Five minutes ago--thirty seconds ago--the sight of Catra's eyes watering would have ground Adora to a halt. Would have broken the act, consequences or not; filled her with an awful, twisting guilt at having caused them. Not anymore. She's angry, now, and her mind justifies the tears as just another lie, like those times in training she pretended to be hurt, preying on Adora's good nature. Catra is trying to trick her, and Adora won't fall for it. She's not the same person she used to be, either.
... At least, mostly. Adora might be clueless here, but she's a fast learner, especially in the heat of the moment, with physical cues and bitter fury to guide her. Catra's laughs are manic and aimless, but to Adora, they're aimed squarely at her. As if all of this, any of this, is funny, part of her absurd game from before. This is Catra unhinged, like Adora never saw until she was threatening to tear the world apart, and maybe that makes it easier to draw a distinction between then and now, between the Catra she loves and the Catra who does nothing but hurt people.
Catra's kisses are as harsh as her claws, and Adora doesn't let her win. Every press of lips after the first is met with teeth, with her tongue pushing in to dominate, taking advantage of her size and position to counter Catra's fangs and sandpaper tongue; doubly so when Catra digs into her hair and pulls her closer, a surprised moan joining Catra's vocalizations in being swallowed up between them. It's the closest thing to good pain she's felt, even if she's sure that's just the adrenaline talking.
Whoever Adora is (or isn't) right now, she's supposed to be on Catra's payroll, but she wasn't the one who said don't hold back. She wonders if Catra will start regretting that at some point. Maybe then, she'll think twice before doing this again, hurting herself in ways Adora never thought possible, with acts she wishes were being done out of kindness and love instead of hatred and loathing, even with someone else. Catra deserves better than this, but she doesn't want better, and for once, Adora's sinking to her level instead of trying to drag Catra up to hers.
"Stay still," Adora growls against her mouth, knowing Catra won't, but needing to express her frustration more openly. She doesn't want this to be so fraught, so violent, but her shoulder is aching and Catra is still hurting her (just in other ways, now--worse ones, deep scratches on her heart), and her tolerance for it is at an end. A second later and her hands are on Catra's bare chest; the only thing keeping their bodies apart once Adora surges forward, thigh slotting instinctively into Catra's widened stance to keep her legs apart and off-balance. She has no idea what to do in either case, but her palms brush over Catra's nipples as Adora blindly explores her newfound territory, fingers flexing against the taut muscle and fur.
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... At least, mostly. Adora might be clueless here, but she's a fast learner, especially in the heat of the moment, with physical cues and bitter fury to guide her. Catra's laughs are manic and aimless, but to Adora, they're aimed squarely at her. As if all of this, any of this, is funny, part of her absurd game from before. This is Catra unhinged, like Adora never saw until she was threatening to tear the world apart, and maybe that makes it easier to draw a distinction between then and now, between the Catra she loves and the Catra who does nothing but hurt people.
Catra's kisses are as harsh as her claws, and Adora doesn't let her win. Every press of lips after the first is met with teeth, with her tongue pushing in to dominate, taking advantage of her size and position to counter Catra's fangs and sandpaper tongue; doubly so when Catra digs into her hair and pulls her closer, a surprised moan joining Catra's vocalizations in being swallowed up between them. It's the closest thing to good pain she's felt, even if she's sure that's just the adrenaline talking.
Whoever Adora is (or isn't) right now, she's supposed to be on Catra's payroll, but she wasn't the one who said don't hold back. She wonders if Catra will start regretting that at some point. Maybe then, she'll think twice before doing this again, hurting herself in ways Adora never thought possible, with acts she wishes were being done out of kindness and love instead of hatred and loathing, even with someone else. Catra deserves better than this, but she doesn't want better, and for once, Adora's sinking to her level instead of trying to drag Catra up to hers.
"Stay still," Adora growls against her mouth, knowing Catra won't, but needing to express her frustration more openly. She doesn't want this to be so fraught, so violent, but her shoulder is aching and Catra is still hurting her (just in other ways, now--worse ones, deep scratches on her heart), and her tolerance for it is at an end. A second later and her hands are on Catra's bare chest; the only thing keeping their bodies apart once Adora surges forward, thigh slotting instinctively into Catra's widened stance to keep her legs apart and off-balance. She has no idea what to do in either case, but her palms brush over Catra's nipples as Adora blindly explores her newfound territory, fingers flexing against the taut muscle and fur.