They don't even bother to scream for her this time, and Catra's claws slip to their full length with a frustrated jerk of her fingers. They don't get it, she will scratch out their eyes and tear their limbs apart to take what she needs from them. They haven't seen the things she's capable of, they haven't seen the things (the people, the friendships) she's ruined without ever even wanting to. They're naive to think they have any sort of protection from her.
"I am winning." Although it doesn't feel like it, when Adora's head pulls away and Catra's left grasping just a few blonde threads. Doesn't feel like she's as much in control when Adora's fingers dig in to the sensitive base of her tail and she jerks against her with a yelp that turns into a keen as Adora's mouth sucks around her nipple, and she's bounced on Adora's thigh. It's such an abrupt assault on her senses that it overtakes Catra's mind, too much happening too quickly, and her hand scrabbles for Adora's hair again; lengthened claws scratching as she struggles to grip something, the rest of her body trying to move into each point of sensation but ultimately only succeeding in writhing between the cold metal of the crate and the hot press of Adora's body, each as unyielding as the other.
"Look around you," she gasps, her thighs quaking with tremors as she presses into the messy, unpracticed rhythm of Adora's leg. At the same time, her hips are trying to tilt down; her tail curled tightly around the arm that's grasping it as her backside rubs against the crate, trying to push into the pressurepain of Adora's nails. It's just as unthinking as the words spilling from her mouth, the need to prove herself burning desperately in her throat. "I've done all of this. The Horde belongs--" her hand twists in Adora's hair, the other clenches in the wounds of her shoulder, as Adora's tongue flicks at the same time as her leg judders and Catra loses herself in the sharp sparks as she cries out again, breathing rapidly as she struggles to continue: "--to me. I am winning this war, I am conquering Etheria."
Grasping Adora's hair isn't enough, Catra needs - needs to hear her wail, scream, anything.
"Everything on this planet--" Pain won't work. Hurting her won't get Catra what she wants. This isn't about their satisfaction, but it is about Catra's; and it's why she lifts her knees forwards, pressing her clawed feet against Adora's calf with a flex of her toes to tear through her pants, using her to push her thigh up firmly between Adora's legs, the action pooling more heat in her than she'd ever thought possible. She wants it, she wants her, she's never stopped wanting her. "--is going to be mine. There isn't anybody who is going to stop me."
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"I am winning." Although it doesn't feel like it, when Adora's head pulls away and Catra's left grasping just a few blonde threads. Doesn't feel like she's as much in control when Adora's fingers dig in to the sensitive base of her tail and she jerks against her with a yelp that turns into a keen as Adora's mouth sucks around her nipple, and she's bounced on Adora's thigh. It's such an abrupt assault on her senses that it overtakes Catra's mind, too much happening too quickly, and her hand scrabbles for Adora's hair again; lengthened claws scratching as she struggles to grip something, the rest of her body trying to move into each point of sensation but ultimately only succeeding in writhing between the cold metal of the crate and the hot press of Adora's body, each as unyielding as the other.
"Look around you," she gasps, her thighs quaking with tremors as she presses into the messy, unpracticed rhythm of Adora's leg. At the same time, her hips are trying to tilt down; her tail curled tightly around the arm that's grasping it as her backside rubs against the crate, trying to push into the pressurepain of Adora's nails. It's just as unthinking as the words spilling from her mouth, the need to prove herself burning desperately in her throat. "I've done all of this. The Horde belongs--" her hand twists in Adora's hair, the other clenches in the wounds of her shoulder, as Adora's tongue flicks at the same time as her leg judders and Catra loses herself in the sharp sparks as she cries out again, breathing rapidly as she struggles to continue: "--to me. I am winning this war, I am conquering Etheria."
Grasping Adora's hair isn't enough, Catra needs - needs to hear her wail, scream, anything.
"Everything on this planet--" Pain won't work. Hurting her won't get Catra what she wants. This isn't about their satisfaction, but it is about Catra's; and it's why she lifts her knees forwards, pressing her clawed feet against Adora's calf with a flex of her toes to tear through her pants, using her to push her thigh up firmly between Adora's legs, the action pooling more heat in her than she'd ever thought possible. She wants it, she wants her, she's never stopped wanting her. "--is going to be mine. There isn't anybody who is going to stop me."