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Interlocking

Chapter Thirty Six: All of Him

"She looks down at her fingers lighting along the bound leather around his chest. In the few times they have been together, he has never taken it off." - Krem and Harding find each other in a world torn apart. A story told in brief glimpses.

The Inquisition advances to the Arbor Wilds in the morning.

But in the night, quietly, separate from the preparing bustle of Skyhold, Krem and Harding lay together on a bed of furs in an abandoned tower. The world outside is silent. It is only their steady breaths. Only their touch and their warmth.

Krem runs his hand along the smooth expanse of her arm. "We won't be stationed anywhere near each other this time." His words are soft and low. But sure. Certain. Regretful, but knowing.

Harding shifts under the blanket and rests her head on his shoulder. "No," she offers quietly. "We won't."

There is silence between them for many moments.

"I can't take another Adamant."

When he says it, she is filled with everything searing and stark and painful. Her eyes close to his heavy exhale and her hand unconsciously moves to the scarred tissue along her stomach. She breathes in thick apprehension with him.

Krem blows an exasperated sigh through his lips and reaches a hand up to run through his hair, resting there in trembling unease. "Sorry. I know…I know we're supposed to…"

She shushes him, nestling closer. "It's okay."

He turns his head to her and she lifts her gaze to catch his. "I just…I just wish this whole mess of a war never happened," he sighs.

Harding thrums her fingers along his chest softly, her lips pursed. She looks down at her fingers lighting along the bound leather around his chest. "I don't."

Krem cocks his head to better look at her, but does not answer. The hand in his hair moves to rest beneath his head.

Harding sighs against him. "Maybe it's selfish. And stupid. And…just stupid but…" She stops, looks up at him, her gaze determined and constant. Her hand lights confidently along his chest. "I wouldn't have met you otherwise."

Krem opens his mouth. There is nothing there but silent awe and tender affection. He closes it quietly, his brows furrowing in painful recollection. Of all they've seen. All they've felt. All they've been. He thinks maybe it is selfish. But he'd have it no other way.

Krem swallows and tightens his arm around her form. "You're right."

Harding does not take her eyes from him. "I'm ready for tomorrow."

He wonders how he ever found this girl in such a dark and desolate and damaged world.

She rises up to lean over him, her lips hovering over his, her hand moving to his cheek. "We'll find each other when it's over. I'm sure of it." She smiles.

His words are lost in his throat. Dying and pointless and insignificant when she looks at him like this. Like he means something. Like he means everything. Like he deserves such a look.

He reaches a hand to her face and holds it there.

She smiles, leaning down to kiss him. He opens his mouth to her, lets her push her tongue against his own. Lets her deepen the kiss. Let's her move her leg to straddle him.

Maker, he'd let her do anything so long as she kept touching him.

Harding grasps greedily at his neck, sucking his lip into her mouth, and sighing at the moan that leaves him. She feels both his hands along her cheeks, gripping her desperately, achingly, with the subtle throb of recklessness. She wraps her hand behind his neck and leans back, pulling him up so that they sit with her straddling his lap. He moves with her instinctively, without resistance. He follows her lips as though drowning.

She must break apart from him to catch her breath, her hips already pushing into his, slowly, deliciously.

Krem groans and buries his face in her neck, his hands moving to her thighs, thick and soft and trembling against him. He holds her tightly to him, breathing heavily into her neck as she wraps her arms around him. He moves his mouth back to hers and she is heated and desperate against him, her lips crashing against his with a wild abandon. His fingers dig into her hips and she moans along his tongue.

He is breathless.

Harding's hand moves to the edge of the leather binding wrapping his chest. Her fingers fiddle with the thin strap and buckle. He tears his mouth from hers quickly, his hand grasping hers and stopping its motion instinctually, without thought. "Wait, wait, wait," he breathes heavily.

Harding blinks frantically through her haze of lust, trying to focus. She leans back slightly in his lap, her lips swollen and parted. "What?" It is a heady whisper.

Krem swallows thickly at the sound of her, trying to rein in his own breathing. He licks his lips and regrets it instantly, watching as her gaze hones in on the motion, her eyes dark and hooded. He pulls a deep, steadying breath in. "I just…I don't think I can…" He stops. Because he doesn't even know if there are words for this. This kind of trepidation. This kind of heated fear and desolate hope.

Harding squeezes his hand in hers and then pulls her touch from his, laying her hand gently and meaningfully along the strap of his leather binding instead. In the few times they have been together, he has never taken it off.

"Look at me, Krem."

He does.

Harding's smile is soft and knowing. Her other hand lights along his shoulder. "I want to love all of you."

He closes his eyes to her words, tries to steady his breathing. He feels her hand along his shoulder brush against the soft skin of his collarbone. Feels the tender, reverent graze of her fingertips lighting just above the wrap. His breathing deepens, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "I just…it's not…" He cannot even form words when she touches him like this.

There is the sudden soft brush of her lips against his collarbone. His eyes fly open.

She is kissing his skin. Her fingers and her lips. Her whole body is loving him. Sweeping along the smooth and taut muscles of his chest, his shoulders, his ribs. He can feel her. Tender and accepting and unafraid.

This inescapable form. This traitor of a body. This shell of everything he is not.

She knows.

She knows who he is. She knows who he is not.

She does not ask him to be any more or any less. She only asks him this:

"Will you let me?"

Krem swallows thickly and looks at her, their gazes locking, their bodies pulsing against each other. He trembles beneath her touch. He doesn't remember what it was like to not look for her in the night. In the dark, ugly remembrance of his dreams. In the painful, clawing past that plagues him still.

He doesn't remember what it was like to not see her.

Light and promise and freedom.

Krem nods slowly. Silently.

He lets her.

He lets her love him.

All of him.