Catra is rough, and that's not fair-- she's making it harder on Adora on purpose, making her hiss and grit her teeth until her jaw aches. She wait for the slightest lull in Catra's touches, then quickly releases the sheet from between her lips to chastise: "No claws."

(And she takes the sheet right back into her mouth without even being told, because rough or not-- teasing or not-- she's not ready for Catra to stop.)

Her body squirms against the mattress as Catra shifts on top of her, the chafe of fur against her bare stomach and legs ticklish and tingling -- and she watches her with transfixed eyes, understanding enough to discern a purpose from her repositioning even without knowing what.

And then Catra gives her next order, which Adora is coming to realize she likes-- like-- a lot, and she obligingly drags her heel up the mattress, angling her knee. Catra's thighs clamp greedily around it right away, her heat seeping through the material of her underwear, and just like that, it clicks. Adora doesn't even have to think. Her leg moves on its own, pushing up against Catra, grinding readily into her.