Adora's eyes go wide as Catra presses the whole of her to her, belly to belly and chest to chest, her face so close that it makes her heart lurch. She can tell that something's different, something's happening, because Catra's hungry rhythm altogether dissolves into a series of uncontrolled spasms. And Adora wants to ask, are you okay, what's going on, but she doesn't get the chance to, because-- because Catra's all over her, and she can feel each shudder and jerk that runs through her body as if it were her own, and her trapped hands twitch against Adora just so.
It happens before she can help it, the tension in her finally hitting its peak, and Adora's scared -- she's never felt anything with such intensity, she doesn't know what to do, and her hands cling to Catra's shoulders and hair like a lifeline. She doesn't have the presence of mind to watch the noises she makes, but that's okay, because her throat dies just then; every muscle in her body knits together tight, as tight as it'll go, and colors burst in front of her closed eyelids as everything inside her unravels. Everything, everything, from the top of her head to her fingers and toes, dissolves from the inside in a great deluge of spark and flame. It's-- everything.
When the colors have faded and Adora opens her eyes again, the room around her is little more than blurry blotches in the dark. She blinks rapidly, then finally releases the blanket from between her teeth, throwing her head back to drink in mouthful after mouthful of air. Her lungs burn, needy, grateful.
Catra's gone still in arms, and she can feel the same languid slackness to her that she feels in her own limbs. Like her bones have turned to jelly. Adora's utterly spent, and dizzy, every inch of her skin tingling with warmth, and she's-- completely overwhelmed by everything that just happened.
"Are you-- I-- what--" she searches for the words between puffs of breath, only to find her head very much empty, her thoughts clattering to the floor before they're even halfway formed.
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It happens before she can help it, the tension in her finally hitting its peak, and Adora's scared -- she's never felt anything with such intensity, she doesn't know what to do, and her hands cling to Catra's shoulders and hair like a lifeline. She doesn't have the presence of mind to watch the noises she makes, but that's okay, because her throat dies just then; every muscle in her body knits together tight, as tight as it'll go, and colors burst in front of her closed eyelids as everything inside her unravels. Everything, everything, from the top of her head to her fingers and toes, dissolves from the inside in a great deluge of spark and flame. It's-- everything.
When the colors have faded and Adora opens her eyes again, the room around her is little more than blurry blotches in the dark. She blinks rapidly, then finally releases the blanket from between her teeth, throwing her head back to drink in mouthful after mouthful of air. Her lungs burn, needy, grateful.
Catra's gone still in arms, and she can feel the same languid slackness to her that she feels in her own limbs. Like her bones have turned to jelly. Adora's utterly spent, and dizzy, every inch of her skin tingling with warmth, and she's-- completely overwhelmed by everything that just happened.
"Are you-- I-- what--" she searches for the words between puffs of breath, only to find her head very much empty, her thoughts clattering to the floor before they're even halfway formed.
Finally, she croaks out--
"Was-- was that normal?"