Couldn't be bothered to cut it down to size this time, just enough for a nice rounding--150 words.
denial
Evey has spikes of cruelty sometimes. They both have their little urges; make nothing of it. Because it is so easy to want to hurt him, when he is cause and target. So easy to like it.
Stockholm Syndrome, she wants to remind even as her legs twine around his waist, arms tight around neck, body language treacherous and needy. You're making me a whore, she mouths against the side of his neck, sudden rage like lust poisoned. Repeating words not meant to be remembered; she should know better, when torturer and lover are lifetimes apart, not the same…
V draws her close, rhythm of their breathing in intimate morse code; she is yearning for more, incomplete, drowning in linen and touch. Bastard, Evey thinks between hazy kisses, raw as a love letter-- you sadistic beautiful bastard.
Then V stills, motionless as death, and she realizes she has spoken aloud.