Catra's bitten her before. Licked her, too. Mostly just to be a jerk-- like during their playfights, or as part of Catra's attempts at escape while Adora was dragging her to the showers.
She can't believe how wholly, utterly different it feels now, fuelling the fire between her legs and making her toes curl. She doesn't get how Catra's doing that -- how, after those years spent as close as any two people could be, this somehow feels even closer.
Their bodies rub together in a clumsy sort of harmony, Adora doing all she can to catch up-- to feed into the friction as much as she takes from it, matching the rolling of her hips to the rocking of Catra's own. And then Catra's hand presses against her, too -- a harder, more focused pressure, and Adora's teeth nearly tear through her blanket.
It's so much. She's so focused on moving against Catra, clinging to Catra, and keeping her moans trapped inside all the while-- that she's actually startled when she's reminded of her hands, throwing her off-rhythm.
Right. Her hands. She should-- oh-- where should she--?
Face flushed, Adora spends a moment just kind of awkwardly petting around, hoping Catra will give some indication of where and how her hands should settle. Finally, her hand in Catra's hair comes to rest fully over the back of her ear, while the hand at her stomach has moved up to cup one breast. And she looks up at Catra with big, nervous eyes, searching her face for signs of approval.
no subject
She can't believe how wholly, utterly different it feels now, fuelling the fire between her legs and making her toes curl. She doesn't get how Catra's doing that -- how, after those years spent as close as any two people could be, this somehow feels even closer.
Their bodies rub together in a clumsy sort of harmony, Adora doing all she can to catch up-- to feed into the friction as much as she takes from it, matching the rolling of her hips to the rocking of Catra's own. And then Catra's hand presses against her, too -- a harder, more focused pressure, and Adora's teeth nearly tear through her blanket.
It's so much. She's so focused on moving against Catra, clinging to Catra, and keeping her moans trapped inside all the while-- that she's actually startled when she's reminded of her hands, throwing her off-rhythm.
Right. Her hands. She should-- oh-- where should she--?
Face flushed, Adora spends a moment just kind of awkwardly petting around, hoping Catra will give some indication of where and how her hands should settle. Finally, her hand in Catra's hair comes to rest fully over the back of her ear, while the hand at her stomach has moved up to cup one breast. And she looks up at Catra with big, nervous eyes, searching her face for signs of approval.