LC 2: Ladies and Gentlemen, we are Floating Through Space

>It's been a few days since "that" happened.
>Lincoln's finally managed to fix the lock on his door, or at least figured out how to jam it. He wouldn't answer Luna's requests to come in, and on the fourth day she gave up.
>Luna and Lincoln have been avoiding each other during the day as well.
>They've only been in the same room for a minute at a time before one eventually leaves.
>He's said all of ten words to her.
>A pit has grown in her stomach, belching out guilt and fear every time she sees him.
>A thousand questions race through her mind every time he flees from her.
>"Does he hate me?" being the one that weighs down on her.
>It's a cold Sunday when she comes down to watch TV when she finds Lincoln watching his ghost show.
>He's grinning.
>That's the first time she saw him smile since she "helped" him.
>Luckily he hasn't noticed her.
>Taking a deep breath, Luna enters the room and sits on the couch opposite of him.
>For several moments, nothing happens. He's ignoring her presence, but she can see that his smile was gone.
>And though his focus is on the screen, his head twisted to the left, just enough to put her in his periphery.
>The silence gnaws at Luna, and she can feel her chest start to tickle from the heartburn.
>She can't take this anymore.
>She has to confront this.
>"L-Lincoln, can we talk? P-please?" she stutters, her voice cracking at the end in a whine.
>Smooth.
>Lincoln shifts uncomfortably on the couch, his hands fidgeting through the blanky Leni made for him as a gift.
>He glances past her, toward the doorway.
>Then he looks at her.
>His cheeks get rosy.
>Biting his lip, Lincoln lets out a held sigh.
>"A...alright, Luna. Let's...talk."

>The only noise in the room is the TV running the tail end of Lincoln's show.
>Luna clears her throat, already grasping for conversation.
>"I..."
>She swallows hard. Her throat's gone dry.
>"Are you...mad at me?"
>Lincoln looks away for a moment, focusing intently on a stain Lana made on the wall this morning.
>Every second is like a knife in her heart.
>Just as his show switches to a commercial, Lincoln answers. His voice is oddly weary.
>"...No. No, I don't hate you."
>Luna's heart swells at the answer.
>She shimmies halfway across her cushion to him.
>She musters the courage for her followup.
>"Then why have you been avoiding me all week?"
>He slowly pulls himself closer to the arm of the couch, putting the same distance between them again.
>The red on his face spread more, touching the sides of his nose now.
>"I...I don't know," he mumbles, avoiding her stare.
>"Lincoln, please," she begs, dragging herself firmly onto the middle cushion.
>Her hand is planted on her knee, and she's using a lot of willpower to refrain from touching him.
>"I don't know what to say, bro," she continues, her voice struggling to remain calm. "Is this about what happened?"
>Lincoln is now trying to push himself into the couch to avoid her. She can see his legs squirming under the quilt.
>"...Yes."
>"Did I hurt you?"
>"No."
>"Did you hate it?"
>"Ye-no!"
>Luna's hands are wrapped around her stomach.
>"Then what's wrong?! What did I do?!"
>*plp*
>Her shirt starts to feel damp.
>Huh boy, here come the water works.

>Tears now flowing freely, Luna drops from the couch, dragging her knees to Lincoln's spot.
>His eyes are almost popped out, and he's staring. Hard.
>She hears him mutter something.
>She desperately clutches at his quilt, fighting to tear it off her brother.
>"I don't know what to say! I'm sorry?! Izzat what you want?!"
>"Luna! Let go!" he yells back, struggling to stay on the couch.
>"I'M SORRY!" she yells, thrashing her arms back and forth. "YELL AT ME OR SOMETHIN'! TELL ME WHAT I DID WRONG!"
>"STOP IT!"
>"HIT ME! JUST BEAT ME, PLEASE! SMASH ME JUNK, I-I'LL GIVE YOU SUM DOSH! JUST DON'T HA-"
>*paff*
>Luna dimly notes that the carpet isn't all that padded.
>You never realize that until your crack the back of your head against it.
>Her ears are ringing. It's not the tinnitus, so she can ignore it for now.
>She then notices, more importantly, that she stopped breathing.
>She tries to roll over to get on her knees, but something heavy's holding her down.
>She opens her eyes, seeing the light peek out through the thick fabric of the quilt.
>Air.
>She can hear mumbling through the ringing.
>Air please.
>She starts struggling on multiple fronts. To stand up and get the quilt off her. To breathe, to clear her head. To find Lincoln.
>Lincoln.
>That does the trick.
>Her diaphragm stops shivering.
>She sucks in a lungful through the blanky, just as the ringing stops, and she can understand the words.
>"...ate you, Luna."
>Shit.
>The weight on her tightens on her chest. That must be him, straddling her.
>"Please stop crying. I don't hate you, just...please stop crying, and I'll...I'll explain."
>Pushing herself up into a sitting position, the quilt falls off her face as she wraps her arms around her brother, returning the hug.
>She doesn't stop crying, not for a while.
>But they're not of blind fear or despair now.
>He doesn't hate her.
>That's good.

