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"Catra! Stop it, it's for your own good! Ow!"

At the end of a long day of training, Adora is tired, sore, and wants little more than to take a shower and throw herself onto her bed. Wrangling a furious Catra into the showers with her was not on the agenda tonight, until a bot that hadn't been fixed quite right (thanks, Kyle) sprung a leak and sprayed them both with motor oil.

Now, the issue with Catra is that she's willing to shower exactly twice weekly, and both opportunities have passed. But Adora is not going to let her walk around reeking of motor oil until Monday. She's got her arms full of Catra and she's not letting go, no matter how Catra squirms, scratches, bites. In the ten minutes since she's initiated this endeavor, Adora has barely made it two steps into the showers, but her dedication to the cause and can-do attitude have always been cited as two of her strongest points as a cadet.

As they struggle and yell, Lonnie steps around the two of them on her way to the sleeping quarters, and offers Adora a sympathetic nod: "Good luck."

Adora grits her teeth.

"Look! In the time you've spent throwing your tantrum, Lonnie's already finished showering! We could've been done here!"

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Her hand at Catra's ear, that one's easy -- a show of intimacy familiar enough that, even caught up in the heat of it all, Adora can replicate it with only the slightest hitch in her movements. She knows this. Knows how Catra likes it when she scratches at the base, or drags her knuckles up the fuzzy back, or pinches the thin cartilage between her forefinger and thumb to rub at it.

It's grounding, to have this one kind of touch tonight that isn't alien. It boosts Adora's confidence, makes her other hand bolder, too; groping and squeezing at Catra's breast the way Catra had shown her just before. (Catra's breast-- it's small, and soft, and she's never touched it before except maybe on accident, and she likes it. A lot. Likes the way it yields beneath her fingertips when she presses them in.)

It takes her a moment to notice Catra's mimicking her, and Adora can't help but reel at the realization, just slightly. Their bodies match in places and differ in others-- Adora's never going to know how Catra feels when cold water hits her skin, or when she rakes her fingers through her fur.

But this, she knows, this feels the same for both of them-- she's sure Catra must feel those same little jolts when she rolls her nipple beteeen her fingers, scratches with the back of her blunt nail. She can tell from the way her thighs quake against her own with that same hungry tremor, from the way she, too, has to breathe in sharp spurts through grit teeth.

Something about-- just knowing they're the same, for all of Adora's cluelessness and clumsiness. The way their hands and hips move in tandem, Catra feeling her, needing her, matching Adora's own need. It makes Adora lightheaded-- her blood pounding hot and uncontrolled through her veins, her whole body straining just to keep it together.

The ball of crackling tension in her gut has stretched into a pillar; she can feel it in the backs of teeth. She doesn't know how much more it can grow before she can't take it, what will happen to her once she can't, but-- Adora doesn't want to stop. The room catching fire couldn't get her to stop. It's more than her own want, now-- it's about giving all she can to Catra.

Edited 2020-06-18 14:16 (UTC)

--She was wrong, actually, about Adora's hand? The one on her ear? Because once Adora remembers how her fingers work, the first stroke along it feels as good as it always has, and the part of Catra holding on to deliberate thought crumbles and falls away the same way it always does when Adora pets her. Her head lolls into the scratches and rubs, and she really - she can't-- she has to part her lips to breathe, long draws of air, and clench her jaw quickly shut when Adora's hesitant touch on her breast turns confident. Catra doesn't even reach the realization that Adora's clued in, just folds down into her at the first pleasurable press of her nipple between Adora's fingers, her own trembling as they mimic the movement. And Adora's fingers roll the sensitive nub, and she feels the stiffness of Adora's as she copies her and the jolt of her hips into hers (or is that Catra's into Adora's?) and something about Adora has -- changed. Catra has neither the presence of mind nor the will to pause long enough to think about what it is, is just falling under the warmth of pleasure Adora's steadily building in her, and she has just enough rationality left to know, to know, that she's not -- she's not going to be able to keep quiet at the peak of her release.

She manages one desperate, quiet gasp for air; and then she pushes her body up, dragging across Adora's, and she -- just needs -- she has to bite on something, but one of her hands is trapped spasming between Adora's crotch and her own thigh, and the other she won't remove from Adora's breast, and she -- she

She doesn't have time to think too much about it, lifting her chin to grip the blanket draped across the side of Adora's chin between her teeth, feeling the line of Adora's jaw against her cheek as her body clenches, and spasms; and there's a short, choked noise that she hopes, dearly hopes isn't audible beyond their ears as Catra pushes back into Adora's hip, onto Adora's thigh, into Adora's hand, and shudders against her as her mind completely blanks under the wash of hot pressure, undulating against Adora's body with every wave that her orgasm brings.

--She'll be embarrassed about this later, about how easily she came apart from Adora's barest touches when her own are often unsatisfactory, but right now? Right now this is the most intense, most full-body climax she's ever reached, and Catra's going to be riding it as far as it'll take her.

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.

Finally, she croaks out--

"Was-- was that normal?"

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."

"Yeah. Wow."

Good doesn't begin to cover it. Adora flexes her fingers and toes, feeling them buzz, still. All the twisting, uneasy knots inside her have melted away, leaving her lighter than she's felt maybe ever, like she's full of hot air. Like she could just float out of this bed, if it weren't for Catra on top of her.

She's mindful of her volume, but she lets herself babble a little, the bubbly giddiness in her chest flowing from her lips. "I feel so-- empty? Like, there was always all this tension inside of me that I could never get to go away, and now it's just, gone. I didn't know it could be gone. It's-- I mean, it's--" She gestures with her free hand a moment, before settling on: "really good."

Her cheeks are pink. She's probably being a bit silly. But Catra should know that, she thinks, know how she's made her feel.

