Dread55: In a nutshell, Leni wants Lincy, like in all my classic ships. How she eventually goes about it is...unique. And hot. I can't say much without spoiling it.

Lana had never been to a funeral, but she imagined that the somberness writhing in her breast was what one felt as they stood beside the coffin of a loved one. At dinner, she sat with her head hung over her plate to hide her pink-rimmed eyes, part of her terrified of Lincoln coming down and another part desperately hoping that he he would. He didn't, though, because she weirded him out and scared him off.

He didn't love her...he probably didn't even like her anymore.

That thought was like broken glass in her soul, and every time it crossed her mind that evening, she teared up. I should have kept my dumb, grody mouth closed; I should have known I was wrong, I'm always wrong. Everything I do is gross and makes everyone sick. He's probably in his room puking right now. Ew, Lana's so nasty *ralph* Doesn't she know she's my sister and that's wrong? *ralph* Of all the sisters who could fall in love with me, why did it have to be the filthy one?

I don't blame him, I am nasty...and I can't change. I'll always be a mess.

When dinner was over, she escaped to her room, where she sat in the middle of her bed with her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around. Hopps sensed her distress and jumped onto her shoulder; he croaked softly into her ear, and she wiped the tears from her eyes with the heel of her palm. "I blew it," she said. "Not that I had a chance in the first place."

Hopps rubbed his head against her cheek like an affectionate cat, and she smiled weakly. At least she had him; he might not be Lincoln, and she couldn't do sex with him (she wasn't that gross), but he was still pretty awesome.

She sighed and hugged her knees tighter. "I just wish I didn't say anything; it's gonna be weird and tense between us for a while. Maybe even forever." She didn't know which was worse: Not having him as a boyfriend or not having him as a brother. Could she say both? Because both stank pretty bad, and not in a good way. "Man, I messed up so bad."

For a long time she sat there awash in her grief. At one point Lola came in, went to her vanity, and put her hands on her hips. "Hmmm," she said exaggeratedly and looked around. "I can't seem to find my Parfum français de fantaisie anywhere." She looked over her shoulder, tilted her head to one side, and favored Lana with a strained gap-tooth smile. "Oh, that's right," she said through her teeth, "you used it all."

Lana hung her head. She really didn't care about Lola's dumb perfume right now; she had much bigger things to worry about. Like Lincoln not loving her.

"I guess I'll just have to do without thanks to you."

Lincoln hating her and thinking she was disgusting.

Too disgusting to love.

Anguish overwhelmed her; she buried her face in her knees and she started crying again, hot tears soaking through the fabric of her jeans. Lola's eyes widened, then a look of guilt crossed her face. "It's not that big a deal," she said.

Lana sniffed and blotted her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's okay. I mess everything up." She looked away, and Lola frowned. She went over and climbed onto the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap and her gaze downcast.

"Really," she said softly, "it's okay. Don't worry about it." She turned and put her hand on Lana's shoulder. "I-I'm sorry I made you cry." Her voice hitched as though apologizing physically hurt. Lana started to say that she wasn't crying over the perfume thing, but if she did, she'd have to explain herself, and she didn't have the energy for that.

"I'm sorry I used all your fancy perfume," Lana said.

"Don't be," Lola said, "I'll just have Lori buy me more...or else I'll be forced to tell Mom and Dad what she and Bobby did in Vanzilla last week." A wicked smile crossed her lips and fire filled her eyes. "Let's just say the sticky seat got a whole lot stickier."

Before she left, they hugged and Lana faked a smile; alone again, she sighed and glanced at Hopps who watched her with concern. "I'll be okay, boy," she said. "The heartbreak won't last forever. I hope."

She turned to the door, and started: Lisa stood in the frame, watching her and thoughtfully stroking her chin. Oh, great, Lana thought, just what I need, someone to make me feel even more rotten about myself. "I see Lincoln made the right decision and rejected your disgusting advances. Kudos to him. I honestly feared the establishment of an incestuous relationship, but for naught, apparently, as he possesses at least a basic sense of morality.. If I were you, I'd move on and set my sights on a male outside of my family unit. Darcy has a seven-year-old cousin who may suffice. I will contact her and arrange for you two to meet."