>Lincoln holds Luna as she cries out all the stress.
>When the well finally dries, he makes her go upstairs to change her shirt.
>She comes back downstairs in an old faded concert shirt. Most of the band's logo has long since fallen off.
>She Lincoln as he walks out of the kitchen, with a couple steaming mugs in his hands.
>Seeing her, he momentarily shrinks away from her, trying to make himself smaller.
>He quickly relaxes, straightening up and giving her a warm smile.
>He glances at the shirt, then at her eyes, then nods toward the couch.
>She simply follows him into the living room.
>He plops down on the loveseat, placing the mugs on the endtable before patting the seat beside him.
>Wordlessly she complies, sitting down timidly beside him.
>She presses hard against the arm, giving him as much room as she can.
>Lincoln starts.
>"I'm sorry I stunned you like that. I'm used to having to deal with Lynn, and she can tak - hold on."
>Getting up, he walks to the couch and grabs the quilt and the remote.
>Returning to her side, he sits down again, draping them both in the blankie and dropping the remote on her lap.
>He grabs her mug from the end table.
>She accepts the offer, the rich smell of cocoa filling her nose.
>"S'okay, bro," she mumbles, taking a sip.
>"Do you want to keep talking?" Lincoln asks, taking a sip of his own.
>Luna nods.
>"Do you want to start over?"
>She pauses, then nods again.
>She feels his hand slip under the quilt, patting her knee.
>"When your ready."
>She takes another sip, takes a deep breath, and looks her little brother in the eyes.
>Her mouth opens.
>Her mouth closes.
>She takes a mouthful of hot chocolate to steel herself.
>She looks at him again.
>Her voice is barely a whisper.
>"...Are you mad at me?"
>Lincoln takes a noisy sip, a blush creeping onto his face again.
>"No."
>She takes another gulp, grateful he used the biggest glass.

>Letting the soothing warmth of hot chocolate combine with the woven softness of the blankie unite into some terrible gestalt of comfort, Luna finds herself more at ease for her next question.
>She can feel the guilt barreling towards her, though.
>"Did I hurt you?"
>He takes a deeper sip, as if in thought.
>"...No. I wouldn't say you hurt me. Not in a pain way, at least."
>Luna takes another gulp, desperate the keep the warmth in her tummy.
>It's then she notices the music playing from the TV.
>/watch?v=DCUSWbMUJQ4
>She can't help but crack a wry grin.
>He always seems to know what she likes.
>Finishing half of her mug, she passes it back to Lincoln to put on the end table.
>She sighs, then looks at his beaming face again.
>Moment of truth.
>Deep breath, you can do it.
>"Do...do you hate me?"
>Her voice cracks again.
>God dammit, woman.
>He doesn't answer, looking away for a moment.
>She feels cold again.
>Oh God.
>"Lincoln...?"

