boxitup | fun shippy fluff don't hate us 'cause you ain't us

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fun shippy fluff don't hate us 'cause you ain't us

It's been a few months since the failsafe reached the Heart, and they're finally doing something they'd always thought they'd do together: they're exploring Etheria.

They started off in the vicinity of Bright Moon and wandered from there, following maps to find towns and stopping at unmarked settlements along the way. Teaching each-other tidbits they'd picked up, learning others together. Filling in gaps in their knowledge of the world.

They're at the edge of some small village now, replenishing supplies for their trip. Or, well. Adora is replenishing supplies. Catra had been left to set up their campsite, which she did, and one playful swipe led to another and then to some tackling and rolling around, and then to a small chase, and then Melog had proudly created an illusory duplicate of themselves to get her off their tail.

So now there are two Melogs, and Catra's on all fours, her tail trailing an eager 'S' in the air as her eyes dart between them. The Melogs are in much the same position, and they mewl at her in synchronization as both their and Catra's shoulders shimmy down, ready to pounce. The campfire she was supposed to light is well and truly forgotten some distance away, the branches and tree litter strewn messily about. She's got bits of it stuck in her hair and in her fur, and even Melog's picked up a leaf or three from their playing.

That doesn't matter. What matters is choosing the right one.

Her claws twitch against the soft ground, the vibrant green grass that Adora's magic had restored a pleasant cushion against them. She breathes deep, steadies herself; and with a cry, launches at the Melog on the left.

Either she's correct or both of them were corporeal, because she connects and rolls with them in a tumble, a laugh bubbling up from her chest as Melog's tongue licks messily up her cheek. Her objection - "Ugh!" - is lost under the smoosh of their muzzle against her face as they increase their size to pin her, and their exaggerated purr rumbles right through her bones.

"Okay, okay." Catra pushes at them, grinning and with laughter in her words despite her struggling efforts. "You won, I get it! Now let me up! We have to finish before Adora gets back."

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Catra's nose wrinkles at the touch, but despite her sullen glare she still tilts her face into Adora's hand. She isn't as demanding or pathetic about it as Melog is, but Adora just splashed water into her face. Catra deserves compensation.

"You'd better," she grumbles, hand slipping up from Adora's arm to press against the back of her neck. Catra's not waiting; lifting herself the few inches it takes to seal her lips against Adora's, sulky and petulant with the nip of teeth, adrenaline still burning in the scrape of her nails against the back of Adora's shirt.

Adora lets out a stunted little hum with the initial prickle of the kiss, but lets herself sink into it, the sound melting into a sigh.

She's all pacifying and eager to please, meeting Catra's pointed bites with soft, full lips. Smothering her petulance with affection and warmth. Both her hands cup Catra's face now, to sweep the wetness away, tracing the subtle rise of her cheekbones with doting fingertips.

And when she draws back and looks down at Catra, on her back in the grass speckled with lights, motes of magic swirling in a golden glow around her-- Adora just-- just--

Her heart feels full to burst.

"You fit so well here," leaves her lips in a mumble, as she strokes idly along the contour of her cheek. "Your eyes, I mean," she adds after a beat, as if it only then occurred to her the thought has made it outside of her head.

Adora's lips curve with embarrassment, faint pink dusting her cheeks.

"It's pretty."

Edited 2020-07-01 19:12 (UTC)

Adora really does make it better, with her lips and her hands and the press of her body all along Catra's. Before long she's fallen into it again, wholly absorbed in just kissing her; breathing her in, tasting her. Feeling the taut lines of her hair as Catra's hand brushes up to rest on her head, holding her in place. Catra doesn't want it to end. Adora makes her feel so -- content, so loved. She just wants to bask in it forever. At some point her tail twines around Adora's leg, keeping her there. Making sure she stays.

They do need to breathe though, and Catra's eyes remain closed as she leans into Adora's hand again, uncaring how obviously close to a nuzzle it is. Adora's taken her frustration and upset and replaced them with comforting warmth, and Catra's heart just about aches with love for her, rising in expression through a purr that's deep and full-bodied and as always, just for Adora.

