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The back room of the safehouse is small and cold, the unsettled dust still rising in coils to the ceiling, and Riza feels Roy's neck arch under her mouth, his pulse thundering beneath the skin. It seems like hours since they stumbled into each other, fevered and desperate, since he pulled her down into his lap and everything narrowed around them.
She shouldn't, they shouldn't, but it's only a few hours until sunrise and tomorrow tilts on a knife-edge, death or glory and no middle ground for any of them. Riza's barely seen him for months and it might all be over soon, one way or the other.
Roy's hand slides up her stomach under her top and she comes back to her body with a jolt, breathing in hard, and the smell of him is everywhere, achingly familiar. Riza reaches for his shirt buttons and he kisses her, tongue pushing past her lips. The wooden bench creaks underneath them.
"Careful," she mumbles and Roy makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a groan. His other hand is fumbling with her trouser buttons. In some distant part of her mind Riza remembers that Breda and Fuery are asleep in the next room and she kisses Roy again to keep them both quiet, sliding her fingers down his chest.
It's all rough and tender at once, pulling at each other's clothing in the lantern light and sparks snapping where their skin touches. Roy runs his palms reverently up her bare thighs and buries his head in the crook of her neck; Riza presses kisses into his messy hair and she can't stop touching him, warming her hands against his skin.
"Stay with me," Roy whispers into her neck. Riza moves forward on his lap and sits up on her knees, tilting his head up, and when she slides down onto him she's looking straight into his wide, dark eyes and it's almost more than she can bear.
There's everything else, and then there's Roy Mustang. His fingers are moving right where she wants him and she kisses his mouth and trails her lips along the line of his jaw. The lantern paints shadow and gold light across his body, along the familiar lines of his face. They're both breathing in short little gasps and his other hand clutches at her back.
"I meant it, god, don't-" Roy kisses her collarbone, cutting off his own sentence. Riza's hands card through his hair. He's drawing something down inside her with his fingers and his mouth and their bodies moving together and she can't lose him, won't let him go, and she pulls his mouth back to hers and breathes, breathes him in.
They're still trembling minutes afterwards, the sweat cooling rapidly on their bodies in the draughty room. Roy's arms are tight around her waist and Riza closes her eyes, pressing her cheek against his.
"Few more hours 'til dawn," she whispers. Roy splays his hand against her ribs and his lips brush her earlobe.
"I need you," he says, voice cracking slightly. "Always do."
She listens to his breathing slow, close and quiet. "I'll be watching your back."