>She's falling apart again.
>She screws her eyes shut, desperate to keep her tears in this time.
>She opens them again when she feels A familiar weight press against her.
>She lifts the quilt and peeks inside.
>Linc looks back at her, his face framed in shadow.
>He motions her to follow suit.
>Pulling the quilt over her head, she follows her brother as she slips off the seat, sitting between the loveseat and the ottomans.
>She didn't notice those before. He must have moved them before she came back.
>Even with the light on, it's hard to see him.
>His fingers brush softly against her hand.
>Her heart stops.
>"Luna."
>She stops breathing.
>Everything fades to oblivion as her eyes bore into Lincoln, everything else ignored, slipping into an oily darkness.
>He grabs her hand.
>She doesn't care that her legs are falling asleep.
>"I don't hate you."
>She squints.
>Are his cheeks slick.
>"I could never hate you."
>His hand squeezes.
>"You're my big sister. I love you."
>Despite the restrictions in this poor man's fort, he manages to open his arms.
>"C'mere."
>She lunges, quickly toppling him and draping herself over him.
>She didn't mean to. She didn't realize her legs were dead and wouldn't hold her up.
>Lincoln quickly shrugs off the surprise.
>The boy takes it in stride, wrapping an arm across her back while the other one, pinned between them, reaches as best it can to stroke her cheek.
>She won't cry. Not this time.
>He whispers in her ear, his breath warm from the hot chocolate. She shivers, the remarkable sensations cascading down her spine.
>"I'm not mad, you didn't hurt me, and I don't hate you," he repeats.
>Never mind.
>"And I won't smash your stuff, either."
>Fuck.

>"Feeling better?" Lincoln asks.
>"Hmm," mumbles Luna, finally calming down.
>"Wanna get out of the fort?"
>"This isn't a fort."
>"Is that a yes?"
>She squeezes tighter, clutching him possessively.
>"Okay, okay. Five more minutes, then I'll make us some pasta, okay?"
>Luna just sighs happily, relieved above all things that she didn't ruin her relationship with her little brother.
>Lincoln's the only one who actually enjoys listening to her music.
>He's the only one who helps her with her writing, and his outside approach to her music helps with her brainstorming.
>When she did that favour for him, it was for the best of intentions.
>He helps her with so much. He even moonlighted as a Roadie last month when Chunk needed a hand.
>He seemed so stressed that night, and it looked so painful, she couldn't just let him suf-
>Wait.
>That's right.
>"Um...Linc?" Luna whispers nervously.
>"Thirty seconds."
>"Not that. Um."
>She hesitates.
>She gives him another squeeze for good luck.
>For someone so bony, he's a remarkably good hugger.
>"You...never answered my last question."
>"Oh yeah? What was that?"
>"Y...you've been avoiding me since we...we, uh..."
>She pokes him in the hip for emphasis.
>He doesn't say anything.
>"Bro, can you...can you tell me why?"
>Silence.
>"Please say something."
>His response is quiet.
>"I'll tell you. But could you get off of me real quick? My back's killing me"
>"S-sure, yeah"
>Hoisting herself up, she releases her grapple and helps him up, returning to the real world with a simple lift of the quilt.
>Lincoln stretches his back, motioning Luna to follow as he headed for the kitchen.
>Following closely, she dutifully helps him start preparing dinner, pulling out the pot and measuring the noodles.
>She watches him, expectantly.
>He can feel her staring at him.
>"Ok, Luna. The truth."
>He turns around to face her while he waits for the water to boil.

>Lincoln rubs his eyes, gathering his thoughts.
>Steeling his will.
>"When you helped me with..."
>He motions downward.
>"That, you...you, uh..."
>He frowns, trying to find the words.
>"How did it feel?" Luna offers, trying from a different angle.
>Lincoln blushes, thinking back now.
>"It was...intense. I mean, if I were to be exact, it was kinda terrifying. Pasta, please."
>Luna picks up the pile of noodles, placing them in his hand.
>"Thanks. Before you caught me earlier, I've only...done that twice before."
>He looks up at her. She's blushing now, too, swaying slightly near the counter.
>"It was overwhelming," he continues, stirring the pot to keep the noodles from sticking, "it felt like I licked a car battery."
>"You've done that before?"
>"Lynn dared me to."
>"Ah."
>"Get the butter out, it's almost ready. But here's the thing, Luna. I thought about what happened, and..."
>He pauses to click off the stove and carry the pot to the sink, dumping it into the strainer.
>"...I liked it. Like, a lot."
>He scrapes off a thin shaving of butter out of the tub, dumping it into the pot.
>He can feel his face burning up. He's almost certain Luna's is too, judging by her shaking hands.
>"I've...tried doing it myself," he admits, mixing the butter with their meal, pouring equal amounts into two bowls. He picks up the jar of sauce. "How much?"
>"J-just a little bit, please. I don't like h-having to drink my dinner."
>Lincoln can see her fidgeting in the corner of his vision.
>He sighs. Keep it together.
>"It's not the same, though. It doesn't feel as intense without you doing it. I haven't been able to...you know..."