It's when Adora tells her that she fits in that she cracks one eye open, and then the other, raising an eyebrow as she does. And then the other. That kiss must have melted Adora's brain as surely as it did Catra's. She could tease her about it, but it's endearing, and the amused smirk curling at one side of her mouth ought to do it well enough anyway.

A smirk that falters in surprise as she blinks, caught off-guard by Adora's choice of descriptor. Her ears tilt in embarrassment, and Catra's chest burns, and though there's a flush on her face to match Adora's she can't look away from her, open and exposed with widened eyes and feeling kind of small in the moment. 'Pretty' isn't a word used to describe things in the Horde, at least not kindly, and it makes her stomach flutter weirdly, unsure how to take it but liking the feeling it gives her all the same.

"I love you." Catra hears the words drag up from her own throat, hoarse with honesty and some sort of emotion, and blinks again in surprise as her teeth close on her lip. It's not so bad though, right? To let herself get caught up in the moment? Adora smiling, beautiful and soft and blue eyes shining in the glow. The only person who's ever really mattered, illuminated by the light of the trees, looking at Catra like she's the one she defended Etheria for. Like all along, Catra was the only thing she'd ever wanted.

It isn't bad at all, and when Catra leans up to kiss her again it's drawing her in only to yield, heart too full and sore, asking silently for the protection Adora's always given. This is the first time she hasn't run from the feeling of vulnerability; the first time she hasn't closed off from it with an embarrassed shove and something to change the mood. She doesn't know what to do with it except lean into Adora more firmly, kiss her more gently, press her fingers against her hair and massage, requesting in every action the thing she knows Adora will always do without thinking: she'll take care of her.

Edited 2020-07-02 08:11 (UTC)

A wave of warmth unspools in Adora's chest at the words, flooding her heart and kicking its pace into a rabbit's thump. Catra could say it a thousand times, she thinks, and it'll never lose this effect on her. Especially with that look on Catra's face when she says it -- like she hadn't even meant to, like it caught her off-guard. It squeezes at Adora's lungs, sparks something in her belly.

"I love you," Adora breathes back, before falling into the kiss once more, taking Catra in. Her fingers slip into dark hair, softly cradling her head against the grass as she anchors her to her, lips to lips, body to body. "I love you," she repeats against her mouth, a sigh shuddering through her as if to mirror the rumble of Catra's purr. It overwhelms her, suddenly, like a swarm of butterflies beating their wings all at once-- the sense that she couldn't possibly say it enough.

"I love you, Catra."

There might be something after all, to the crazy talk about the vulnerability of an open heart being worth the risks. It's so contrary to everything Catra believes, goes against every bit of indoctrination she's ever received. Even now, Adora's breath mingling with hers as she repeats professions of love, there are pieces of Catra that rebel and strain against how deeply she feels them. When Adora shivers against her and Catra's hand slides to cut the band that keeps her hair tied, there's a part of her that urges her to grab a fistful and pull instead of carding her fingers through the now-loose strands. When she moves her other arm around Adora's back, curling her hand against the blade of her shoulder, some instinct tells her to stretch her claws and dig them in instead: to protect herself and hide her weakness.

Adora's had that same training, she'd understand if it were too much for Catra to handle. --But Adora has had that same training, and she's still able to do this; able to let herself blanket Catra in her love, able to accept from Catra as much as she can give. And if Adora can do it - then Catra's going to do it too. She can't let Adora beat her at this.

So she lets her shoulders shudder when Adora finishes an I love you with her name, lets herself feel how concrete and real that makes it and how it drives a pang through her chest. She lets the backs of her nails glance up the back of Adora's neck and further up, lifting her hair between her knuckles, before unfurling her fingers to press and knead lightly against the crown of her head. And with no small amount of willpower, Catra makes the conscious and determined choice to slide her hand on Adora's shoulder blade onto her arm; and then down to her hand, cupping it with her own. Catra has to break the kiss, chest rising and falling faster than before, to turn her head enough to press the back of her ear into Adora's palm, eyes opening just enough to glance at her levelly. She hasn't outright requested anything like this since they were kids, but Adora does it for Melog all the time, and she loves any excuse to touch Catra. She'll surely oblige.

