"Great." Catra says dryly, not a little bit annoyed and not even surprised when Adora pulls her back in. It's kind of a relief, actually, because Catra wasn't expecting to feel so -- exposed, with the top of her leotard gathered low on her waist. It's not like they're unused to being undressed around each-other or the other cadets, and Catra doesn't especially care about the fact that they're out in the open air, but something about the fact that it was Adora who undid the zip (--way too carefully, like she was worried the thing might somehow break if she moved it any faster), and Adora who pried the clinging fabric away from her chest and dragged it down her arms makes it feel different.

It was definitely a contrast to the way Catra had ungraciously yanked Adora's shirt up and over her head, that's for sure.

But Adora's hands are moving now, after the tease of the slow drag of her thumb and the stroking at the base of her tail, and Catra decides to just not worry about it. Instead she opts to worm her hands up between their bodies, her nails scraping up under the tight grey fabric of Adora's undershirt to blindly press her fingers against the skin of her breast, exhaling hard as Adora's hands at her back send a shiver through her. "Now can we move on?"