chimney, my oblivious friend. Sorry if that deduces some perfect wife points for ya."
Lincoln focussed his gaze on his cigarette as he drew more inhales from it, and watched the cinders at the end of his cancer stick light up with the intensity of his draws. He smoked it hurriedly, anxious that the cigarette might extinguish and be ruined if he waited too long in between draws. Clyde just stared at him meekly. They stood in silence for a while.
"Can I have one?" Lincoln shot up at Clyde's question and gave him a look. "Hey, you're not the only one with problems, Lincoln. I'm black, blind without my thick prescription glasses, a virgin, my dads are gay. I'm in therapy for just about every neurotypical disorder in the DSM-5. I'm the most bullied kid in school."
Lincoln cracked a wistful smile, and offered him the pack, holding the cover open with a single finger. Clyde clumsily took out a cigarette.
"Most bullied kid huh? Wait 'till people hear I'm fucking my sisters." Lincoln lit Clyde's cigarette for him.
Clyde put the lit cigarette to his lips and inhaled on it as if it was his asthma inhaler. "Wait till people hear I'm fucking one of your sisters."
For a moment, Lincoln stared at Clyde motherfuckerly — but then he started to laugh. Clyde also couldn't keep his laughs in, which made him cough up the cigarette smoke he had just inhaled. Together, they laughed and coughed, coughed and laughed, exhaling Clincoln McClouds into the snowing sky.
—
Lincoln stared at his house from the driveway, bike in hand. Snowflakes zigzagged through the air and disappeared in the white of his hair. He stared at the blinded window that belonged to the bathroom. That fateful bathroom where it had all started. Lincoln dreaded going home. He didn't want to renege on his promise to Luan, but something gnawed at him. He was rehearsing things to say to Luna in his head and quickly dismissing all of his options. Maybe he should just have another cigarette.
Lincoln walked up to the garage, snow crunching beneath his feet, and stalled his bike against it. As he strummed his spark wheel against his cigarette, he heard a muffled sound from the other side of the garage door. It sounded as if someone was talking, but there was only one voice. He couldn't make out whose. To get a better listen, Lincoln pressed his ear against the metal of the sliding garage door, but only for a fraction of a second. The metal was as cold as boiling water was hot. Ever curious, and desperate for whatever delay he could create to talk to Luna, he snuck to the side door of the garage. He very carefully pulled at the hinge and clicked the door ajar to a crack. He pulled his ear to the opening to listen. The talking had ceased, but he could hear the sound of metal being strummed. He recognised the sound as an electric guitar that wasn't plugged into an amplifier, playing only silent notes. Fumbling fingers kept restarting similar notes to find a chord. He knew at once who it was, of course. There would be no delay. He carefully shut the door behind him, then snuck around Vanzilla with heavy feet to find her. She sat in the corner, eyes closed, leaning against her amplifier with her headphones plugged into the headphone jack. She hadn't seen him enter.
Fairly quickly, her practised hands found the chords she wanted, and she hummed. The chords were in minor, and her strums were slow. Then the hums turned to gentle song.
You played it loud, played it loud
I got no chance of turning you down
Played it loud, it ain't allowed
Yet I live it, breathe it, don't tell me I don't need it now
Once she had finished, her eyelids slowly unsheathed her teary eyes. She stared straight ahead but turned to the grey in her peripheral vision. The grey was orange. She stared. He stared back. Slowly, she pulled her headphones off of one ear, and then the cup at the other ear sprang to meet its other half.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"Are you writing new songs?"
"So you heard, huh?"
"Yeah."
Luna turned to her guitar. "I'm just jamming, actually. I wrote the lyrics though. Sometime last summer."
"I liked the chord progression. That last chord... I'm trying to remember when you helped me with my music homework. Is it an F?"
"This one?" Her guitar spoke a meek, sorrowful word.
"Yeah."
"F power chord, actually." She strummed it again, slower. "I didn't teach you that one though, so close enough."
"You're really passionate about music, huh."
"More than you know, lil' bro. But it's hard to find the right notes to play nowadays." Luna slid out from under her guitar strap and gently placed her guitar against the wall. She looked up at him, then lowered her gaze to his lips. "Can I have one?"
Lincoln summoned the packet of cigarettes from his coat pocket. "These were expensive. They cost me my comic."
