Adora's hands are clumsy, and shaking, and they're still the best things Catra has ever felt. The fur she disrupts with her fingers remains raised with the prickle of gooseflesh, and Catra shivers into it; leaning herself into Adora's touch, urging her on. Adora's touched her before, innocent pets and strokes, and somehow - for some reason - this feels. More. And Catra's teeth close down on her own lip as she pushes back hard onto the movement of Adora's leg, feeling white-hot sparks burning through her nerves, and she wishes she could feel Adora just -- all over, without their stupid clothes in the way.
The length of her ear is the wrong place for Adora's hand to be, but Catra doesn't know where the right place is and it's -- fine, anyway, not bad -- so she just nods jerkily at Adora's questioning look, unable to talk now for the knowledge that the moment she opens her mouth, she won't be able to control what else comes out. (And she will not be the one who ruins this for them.) It's difficult enough as it is, when Adora's hand curves on her chest and Catra's thighs tense hard around Adora's leg in a sudden vise grip, to turn what would have been a sharp gasp instead into a controlled exhale. And to then relax and resume in a juddering, ragged movement against her, feeling the edge of climax approaching.
It's embarrassing, honestly, how little she needs from Adora. But she's so - she's so here, with her hair actually spilled out on her pillow that Catra tugged askew; with her pink lips tight around the fabric stuffed willingly in her mouth; with her blue eyes darkened and wide, her body squirming under Catra's and rocking with uncontrolled vigor into her.
Catra hardly even needs her to do much but she wants it anyway, and she arches her back to press her chest into Adora's hand, demanding. She has the faint thought that this position is entirely conspicuous; that if anyone were to look over at Adora's bunk, there'd be no mistaking what the two of them were up to. But the thought vanishes in the next drag of herself up Adora's thigh, and disappears for good on the downward roll. The only thought she has left is that her hand is wasted on the mattress, and that she can still be braced perfectly well on her elbow while her fingers grope at Adora's breast - and so that's what she does, mirroring the slides and presses of Adora's fingers, copying her move for move. Go on then, Adora. Show her what you like.
no subject
The length of her ear is the wrong place for Adora's hand to be, but Catra doesn't know where the right place is and it's -- fine, anyway, not bad -- so she just nods jerkily at Adora's questioning look, unable to talk now for the knowledge that the moment she opens her mouth, she won't be able to control what else comes out. (And she will not be the one who ruins this for them.) It's difficult enough as it is, when Adora's hand curves on her chest and Catra's thighs tense hard around Adora's leg in a sudden vise grip, to turn what would have been a sharp gasp instead into a controlled exhale. And to then relax and resume in a juddering, ragged movement against her, feeling the edge of climax approaching.
It's embarrassing, honestly, how little she needs from Adora. But she's so - she's so here, with her hair actually spilled out on her pillow that Catra tugged askew; with her pink lips tight around the fabric stuffed willingly in her mouth; with her blue eyes darkened and wide, her body squirming under Catra's and rocking with uncontrolled vigor into her.
Catra hardly even needs her to do much but she wants it anyway, and she arches her back to press her chest into Adora's hand, demanding. She has the faint thought that this position is entirely conspicuous; that if anyone were to look over at Adora's bunk, there'd be no mistaking what the two of them were up to. But the thought vanishes in the next drag of herself up Adora's thigh, and disappears for good on the downward roll. The only thought she has left is that her hand is wasted on the mattress, and that she can still be braced perfectly well on her elbow while her fingers grope at Adora's breast - and so that's what she does, mirroring the slides and presses of Adora's fingers, copying her move for move. Go on then, Adora. Show her what you like.