Catra heard that hitch, and oh she likes this voice. She's gonna practice it, and then use it on Adora to mess with her whenever she wants. It'll be a nice reminder of these activities to distract her from anything else she's doing.

"Uh-huh," Catra purrs low, practicing holding that tone already. It's pretty easy, with Adora's body reacting under hers; her stomach flexing under Catra's hands, her fingers pressing in at Catra's waist, her thighs clenched tight around Catra's knee. "Just your stomach."

Her knuckles reach the bottom of Adora's shirt, and Catra's thumb hooks around the fabric. And then tries to tug it up. Only -- Adora's kind of. Laying on it. And she's heavy. So the shirt's kind of stuck on her, and Catra's attempts at shifting it aren't doing her much good.

Catra gives it another tug before huffing, ears drooping down in annoyance. In all her wildest imaginings, she'd never pictured Adora's clothes getting stuck.

"Don't just lay there." The purr is totally gone, traded for petulance. "Sit up a little, or something."