>Lincoln passes a bowl to Luna.
>"L-let's...go eat."
>She just nods, her face and neck scarlet.
>He could swear she's putting a bit more sway in her hips as they go into the living room.
>They eat in relative silence, sitting opposite each other on the couch, watching a documentary on, of all things, crossbows.
>From his angle to the TV, Lincoln could see Luna glance at him every minute or so.
>His face, his chest.
>His groin.
>Lot of focus there.
>Other than that, and aside from the odd small talk and gossip about the other sisters, it's a quiet dinner.
>And then Luna opens her big mouth.
>"Does it hurt?"
>"Huh?"
>She shyly waves her fork at his stomach.
>"You're...junk. Doesn't it feel...I dunno, backed up?"
>He looks down, confused at the question.
>"Not really? I mean, I feel a little weird if it's been a couple days, but I can keep it together, usually."
>Now she was curious.
>"How often do you do it?"
>Lincoln nibbles on his food, trying to stall out the uncomfortable subject.
>Knowing better, he finishes his glass and puts it down.
>"Before you caught me, I only managed it twice," he admits. "Can we change the subject please?"
>Luna blinks in surprise, then looks at her food, embarrassed.
>"S-sorry, bro," she says, finishing her meal now, too. "Just curious."
>"Whatever, no harm done."
>They sit in relative silence, focusing more on the TV then the awkwardness around them.
>Luna can't help herself.
>"Lincoln?"
>He rolls his eyes and grunts in acknowledgement.
>"You said you haven't done it since I helped you. Why?"
>Lincoln groans, mostly in exasperation.
>"I don't know," he admits, refusing to look at her. "It doesn't feel the same. It's not...not as good, I think?"
>Silence returns for a moment.
>"...Bro?"
>"Alright. Last one."
>"Sorry. I'm cold. Do you wanna...cuddle again?"
>He grins at the question.
>"I'll make some hot chocolate."

>Luna and Lincoln spend the remainder of their evening bundled up in the heavy blanket.
>First Lincoln sits on Luna's lap, then they shift so that he's lying across her, until finally they're spooning.
>She finds the idea of him being a jetpack hilarious, but ultimately switches spots with him when he complains he can't see the TV.
>In their final position, both of their heads are tilted against the couch arm, with Luna's eyes peeking just above his head.
>She has her arms wrapped around him, one loosely draped over his chest, and the other lower, the hand resting just above the belly button.
>One of Lincoln's arms is pinned under him, and the other is bent up, grasping his sister's bicep.
>Because of the hot chocolate, her breath is hot, and she delights in teasing him with kisses and whispers against the back of his head, sending shivers down his spine whenever she mutters the odd lyric.
>She's never been as content with silence as she is now.
>It's...perfect.
>As the movie winds down, her hand starts to wander, tracing little circles around his belly button, orbiting his navel.
>Lincoln's quiet, and his breathing is controlled, if heavy. Must have nodded off.
>She squeezes him lightly, genuinely grateful for his presence.
>"Love ya, mate," she whispers hotly.
>He inhales sharply, then starts fidgeting.
>Must have woken him. Aw.
>Then he starts trying to push away from her.
>Must have upset him. Uh oh.
>"Bro? What's wrong?"
>He mumbles something, struggling to free his pinned arm from under him.
>She pulls her arms away and shifts back, giving him room.
>"Pardon?"
>He quickly gets up and heads for the stairs.
>"Need to pee."
>She watches him turn the corner and make for the stairs.
>She can see the bulge in his pants.
>"...Think I'll head to bed now," she calls up, stretching as she stands. "It's late. You should too."

