Envy lay on the couch reading, and she sat down and bent over him, her long dark hair falling like a curtain over his pale face. He put the book down on his bare stomach and looked at her, almost lazily, as if what she was doing was about as surprising and interesting as yet another sunrise. Pretty to look at, but the same old thing you've seen a million times already, nothing new, nothing special. Dully beautiful.
Lust kissed him anyway, gently, barely more than placing her lips against his. When he responded it was an automatic movement, there was no need, no desire, and his hands didn't leave the book's green cover to run the slender fingers through her hair. She found herself urging him on at first, trying to pinpoint something that would appeal, but found nothing and decided that that would do.
She leaned back and watched him as he opened his eyes slowly, gazing at her with a catlike boredom. Envy shook his head, and Lust nodded and rose from the couch.
One had to try, she knew, in order to know. She hadn't found what she was looking for, but secretly she was relieved.