"I can pay you back." Lincoln saw her eyes dart down, then back up.
Lincoln allowed himself a brief fantasy. "Don't worry about it," he said at last. He slid out a cigarette. "After all, I think I kind of owe you one." He tossed the cigarette to her. With several backflips, it landed halfway up the sleeve of her hoodie as she tried — and failed — to catch it.
"Got a light?"
Lincoln sat down next to his big sister. He summoned the lighter from his jacket pocket and lit her cigarette, which she held between her lips, her chin tilted and extended forward so as to not burn her bangs off. As Luna took and exhaled her first drag, she settled down a little closer against Lincoln. She reclined further and rested her head crookedly on the padded cloth on Lincoln's chest. He put her arm around her. They sat for a while, pensively smoking in a silence interrupted only by their diaphragms.
Lincoln felt Luna shiver. It was freezing cold in the garage. "Here," he said, and unzipped his orange puffer jacket. Luna leaned forward so he could put it on her. After she had zipped herself up in his jacket, she leaned back.
"How did you get these, anyway?"
"Flip's. He doesn't ask questions."
"Heh, that's pretty rock 'n roll, bro. I didn't know you had it in you."
Lincoln couldn't help but laugh. "Really? I think your lyrics would've been a little different if I didn't have it in me."
Luna looked at him intently but said nothing. When after a few moments she dropped her gaze, she asked "aren't you cold?"
Before he could answer no, the side door of the garage opened, and someone hurried themselves inside, closing the door behind them hurriedly, but softly. They heard a rough phew. When she appeared around the corner of Vanzilla, she saw Lincoln and Luna. Both jolted up as if caught, but both also quickly relaxed, as they realised weren't doing anything too out of the ordinary. They were just cuddling, as brother and sister might. So they relaxed again.
"What's that?" Lana pointed to Lincoln's cigarette. As Lincoln looked at it, he forcefully slammed his other palm against his forehead. Damnit, they were doing something wrong: smoking in front of their impressionable younger sister.
Luna answered. "Never mind that, what are you doing here, dude?"
"I'm playing hide and go seek with Lola. She'll never find me here. Really, I just wanted to get away from her dumb dolls." Lana stared at her hugging siblings, and a smile slowly crept up her face, then faded. "Are you doing things in secret in here?"
Luna opened her mouth to say no, but Lincoln said "Yes. Very secret, so you can't tell anyone, okay? This is our secret hideout."
Lana's eyes lit up and gleamed like stars. "For real? Oh, I won't tell! Can I join you guys?"
Lincoln and Luna looked at one another, but before they could tell her yes or no, their younger sister had snugly crept up underneath Lincoln's arm and beside Luna. She stretched and twirled her head against the fabric of her big brother's sweater, then settled with her head against Luna's newly acquired puffer jacket sleeve. It was an adorable scene. They looked like a family picture — not of siblings, but of parents with their child. Lincoln took the quartered cigarette out of his mouth and hugged the both of them tight. He saw Luna staring dotingly at Lana, then at Lincoln. Her big brown eyes fixed on him, the cigarette still burning idly at her morose lips.
A soft echo from a past conversation with Clyde appeared in his head. Would you say you're more like, siblings-with-benefits, or, like, a couple, the vaguely audible voice of memory-Clyde repeated. Lincoln remembered his panicked answer as well: We're not romantically involved, Clyde! What are you thinking? But as he gazed at Luna now, there was nothing of that sinful lust between them. Likewise, there wasn't any semblance of the tension he had — albeit briefly — felt with Lana the other day. Luna averted her eyes, and moved her head closer to his heart, her temples pressed firmly between his collarbones. He rested his chin protectively over the top of her head. What was he feeling? Was this what he wanted? He pictured this idyll lasting the rest of his life and Lincoln felt a wave of... was it, complacency? Respite? It could've lasted the rest of eternity, and he wouldn't have minded it one bit. That was for sure.
After a long silence, Luna spoke.
"I love you, Lincoln."
