gluttony
"Are you going to share that or not?" Mimi asked. Lying flat on her back on the couch, Maureen at the other end of the couch, she prodded her lover with one bare foot, grinning teasingly.
Maureen looked over at her with a bit of a smile, toying with her fork, plate with a slice of cheesecake on it balanced in her lap – as usual, it was drenched in chocolate syrup. "I don't think so, no. I mean, it's the only slice left, and–"
She cut off as Mimi lunged forward across the couch to steal a chocolate-flavored kiss.

pride
Standing on the stage, Maureen scanned the crowd for her lover, even as she recited her lines, paced across the stage to throw out an arm in a dramatic gesture clearly seen even from the farthest end of the lot, voice rising in the middle of the gesture – Maureen knew how to capture a crowd's attention, how to keep all eyes on her.
Catching sight of Mimi standing near the stage, Maureen flashed her a quick grin, a flare of excitement rising in her chest, pride and joy for catching Mimi's eye and holding it, at being watched, being worshiped.

wrath
The two of them together were explosive, dangerous in combination – you put gunpowder and a flame in such proximity to each other, and there's bound to be some sort of explosion sooner or later. The real miracle was that they never killed each other, or that the explosions never got big enough to drive them apart.
Screaming, yelling, "fuck you" and slamming doors, anger and almost but not quite hate, poisonous silence as they sulked in opposite rooms, and the breathless impact as they fell back together, fierce kisses, bite marks left behind and bruising fingers on hips and breasts.

envy
Maureen's used to being watched. She's used to complete strangers looking at her, wanting her – she's used to her lovers shooting jealous glares at anyone who looks at her that way. So used to it that when she hears the whistle, she turns with a flirtatious smile, only to realize a moment later it wasn't for her, it was for Mimi, and she's not used to her lovers stealing attention from her. Immediately, her face flashes to a envious expression, and she's not sure if it's possessiveness or jealousy over Mimi getting her spotlight.

sloth
"We should get out of bed," Mimi commented, though she made no move to follow through on her words.
"Why?" Maureen mumbled - she hadn't even really woken up, and seemed to be speaking to Mimi through a half-asleep haze.
"Because it's got to be at least noon."
Maureen considered for a moment in silence, and then answered, "It's also the middle of February, freezing cold as soon as you throw the blankets off, and we've got nothing better to do today."
"Good point," Mimi conceded, and wrapped an arm around Maureen's waist, warm against her bare skin.

greed
Maureen doesn't just live by a double standard, she is one. The instant a lover gets possessive, Maureen's gone – it happened with Mark, and Joanne, and so many others she can't remember them all – but those same lovers are hers, completely, no debate or confusion about it.
Thing is, she's never had a lover quite like Mimi before. When she runs her tongue up from the hollow of her throat, up to her neck, bites down and growls softly, "Mine," in that controlling, demanding tone that always makes everyone else melt, Mimi just laughs at her.

lust
Mimi pounces on her like a playful cat, fingernails gliding over skin like claws, leaving behind faint trails of red, less than delicate bites placed here and there, guaranteed to leave behind bruises. Not at all startled or bothered, Maureen simply smirks and pounces right back, hands gripping wrists, just enough to hurt, not enough to damage, shoving her against the bed, teeth sinking into her bottom lip in the middle of a kiss. It's more a contest than a game, played with gentle, teasing fingers and lips and tongue, growls and whimpers and pleading, but never the word "love".