A/N: A departure in style for me, a bit of an experiment. Oneshot. Exploring Lilith's nature.


Ever since the day the four of us were dropped off in Fyrestone, I've been fascinated by him; a deadly hunter with a murderous avian companion. He seems so serious sometimes, but I've heard him laugh. His laugh sends chills down my spine, to my very core. Deep inside the killer that he is, there's a streak of wicked humor that I tease out whenever I can.

I stand beside him, watching the lines of his body as he lines up a shot, and I wonder what it would be like to touch those taut muscles. Mordecai. He makes me feel like a teenager again, so unsure of myself, so afraid to face rejection.

Sometimes we sit together long into the night and he bares his face to me. I love to watch the firelight reflected in his dark eyes. I imagine burning together, passion overtaking us. Can he see the blush that rises in my cheeks? Does it make him think less of me? These nights are precious in their rarity, and I wait for each night cycle impatiently. I crave the sight of his face.

Tonight the darkness comes again, and I bring death with all the skill I possess. I want to impress him. I can feel his eyes on the three of us from his sniper's perch high above… I wonder if he's looking at me. All day we kill, risking our lives for the money and for the thrill of the hunt.

It is dark now, and cold. The others are asleep and I sit with him on the dirt as I burn. I don't even pay attention to what I'm saying but he laughs and there's that feeling in the pit of my stomach again. The ache of wanting him. Tonight my face must have betrayed me, because he's looking at me differently. His sharp eyes seem to look right through me and it's all I can do not to react.

A smirk curls slowly on his lips and he leans toward me ever so slightly. I try not to breathe faster. He's saying something about never having realized his effect on me and I can't concentrate through his voice, his tone now overtly, teasingly sexual. I force a reply, a half-assed attempt at sarcasm. He says my name and it feels almost pornographic the way his voice caresses the two syllables. Lilith.

I lick my lips and move closer, looking up at his tilted head and at the fire dancing in his eyes. I want him to burn with me. He leans down to me, that smile still on his lips. I'm lost in his eyes, dark pools that blaze with fire. We are inches from each other and I can feel the warmth of his breath. I am the phoenix and I need his heat. My arm reaches up to the back of his neck, under the heaviness of his hair, and I pull him to me.

He chuckles softly and my eyes close as I am overwhelmed by his proximity. I part my lips to taste the air around us and he takes the opportunity to meet my lips with his. I let him take control and the fire grows between us. He teases me with his mouth, suckling softly at my bottom lip as his hand tangles in my hair. My own hand drops from his neck to his thigh, where I can feel the strength of his muscles even as he sits. His tongue has begun to explore my mouth with delicate flicks and there is nothing in the world but our two bodies and the steady crackle of the campfire.

I drag my tongue against his and he opens his mouth a bit more in response, granting me access. This is where I want to be. I mimic the actions he's been performing on me and his hand tightens in my hair, a sensation that dances on the edge of pain without quite crossing the threshold. I burn for him.

He pulls away slowly, releasing my hair and trailing his fingers lightly down to my collarbone. The smirk is back on his face but there's an intensity in his expression and I know that the fire is within him, too.

He asks me how far this is going to go, and I answer without speaking.

It goes until only glowing embers remain.