A/N: Okay, so I'm not really sure about what this is. I think my fictional sex gods blended together in my head, so there's a bit of Tyler Durden in here with Graves, along with a sliver of an ex or two. Please don't hate me. I don't find Shilo to be a particularly enthralling character, but she served her purpose.

Reviews will be rewarded with telepathic hugs, flames will be giggled at childishly, but both are welcome.

Shilo still lived in her father's house. The ghosts that wandered the familiar halls were her only real companionship, with Mag and her father now condemned to another growing pile of corpses. Her father's savings kept her simplistically satisfied, if not quite happy. She was lonely, but then, all her life she'd been lonely. It was only that brief taste of freedom that left her yearning for more.

But every few nights, a curious face appeared at her window, his matted hair and kohl-rimmed eyes sending little thrills she didn't quite understand coursing through her body. The first night he came was out of desperation. He was panting and even more haggard after a particularly long run from the Genecops that seemed perpetually on his tail. She let him in without complaint, waiting for the sirens and wails to pass far enough in the distance. He thanked her gratefully, planting a quick kiss on her temple before dashing back out into the night. Her breath caught in her throat and she stood petrified by the window for many long moments after he had disappeared. No one had kissed her except for her father, and she hadn't even felt human touch since the fateful opera months before. She felt too innocent and raw to leave the confines of the familiar walls, too childish to seek out what she desired. But it seemed to come to her.

Graverobber visited her many nights after. In the past six months he had been through her window at least once a week, each parting paid for with yet another tantalizing kiss, a teasing brush of lips on skin. He took to sleeping on the sprawling sofa on the first floor, chastely keeping a floor between them. Shilo played with the idea of creeping down to see him in the dark of night, having him help her discover what it was she instinctually desired, but her pure upbringing kept her confined to her oversized bed, a hand clamped tightly between her aching thighs. But she wanted.

Tonight, she stood naked, standing in front of her dresser. She had forgotten, yet again, to wash her clothing. It was something she had never had to worry about before… before everything that had happened, and it was hard for her to adjust. The only change she had made to the entire house was to tear down the wretched plastic sheets that had surrounded her bed. All of her father's things remained exactly where he had left them. A long evaporated glass of water still sat on the mantelpiece of the fireplace where he had left it, the tray he put down stayed on her bedside table. Shilo didn't want change. The world spun outside this house, but within, everything was perfectly still.

A light draft drifted in the room from her open window, raising goosebumps across her flesh and causing the pink nipples on her now filled out form to peak. Since the poison had been flushed from her, she had blossomed into what a woman her age should look like. She was still paler than the hazy moon outside her window, but the flawless skin now wrapped around graceful curved hips and full breasts. She toyed with one casually as she pondered what she would sleep in.

A crash made her yelp with surprise and turn to her window. A shattered vial of Zydrate was splattered across her floor. It came from the hand of him, standing on her windowsill, mouth slightly open. He collected himself quickly.

"Sorry, kid, bad time?" he said, turning his eyes away from her and towards the blue liquid starting to seep into the floorboards. He pulled a filth-caked handkerchief out of one of his coat pocket and busied himself cleaning up the spill, never once raising his eyes. She yanked the black sheet off her bed and wrapped it around herself, then touched his shoulder lightly.

"It's alright," she said softly, pulling him gently upright. "I wasn't expecting you tonight. You came just a few nights ago." She took the cloth from his hand and kneeled in front of him to clean them mess. When she looked up at him, her wide eyes made him swallow hard. He took a step back, as this virginal girl's slightly open mouth was exactly level with a certain bit of his anatomy that was suddenly starting to ache. He leaped back up onto the windowsill.

"Sorry about this, kid." He could hardly call her that anymore, because she certainly wasn't. "I didn't mean to surprise you like this. I can find somewhere else to crash."

Her brow furrowed slightly, and she shook her head, her soft black hair just brushing her shoulders. She grabbed his hand and led him back into her room, still keeping the other hand at her breast, holding the sheet around herself.

"It's alright. You're always welcome here." He didn't know what to say, so simply followed her numbly as she led him out of her room and down the stairs. When she settled him on the couch and then disappeared back up the stairs like a beautiful phantom, he let out a quiet moan. The kid had grown up, and grown up fast. He palmed the growing bulge in his jeans as he saw her over and over again in his mind's eye, bare skin glowing in the moonlight. She was flawless.

He unzipped his jeans, instantly feeling guilty, but unable to help himself. There were plenty of Z-whores he could satisfy himself with, but they were plastic, fake, and the kid, she was real. Oh, she was real. And the thought of her, just a floor above him, possibly still naked, sent his blood rushing to his loins. He groaned as he pumped himself, then quickly stifled the noise. He was so close to the brink when a small hand on his arm sent him bolting up.

"Kid! Fuck, I'm sorry, I.." he stuttered, trying to tuck himself back into his jeans. She rounded the couch and stood in front of him before he could finish his excuse. She laid a white hand over his, silencing him instantly.