She spoke it softly. Cautiously, but determined. The words should have moved him, but they didn't. He was angry at the truth of them, at how complicated it had made everything. I love you too, Luna, Lincoln had wanted to reply, but the words choked him up somehow. He just sat there, stunned. Amazed. He had gotten too stuck in his head about it. Did he love Luna? What kind of love? The pangs of realisation welled in him: this wouldn't last. It couldn't last. It had already not lasted, with everything he was fucking up around him, his family half in shambles, half in denial. He thought of Leni, and of his kiss with Luan. He wanted to tell her, then. Convince her he was not worthy of that kind of love. Perhaps not even of sisterly love. But with Lana now there, his chance was spoiled, and his lips were sealed. Besides, he promised Luan to talk her out of her depression, not spin her into a new one. She seemed complacent now.
"I know," he said eventually.
"I love you too, Lincoln. You too, Luna. You guys are the best," Lana spoke affectionately.
Lincoln felt Luna's shakes of silent sobs against his chest at her words.
Lincoln patted her on her red cap. "We love you too, Lana."
Lincoln saw how luna unclasped one of her bracelets and slid it off of her arm. "Lana," she started in a low voice. "I want you to have this."
Lana's eyes widened. "For me? Why?"
"As a memento, dude. So that if you ever miss me, you can look at the bracelet and know that I'm with you."
Lana was chuffed and put the bracelet on. It was too big for her small wrists, and it slid around on her forearm as she inspected it from every angle. Lincoln was not bemused but alarmed. If you ever miss me, Luna had said. The words spun in Lincoln's head. Was that what Luan had feared? He threw an askew glance at her. Some tears had escaped her eyes. Lincoln felt powerless then. He couldn't talk to Luna. Not really. If he revealed too much about what had been going on behind her back, it might push her over the edge. Cause her to do something drastic. This scene wasn't an idyll anymore, but a forewarning. Lincoln had to watch her. Dissuade her in secret. He hugged her extra tight.
"We couldn't miss you, Luna."
Luna turned to him, with a soft, meaningful smile.
"You won't have to, Lincoln."
She angled her head for a kiss, but Lola stormed into the garage, and her tirade broke the spell.
—
Dinner was almost normal that evening. Everyone was there. There were still tensions, but there at least was no screaming, no outbursts, and no one was grounded. It was calm, which in itself was uncharacteristic for the Loud House. But some calm was nice. Luna seemed restrained, and she even forced faint smiles on her face now and then. She no longer seemed to flinch when people spoke. But Lincoln was not relieved to see it. Luan flashed Lincoln a grateful smile. To her, whatever he had done had worked, even though he felt he hadn't done much. And he knew that what he feared wouldn't be dissuaded so easily.
After dinner, they each went to their rooms.
Lincoln's head thudded against his pillow, once again. Powerlessness reared its head. If only he had a magic wand, which he could wave to magically fix everything. Some Deus ex machina that could orate a lecture and mend his wrongs. Maybe Lisa could invent a mind-erasing machine and make everyone forget it had ever happened so that they might go back to how it once was. But his hopes were folly, he knew. No solution would come to him magically, he would have to make one himself. But what could he do, except live in fear? Fear that more would find out. Fear that the whole truth would drive Luna past her limit, and force her hand upon herself. Fear that Lincoln would be excommunicated from the family he held so dear. Although now he doubted whether he really did. Would a loving brother do the things he has done? His dejection sunk him into his mattress. There was nothing he could do. He had no will to exert.
A strong knock came on the door. Before Lincoln could admit the guest entry, they had already forced themselves through his door. It was Lynn, holding a cricket bat.
"Hey Linc', wanna play ball?"
"Not tonight, Lynn. I'm tired. And I'm no good at cricket, besides."
Lynn glanced at him, then smirked. "Really? I hear you have a pretty good aim."
"You heard wrong. I've been having a lot of swings and misses lately. Why don't you ask Lana?"
Lynn groaned. "I'm tired of playing against little girls. I always win. With you, I at least have to try a little to win." Lynn closed one eye and aimed her bat at an imaginary projectile.
"I'm flattered," Lincoln said sardonically.
"Fine, no cricket. Wrestling, then? I know you like to wrestle your sisters."
"You like to wrestle your sisters. And anyone you wrestle usually ends up bruised, so no thanks."
"Yawn, Lincoln. You're not afraid of a little bruise, are you? Is that really gonna stop you from enjoying yourself?"
"I'm enjoying myself just fine."
