In a better time, a better place, Adora would love this--Catra grinding down against her thigh with shameless need, making sounds Adora's never heard before but finds herself enraptured by immediately. What it would mean to touch her, outside of their play fights and nighttime cuddles; more than her hand on Catra's stomach, teasing the idea of going lower but not yet acquiescing. To taste her, in ways she's never considered and couldn't put into words if she tried, only knowing that her mouth on Catra's chest makes her feel good. Powerful.
Right now? She doesn't love this. Doesn't even like it, except in some primal, unrecognizable way. But it's still satisfying to see Catra react so strongly, letting Adora claw back some control over a situation that has, very quickly, gotten out of hand. Catra's backlash is what she expects, and Adora meets her gaze with a smug expression framed by the thin blonde strands falling loose around her face.
"Just using my mouth," she says with a smirk, entirely missing the my versus her slip. Her voice is almost as husky with arousal, the hand yanking her hair making her eyes water and her heart pound, but she doesn't flinch. "What's wrong, Catra? I thought you wanted this."
She's not expecting anything but a swift, angry denial, just looking to get her proverbial licks in where she can. Because Adora's not always nice when she's angry--the kind of anger that only Catra can draw out of her, after nearly destroying everything for petty revenge. Every part of her aches, down to her bones, and she is not going to cooperate with her enemy. Not without a fight. And if there's one thing Adora is good at? It's fighting. The fact this particular battle is being fought with words and mouths and hands doesn't make it any less of one, with how she's framed it in her head.
no subject
Right now? She doesn't love this. Doesn't even like it, except in some primal, unrecognizable way. But it's still satisfying to see Catra react so strongly, letting Adora claw back some control over a situation that has, very quickly, gotten out of hand. Catra's backlash is what she expects, and Adora meets her gaze with a smug expression framed by the thin blonde strands falling loose around her face.
"Just using my mouth," she says with a smirk, entirely missing the my versus her slip. Her voice is almost as husky with arousal, the hand yanking her hair making her eyes water and her heart pound, but she doesn't flinch. "What's wrong, Catra? I thought you wanted this."
She's not expecting anything but a swift, angry denial, just looking to get her proverbial licks in where she can. Because Adora's not always nice when she's angry--the kind of anger that only Catra can draw out of her, after nearly destroying everything for petty revenge. Every part of her aches, down to her bones, and she is not going to cooperate with her enemy. Not without a fight. And if there's one thing Adora is good at? It's fighting. The fact this particular battle is being fought with words and mouths and hands doesn't make it any less of one, with how she's framed it in her head.