"No," Lana said, "I don't want anyone else right now. I just...need time."

Lisa adjusted her glasses. "As you wish." She started to leave, but stopped and jabbed a finger in Lana's direction. "And don't even think about transfering your appetite for incest onto one of our sisters. Or our parents. Incest might be good and well in internet fan fiction, but in real life it's icky." She shuddered and walked away.

Well, Lise, you're icky, so there.

For a while, Lana was alone with Hopps...and her sadness. She was just beginning to think of crawling under the covers and sleeping until her heart didn't hurt anymore when Lucy came in and closed the door, her white face expressionless and her eyes hidden behind her bangs. Lana felt a vague and not entirely rational twinge of fear: She wouldn't put it past Lucy to try and suck her blood.

"I need to talk to you," the older girl said. She came over and sat on the edge of the bed, her body half turned to face Lana.

Lana sighed. "I really don't feel - "

"I know you like Lincoln."

The words died on Lana's lips and dropped back into the pit of her stomach like a chunk of black ice. She's gonna yell at me like Lisa; I better lie. "N-No, I don't. I'm gross but not -"

"Don't deny it. He told me."

Oh no.

"Relax. I don't think it's gross."

Lana blinked. "Really?"

"Really. In fact, if Lincoln was a vampire, I'd tap him like a keg at a frat party, but he's not, and living guys just don't do it for me."

Lana's face crinkled. I didn't think it was possible, but she grosser than I am.

"The good news," Lucy said, "is he likes you too."

"He does?"

Lucy nodded. "Yes. He's just not sure you really like him or if you're confused - "

"I'm not!" Lana cried as if to convince the goth of her commitment.

"And he thinks it'll make him a pervert if he likes you back."

Yep, that was Lincoln alright, so down on himself despite being so awesome. Lana sighed deeply and looked down at her lap; if he felt that way, he probably wouldn't want to be with her no matter how much he liked her.

When Lucy put her hand on her shoulder, Lana looked up. "I have a foolproof plan to make him fall in love with you."

"Does it involve walking a certain way and talking about things I like?"

Lucy's stare, like her expression, was blank. "No. Men don't care how you walk, especially not someone like Lincoln."

Leaning forward as if to impart a great secret, Lucy told Lana her plan, and Lana listened rapt, her cheeks blazing with color. On her shoulder, Hopps's eyes widened and if he had a hand it would have gone to his mouth. When she was done, Lucy sat back, and Lana could feel the older girl's eyes studying her. "That's, uh, a lot simpler than I expected it to be," Lana said and nervously rubbed the back of her neck.

"A plan doesn't need to be complicated to work," Lucy said.

"What if he gets mad at me?"

"He won't," Lucy said, "he might resist a little at first, but then he'll crumble like a vampire in the sun."

Hm. Lana sure hoped she was right. "In that case, I better look up -" she trailed off, suddenly really embarrassed. "- on Google."

Lucy nodded. "That would be helpful." She got up and went to the door, then turned. "Don't tell him I told you."

"I won't."

"Good."

When Lucy was gone, Lana grinned and grabbed her phone. Hopps croaked from his perch on her shoulder. "Still in the game, boy," she said, "still in the game."

And this time, she was playing to win.

Sleep came hard for Lincoln that night: For hours he laid awake in bed, the covers drawn up to his chin and his eyes pointed at the ceiling. He rolled Lucy's words around in his mind and tried to justify his feelings, only to swoop in and shoot himself down like an anti aircraft gunner shooting down a Japanese Zero. Part of him wanted to pull the blanket over his head and sink into the void where his problems could not follow, and another part wanted to get up, go into Lana's room, and...he didn't know, he didn't like thinking past that point.

Lucy was undeniably right about one thing: He had a bad habit of letting his problems go until they mowed him down. Think of it as ignoring a tiny flame...then turning around and finding your entire house engulfed and the only exit blocked. In the beginning you could have put it out with a single glass of water, now, in order to escape, you have to brave a wall of fire, and if you made it out the other side, your whole body would be blistered and burned.

Including your privates.

Ouch.

He needed to nip this in the bud before it got out of control - but how? Reject her? Not reject her? What should he do?

