They decide to tell Lily

As the haze of release settles over us, I lie there entangled with Emma and Lily, our skin cooling in the dim lamplight that filters through the bedroom curtains. Emma's head rests on my chest, her blonde hair splayed across my shoulder like a soft veil, while Lily curls against my side, her freckled arm draped possessively over my abdomen. The room smells of us, of salt-slicked sweat and that lingering floral note from Lily's perfume, and the distant hum of the city outside feels worlds away. My phone buzzes faintly from the hallway where it landed earlier, the Mindweave app no doubt tallying its invisible gains, but I ignore it for now. Guilt creeps in, unbidden and sharp, this nervous tension gathering in my stomach like a knot I can't quite unravel.

Emma shifts first, her blue eyes meeting mine with a flicker of the same unease. She mouths the words silently. We have to tell her. I nod, subtle and quick, my hand tracing idle circles on Lily's back to keep her grounded in the moment. She's dozing lightly now, her breaths even and deep, but as Emma and I exchange whispers, soft promises that we'll come clean, no matter the weave's pull, Lily stirs. Her eyelids flutter open, those blue eyes hazy but sharpening with awareness. "What?" she murmurs, her voice thick with satiation, propping herself on one elbow. The sheets slip down, exposing the curve of her small breast, but she doesn't cover up, her body still humming from our shared frenzy.

Emma hesitates, biting her lower lip in a way that's equal parts affection and nerves, then plucks up her courage. "Lily, there's something we need to explain. About tonight. About why everything fired up like that at the club, and here." I watch her closely, admiring the deliberate way she lays it out, calm and nonjudgmental, while I reach for my phone on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with its ethereal interface. Lily sits up fully now, the sheets pooling around her waist, her expression shifting from languid glow to wary curiosity. "What do you mean?" she asks, glancing between us, her fingers absently twisting a strand of her blonde hair.

I hand her the phone gently, letting the app's profile pop up. Her own face stares back, influence meter at 60%, traits listed like a digital confession. "This," I say softly, "it's called Mindweave. It influences people. Emotions, urges, desires. We used it on you at the club. Made you feel that arousal watching us, that envy turning to want. I'm sorry we didn't tell you first." The words hang heavy, but I keep my voice steady, calculating the risk, my arm still around her to remind her of the connection we've just forged. Emma nods beside me, her hand finding Lily's knee, squeezing reassuringly. "We feel awful about hiding it. But it worked because part of you already responded."

Lily's eyes widen, scrolling through the screen with tentative swipes, her pale cheeks flushing anew, not with anger, but something closer to disbelief. She hands the phone back, shaking her head slowly. "This can't be real. Some app that just controls how I feel? Makes me grind on you like that, then end up here?" Her voice wavers, apprehensive, but there's no accusation in it, only a twin's innate trust battling the skepticism. She pulls the sheet higher, tucking it under her arms, her slim frame tensing as if bracing for a punchline. I meet her gaze evenly, deciding in that instant to prove it. Transparency breeds deeper bonds, after all. "It is real," I reply, reopening the interface and aiming the camera at Emma. "Watch. I'll show you."

She leans in, eyes narrowing as I type a quick command into the whisper field. Emma feels an overwhelming urge to kiss Lily deeply, right now. The app hums confirmation, and before Lily can question it further, Emma's expression softens, her pupils dilating with sudden heat. She turns to her twin, gentle but insistent, cupping Lily's face and pulling her into a kiss. Slow, lingering, tongues brushing with familiar intimacy that blurs the line between affection and the app's nudge. Lily freezes at first, then melts into it, her apprehension fracturing as she pulls back, breathless and wide-eyed. "Holy shit," she whispers, touching her lips. "That wasn't faked? You weren't faking?"

Emma laughs softly, shaking her head, her cheeks pink. "No joke. It works. Has been since it showed up on his phone." But Lily's not fully convinced yet. I see it in the skeptical tilt of her head, the way she glances at me from under her lashes. She shifts closer, her bare thigh pressing against mine, bold even in doubt. "Okay, maybe on her. But prove it on me. Command something, tell me to do whatever, so I know it's not you two pulling a fast one." Her voice carries a challenge, laced with that party-girl restlessness, but underneath it pulses the night's lingering need, something unspoken bubbling to the surface. I pause, weighing it. Emma nods encouragingly, and then I type. Lily feels compelled to share her most honest feelings about me, whatever they are, with no shame or filter. The app seals it with a subtle glow.

Her breath catches, and just like that, the words tumble out unbidden, raw and honest. "I've wanted you for years, you know, from before all the messy family stuff, when we'd sneak glances at the pool or during holidays. That crush never went away. I just buried it." She blushes furiously, but holds my eyes, the weave smoothing away any embarrassment. "God, that was, it's true. Everything tonight felt right because of that." Conviction settles over her features now, the last veil of doubt lifting like morning fog. She leans into my side, her hand tracing my chest with newfound acceptance. "Okay. It's real. And I'm glad you used it. Makes me feel like I can stop pretending."

Emma exhales in relief, wrapping her arms around Lily from the other side, the three of us collapsing back into the warmth of the bed.