"Yeah right. These walls are thin, Lincoln, and I sleep on the other side of it. I can hear you sobbing to yourself at night."
Lincoln felt stupid, then. Even as they were talking, he had lain slumped on his bedsheets out of dejection. And Lynn knew it. Of course she could hear through the walls — wait, what else could she hear? Lincoln remembered the shadowed spectre that has stood in the doorway, watching, while... Had he not imagined it, after all?
"What I do at night is none of your business."
"Woah, that's cold, Lincoln. Is that how you speak to your sweet sister, looking out for you?" Her grins annoyed him now.
"If you were looking out for me, you might've asked what's wrong at some point."
"I don't have to ask. I know what's wrong."
Lincoln shook. "You do?"
"Yeah. It's plain as day." Lynn approached him, planted her cricket bat upright on his floor and rested her folded arms and head on it, in a half-lean. "You're weak."
"Weak?" Lincoln felt some sort of anger rising in him, but he dissuaded it. He knew that was what Lynn was after, to get a rise out of him.
"Yeah, weak. I can see it on your face. Your weakness practically... Drips off of it."
"Lynn, I don't like playing games."
"You don't? Well damn, I guess me kicking your ass in Dead or Alive is also off the table then." Lynn smiled, seemingly proud of her jests. "Maybe you prefer to play in Vanzilla."
Lincoln understood then. "What did Lucy tell you?"
"Enough. Tell me, who were you thinking of before the door opened? Ronnie Ann? Or maybe..." She feigned realisation and overexaggerated surprise. "One of your sisters?"
Lincoln winced, not wanting to talk himself into a trap.
"Were you happy with your aim? Or were you perhaps aiming for someone else?"
Lincoln sat up, frowning heavily. "I certainly wasn't thinking about you, if that's what you're after."
Lynn burst out laughing. She laughed loudly, and long. "As if!" She looked at him incredulously. "Oh man, do you really think you'd have a chance? That I'd be here swooning over my little brother?" She dramatically raised her wrist to her forehead and set up a theatrical voice. "Oh Lincoln, I know it's so wrong, but I must have you."
"Stop it."
"Why, is it activating something in you?"
"Only annoyance."
"Damn, don't be such a grump, Linc'. Cheer up a little, huh?"
"If you want to cheer me up, get out of my room. I don't care what you think your heard or saw, but it has nothing to do with you. So stay out of it."
"And what if I don't want to stay out of it? Are you gonna kick me out?"
"Come on, Lynn. Luna and I have enough on our minds as is."
Lynn's ears moved, like a cat's. "Fine, fine. I'll leave you alone." Lynn picked up her bat and swaddled towards Lincoln's room, taking her sweet time. She opened the door and stood still in the doorway. The cricket bat leaned on her shoulder. Turning her head, she addressed Lincoln. "Oh, speaking of Luna, she wanted to talk to you, she said. In her room."
Lincoln shuddered, then. "She did?"
"Yeah, she said it was urgent."
"Damnit, Lynn. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Lincoln rose, anxiety took a hold of him now. What if he was too late already? He stood and walked, Lynn let him pass her, her hands still on her cricket bat.
Lincoln strode through the hall in large paces, sick with worry. Why did Luna want to see him? Would Luan be there? Had Lynn told her something? He passed Lucy and Lynn's bedroom, heading for the next door. But before he could complete his stride, Lincoln was ambushed by Lynn. She had been waiting for him to walk near the door. She trapped Lincoln by holding on to her bat around him, immobilizing him around the chest and shoulders.
"Dodge, Lincoln." Lynn said with a sadistic undertone.
"Ah! Lynn? What are you doing? Let me go!" Lincoln tried and failed to turn his head to face Lynn. He struggles against his sister, but his protestations yielded to her hold. Lynn angles and wrestles him through the doorway, forcing him to enter her bedroom.
"Calm down, Lincoln. We just wanted our brother to come play with us." Lynn kicked the door shut behind them with a loud thud.
"We?"
As Lincoln attempts to wriggle himself out of Lynn's grip - to no avail - his eyes are directed towards the bed. He stands, then. Stunned. Lucy sat there, on the bed, on her knees. Her hands meekly pressed on the bed before her. She is completely nude, and her skin flushed a deep red.
Lincoln's heart throbbed in his throat. "Lucy? W- What's going on?"
