Quoting The Exorcist?

Lisa barely had time to process the shift in Liam’s demeanor before he moved. His sudden lunge toward her was animalistic, startling enough to knock her off balance. With a yelp, she found herself thrown onto his bed, her back hitting the old, creaky mattress.

“Liam!” she gasped, struggling to push him away. But he was unnaturally strong, pinning her wrists down with ease. For a split second, she thought she saw a shadow flicker in his eyes, something otherworldly and entirely unlike her twin.

“Oh my God,” she said breathlessly, “this is the part where you start quoting The Exorcist, isn’t it? Just tell me you’re not going to crawl on the ceiling next.”

Liam’s lips curled into a strange, almost amused smile, but he didn’t say a word. His grip on her wrists tightened for a moment, though not enough to hurt. She squirmed, trying to wiggle free, but his weight kept her firmly in place. She wished she had worn jeans this morning instead of the short, light dress that had already slipped up over her thighs in this awkward position and was slipping further and further the more she wriggled beneath him.

“Seriously, Liam,” she snapped as her last defense, her voice shaky but laced with defiance. “If this is some messed-up joke, it’s not funny. Let me go!”

“Why would I do that?” he said softly, his tone eerily calm. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”

Lisa froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. There was something undeniably wrong about his voice—silky and confident in a way Liam had never been. But then, just as quickly as the sinister tension had built, it broke. He let out a sharp laugh, the sound so unexpected that Lisa flinched. His laughter continued, shaking his shoulders as he released one of her wrists and wiped a hand across his face.

“You look like you think I’m about to sacrifice you to some ancient deity or something.”

Lisa blinked. “You were the one doing your best ‘possessed-by-a-demon’ impression two seconds ago!” she shot back. “What’s wrong with you?”

Liam tilted his head, his laughter subsiding into a bemused smirk. “Maybe I’ve just discovered a side of myself you didn’t know about,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “What, are you scared of me now? Big bad Liam, ooh, so terrifying.”

Lisa narrowed her eyes at him, her initial fear giving way to irritation. “You’re such a drama queen. Seriously, if you’re trying to freak me out, it’s working. But it’s also pathetic.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, leaning closer again. So close that his lips nearly touched hers. Lisa smelled an intense lavender fragrance, as if her brother had bathed in some perfume. “You’re telling me you didn’t feel anything? Not even a little thrill? Or even more? Come on, little sis, tell me, what are you feeling?”

He grinned, his expression somewhere between mischievous and unnerving. Lisa was confused and embarrassed. How could he know? Or was it just a wild guess? Either way, she would never admit, that the reason for her heavily thumping heart and the heat that made her face glow was not only fear or anger. She was definitely excited. Being completely and unexpectedly in her brother's mercy laid open an up to now undiscovered side of her. A part of her hoped, that he would continue, breaking all the rules, and doing unspeakable things to her. But she had to keep a clear head for both of them.

“You’re disgusting,” she snapped. “What’s uncalled for is you acting like a psycho! Seriously, do we need to call a priest? Or maybe just a therapist? Because whatever’s going on with you, it’s not normal.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but a sudden wind swept through the room, making both of them pause. The old, wooden floorboards groaned, and the air seemed to thrum with an unseen energy.

“Now, now,” a familiar, sultry voice said, seemingly coming from thin air. “Let’s not fight, children.”

Liam, for his part, looked dazed, as if caught in some sort of trance. Lisa felt an icy chill run down her spine. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. There, weightlessly hovering over the bed, was Margot. She looked just as ethereal and enchanting as before, her sheer gown fluttering slightly in an unnatural breeze, revealing her impossibly long legs. The black lace was thinner and more transparent than ever, leaving no details of her beautiful body to the imagination.

“Margot,” Lisa said, her voice low with suspicion. “What the hell are you doing here? Did you make Liam go all crazy?”

Margot ignored her words. She tousled Liam's hair. “Poor boy,” she purred, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. “It’s so hard to share a body with someone else, isn’t it? Especially when you’re not sure who’s really in control.”

“What — what does that mean?” Lisa demanded.

Margot watched her with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, I'd say, you’re exactly where I want you to be.”

Lisa was shuddered, pushed down onto the old mattress by Liam's weight and superior strength. “Listen, Lady Lingerie,” she pleaded desperately, her voice strained. “I don’t know what kind of ghostly mind games you’re playing, but it stops now. Got it?”

Margot raised an eyebrow, her expression one of amused disdain. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension. “You really have no idea what you’re dealing with, do you?”

Lisa opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, her brother pressed his lips against hers, and his tongue invaded her mouth. His free hand wandered over her body, caressed her breast and moved further down.

Lisa tried to protest and resist, but more out of a sense of duty and habit. “Oh, damn, why does that feel so good,” she thought, then she began to return his kiss.