>Two hours later, Luna stands at his door.
>Her frayed nerves are back.
>Swallowing hard, she raises her fist and taps on the door.
>"Two seconds!" she can hear movement in the other room.
>Then shuffling around, sheets being moved, paper ruffling.
>"Okay, you're good."
>Luna enters Lincoln's room, leaning against the door as she closes it.
>"Hey, bro."
>"Hey."
>She looks away, looking at the contents littering the dresser.
>A couple models, an old Transformer and bits of Lego, with a scattering of comics.
>She sees a stain on the edge.
>White.
>She turns back to Lincoln.
>"So...um, thanks for hangin' out wit' me today," she offers, nervously rubbing her arm.
>"Likewise. It was kinda boring until we had that little talk."
>"Yeah."
>She sits down beside him on the bed.
>They both know the elephant needs to be discussed.
>No other way around it.
>"Listen, Linc? I'm sorry for freaking out like that. You didn't need to see that."
>Lincoln reaches over and places his hand over hers.
>"You needed to let that out, sis."
>She looks at him. His face is red, but he's grinning at her.
>"Hug?"
>He nods.
>She leans over and slips her arm under his armpit, using the other to steady herself.
>She doesn't see where her land hands.
>But she feels it.
>And her little brother's low groan is a foghorn in her ear.
>They're both frozen.
>She can feel how hard he is through the sheets.
>And...hot.
>She licks her lips.
>"Linc?" she whispers, her voice unintentionally throaty.
>He shudders from her words whispering through his ear.
>"Do...do you want...a hand?"
>Silence.
>"I mean...help? D'ya want help, luv? Heh."
>"...Yes please," he whispers back.

>The room quickly fills with the sound of flesh against flesh.
>She quickly adds a twist to her stroking, thrilling at the delightful little noises his mouth makes.
>The previous sighs and cute noises, however, are quickly replaced by more hurried gasps and moans.
>His body starts quaking, and she has to rest her thigh over his to keep his lap from bouncing up.
>His dick is leaking so much of that clear stuff, she can actually smell it.
>It's...tart, but it somehow makes her more determined to give her Lincoln his release.
>She can actually feel his heartbeat jackrabbiting against his rib cage.
>"Y'close?" she whispers hotly, pushing with her leg on the ground to keep from being toppled.
>A rattled gasp responds, followed by a strangled hitch.
>*splap*
>Despite her leg pinning him down, Lincoln manages to push his hips up, trying to meet her downstrokes.
>*splap*
>Gently petting his head, she then reaches for the tissues, grabbing a few sheets and raising them in front of his throbbing dick.
>*splap*
>He's downright wheezing now, desperately choking on air.
>Her wrist is killing her.
>*s p l a p*
>Lincoln eyes fly open, and he squeezes Luna's waist so hard it almost winds her.
>His teeth click loudly as he struggle to warn her through the pleasure.
>"L-L-L-LUUuuuooogh~"
>His warning garbles into a low, drawling moan, rocketing his hips up, slamming heavily against her fist.
>Her eyes are saucers as she gazes on the beauty beholden to her.
>She feels his shaft throb heavily once more, before the underside expands.

>S P L E U R G H
>Boiling hot milk rockets out of the tip, the sheer cascade of spunk simply annihilating the pitiful defences laid before it.
>Not missing a beat, Luna scrabbles for another shield as he prepares another shot.
>He moans again, rattling violently as another load sprays out, soaking the tissues easily.
>The third shot hoses another, equally thick shot, and Luna freaks out as she used the last of her tissues.
>Thinking quickly, she simply clasps her palm over his spasming length, shielding his floor from the sticky goo.
>The fourth shot gushes out halfheartedly, but it's as thick as the last ones. Her mouth is suddenly bone dry when she feels it spray against her palm.
>Thankfully, the fifth through seventh pitifully ooze out, leaking heavily as she feels his shaft push it out.
>With one last rattling breath, Lincoln collapses against his big sister, breathing heavily as his member rapidly shrinks.
>Luna hums softly, purring a tuneless melody to coast him through the aftershocks.
>After a few minutes, he regains his breath, weakly lifts his head, and cracks open his eyes.
>She beams at him, an overwhelming sense of pride at herself for doing a clearly excellent job, and at Lincoln for letting her help and troop through this.
>"Feelin' better, luv?" she whispers, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the tacky goop coating her hands.
>"...Totally," he rasps, absolutely exhausted.
>Helping him lay down, Luna grabs several more tissues, dutifully cleaning her hand, then gently dabbing his wiener.
>"It...wasn't as scary this time," he continues, struggling to keep his eyes open. "How...how do you do that?"
>Luna just shrugs, looping his feet through his underwear. Poor kid's too tired to do anything.
>"I guess I just have a knack for it. Can you lift your hips?"

