Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's Note: I feel like I give you guys an apology every time I post. So I'm just going to stop. I'm just going to fucking update.

P.S. Some of you might have noticed the rating change. You're welcome.

Interlocking

Chapter Thirty Three: More

"He pushes her back against the cot, moving atop her. She lets him. Threads her hands into his hair as he brings his lips to her neck." - Krem and Harding find each other in a world torn apart. A story told in brief glimpses.

Harding wakes to find Krem looking at her through half-lidded eyes, his hair mussed to one side, his cheek lying on his arm. He smiles sleepily when she blinks at him. "Morning," he offers breathily.

Harding curls into his side and closes her eyes once more, smiling as well. "Morning." It is a warm whisper against his chest.

One of his hands is resting along her waist. "Sorry I fell asleep here after our talk."

She shakes her head softly. "I'm not."

His fingers run gently over the smooth cotton covering her hip as he watches her.

She lifts her head from his chest to lock gazes with him, her hair caught over her eyes. He chuckles and lifts his head to move his other arm, his free hand moving the strands from her face. She smiles. "I'm glad you fell asleep. I…I rather like sleeping next to you."

"We should do this more often."

"That's some smart thinking, Mr. Aclassi."

He laughs again and – oh.

The things it does to her.

Krem leans his head back down to the pillow and sighs. His eyes move to the ceiling and his brow furrows. "Wish I could wake up with you tomorrow. Every day really."

Harding is silent for a moment, a hand pulling from the fur covers to rest softly on his chest. She thrums her fingers in thought. "You leave for the Hissing Wastes today, right?"

Krem sighs again. "Yeah. Afternoon."

Harding glances out the window behind their sleeping forms, where warm orange light filters into the tower. "Still early." She turns her gaze back to his, shifting in the furs.

Krem offers a weak smile, his fingers dancing over her shoulder now. "Wish I was meeting you there."

Her smile is everything warm and reassuring. "Lieutenant Loran is very capable. You'll be in good hands."

Krem eyes her momentarily, something sparking in his gaze, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "I'd rather be in your hands," he breathes lowly, turning fully to her and pushing closer, his lips seeking hers.

Her soft intake of breath is swallowed by his mouth. Her eyes shift closed as the hand along his chest slides up to his neck, her tongue darting out to meet his.

His breathy moan into her mouth floods her with heat and she feels his hand slink down her side to her hip, just at the edge of her shirt. His fingers are needy and grasping as he pushes further into her.

They break apart momentarily, each breathing heavily. Harding blinks blearily at him. "Krem, I want…" She stops, licks her lips and tries to focus.

His eyes cannot leave her mouth. "What?" His heady voice rumbles against her lips. "What do you want?"

She leans closer to him, so that their chests are flush against each other. "I know we never…never have time. For us. But I want to now." She swallows thickly and opens her eyes to his. "I want to have time. For us." She watches him steadily. "For you and me. Now." She runs her hand from his neck down the solid length of his chest slowly, meaningfully, stopping hesitantly above the band of his trousers.

Krem slides his eyes closed at the sensation, his breath labored in his chest, something searing and dangerous twisting tight in his gut. "Fasta vass," he gets out in a ragged breath. It is all he can manage. He opens his eyes to catch hers, one last silent question, and when she nods he very nearly growls. His hand slides beneath her shirt as he watches her, the steady flutter of her lashes at his touch, the minute tremble of her lips. She arches unconsciously into him.

Krem lets out an unsteady breath, a dark sound of desire rumbling along his throat. He pushes her back against the cot, moving atop her. She lets him. Threads her hands into his hair as he brings his lips to her neck. She lets out a breathy sound that makes him greedy, makes him bolder. His tongue is slick and hot against her skin, his teeth grazing her pulse point in barely checked need.

The hand that had been lost beneath her shirt inches up, reaching for her breast, only to find it bare beneath her cotton tunic. He groans and drops his head to her collarbone, tries to steady his breathing.

"Krem." It is less a word and more a gasp.

He only grunts in acknowledgment, his hand settling over the tender swell of her breast, gripping it roughly as his lips drag along her collar bone.

His name is lost somewhere in her moan, her fingers tightening in his hair.

He tugs at her tunic with his other hand, leaning back impatiently to catch her gaze. "In the way," he mumbles incoherently, pulling the cotton shirt up her form.

She only nods, raising up to her elbows to help him. The shirt is pulled from her quickly and she settles back down in the furs. Krem takes only a second to rake his eyes over her form, her skin flushing with the attention, and then he is leaning in and closing his lips around a nipple.

She arches sharply, her soft whimper caught in her throat. His hands run along her sides and over her hot skin. Impatient. Reverent. Everything dangerous and delicious. He moves his mouth to her ribs and drags his lips along the skin, sliding further down her body. She trembles violently.

"Maker, I can't…can't fucking get enough of you," he breathes into her skin, one hand sliding down to grip her thigh. The sound that leaves her lips almost has him bucking into her right there. "Fuck," he groans, his tongue dipping out to taste her skin as he slides lower.

Harding throws a hand back to grip the edge of the cot, her hips instinctively pushing toward him. His fingers curl into the waistband of her pants, slowly pushing the fabric over her hips and down her thighs. She can hardly keep from drowning. She chances a look down to Krem, finds his face hovering low before the apex of her thighs, his hand sliding down the smooth trembling flesh, his eyes steady on hers.

"I want more," he breathes darkly, promisingly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Later, when she is sweat-drenched and breathless, "more" is exactly what she is screaming for.