Deep down he knew the answer to that...which is precisely why he was planning to put the flame off until it consumed him. He rolled onto his side and stared at the wall, where the glow of a street lamp outside cast a desolate bar of orange light. His jaw still ached and his head throbbed dully; his eyes were grainy and his muscles weary, but slumber would not come. He closed his eyes, and Lana's face filled his vision, her eyes welling with love and affection. A gnawing pang rippled through his stomach, and he suddenly wished that he didn't get up and flee the way he did, wished that instead he hugged her and maybe even kissed her.

With tongue.

AHHHH, God, I'm sick! As if I didn't have enough issues already, boom, this drops into my lap like a present from the heavens. Don't airplanes release their septic tanks mid flight? That was in Joe Dirt, right? He finds what he thinks is an asteroid but it's really a big ball of frozen poop. Yeah, that's the kind of present this is.

Not because of Lana, though! She's great. I just...I'm an incest freak now on top of everything else. And a pedo.

But I want her!

Sigh.

Before dawn, he finally fell into a thin, fitful sleep, and fifteen minutes later, the bedroom door creaked slowly open, the rusty hinges squeaking and freezing Lana in her tracks; she winced and listened, but her brother's breathing remained steady and slow. Relaxing, she turned to Hopps, who sat steadfast on her shoulder like the bro he was. "Alright, buddy, this is where you get off," she whispered and took him into her hand. "I'll tell you all about it in the morning," she said, then anxiously bit her bottom lip. "If it goes well."

She sat him down on the floor, and he hopped into the hall, then turned and puffed out his chest - if he could, he probably would have saluted and told her godspeed. She squatted down and patted his head. "Then we'll get you a girl frog. How does that sound?"

Ribbit!

Lana chuckled and got to her feet. "Alright, then. Wish me luck."

She shut the door and turned, the sound of the latch catching ringing through her head with grim finality - suddenly she felt lost and intimidated, like a little girl standing on the edge of a deep, uncharted forest. She tried to take a step forward, but her muscles locked up and she couldn't move. Lucy said Lincoln wouldn't be mad at her, but what if she was wrong and he did get angry? She didn't want to make him upset, she wanted to make him happy.

Maybe she shouldn't do this...maybe she should just go back to bed and forget it.

Instead, she took a deep breath and crept to the side of the bed. Lincoln was flat on his back with the covers pulled to his chin; his eyes were closed and his mouth hung open, a ribbon of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth. Her eyes caressed him up and down, and by the time they reached his face the third time, her body was hot and her center tingled; she brushed her teeth across her bottom lip and made her decision.

She was going to do it.

Reaching up, she took her hat off and tossed it aside, then hesitated before stripping her nightgown off, pulling it slowly over her head and dropping into the floor. She was entirely naked now, a beam of moonlight painting her body silvery white; the cool air was painful against her fevered flesh. She took another step toward he bed, and her inner thighs rubbed wetly together. Her breathing came in short gasps now and her heart slammed; her fears and trepidations shrank until they were dwarfed by her desire. She gripped the cover and yanked it down Lincoln's body to his knees; he wore an orange pajama set that was a size too small - it clung to his bulge and when she saw it her heart skipped a beat. His thing was feet away, covered by just a thin layer of fabric.

She licked her lips, then climbed onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath her weight. Lincoln stirred and smacked his lips, and she froze, waiting to see if he would wake. When he didn't, she scooted close, her eyes level with his waist and her knees bent, then hooked her fingers into his pants. She could feel his heat already, and her loins quivered. She tugged them down, over his mound, and his penis plopped out, faling limply to one side and landing inches from her face; her breath caught and her eyes widened, the musky scent of crotch filling her nose and stroking her senses like a pedophile stroking a kid in the back of his van. Lincoln stirred, and her heart blasted. He didn't wake, though.

I better get started before he does.

Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her fingers around his length - his dick was smooth, warm, and full in her hand. As soon as she touched it, something happened, and it began to get firm, like a balloon filling with water. It got hotter, too, and Lana watched with wide-eyed amazement, her mouth hanging open and her core twinging.

Wow, that's arousing.

After a moment, it stopped growing, and while it wasn't as big as the one in the magazine, it was still pretty dang big, and beautiful too, from the crowned head to the cord at its base; she'd never seen anything hotter in her life, and her fingers began to caress him, sliding up and down his burning flesh, tracing every ridge, line, and contour, her excitement soaring and the insides of her thighs getting even stickier than they already were.

