It is no secret whatsoever that despite her varied and copious complaints about it, Catra loves to be touched by Adora. It's obvious, right? She lets Adora pet her all the time, grumbles about it with token protests but always winds up dozing and purring against her. So Adora really, really shouldn't be surprised about how insistent on having her hand in her hair Catra is, or by how she tilts the tiniest bit into the graze against her ear.
Of course Adora has to choose the blanket, and really Catra shouldn't have even bothered giving her an option. She rolls her eyes, but shifts her weight from knee to knee as she extracts enough of it to drag up, to... Adora's... mouth...
...Her brain might have short-circuited at the sight of Adora's chin tilting up, her lips parted and waiting, and -- and, wow. That is not something Catra had imagined before, and she feels her legs try to press together instinctively against the sudden drop of arousal, except of course. Adora's there. Between her legs. Waiting for her. Listening to her. Doing what Catra's telling her to do.
She doesn't have to look at herself to know her pupils have blown to circles, and for some reason now she can feel every rough thread of the blanket as she tugs it up to Adora's mouth, and she can feel the puff of Adora's breath against her skin, and she can feel the dry drag of Adora's lips against her fingers, and it turns out that gagging her best friend might be something that Catra really, really enjoys doing. Or maybe it's just the feeling of control it gives her; the rush of power.
"Not a bad look on you," she jibes; because she has to say something, has to goad somehow, because Adora's face is just-- and her eyes are just-- and Catra's just--
Catra can't stop looking at her, as she places her hands on Adora's shoulders and glides them over the durable fabric of her sleeping shirt, claws scratching over the Horde symbol emblazoned above her heart. She doesn't stop until she's cupping Adora's breasts - the very same ones she's eyed enviously in the locker rooms - and stroking her thumbs across the tops, searching for and then honing in on the stiffening bumps of her nipples, rubbing against them. That makeshift gag had seriously better work.
no subject
Of course Adora has to choose the blanket, and really Catra shouldn't have even bothered giving her an option. She rolls her eyes, but shifts her weight from knee to knee as she extracts enough of it to drag up, to... Adora's... mouth...
...Her brain might have short-circuited at the sight of Adora's chin tilting up, her lips parted and waiting, and -- and, wow. That is not something Catra had imagined before, and she feels her legs try to press together instinctively against the sudden drop of arousal, except of course. Adora's there. Between her legs. Waiting for her. Listening to her. Doing what Catra's telling her to do.
She doesn't have to look at herself to know her pupils have blown to circles, and for some reason now she can feel every rough thread of the blanket as she tugs it up to Adora's mouth, and she can feel the puff of Adora's breath against her skin, and she can feel the dry drag of Adora's lips against her fingers, and it turns out that gagging her best friend might be something that Catra really, really enjoys doing. Or maybe it's just the feeling of control it gives her; the rush of power.
"Not a bad look on you," she jibes; because she has to say something, has to goad somehow, because Adora's face is just-- and her eyes are just-- and Catra's just--
Catra can't stop looking at her, as she places her hands on Adora's shoulders and glides them over the durable fabric of her sleeping shirt, claws scratching over the Horde symbol emblazoned above her heart. She doesn't stop until she's cupping Adora's breasts - the very same ones she's eyed enviously in the locker rooms - and stroking her thumbs across the tops, searching for and then honing in on the stiffening bumps of her nipples, rubbing against them. That makeshift gag had seriously better work.