Work Text:
The Lost Revenge was quiet. Or at least, as quiet as it ever got. The usual sounds of the crew celebrating their latest victory still carried through the ship, muffled laughter, the hum of a sea shanty slurred through too much stolen rum. But here, in the captain’s quarters where Uma had escaped to, it was still. She was taking this well deserved time to herself to wind down and finally get into some comfortable clothes.
Uma stood by her dresser, unfastening the last of her belts, letting the weight of the night settle into her limbs. She could still feel the rush of battle humming in her bones, the ache of a well earned exhaustion settling into her body. It was a good kind of tired, the kind that came after a clean win, no injuries, no unnecessary complications.
She had just started pulling her shirt free from where it had caught against her waistband when the door creaked open.
She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The way the air shifted, it was always him.
“Didn’t knock,” she murmured, voice steady.
Harry’s voice was just as smooth when he answered, the door clicking shut behind him. “You'd be worried if I did.”
She heard the soft scuff of his boots against the wooden floor as he moved closer. Slow and deliberate. He wasn’t rushing. He never did, not when it came to this.
Uma didn’t stop him when he came up behind her, his presence warm against her back, the scent of salt clinging to him as always. His hands found her waist first, fingers skimming over the fabric of her shirt, barely touching, just enough to tease.
She exhaled slowly.
“You were brilliant tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with approval.
Uma hummed in acknowledgment, reaching for the laces of her shirt. “I always am.”
Harry agreed. His voice dipped lower, the heat of his breath on her ear setting something off in her, “Aye. But tonight, you were something else entirely.”
His fingers traced along the hem of her shirt, his touch feather light, dragging just beneath the fabric. He was waiting, giving her a chance to stop him.
She didn’t.
And so, he moved.
His hands slid down her sides, settling on her hips. Then, without a word, he dropped to his knees.
Uma stilled.
She had felt him shift before she saw it, it sent something sharp and electric racing down her spine.
He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against the exposed skin just above her waistband. His grip tightened, fingers pressing into the curve of her hips, anchoring himself as he leaned in.
And then, he kissed her. Soft. Slow. Worshipping.
His lips brushed against the sharp bone of her hip first, barely there, just a tease. Then, lower, where her skin was softer, where she was so much more aware of him.
Uma swallowed, her fingers twitching where they rested against the dresser. He knew exactly what he was doing, taking his time, pressing another lingering kiss against her hip, his breath ghosting against her skin.
She didn’t stop him. Didn’t push him away.
Harry kissed her again, just slightly lower this time, and she finally let out a breath, attempting to stay measured.
Then, without warning, she reached down and fisted her fingers in his hair, tugging his head back just enough to make him look up at her.
His pupils were blown wide, his lips still parted, and damn him, he was still grinning.
Uma arched a brow, unimpressed. “You look awfully pleased with yourself.”
Harry’s smirk deepened, his voice a bit breathless. “Can you blame me?”
Uma let out a short, amused laugh, but she didn’t let go just yet, letting the silence hang heavy between them. His grip on her hips hadn’t loosened, his hands still resting against her like he was waiting for permission to continue.
But tonight, he wasn’t getting it.
Finally, she released him, stepping away ever so slightly, putting just enough distance between them to make her point.
Harry exhaled through his nose, something between acceptance and challenge flickering in his eyes. He didn’t look disappointed. If anything, he looked intrigued.
“Not tonight, then?” he murmured, voice rougher than before.
Uma shook her head, just once.
He held her gaze for a moment longer. Then, just as slowly, he pulled back, releasing his grip on her hips, hands falling away. He didn’t push, never did. That wasn’t their game.
Uma exhaled again, her fingers slipping from his hair as he sat back on his heels.
The air between them was still thick and charged, but she turned away first, stepping forward and going back to her mirror. A clear dismissal.
Harry didn’t move right away. He stayed where he was, still kneeling, watching her with something unreadable in his gaze. Then, finally, he pushed himself up to his feet, the leather of his coat shifting as he straightened.
Uma turned to look at him as he got up. Being denied he made his way towards the door, back to the celebrations on deck. But just before he stepped out, just as he was about to disappear—
“I’ll try again tomorrow.”
It wasn’t a question.
Uma didn’t answer. But her lips twitched, just slightly.
Harry chuckled under his breath and closed the door behind him.