Lori stood at the sink for a long time after the last dish was done, her hands splayed on the counter and her head bent - if you walked into the kitchen and saw her, you might be reminded of a Civil War genera leaning over to study a map with his advisors. The rebels are moving up the river, sir. We can meet them at the headwaters with a forward pincer attack. She wasn't pondering troop formations or rear assaults, but she was dedicating every fiber of her being to a single goal, just like that long ago general, only he was focused on taking a town or a field, and she was focused on building herself up to face her brother.

Again.

The first time didn't count - she walked into the dining room, saw him, and froze up like a woman coming upon a gigantic spider, her heart sputtering to a halt and her muscles seizing. The look of dread and fear on his face brought tears to her eyes as she scrubbed the pan, scouring first stuck on batter and then nothing at all. He was literally terrified of her, and why wouldn't he be? She did something to him last night, something awful and unforgivable. She still didn't know exactly what that entailed, only that she molested him, like a pedophile.

As she washed the same dish over and over again, she started to wonder: How did it play out? Did she hurt him? Physically force him? Coerce him? She saw herself pinning him to the bed and looking down into his horrified face. You're gonna fuck me, Linc, and you're gonna like it. Her eyes blazed with the fires of hell and the cold, knife-blade smile on her dark face sent shivers through her soul. She didn't think it happened that way, but she wasn't sure, and now the not knowing was tearing away at the pit of her stomach like a thousand tiny hooked fingers. She bowed her head, squeezed her eyes closed, and tried to call up a memory beyond the ones she woke with, those vague, flickering images of her biting his neck, clawing his skin, shaking as he stoked the embers in her stomach to a roaring fire, and then finally an earth-cracking explosion, but none came.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't know she had company until a plate clattered into the basin in front of her. She started and whipped her head around to find Lynn standing next to her; the younger girl's eyebrows were heavy with worry, her brown eyes muddled. "Lincoln's acting weird," she said, and the words hung in the air like a black cloud. Lori sighed and turned away, her eyes going to the dirty plate in the sink.

"You need to talk to him," Lynn urged.

She knew - she didn't want to, but she had to: She needed to apologize...and to find out what she did to him. "I will," she said with a sigh.

"Like, now," Lynn said.

Ice formed on the outside of Lori's heart and its chill crept through her chest and stomach. She wasn't one to procrastinate, if she had something to do she did it head-on, but with this, she'd rather put it off until she absolutely had to deal with it. The only thing that stopped her from doing so, that lead her up the stairs like a woman toward doom, was Lincoln, her cute, sweet, loving little brother. She couldn't leave him simmering in torment, alone and afraid, unsure of whether or not she'd come back for more, dreading every sound, jumping at shadows, terrified to come out of his room lest she accost and drag him away. Lincoln had always been sensitive and a little timid, and for him the suspense must be terrible. She'd already hurt him enough, she refused to do it anymore.

When she reached his door, closed and foreboding, she took a deep breath and lifted her hand to knock, but couldn't bring herself to follow through. She loved him, and the prospect of seeing him in pain, ashen and trembly like he was in the dining room, made her sick, especially knowing that it was because of her. It would kill her, and she honestly didn't trust herself to not make it worse, not to take him in her arms and smother him with soft, tender kisses. I'm sorry, Lincoln, I love you. She saw herself with him, and the way she touched him, and how her lips lingered on his warm, sweet-smelling skin bespoke deviant, unsisterly feelings.

She hung her head and blinked back tears of shame, her heart throbbing, her body aching to feel the warm weight of him against it. What was wrong with her? He was in there dealing with God only knew what, and she was fantasizing about holding him like a lover, not a little brother. How fucking sick!

Well...she wouldn't...she'd go in there and act like the sister he needed.

Decided, she knocked and waited, the atmosphere growing suddenly tense. She could feel him in there, his body stiff and his eyes wide. Oh no, she's gonna do it again.

"Yeah?" he called, his voice shaky and muffled.