She shifted and brought her lips to the tip; clear fluid leaked from the slit on top, and she really wanted to taste it. She glanced up at Lincoln, still asleep, then lightly touched her lips to it; the salty flavor of his essence filled her mouth, and her passion overcame her. She took him in her mouth and pushed down, her lips molded tight to his shaft and her tongue curled around his underside - just like that Abby Script article on Google said to. He touched the back of her throat, but she pressed on because she liked the feeling.

Lincoln stirred and muttered, then, as she started to pull up, sloppily licking and lapping him like a dog, his body went rigid. "L-Lana? W-What are you doing?"

Lana splayed one hand on his trembling stomach and squeezed him with the other. She reached his head and swirled the tip on her tongue around it, mixing his precum with her saliva and swallowing. It was thin and warm and tasted so good - better than pee and snot combined. Lincoln shuddered and tried to squirm away, but Lucy said she had to firm, so she pressed harder on his stomach and went down again, her lips scraping his skin and her tongue flicking against him, dancing over the vein running down his shaft and writing love letters to his body. His breathing quickened and he tried to say his name, perhaps to beg her to stop, but it came out in a broken, wordless sigh: Laaaaaaa.

Like music to her ears.

When she reached his head again, she spit him with with a wet pop and looked up at him: His eyes were as big as dinner plates and his jaw hung slack, whether in shock or pleasure she didn't know. "I'm showing you that I love you," she said and gave his tip a gentle kiss. "And that I know exactly what I want - you. Whether it's gross or not." She flattened her tongue against his shaft and licked upwards, slow, like it was a yummy rocket pop. Her voice and movements bespoke a confidence she did not feel. On the outside, she was calm, cool, and collected, but inside, she was a nervous wreck, her heart aching like an abscessed tooth at the prospect of Lincoln yelling and sending her away.

In the dark, she met his eyes as best she could, and they twinkled in the moonlight like summer stars. "I love you, Lincoln. I want to make you happy...and do sex with you." She stroked his shaft, and his eyes rolled back in his head; a shiver tore through his, starting in his middle and radiating out like a ripple on the still surface of a mill pond, and a look of bliss flickered across his face. Lana smiled at how good she was making him feel. "Can I finish sucking you?" she asked.

He hesitated, and if his eyes were open, the conflict within would be clearly visible, one side wanting her to continue, wanting to give into the powerful sensation of her warm mouth working his dick, and the other wanting her to stop, damning him as a pervert. One side pulled ahead, then the other blew past; his dick throbbed hotly in her hand and his toes curled.

Finally, he made his decision.

And nodded.

"Awesome," Lana grinned. She wrapped her lips around him and went down, a long, low moan escaping her throat as his dank, musky taste filled her once more. He was leaking heavily, and it coated the inside of her mouth, all sticky and oily and grody and freaking perfect. She reached his base and hummed dreamily at the feeling of him pushing against the back of her throat. If she did it enough, she'd puke...and the thought of sucking her own vomit off his tool was crazy hot. She didn't think he'd like that, though.

Slowly, she increased her speed, her head bobbing and her lips working him with a wet squelching sound; she stroked in time with her thrusts, pretending that her mouth and hand were connected. Lincoln arched his back and grabbed the sheet in both hands; sweat sheened his forehead and his eyes pooled with nirvana. His hips started to rock under their own power, and Lana went faster, his desire sparking hers and making her ten times hotter.

"L-L-Lana," he gasped, "I-I…"

Suddenly his dick expanded against the insides of her cheeks. From her online research, she knew what that meant, and just how to handle it: She pulled up one last time, spat him out, and hovered her face inches above his tip, her eyes closing when his orgasm burst from his depths and splattered her face like snot flying from a nose. The first blast hit the tip of her nose and splashed across her cheeks, and she gasped at the warm, gooey, awesome feeling; the second went into her open mouth and landed on her tongue - it was thicker and saltier than the precum, hotter and more bitter too. The third broke against her chin and started to dribble down onto her chest. The fourth, and final, landed between her breasts and dripped down her stomach, pooling in her belly button and sending a shiver racing down her spine.