Adora waits, curious but patient, as Catra draws a deliberate path along her arm-- and when she places her hand over her ear at last, it takes every bit of self restraint in her not to squeal. Gotta keep it together. If she's too embarrassing about it, Catra will change her mind.

(Wrestling the massive smile off her face, however, is an altogether futile task.)

"I love you," she blurts one more time, as if her brain's forgotten how to form any other words, and her fingers gently begin to knead at the base of Catra's ear.

Catra starts a laugh, embarrassment quelled just like that. If she's honest - which, right now, apparently she is - she does love that dumb goofy smile, and she leans up so she can nip playfully at it, her tail batting against Adora's leg. The massage at her ear feels great, of course, tingling all the way through her like it does; and Catra squeezes her hand around Adora's in encouragement in case the pleased purr rumbling in her chest doesn't do it well enough.

"Dummy," she murmurs, pressing the tips of her fingers into Adora's to urge a firmer touch. It's so familiar, now that Adora's doing it; feels just like Catra remembers from the days before she'd left, her ear flicking in uneven patterns against Adora's hand, when Catra would pretend to allow it only for Adora's sake. She hasn't let anyone else touch her like this since then, not only because of how boneless and content she gets after a few minutes, but because it's just -- it's always been something special between them, a part of her that's always been for Adora only. It's such an exercise of trust, and how could she ever trust anybody else as much as she trusted her? "You don't have to be so soft."

"Okay," Adora answers with a flushed little giggle. "It's just-- it's been a bit."

It's not as though she's forgotten how to touch Catra-- she could never, those rare quiet moments in the Horde when they'd curl up together etched deep into her memory. She just... wants to be careful with her. Wants to make sure she doesn't let this precious chance go to waste.

But she presses her fingertips in more, as requested, just the way she remembers-- massaging into the base before scratching her way up, pinching the ear between her forefinger and thumb to caress the pink inner on the way down. Up and down, back and again.

Catra's rumbling like a motor engine underneath her, lashes fluttering with contentment, but Adora wants to ask anyway: "Feel good?"

Catra's eyes are barely squinted open, and the caress of Adora's thumb inside her ear has her almost shivering with every pass, and her hand has gone limp on Adora's wrist, and Adora still has to ask.

"What do you think?" Catra rasps, voice deepened by the incessant purr caught in her chest and throat. She stretches her neck to drive the point further, actually shivering then as the collar of her shirt drags against her fur, and turning her chin in invitation. She's kind of -- wondered, for a while, what it might feel like for Adora to pet her in places other than her ears and hair. She probably would've bitten her for trying any time before, but, well - open heart, right? If that's something Adora wants to do, Catra won't be stopping her.

She has to actually twitch her hands to remember where they are, before she can drag the one in Adora's hair to follow the line of her arm to her other hand and tug it insistently to her unattended ear. Easier to be demanding, now that she's gotten past her initial block.

"I just like hearing your voice," Adora replies, unabashed. She especially likes it as it is now: ochre-rich and low, warmed through with satisfaction.

The more open Catra is with her demands -- be it the arch of her back, the crane of her neck -- the more eagerly Adora fulfills them, greedy fingers sinking into any proffered expanse of fur. She follows the tilt of Catra's chin to stroke underneath it, run her hand along neck and collarbone too, before being summoned to Catra's unoccupied ear. She dutifully mirrors the movements of her other hand there, watching her girlfriend's head tilt this way and that, her lips parted, dark lashes aflutter.

She wants to touch her more. She wants to touch her all over. And it's incredibly difficult to banish the thought, when she had Catra in such a deliciously compromising position just twenty minutes before.