She started to reply, but took the knob in her hand instead, not realizing that she was shaking until she tried to turn it but jiggled it instead. Easy, Lori, relax. She turned it, pushed the door open, and gripped it as she poked her head in: Lincoln sat on the edge of the bed, rigid with fright. She darted her eyes away. "We need to talk," she said.

The air went out of the room, and Lincoln cast his gaze to his feet. "O-Okay."

For a moment Lori stood where she was, then she forced herself in and shut the door behind her, leaning against it when her knees went weak. He looked up at her, his eyes swirling with anxiety, and he looked so much like a scared little boy who'd been hurt by someone sworn to protect him that Lori broke down and started to cry, her chin lolling against her chest and her hand going to her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but a strangled sob came out instead, and she cried harder.

Through blurred eyes, she saw Lincoln's face crumple and his head hang. He looked so sad, so wounded, so confused, that Lori couldn't stop herself from going over and kneeling in front of him, the way he cringed sending a dagger blade of sorrow into the center of her heart. She reached out, hesitated, then laid her hand on his knee. She blinked away her tears and looked into his eyes; a single tear tracked down his cheek and Lori's stomach clutched. "I-I'm so sorry," she said, her voice a broken whisper. "I'm sorry."

Lincoln blinked as if in surprise. "Y-You didn't do anything," he said, "i-it was me." Water welled in his eyes and spilled down his face. "I-I raped you." He began to cry in earnest, and confusion filled Lori.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I...I did that to you."

Why was he blaming himself? She was the one who did wrong, not him.

"No, you didn't," he said into his lap. "I went in your room last night because…" he trailed off and swallowed hard, and Lori gave his knee an instinctive and reassuring squeeze. "Because I...I wanted you."

Lori flinched as if slapped.

He looked up into her eyes, and in them she glimpsed raw, unadulterated pain. "The way you...you acted at the party...it-it turned me on."

At those words, Lori's heart started to race and her stomach quivered. He liked it? So much that he sought her out? She swallowed thickly.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Lori," he said, "but I liked it. I liked what we did." He face screwed up in misery and his shoulders hitched against his grief. Lori gaped stupidly, her hand limp on his knee and a roiling mass of emotions bubbling in her chest like the contents of a cauldron. Her mind went back to the night before, to one of the sole memories she had: Lincoln on top of her, his face inches above hers, the taste of his mouth on her lips and his body stroking hers, every thrust pushing her toward climax, and her core pinched.

Swallowing, she squeezed. "Linc…"

He pressed his thumb and forefinger to his eyes and sucked his lips in.

"Lincoln," she said, softening her tone. She cupped the side of his face and made him look at her, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

She took a deep breath. "I liked it too."

Lincoln's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open with an almost audible clink. A hot blush spread across her cheeks and she took his hand in hers. "I know it's wrong and it makes me feel like shit, but...but I enjoyed it, Linc, and I...I meant what I said about you." She threaded their fingers and smiled.

For a long time, he stared at her agape, then his hand fluttered tentatively to her cheek; his touch was soft, warm, and tender, and Lori leaned into it like a cat. "R-Really?" he asked uncertainly.

She hesitated. It wasn't lost on her how profoundly wrong it was, and just on how many levels it was wrong on; he was her little brother, they shared blood and DNA, their bond was closer to what a mother shares with a child, they were far enough apart in age that it was frankly weird: A seventeen year old messing with an eleven year old is pedo territory, right?

All of these thoughts and more swirled through her head like a black vortex, but even so, she found herself simply not caring.

Turning her head, she kissed his wrist and took his other hand. "Yes," she said.

He shocked her by leaning forward and kissing her, his soft lips brushing hers and his tongue slipping into her mouth. Her heart burst and she kissed him back, her hands going to his face and her fingertips softly caressing his flesh. He pulled his hand from her grasp and weaved his fingers through her hair as he deepened the kiss. Lori's heart slammed an unsteady beat and her center twinged in delightful anticipation. Getting slowly to her feet, their tongues sliding over one another, she pushed him back onto the bed and mounted him, unaware that she was moving, her mind given entirely over to sensation and her body leading her in its stead; her knees caged him and her back arched, butt lifting, their lips never breaking.