Lincoln moaned and flopped against the bed, spent, and Lana looked up at his face: It was red and sweaty, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling.

Whoa. That was the coolest thing ever: She was covered in hot, sticky nastiness...and it was awesome.

"How was that?" she asked hopefully.

Lincoln swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, then nodded. "G-Good," he said, "r-real good."

She crawled up the bed and curled beside him, her hand going to his chest; his heart slammed wildly against her palm. He turned his head to her, and his eyes slid over her naked body, lingering on her nonexistent breasts. He swallowed again, then looked into her eyes. He seemed to want to say something, but couldn't force it out. "I love you, Linc," she said and rubbed a fleeting circle in his chest. "And I want to show you how a real woman treats her man."

Their gazes held, and Lana's heart raced. He could still reject her, still break her heart.

Instead, he rolled onto his side and rested his hand on her hip; their noses brushed and their breaths puffed against each other's lips. He cupped her cheek in his hand, and grimaced when his cum squished beneath his touch. "I-I love you too," he said, and leaned in, "and I want to treat you good too."

Their lips pressed together, and Lana's heart came to a complete stop, her fingers curling against his chest. For a moment they stared into each other's eyes, then Lincoln's tongue darted out and swiped across her bottom lip; she sucked a sharp intake of his air, and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, clumsily massaging her own. In all the research she did before coming to him, kissing was one thing she skipped, so she let her body guide her; she lashed her tongue across his and tried to pin it like in thumb wrestling, but it pulled away and pinned hers instead. She tried to get out from under it but he was strong; he slipped his hand into her hair and deepened the kiss, his leg swinging over her and his body mounting her. His head raked across her sensitive lips, and she gasped into his mouth; palms flat on his chest, she spread her legs in a V and hooked her feet around his hips.

Holding her face in his hands, he pulled back his hips and slid them forward, his head prodding her center. Breaking the kiss, he reached down, alligned then sexes, then pushed; his body sank a fraction of an inch into hers and parted her walls, and she hissed at the stinging pain.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay."

Bowing his head, he turned himself over to passion and thrusted, his dick filling her; she gasped and squeezed her eyes closed against a rush of tears. He looked big, but he felt so much bigger, and it was easy to imagine her pelvis splitting in half under the pressure. He splayed his hands on her shoulders and started to pump in a slow, steady pace, his breathing ragged and uneven, his body trembling in need. Her muscles clenched around him, and as he pulled back, it felt like her everything was coming with him.

When he was almost out, he thrusted again, and the pain was less this time. She dug her heels into his back and clamped her hands down on his shoulders.

He gradually increased his speed, and as her body grew accustomed to him, the pain gave way to such intense and burning pleasure that she could scarcely draw breath. Fire flooded her loins and spread across her body like poo water spreading across a bathroom floor. She threw her head back and lifted her hips into his thrusts, a low moan trembling from her lips. She'd never felt so amazing, so awesome, so fucking good in her life - this was better than all the poop, pee, puke, and garbage in the world. Two days ago her favorite place in the world was the Royal County Dump, but from here on out, it would be Lincoln's bed.

Something hard and hot began to form in the depths of her stomach, and spasms raced through her body. She held on tighter and threw her hips into his, taking him all the way to the opening of her womb. Lincoln bowed his head and started to shake violently: His dick swelled inside of her, and she winced...then jumped when wet heat shot deep into her stomach, so hot it hurt, but in the most beautiful way she had ever felt. Something popped inside of her, and every nerve ending in her body exploded at once: She cried out and convulsions shot through her from head to toe, sweeping her away on a tide of ecstasy. She buried her nails into Lincoln's shoulders and bit down on her bottom lip to keep from shattering the walls with her screams.

Slowly, her orgasm ebbed, and she came back to herself; Lincoln was limp on top of her, his breath puffing hotly against her ear and his body quivering like jelly. Her lungs burst for air and her heart thudded a mile a minute. She was sore, achy, tired, sweaty, and sticky from her face to her chest, and could already feel his cum beginning to ooze out of her.

"That was so cool," she sighed.

Lincoln nodded. "Yeah," he said and swallowed thickly. "It was."