"It's your lucky day, Linc'." Lynn forced Lincoln to take a few steps towards the bed. "Last summer this one got us grounded. You and me both. So why don't we take a little revenge on her, huh? Maybe that'll cheer you up."
Lincoln stared into the scarlet expanse of Lucy's skin. She coloured intensely red, a redder red than had ever been red. He felt Lynn's grip loosen.
Lucy sat still while Lynn approached her side with the cricket bat. Lynn held out the bat towards Lincoln. "This one's been talking about you, Lincoln. You've given her a sample, now she wants the whole nine yards. Are you gonna give it to her?"
Lincoln stared. He could feel an excitement rushing towards him, supplanting the anxiety that had been there. He had been so sure he wasn't interested in Lucy. He wasn't so sure now. But he couldn't allow this. The cricket bat hovered between them like a cocktail platter at a high society ball. She might as well have been balancing the forbidden fruit of knowledge on it. The one that gets him kicked out of the Garden of Eden. Although Lincoln wondered if it really mattered if he had eaten from the fruit already.
Suddenly, there was a tug at the bat. It moved away from him and swung. A flurry of nude skin and black hair dashed before his eyes, and when the struggle resolved, he saw that Lucy had thwarted whatever Lynn was doing. She had twisted the bat in Lynn's hand so that she was unable to hold on to it. As quickly as she could, she pinned the ends of the cricket bat into the creases of Lynn's elbows and presses the middle of it down on Lynn's throat with her full body weight. The move made Lynn completely unable to use her arms. Or breathe comfortably.
"Agh, Lucy!" Lynn hurled a weak snarl at her. Lynn couldn't move her arms, but, ever unable to concede defeat, she flailed her legs like a madman.
Lucy turned towards Lincoln resolutely. "Lincoln, quick, grab her feet."
Lincoln did, cautiously grabbing onto and restraining the flailing, athletic legs of his sister.
"Hey! What's the big idea!?" Lynn snapped. She was angry, yes, but Lincoln could tell she was also impressed. He had seen her instruct Lucy at the beach. Lucy had used her own moves against her. The student became the master. If it hadn't been at her own expense, she may have even been proud of Lucy. But she wasn't, she was fucking furious. "Let me go!"
"Well, Lincoln," Lucy started, "the strong and famous Lynn Loud is completely at your mercy. What will you do with her?"
As Lucy spoke, Lincoln stared at the pronounced musculature of Lynn's legs as they tightened to try and escape from his grip — to no avail. Lynn was wearing very tight sports shorts, and most of her legs were bare. They were immaculately shaved for aerodynamics, so there wasn't a single hair or stubble to spot on it. In spite of her muscle definition, Lynn's legs looked as soft as clouds.
"Don't you think you should have some fun with her? Make her pay for all the tackles and jests?"
"What!?" Lynn protested.
Lincoln looked up but didn't respond.
"I've seen you do it, Lincoln. Your power. The way you can bend even your sisters to your sick, perverted will. Teach me. Show me."
"What the heck, Luce," Lynn spoke softly, and increasingly more desparate. "I thought you fantasised about him, what's your deal?"
Lucy leaned in, and towered above Lynn's flustered face. Lucy's bangs gravitated away from her face, and Lynn could see Lucy's eyes directly. They looked fiercely back at her. "Oh, Lynn. My fantasies about Lincoln weren't about me. They were about the raw power he wields. The restraint that he lacks. The incestuous lust with which he can conquer all of his sisters — even you."
Half of Lynn's face made way for shock, the other for a half-hearted smirk. A smirk that almost admitted defeat. Game recognise game. She knew that this was what Lucy wanted and that she had planned it all along. Lynn also realised her mistake now: she underestimated Lucy. Her body may be frail, but her mind is wicked.
"You're a bad girl, Luce."
"The baddest."
Lucy puts her knees on the cricket bat, pressing down on it so hard that it seriously chokes Lynn out. Lucy lowers herself to sit on Lynn's face, releasing some of the pressure on Lynn's throat while also smothering Lynn with herself, and silencing Lynn's lips with her own lips. Weak, muffled protests emanated from underneath. The protests indicated she could breathe, at least somewhat. Lucy uses her now freed hands to lift up Lynn's t-shirt, exposing her pillowy, toned abs, architraved by her black sports bra. As Lucy's hands slowly trickle down towards the bottom edge of the bra to lift it up, Lynn jerks her upper body up and down violently in protest. Lincoln feels Lynn's legs struggle even more than before. Her flailing makes no difference, except that when Lucy lifts up the sports bra, Lynn's moderate breasts come flailing out as excessively as she struggled to prevent it.