"Let me see you," she whispered, sending chills down his spine. She dropped the sheet, letting it pool at their feet. He groaned.

"Kid…" he muttered, but she moved his hands away, and laid them on her breasts.

"Shilo," she breathed, and wrapped her delicate little hands around him. He grunted in surprise.

"Shilo," he whispered, and his hands travelled down to her hips. "Shilo, you don't have to do this."

She ignored him. "I did this to you?" she asked, stroking one hand down his length. His hips bucked slightly.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah."

"Show me how to help you." His mouth gaped slightly. Her hands stroked him lightly, making his pulse jump. He backed up.

"Shilo… I can't corrupt you like this. I can't instruct you on how to please me," he said. "Find someone more decent than me."

She narrowed her wide eyes just slightly. "I don't want someone else," she purred, then in a smooth move towards him, ducked down and surrounded him with her lips. He let out a cry that turned into a grunt of pleasure as she swirled her tongue around his tip.

"Kid…" he groaned, "Where'd you learn that?"

She pulled away just slightly to respond. "Television." The great corrupter.

She wrapped her mouth around him once more, rubbing her tongue along his underside and sucking hard. He grunted again.

"Fuck, your mouth is amazing," he hissed as his hips thrust forward involuntarily. She took him in stride, drawing him in further. He couldn't help but let his fingers curl into her hair, guiding her movements. As he felt himself tighten, he pulled her, a bit harshly, away from him. She was panting, on her knees at his feet. He let out a lusty snarl that made her close her eyes and throw her head back, his fingers still tangled in her hair. Her eyes snapped open and bore into his soul.

"I need you," she whispered softly, and he sank to his knees. No other woman could do this to him. She ripped his heart out and covered it in feather-soft kisses, then handed it back to him on a satin pillow. He wrapped his other hand in her hair and brought his lips to hers. She was soft, plush, innocent against his experience and hunger. She opened her lips to let his tongue slip in as her searching hands found his and brought them down to her thighs. He caressed them as he slid towards her core, spreading them as he went. He felt the lightest touch of her black curls, and his hand delved down, making her let out a sharp gasp. She was deliciously drenched and throbbing.

"God, Shilo," he groaned, "You're amazing."

She fell back onto the hardwood floor, spreading her legs invitingly towards him. He leaned over her after giving her a long stroke, poised perfectly above her. He gazed at her face, glowing and looking at him expectantly as her chest heaved with anticipation.

He lay his hands gently on her breasts as he asked "Are you sure this is what you want? You can never get this back." She nodded solemnly, emphasizing the gesture by grabbing onto his thigh.

"Then wait." He stood, and pulled his ragged shirt off, exposing flat plains of muscle that made Shilo clench. His pants followed suit, and soon he was over her again. He stroked her cheek, then whispered in her ear, "You are beautiful, Shilo."

He slid into her easily, but she was so unbelievably clenched, so new. She gasped quietly at the pain of being stretched so much, but felt no sharp prick of loss, and somehow knew she wouldn't bleed. She dug her nails into his shoulders to keep from crying out as he started to move in her. He could see the pain outweighed the sweetness, so started to pull away from her, but she clung to him harder.

"No," she gasped, and shoved herself down onto him. "Don't you dare stop now." He looked at her in surprise, but slowly began to move again. She moved to accommodate him, slowly, until gradually tears no longer pricked her eyes when he moved further in. Her grip on him loosened slightly, and he began to pick up speed, but his strokes became more shallow. He hit a place that made her let out a short gasping moan, and a smile flickered across his face. He hit it, again and again, until she was dragging her nails down his back and up his thighs. She let out a silent scream as she quivered beneath him that turned slowly into a cry. His thrusts grew deeper and she bucked her hips to meet his, hungry now that she knew what ecstasy was like. He bit lightly into her shoulder as he buried himself in her, drawing little gasps and moans from her with each movement. Her enthusiasm tightened things in him, and a few more of her wild bucks and he spilt himself in her, gasping.

Guilt wracked him instantly. She was young, so fucking young. He'd corrupted younger, but none so pure, so innocent. He slid out of her and rolled onto his back. She rolled onto her side to stroke a finger down his chest, and he had the almost uncontrollable urge to swat it away. It felt too good. This wasn't what he did. There was no room for emotion in his life, just lust, satisfaction, and flight.

He hauled himself off the floor, grabbing his discarded clothing in the process. He pulled them clumsily on, Shilo watching him the entire time. He grunted at her to cover up.

"Look, kid, I've gotta get out of here. I've got a few more piles to hit, I was just coming to check up on you."

"You'll be back though, right?" she asked him massive eyes seeing into his soul. He knew she could sense a lie. He lied anyways.

"Yeah, kid, I'll be back." He found that his feet hesitated just a touch, letting his gaze linger just a little longer on her, before turning and flying up the stairs, leaving her behind forever.

He needed simplicity in his life, not this emotional bullshit. He wasn't cut out for this. He needed straight, plastic, transparent. He needed to find Amber.