>After a momentary struggle, Lincoln musters the strength to lift his hips, letting her clothe him.
>She quickly slides his jammies on before he drops down again, then helps him into bed.
>She sits back down, cupping his hand and stroking his face.
>"Luna?"
>"Hmm?"
>"...Thanks for...that. I needed...that."
>"You did wonderful there, bro," Luna praises, kissing his cheek and ruffling his hair.
>His head starts dipping down, and his eyes start to droop.
>He whispers a moment later.
>"...Luna?"
>"Yeah?"
>"Do...do I owe...you one...?"
>Her breath catches in her throat.
>The fluttering in her chest returns in force, a million thoughts run through her head.
>Owes her one?
>Why would he pay her back?
>Does that mean he'll-"
>"...'na?"
>His voice was barely a whisper, he's on the cusp of slumber.
>But it snaps her out of her thoughts.
>"Yeah bro?"
>He's silent.
>Then he yawns.
>"Are...we going...to...keep doing t...this?"
>Her face is red hot now.
>As she ponders over her answer, a soft snore catches her ear.
>Lincoln fell asleep, his chest raising and falling.
>She's never seen him so at peace before.
>She leans over, gently kisses his cheek, then whispers in his ear.
>"Whenever you want a go, luv. I'll help you if y'need it."
>He doesn't respond, just snoring again before shifting to get more comfortable.
>Her work done, Luna creeps out and heads for the bathroom.
>She's about to run her hands under the sink when she pauses, and inspects her plastered hand.
>Spying the drip of white on her finger, she brings it to eye-level, inspecting it.
>It almost looks like shampoo, but feels sort of like watered-down glue.
>collecting it to her fingertip, she squishes it against her fingertip, playing with her little reward.
>Tacky.
>Smooth, but also waxy.
>Interesting.
>Curiosity getting the best of her, she takes a tentative sniff.
>She recoils, almost gagging. She was almost knocked to her knees.
>It was overpowering.
>Much stronger than the clear stuff, and much more pungent.

>She licks her lips.
>She needs to know what this is.
>Her tongue peeks out from her lips.
>A little afraid, it simply taps at the goop on her finger.
>She smacks her lips.
>She dabs again. Wasn't enough.
>Then fully licks the drop, rolling it in her tongue.
>She purses her brow.
>It's...huh.
>She doesn't know how to word it.
>It's bitter, for sure. But also pleasantly salty.
>But there's also something else.
>Something...
>Luna frowns.
>She hates being unable to get the right word.
>Shaking her head to clear her mind, she washes her hands, using an unnecessarily large amount of soap.
>Checking her shirt to make sure nothing got on it, she then tenderly peels off her panties.
>Wiping herself clean, she washes her hands again before sneaking into her and Luan's room.
>The comedian fell asleep watching TV again, Lounged back against her Mr. Beany, her head unnaturally bent against her shoulder.
>She's gonna have a kink.
>Luna gently adjusts her sister's neck, then slinks to her dresser to fetch a fresh pair of briefs.
>Sliding into bed, she quickly feels the tide of sleep pulling at her conscious.
>She can't muster the strength to put on her headphones.
>A single thought whispers through her mind before she falls asleep.
>Lincoln feels he owes her one.
>She closes her eyes.
>Smiling.

Part 2

~Fin~