There are so many things wrong with that statement--she only ever wanted Catra to do the right thing, it was never about telling her, Catra never listened to her anyway--but they're all things she's said before. Pleaded with Catra to understand, only to have thrown back in her face, time and time again. Adora knows there are things she'd do differently, things she'd change, but leaving the Horde will never, ever be one of them, which means Catra will always hate her. If she had any lingering doubts before today, they vanished when Catra tore her apart, made her scream and enjoyed it.
But Catra doesn't get to tell her what to do, either, even if the order sends an unwanted thrill down her spine. Nobody really gives her orders in the Rebellion (though Glimmer's been trying it on for size now that she's Queen, and Adora's fine with that, except for when she knows she's right and Glimmer should just listen to her), and she'd forgotten what a truly commanding tone sounded like being directed at her. Not from an ally, a friend, but from a superior making demands.
Which she is. So--fine. She'll play along, but she won't be making it easy, or what Catra expects. It's the kind of resistance Catra should know so well from experience; all the more frustrating for being technically within the rules, for skirting the lines instead of being flagrant and openly defiant.
With a grunt, Adora grabs Catra's sides, lifts her up until she's suspended atop Adora's raised thigh, the muscles in her grounded leg tensing but easily able to bear the extra weight. It puts her chest at face height, and even Adora isn't blind to the stiff nubs in front of her eyes; easy targets for her to pick one of and go to work on. So she does. She presses her tongue against the fur there, lavishing it with attention, like she's decided to behave. Following orders like a good soldier.
Then she bites--not on the nipple itself (she's not that cruel), but next to it, where she knows Catra should still be sensitive. Using her mouth, just like Catra told her to.
no subject
But Catra doesn't get to tell her what to do, either, even if the order sends an unwanted thrill down her spine. Nobody really gives her orders in the Rebellion (though Glimmer's been trying it on for size now that she's Queen, and Adora's fine with that, except for when she knows she's right and Glimmer should just listen to her), and she'd forgotten what a truly commanding tone sounded like being directed at her. Not from an ally, a friend, but from a superior making demands.
Which she is. So--fine. She'll play along, but she won't be making it easy, or what Catra expects. It's the kind of resistance Catra should know so well from experience; all the more frustrating for being technically within the rules, for skirting the lines instead of being flagrant and openly defiant.
With a grunt, Adora grabs Catra's sides, lifts her up until she's suspended atop Adora's raised thigh, the muscles in her grounded leg tensing but easily able to bear the extra weight. It puts her chest at face height, and even Adora isn't blind to the stiff nubs in front of her eyes; easy targets for her to pick one of and go to work on. So she does. She presses her tongue against the fur there, lavishing it with attention, like she's decided to behave. Following orders like a good soldier.
Then she bites--not on the nipple itself (she's not that cruel), but next to it, where she knows Catra should still be sensitive. Using her mouth, just like Catra told her to.