When she pulled back, they were both panting and blushing, a long, silvery ribbon of mingled drool connecting them like a bridge between hearts; they gazed deeply into each other's eyes, and Lori's stomach fluttered insistently. "Did you like that?" she asked.

"Yeah," Lincoln grinned.

She laughed and slid her hands under his shirt, his quivering flesh warm and firm under her palms. The front of his pants twitched, and Lori's body responded by dampening. She brushed the hem of his shirt up, tossed her hair, and placed a sizzling kiss against his stomach, her lips lingering and her nose drawing in his comforting scent. She giggled at the way his hips rocked and kissed him again, higher this time, her eyelids fluttering when he gently ran his fingers through her hair, his nails lightly grazing her scalp and sending a shudder of pleasure through her fevered body. She rolled her eyes up to him and trailed kisses down his stomach, her fingers kneading his skin like a playful kitten.

When she reached the waistband of his jeans, she grinned naughtily and tugged at them; the outline of his erection was clearly visible, warm and full and quivering with an excitement that matched her own. "Can I touch you, big brother?" she asked and batted her eyelashes.

Lincoln's eyes flashed and he nodded - he liked being called big brother.

Smiling to herself, Lori undid the button, pulled down the zipper tab, and opened the flaps, his feral smell wafting into her nose and drawing an appreciative moan from the back of her throat. She flicked her eyes to his, then rubbed her hands over his bulge, squeezing and biting her bottom lip at the pangs it sent rippling through her core. She hooked her fingers in and pulled them down, freeing him.

Last night she was a pit of drunken need and didn't take the time to savor him...or to notice how big he was, and beautiful, his skin tight and blushing, his head leaking translucent fluid that dribbled down the side and over the strong cord at his base. The breath left her lungs in an exhalation of wonder, and her eyes widened slightly, lending her the appearance of a hungry woman standing before a Thanksgiving banquet. She met his eyes, and the desire she saw there drew her hand to it; she wrapped her fingers around and stroked slowly up. It was hot in her palm, burning, and slick too. Her heart skipped a few beats and Lincoln sighed, his cheeks blazing crimson.

"Do you like it when your little sister touches you?" she asked.

"Yes," he moaned.

Lori looked from his face to his rod, her mouth beginning to water - his heat, his smell, and his hitching breaths were intoxicating, and she wanted to taste him so bad it hurt. She brushed her hair behind her ear, leaned in, and skimmed her lips over his head, collecting his essence; it was salty on her tongue.

Still stroking, she took him into her mouth.

Lincoln sucked a gulp of air and squirmed under her; he leaked faster now, his precum mixing with her saliva and making her pant. She molded her tongue to his shaft and bobbed her head, his moans spurring her on; she went faster, her hands resting now on his stomach and her throat working furiously to handle all the sticky fluid sliding wetly down it. "Lori…" he sighed. His hands crept into hers, and she held tight. Faster, faster; her panties were soaked now and she shook with arousal. When she could stand it no longer, she spit him out, got to her knees, and pulled down her shorts, the fabric scraping her skin and sending goosebumps up and down her arms. Lincoln watched in suspense and she wiggled her hips and brushed them to her knees. She freed one leg, then the other, then kicked them aside; they and her underwear landed on the floor in a heap.

Next, she crossed her arms over her chest, pulled up her shirt, and threw it away. Now she was entirely naked before her big brother, his eyes touching her, caressing her, arousing her to the point where her head spun and her lubrication smeared the insides of her thighs.

Locking eyes with her brother, she crawled up between his legs and straddled him, his dick prying apart her lips and nestling against her. He put his hands on her hips and she bowed her back, her breasts pressing against his warm, bare chest and his head finding her opening as if on instinct alone. She stroked his forehead and placed a slow, sensual kiss on the tip of his nose. "I love you, Lincy," she purred.

"I love you too," he replied, and grinned. "Little sister." He slipped his hand around the back of her neck and brought her lips to his, claiming them as she sank herself onto him. They began to rock their bodies in harmony, his head raking her walls and prodding her limit, each thrust knocking a grunt loose from her throat. Resting her forearms on either side of his head, she broke away, tangled her fingers in his hair, and stared down at him, his narrowed eyes and red cheeks making him beautiful, but in a strong, masculine way.

