It might be costing her personally, but Catra has won, okay. No victory is ever without its price, and Adora's cry of distress is worth the torture.

Catra's arm jams back down quickly, but it's too late. Adora's fingers are already there, wriggling directly into her fur and against her skin, and Catra jerks violently away from that hand; which only presses her into Adora's other, and there are tears of strain burning in her eyes that Catra cannot keep from blurring her vision as her chest heaves with rapid breaths and her back arches, desperately trying to evade Adora's tickles. Even flinging out her elbows to knock into Adora's arms doesn't get her any reprieve, and a dozen razor-sharp responses slip out of Catra's mind. Adora knows her too well and Catra's ticklish spots did not have the courtesy to diminish in sensitivity in the time they were apart, and that's really just. Unfair.

"Adora!" She manages to get out, though high-pitched and trembling with laughter, her stomach muscles aching. "Cut it out!"