"Catra," Adora draws in a breath, then pushes all the words out on the following exhale: "Can I pet your tummy again I promise I won't tickle this time, pleeeaaase?

Catra's done a lot of laughing today, but this one comes low and breathy and gets replaced by a quiet noise from the top of her throat that is not at all needy when Adora's fingers stroke beneath her chin and jaw. She's not even conscious of her breathing coming faster, nor the shift of her legs or curve of her back when Adora's hand runs down her neck and across her collar. Catra's wonderings had been right, she'd been so right. She absolutely should have allowed this sooner, the her of even earlier today had been such a complete moron for holding herself back from it.

And the double-attention to her ears. That's just. That's real good, so good she can't remember that Adora's frankness about her voice was what had sparked the warm glow of laughter in her, so good she mindlessly follows the ebb and flow of Adora's hands as they move. She doesn't even try to keep her eyes open at that point, lets them flutter closed as the tickles and tingles and sparks flow through her. The only thing she does is allow her hands to mindlessly reach to knead her fingers into Adora's hair again, wanting her to take the hint for a kiss.

Adora's talking again, and one ear twitches in recognition of her voice as Catra's brain sluggishly tries to keep up. It takes a moment longer to parse it, but Catra's tongue wets her lips. She remembers it from earlier, the curl of Adora's fingers between her stomach and hip, and yeah. Yeah, Adora can pet her there.

"I don't care," is what she says; loose and low, pressing her ear into Adora's hand as her shoulders lift in a vague shrug. She cracks her eyes open enough to squint at her for a brief moment before they close again, and she nuzzles into Adora's hand in full, nipping at her palm. She'll keep this one up here, Adora can have the other one. "Do whatever you want."

But then her nose wrinkles, and her eyes squint open again; her cheeks scrunching them up into a weak glare. Adora's just promised not to do it, but Catra feels the need to reiterate after giving her free rein, enunciating as clearly as she can through her own rumbling: "I will kill you if you even think about tickling me again."

And then she will also never trust Adora with her stomach ever again, which come to think of it, probably would have been the more effective threat.

Edited 2020-07-03 13:56 (UTC)

"I won't! Honest!" Adora's smile spreads wide and earnest, eyes sparkling with excitement. Whatever she wants. Oh, oh man. This is a great night.

Kissing Catra's cheek by way of thanks, she lets her freed hand snake between their bodies, slithering towards the hem of Catra's shirt again. And as she did before, Adora worms her fingers underneath the fabric, pressing them up into fur. But she's sure to keep her touch slow and measured, this time, true to her word.

"See? Nice and gentle, right?"

She presses another kiss to Catra's cheek-- closer to the corner of her mouth, now, her other hand ceaseless in lavishing affection upon her ear.

The downgrade to single-ear petting does wonders for Catra's brainpower. She can think enough to stop Adora from moving away after that second kiss, and hold her in place long enough for Catra to turn her head to press their lips together with an approving stroke of her fingers through Adora's hair. The kiss isn't much more than a warm pressure, but it's still nice. It's just what Catra wanted, as Adora's fingers press into and disrupt her fur. It feels good, to have the softness of Adora's lips to pair with her touch. Feels right.

"Do it better," Catra complains anyway, rolling her hips down to press her stomach into Adora's hand. There's nothing wrong with it, just having Adora's hand there sends a lazy thread of heat to gather low between Catra's legs, but she's given Adora permission to do whatever. "Do you have to be so slow?"

Edited 2020-07-04 01:06 (UTC)

"No," Adora answers lightly, Catra's complaints rolling off her like water off a duck's back. It's hard to take them to heart, with her laid out so open and inviting in front of her. "I can do anything you'd like."

She picks up her pace a bit, touch growing bolder; a long stroke of fingers all the way up to the edge of her ribs, followed by two shorter scritches down, back to the base of her tummy. She can feel Catra's taut muscles underneath as she moves, the quiver that runs through them with her purr. It's tantalizing.

And she repeats the motion.

"You like that, kitty?"

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fun shippy fluff don't hate us 'cause you ain't us

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