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The end is coming and there’s nothing they can do about it. He holds his head, gently. The last important thing in the world. He’s cool to the touch. Wasn’t he always? No. His brain digs up faded memories, cool fingers and hot kisses. Soft skin, hot flesh.
The list lies discarded on the ground. So much lost potential, so much he could have, should have done. But it doesn’t matter, because he has the only thing he really needs at the end. They’ve been through so much together.
He doesn’t kiss back any more. The echo of soft lips wet with a mix of their spit, a feeling he tries to replicate against smooth teeth. It’s not the same. It’s enough.
His pillow princess, he thinks fondly, making him do all of the work.
It’s tight but not in the way he’s used to. Smooth and un-giving, flesh against bone.
He misses the warm hold of him, the sounds he used to make, but he’s always had an active imagination. If he closes his eyes he can almost hear him whisper as he thrusts.
I love you, I love you.
It’s his voice, ringing in his ears. Mingling with his own as he pants and gasps.
I need you, I miss you.
He’s here, he’s carried him this far. They’re here, together, at the end of the world.
As it should be, as it was always going to be.
He cries out his final release as the sky goes black.