Catra vaguely recognizes the desperation in Adora's hold, and she does drag her hand out from between their chests, then; fumbling to place it atop Adora's on her shoulder, closing her fingers tight around her palm in a familiar grip that says you're okay, I've got you, we're alright; and even as she's left gasping against the blanket she'd latched onto, Catra is mesmerized by the feel of Adora coming beneath her. She wants to draw back, wants to look at her - but her arms are too weak, her body too sapped to even think about moving any further.

So she just curls against Adora, feeling every shudder and tremble, basking in them in something akin to -- awe, almost, just completely taken by the knowledge that this is how Adora's body jerks when she's overridden, this is how Adora smells when she's been pleasured (still clean, but sweatier; muskier), and this is how her heart pounds as she comes down, chest heaving, and melts into her mattress.

Catra doesn't know if that was normal, if having someone do it with you is supposed to be more intense and leave you so gratified after, but she nods anyway, her cheek dragging against Adora's jaw.

"Good, huh?" Her voice is a quiet rasp, and even if they weren't needing to be close to silent she thinks she probably wouldn't have been able to manage anything louder. Her fingers squeeze around Adora's hand, about all the effort she can muster, and she knows she's going to have to move soon before she just -- passes out, right here on top of Adora. But it can wait. She can hold out. She wants to stay here, curled around Adora like a shell, for a while longer. "Told you you were missing out."