Noticing the way she admired him, he favored her with that cocky smile of his, and her heart filled with affection; she peppered loving kisses across his face and rocked faster, suddenly wanting, needing, to feel him swell and cum inside her, to take him as deep as one can take another person. "Are you close?" she asked.

"Kind of," he panted, "I'm holding back -"

"Don't," she said, "let yourself go~"

DIgging his fingernails into her hips, he thrusted up, his dick spearing the opening of her womb. She felt her end starting to gather and squeezed her eyes closed, concentrated on the feeling of him inside of her, on the heat between them, on the feeling of his dick expanding, spreading her. "Lori.." he moaed.

Molten lead fired against her cervix, and she gasped, sweeping him into a tight embrace and hugging him tight to her breasts. Her orgasm tore loose and intensified with each burning squirt Lincoln pumped into her core; her body convulsed and her teeth chattered, biting off his name, which she repeated again and again as she rolled her hips against him, drinking every last drop of his seed and begging for more. Beneath her, Lincoln arched his back and bared his teeth as he shot one final blast, his fingers rhythmically opening and closing around her fleshy hips; she held him and buried her nose in his hair, drawing his clean smell into her nose as her body fell still and the fire in her loins cooled to a bed of glowing embers. Lincoln gave a spasmodic twitch, and Lori tightened her arms protectively around him. "I agree," she said and giggled.

She shifted off of him, purring at the feeling of his hot seed sloshing in her stomach, and stretched out on her side. She took him in her arms and pulled him close, cuddling him like a cute stuffed rabbit, their tacky bodies sticking together. She squeezed her legs closed to trap her precious Lincoln inside, and kissed the back of his neck. His hands found hers, and their fingers intertwined.

For a long time, neither of them spoke as they basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Drowsiness stole over Lori, his body heat and the soothing sound of his breathing lulling her. She hugged him closer, and for some reason, the closeness and intimacy they shared made her want to open up to him, to let him into the deepest center of her heart and mind the way she had her body. "I've always wanted an older sister," she said and squeezed his hand. "Being the oldest is hard. I feel like everyone relies on me to be, like, a second mom, and it's a lot of pressure. I never really had someone I could rely on, or go to for advice, or, like, have help me with things."

She faltered like a woman walking on ice, and Lincoln gave her hand an encouraging squeeze, which made her smile. "I know it's kind of crazy, you've always been like a big brother or something. You're always there for me and give me advice and make me feel good." A warm, tingling sensation flooded her chest as she spoke, and her lips were drawn to his bare shoulder; she kissed deeply, lazily. "I don't have a big brother," she said, then smiled and gave him a tender hug, "but I'm more than happy with my little brother."

Lincoln lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed each one of her knuckles, the tickle of his wet lips making her shiver pleasantly.

"And I love my big sister," he declared.

I wrote my first Loudcest ship, A Crush on Their Brother, in June 2017. It was Luancoln and I enjoyed writing it far more than I thought I would - romance, drama, and, indeed, sex, were not things that I wrote about often before, and had very little interest in writing. After finishing, I decided to ship Lincoln with every one of his sisters in a one-on-one set-up. Most of those stories were light and fluffy and focus on the genesis of the relationship they explored, and most have sequels that carried the story forward. This, too, will most likely have a sequel, and it will deal with Lori and Lincoln trying to hide their relationship from their family and dealing with other challenges, like their existing relationships with Bobby and Ronnie Anne respectively. It will be called Sober Hearts.

Also of note, with this story (I disregard There For You, which was published under AberrantScript's name), I have fulfilled my goal of shipping Lincoln with every one of his sisters except for Lisa and Lily. I have a Lisacoln story written, I just need to post it, and Lily...well...the whole point of these ships was to work with the canon characters at their canon ages, so I'm kind of stuck. I was going to do a little something humorous about canon age Lily trying to woo Lincoln...and of course it doesn't work. I don't know if I will, though. Anyway, thanks for reading. Hope to see you next time.