Adora's smile curls lopsided.

"... Are you feeling that, too?"

The more Adora babbles, the more Catra feels - something. Something easy, and warm, that unfurls peacefully in her chest and pulls a smile onto her lips as she bows her head down to press her face into Adora's shoulder. She feels this way, sometimes. Doesn't know what it is, doesn't know what to call it. But it's always something Adora's done that triggers it.

(Even if sometimes, all she's doing is existing.)

"Yeah," she murmurs into her; even though it's a lie. Catra feels the exact opposite of empty right now, with that warmth tickling at something inside her and fluttering in her stomach. She'll agree with anything Adora says, especially the things that will lead to repeats of what they've just done. She really doesn't get how Adora can be saying so much, when for Catra it feels like all strength for any movement at all has been leeched from her, but she likes the sound of Adora's voice. Even whispered. She likes it when Adora talks to her, just her, and so she scrounges up as many words as she can to keep her going. "Think you'll let us do it again sometime?"

Edited 2020-06-19 07:23 (UTC)

Adora perks up at the question, heart fluttering with excitement. For how casually Catra drawls the words out, they almost make her squeal. (Catra liked it! They can do it more than once!)

"--Can we? 'cause I'd really like that. A lot."

Despite how utterly boneless she feels, a sudden rush of jittery energy floods her, and Adora has to do-- something, with herself. She's not sure exactly what, but she really, really wants to touch Catra, wants to make her understand how much this means to her. So she squeezes her tight between both arms, tangles their legs together, nuzzles her face into Catra's hair with a goofy amount of vigor. (And has to swallow a sneeze when it tickles her nose.)

"Catra," she giggle-whispers her name, with no real purpose beyond wanting to feel it on her tongue. "Catra. Catraaaa."

Adora bundles her up, and Catra finds herself having to stifle something that might have been a laugh. It comes out as a hot huff of air instead, as Adora seems to find a ridiculous amount of energy stored somewhere in her, and Catra's ear flicks rapidly as Adora's face brushes it with every nuzzle.

(And Adora's excitement and glee must be contagious, because that warmth is making Catra feel -- kind of giddy, like it's feeding off of Adora's nonsense.)

"Adora," she whispers back, letting her voice drop low into an amused rumble, her tail twitching as it tries to contribute and then gives up. Adora's just so stupid. She's such an idiot. She's making Catra feel like they're playing some sort of game, when all she's doing is laying on top of her and trying to stay awake. "Ador-a," she repeats; dragging the syllables like a toy, seeing how low her voice can go before she cuts herself off with a snigger. Adora's so dumb, she's making Catra dumb. She's gonna rile them both up and get them caught. "Go to sleep, dummy."

"Nooo," Adora lets out a whine, though it's hard to sound properly petulant with the affection and humor clinging to her voice. She sways from side to side, taking Catra with her. "But I like staying up with you."

--And she feels like she's been talking into Catra's hair for a while, now. She misses her face. Wedging her hand under Catra's chin, she insistently nudges it upward. "Hey. Hey. Look over here."

Catra's breath just comes in more and more huffs and puffs of amusement, trying so hard to keep from actually laughing as Adora rocks her. The idiot really is going to get them busted.

She resists Adora's hand at first, hunkering down further; but the silent giggles are getting to her, and eventually Catra has to let Adora nudge her face up.

"You're so stupid," she breathes; and then presses her lips together again. She manages to hold a straight face for half a second before she's grinning, because Adora's idiocy is just. Really infectious, okay. And she's just -- she's really pretty, with her sparkling eyes and goofy smile, and she's relaxed for the first time in... well, ever. Catra knew that getting off would chill Adora out, but this much? She's kind of really enjoying the change.

"Just a little," Adora lightheartedly concedes, and her fingers curl under Catra's chin to rub at the fur there.

The sight of Catra's smile makes her own widen, so much that it pushes out her cheeks, squints her eyes. She leans her forehead to hers, touches their tips of their noses together, just-- wants all of her touching all of Catra. It feels like something she's allowed to want now, after tonight. A newly opened door, that she'd never even realized was there.

Her lips come to brush Catra's cheek, unthinkingly, just an idle sort of roaming. But she likes it, likes the warm glow of Catra's flushed face beneath her lips, and Adora nuzzles into it instinctively. From her cheek to her jaw, then back up again. This is nice. She could stay like this for a while.

"... You take good care of me," she mumbles finally, paired with a quiet exhale. "Thank you."

There's nobody awake to see, so Catra lets herself lean into Adora's hand at her chin, lets the curl and rub of her fingers draw out the quiet purr from her chest. Adora's forehead touches hers, their noses brushing - and it's such a familiar, them thing to do that Catra's eyes drift slowly shut, and then reopen half-lidded in contentment.

Then Adora's lips tickle her cheek, and Catra's face scrunches in protest as the laughter tries to rise up in her again. She's too tired to fight Adora, so she stays there, squirming with every ticklish move and huffing laughs against her ear. When they have their private rooms, this is what they'll do, all the time. They'll climb up the ranks of the Horde during the day, and at night, they'll lay together - just like this - and Catra will let herself laugh as loudly as Adora can make her.

She can't stop the prick of her ears at Adora's mumble, or the feeling of accomplishment they urge within her. It's not often that people recognize when Catra's done something well, but Adora always notices. Sometimes it feels insulting, sometimes it annoys her; but right now it's just. Nice.

"We take care of each-other," she murmurs in response, nuzzling back against her. How stupid the two of them must look, just rubbing their faces together like this while Catra purrs. But it feels good, feels happy and light and. Whatever, you know? It's just the two of them right now. Catra doesn't have to care about anything else.

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