"Do it, Lincoln."
Lincoln couldn't help looking at Lynn's shapely breasts, but he also couldn't help feeling like this was wrong. It was bad enough that he took advantage of sisters that wanted to be taken advantage of, but Lynn seemed to be actively struggling against this. He felt bad for her, even though he realised that in her mind she had planned this exact scenario, albeit with herself pinning Lucy down, not vice versa. If she was truly at his mercy now, perhaps he should give her mercy. Even if that went against his instincts. After all, his instincts had been causing him trouble only.
"No." Lincoln protested without confidence. "We should stop this, Lucy. I don't think Lynn wants this."
Behind her bangs, Lucy raises an indignant eyebrow at her brother. He cannot see this. "You think?"
"Yeah, I mean... She didn't consent to anything. It feels wrong."
"Of course it feels wrong," Lucy spoke as if he had insisted that one and one equals two, "isn't that why it feels so right? Didn't the fact that she's your sister feel wrong?"
Lincoln stared at Lynn. In all honesty, that thought hadn't even occurred to him until now. It had almost become commonplace to him now, landing in sexual situations with his siblings. He remembered the nonchalance with which Clyde had heard his stories. Seeing his sister naked did feel wrong, but a different kind of wrong. An enticing wrong. The kind of wrong that felt right, as Lucy described. But forcing her against her will didn't feel so-wrong-it's-right, it just felt plain wrong to him.
"I — yes, she is my sister. So I care about her and don't want to force her to do something she doesn't want to do."
"Oh, brother, you are too kind after all. I suppose that is why everyone likes you. But fine." Lucy shifted and got off of Lynn's face. Lynn loudly gasped for air. Lucy kneeled beside the bed, and placed both hands around her sister's face, lifting her head up to force her to look at Lincoln, and Lincoln to look at her. Lynn's face was reddened, deeply red, like a tomato. Her gaze is meaningful. "If you're so afraid she doesn't want it, ask her."
Lynn stared at Lincoln, flustered and out of breath. She was no longer thrashing about, although she still seemed uncomfortable. Lincoln stared back at her, deeply disheartened by the sudden confrontation. One he had not longed for, or even considered plausible.
"Ask?"
"Yes, ask. Your problem was that she didn't consent, right? So, ask her for consent."
"I, uh..."
What kind of situation had he gotten himself into now? Lincoln tried to phrase a hypothetical question in his head a couple of times, in a few different ways. The thought of flat-out asking something like that from Lynn was deeply embarrassing to him. Even now. In the awkward silence that followed, Lincoln had time to stop and think about what he himself wanted. Was he really about to have sex with another one of his sisters? After all the trouble it got him in? Was this really arousing to him? Lynn's body had a beautiful quality to it. It did beckon him, somehow. The power in her defined muscles, especially. The modest breasts that had been exposed to him. He imagined teasing her there and hearing her moan. Lynn being in his control. That was not something he had fantasied before. But now that he had fantasied it, he knew he did not feel unstirred. Perhaps that kind of control aroused him most of all.
"Come on, Lincoln. Ask it. Ask her if she wants to fuck her brother."
Lucy presses her own face against Lynn's. Lynn's face is still reddened with heat, and is contorted in shame. Yet, she doesn't break eye contact with Lincoln. Her eyes were fierce, even in defeat. She had stopped resisting Lucy's whims and stopped struggling against Lincoln's grip, but still did not speak up. Her eyelids remained retracted at Lincoln in some sort of anticipation.
"What's the matter Lincoln? Afraid she'll say no?"
Lincoln looked at Lynn inquisitively, as if his look sought to establish what she would answer. Nothing about Lynn at this moment indicated that she would refuse. The usually fierce, unwavering girl now laid meekly on her bed, her breasts still exposed for him to see, as she hadn't even made an attempt to cover herself up. Did she want him to keep seeing her?
