Note: This story wasn't written by me, but by my Hughes, who I'd prefer to keep anonymous. They requested that I post this on my account due to the nature of this fanfic, seeing as they have some respect to uphold. I don't particularly mind getting a few weird looks, but bear in mind that I don't deserve any praise or critique. ...However, their writing it is COMPLETELY my fault, so feel free to flame me in regards to that. :)

And I wasn't kidding -- this fanfic contains necrophilia. It practically is nothing but necrophilia. If you find this particularly disturbing, I'd suggest turning back. If not, please try to enjoy, and let me know what you think. I'll forward all comments to Hughes. Thanks!

He was so cold.

No matter how much he tried not to think about it, no matter how hard he tried to pretend this was just like any other night, it just kept coming back to that.

Roy was so fucking cold.

Maes wiped his face again – now wasn't the time for that. He could cry later, be the stupid sap tomorrow, mourn some other time – not now. Roy would want him to be strong now. So, with a deep, slightly forced inhalation, he did his best not to shake as he reached forward–

God he's so cold he's so cold–

–and carefully unzipped Roy's pants.

Even now, he couldn't bring himself to regret the promise he'd made. At the time, he had just been looking for a reason for to outlive him, and this stupid joke had crossed his mind; Roy, he knew, had been doing the same.

Hey, man, you can't be the first one to go – who'll give me one last bit of heaven?"

It had been their private joke, Maes remembered all too well as he slid Roy's pants over his (cold cold cold) hips. They were both going to hell anyway; the closest they'd ever get to heaven was in each other's arms. So why feel bad about it? A night now and then was all the paradise they'd ever get. Forget what anyone else would think; they were only human…

Almost as if to show his agreement, Roy was hard. A fucking death erection – Maes let out something that he chose to believe was a laugh.

With a little more strength, he slid Roy's pants off enough to grant himself access. He wouldn't need much preparation – Roy couldn't feel it, after all.

Not bothering to wipe his face this time, he uncapped the lube and went through the routine they both knew so well.

Roy smirked. "I think you'll be the one giving it to me, pal."

Maes couldn't pretend he was laughing now as he worked his fingers through the freezing flesh, scissoring and pressing and doing everything that always made Roy smile and gasp and moan and squeeze Maes so tight it hurt—

He had to pause for a moment, to press his face against Roy's knee and calm himself down.

The cold, stiff joint was not helping matters.

Roy nearly whined. "What are you doing stopping? You're shit on top, do you know that?!"

Oh, Roy, it should have been you doing this.

But he had to finish. He had to, before he took too long and someone started to wonder where he was… So with a great, heaving sniff, he took his fingers out and lifted Roy's hips up to meet his own.

Oh God. Oh God, there was dried blood this far down his back.

Forcing the thought out of his mind, he shut his eyes tightly and thrust himself in.

It was freezing.

Roy was freezing.

He tugged irritatedly at Maes's hair. "I told you to hurry up."

Wasting no time attempting to pull himself together, Maes thrust again. He went as hard and as fast as he could at this angle, trying to forget how cold it was, even as he shivered and his teeth began to chatter. He went as hard and fast as he could in this state, trying to forget how hard he was sobbing, even as his whole body shook with the effort and the room seemed to echo with the sounds of his agony. He went as hard and fast as he could with no Roy there to hold him, trying to forget how the blood nearly covered the so-cold chest of this empty shell he was mindlessly fucking, no Roy there to roll his eyes and call Maes a stupid sap, no Roy there to smirk and act sarcastic, no Roy there to make him want to sing and scream and laugh and cry and bash his head against the wall all at once…

"Idiot."

…A body, but no Roy to shudder and collapse with as he came. No Roy to hold him and kiss tiredly afterwards, just a cold body. No warm arms to wrap around him and stroke his hair and he took a moment to be weak, just a dead, useless, freezing corpse.

But he had kept his promise.

If nothing else, he'd done that for Roy in their final moments together.

Still weeping softly, he lowered his face onto Roy's cold skin, breathing in the scent of dried blood and death.

"I'm gonna miss you, buddy."

Roy smirked again. This time, however, it looked a little more like a smile.

"…Yeah. I love you, too."