She took a deep, shuddery breath and ran her hands up and down his back, giggling when he squirmed. A surge of affection rose in her, and she kissed the side of his head. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," Lincoln replied.

When he began to shrink, he pulled out in a gush of their combined juices, laid next to her, and took her in his arms. Nestled against him, her butt pressing into his crotch, she closed her eyes. Lincoln buried his nose in her sweaty blonde hair and took a deep breath, her fragrance filling his nostrils like the sweetest perfume and blotting out the memory of what's-her-name. Inner peace settled over him like a blanket, and soon, they were both asleep.

And both smiling.

Poppa Wheelie kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and laced his hands behind his head. He wore a striped red and white shirt and corduroy pants, both of which fit snug on his corpulent body. "So, babe, what'd you wanna talk about?" he asked.

Ronnie Anne sat facing him on the couch, her hands in her lap and her brows heavy with worry. Poppa figured something was up, but he didn't really give a fuck - RA was just his sidepiece, and as soon as Cristina came back from that mission trip her parents took her on, he was gonna break up with her. Cristina gave way better head.

Drawing a deep sigh, Ronnie Anne reached into the pocket of her hoodie, pulled something out, and laid it on the table. Poppa glanced at it then at her. "What's that?" he asked, pretending to care.

Ronnie Anne sighed again. "A pregnancy test," she said, "and it's positive."

Poppa's fake smile dropped and his heart with it. "W-What?"

"Ya got me pregnant," Ronnie Anne said, her voice dripping sarcasm. "Congrats."

The air rushed out of the room and Poppa's stomach knotted. P-Pregnant? Like...she was gonna have a kid? HIS KID?

Fuck that.

Like a shot, he was up and streaking toward the door, moving with surprising speed and agility for a boy his size. Behind him, Ronnie Anne cried his name, but he ignored the Mexibitch; you ain't tying me down.

He ripped the door open, but froze when he was met with a wall of suit.

Dinosaur suit.

He looked up, and Dino the Hip Hop Dragon stared down at him, a slight sneer on his face. "Nigga, get yo ass back in there." He laid one giant paw on Poppa's forehead and shoved; Poppa's feet tangled and he fell to the floor in a heap, the entire house shaking. Ronnie Anne screamed and drew her legs onto the couch like a woman who'd just seen a mouse. Poppa watched in fear as Dino brushed by. "Bitch, shut yo ass up. Where yo brotha at? Imma say sorry for breakin' his bitch ass arm." He started past the coffee table, but stopped, his neck craning to the side. "Yo, what this is?" He bent over and stared at the pregnancy test; when he realized what it was, his fist flew to his mouth. "Oh, shit, nigga." He stumbled back and started to laugh. "This yo baby, homedog?" he asked Poppa.

Poppa instinctively shook his head. "N-No!"

Ronnie Anne's face darkened. "Excuse me? Yes it is. You're the only man I've been with."

Dino laughed mockingly. "Y'all bouta be parents."

Terror clutched Poppa's chest. No. He was too young and handsome to be a father; he still had a life ahead of him. He wanted his freedom. "Changin' diapers at 3am, nigga; gettin' puked on, nigga; spendin' all yo money on ya kid, nigga."

A horrified "No!" burst from Poppa's lungs, and he got to his feet. He started to run, but Dino grabbed him by the back of his shirt and flung him across the room. He tripped and slammed into the carpet face first, his teeth clanking hard.

"Oh, uh-uh, nigga. You made this kid, you bout to deal with it." He whipped around to Ronnie Anne, and she jumped. "Little girl, you done fucked yo world up."

Ronnie Anne bowed her head in shame. She knew...she spent all night crying.

"And that baby bouta fuck yo pussy up. You gon' be loose as a motherfucka. Unwed single mother ass ho. The hell you thinkin', girl?"

Covering her face with her hand, Ronnie Anne started to cry. DIno regarded her distastefully. "Umhm. Next time you gon' wrap it up, huh?" He loomed over her, head bent. "Too late now, though. Dumb bitch."

When Dino left fifteen minutes later, Ronnie Anne and Poppa Wheelie were both crying.

I only added the last part because everyone wanted to see RA and Poppa get theirs. It wasn't written with the rest of the story. Hope it satisfies.