"L— Lynn..." Lincoln started, but his voice betrayed insecurity.
"Ask it like you mean it, Lincoln," Lucy demanded.
Lincoln cleared his throat and started again, but this time, with more confidence. "Lynn." There was no reason to beat around the bush, given everything that had already happened. "Tell me if you want this."
Lynn parted her lips ever so slightly to speak, and she breathed in. She moved her chin slightly upwards in some sense of pride and provocation. Her movements seemed drunk.
"Make me."
—
Lincoln was stunned. He didn't anticipate that response. Make her? Lincoln broke eye contact with Lynn and looked down, puzzled. That meant, however, that his gaze fell upon her shapely breasts. Lynn then, finally, covered them up. But not out of shame or discomfort: she only very lightly and slowly covered them. Lincoln looked back at Lynn, who had raised her eyebrows indignantly. She was provoking him — that fact finally dawned on Lincoln. She was provoking him just as she had in his room. She had made the rules clear. If he wanted her to show them, he had to make her show them.
Lincoln climbed over Lynn and placed his knees beside her hips. He used them to pin Lynn so she couldn't squirm. He rapaciously seized Lynn's wrists and removed them from her chest. She offered her best resistance, but Lincoln's arms were stronger by the simple virtue of being a man. Lynn's indignance evaporated as he pinned her arms beside her on the bed. She tried to squirm to no avail. Lucy leaned back to create some distance and looked on. Lincoln looked at Lucy, with a newfound determination in his eyes.
"Lucy, pull my pants down."
Lucy dutifully got up and did as Lincoln asked. As Lincoln was unpantsed, he stared straight at Lynn, whose eyebrows had turned upwards in what looked like fear. He had a sense had her gambit had backfired. That Lynn didn't expect her little brother to go through with it, that he wasn't strong enough. He saw her gaze turn down, and her pupils constrict. Her blush became more pronounced. She started struggling more.
"You wanted me to make you, you said? Oh, I'll make you." Then he commandeered Lucy again. "Pull Lynn's pants down too."
"Ah! N— No!" As Lucy fumbled the sports shorts off of Lynn's strong, struggling thighs, Lynn's voice started wavering helplessly. It seemed out of place on the usually so confident and rowdy sister. Lincoln had never seen her like this before, and he knew no one had. Knowing that he had made Lynn submit to him, and only him, made him feel overpoweringly strong — and very aroused. But perhaps no one was as aroused as Lucy, who looked on, staring at what she thought was the very hottest thing in the world.
"Lincoln, shit, calm down. You win, okay? I — I'll do anything. Just, slow down." Lynn pleaded. She wasn't provoking anymore, her pleas seemed genuine, at least in part.
"If you want me to stop, just say so."
At that, Lynn stayed meaningfully mute. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. Without Lynn's protest, Lincoln moved and angled to insert himself. Lynn spasmed once more.
"Lincoln, I—"
"You what?" Lincoln snapped his head towards her as if to slap her with the movement of it.
"I'm your sister. And... I— I'm... I've never..."
Lynn's pleading eyes were angled up at her brother, radiating complete and utter helplessness. He could see himself reflected back in those dark, deep pools of yieldlessness. He could see the power Lucy spoke of.
"I—" Lynn slacked a shallow sigh. "I'm a virgin, Lincoln."
She had left it at that. Lincoln was surprised, but not very. Her strength and demeanour were sure to scare off any boy her age. He failed to feel pity for her. After all, she had tried to orchestrate a situation where Lincoln would be taking Lucy's virginity just minutes ago. She was only trying to weasel her way out of it because the tables had turned on her. She wanted to be in charge. But this whole situation was entirely of her own design. Against his will, Lincoln had been caught up in some crazy power play by his sisters, and he wasn't just going to let that slide. But, most tellingly of all: There were no pleas, just her stating a fact. She left it up to him what to do with the information. Lynn had never asked Lincoln to stop. Ergo, she didn't want him to stop.
"Not for long."
"What!?"
Lincoln didn't know what came over him, but he was drunk with power now. Lynn had gotten herself into this situation, and he was convinced that it was what she wanted. After all, Luna, Luan and Leni had not been able to resist him either. Perhaps no one could. He felt like a God — and not one of the merciful variety.
"Dodge, Lynn."