Adora's no stranger to making Catra squirm -- she's had years to map out each and every weak spot, and Catra's own penchant for playing dirty has ensured she's never been above exploiting them, herself. Gotta keep the playing field level, after all.
But she's never had her like this. Shaking and twitching so much that Adora has to continuously follow her breast with her mouth, and the way her voice sounds, so raspy and paper-thin like it just might tear halfway through her throat.
It makes Adora feel hot. Really, really hot, from the base of her stomach all the way out to her fingers and toes. And it gears her into a sort of hyper-focus, arm locking into a steel grip ground Catra, lips and tongue relentlessly pursuing the pink peak of nipple no matter how she tries to twist away.
But Adora's persistence does nothing to subdue Catra's squirming, and even as Catra urges her on she keeps angling herself away, the fuzz on her chest chafing the skin of her face. She's not as mindful of her claws as Adora would like, either, the tips poking out as she nudges against her. Adora stubbornly pushes on, ignoring the pinprick-sting on her breast and the graze of fur against her tongue-- until her face scrunches up of its own accord and her breath hitches, and she angles her head just in time to not sneeze directly on Catra.
"Guh," she sniffs, eyebrows tweezed together. "Your fur got in my nose."
And before Catra can say something snippy back, Adora grabs hold of her by the shoulders, and forces her onto her back on the roof. Not so roughly that the impact would hurt, but sternly enough that she wouldn't just wiggle out of her hold. As much as she liked Catra's looming form above her (and she did, she did, a lot), she likes not getting a mouthful of fur more.
"Too bad we don't have a blanket here," she teases, pinning Catra into place with one hip at either side of her. "Could've helped keep you still."
She's-- kidding, at first, but then her gaze catches on her discarded shirt and Adora finds herself reconsidering the weight behind those words. A grin sprawls across her lips, slow and wolfish, as she picks the garment up.
"... But this'll do," she continues, voice edging lower. "Put your hands up."
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But she's never had her like this. Shaking and twitching so much that Adora has to continuously follow her breast with her mouth, and the way her voice sounds, so raspy and paper-thin like it just might tear halfway through her throat.
It makes Adora feel hot. Really, really hot, from the base of her stomach all the way out to her fingers and toes. And it gears her into a sort of hyper-focus, arm locking into a steel grip ground Catra, lips and tongue relentlessly pursuing the pink peak of nipple no matter how she tries to twist away.
But Adora's persistence does nothing to subdue Catra's squirming, and even as Catra urges her on she keeps angling herself away, the fuzz on her chest chafing the skin of her face. She's not as mindful of her claws as Adora would like, either, the tips poking out as she nudges against her. Adora stubbornly pushes on, ignoring the pinprick-sting on her breast and the graze of fur against her tongue-- until her face scrunches up of its own accord and her breath hitches, and she angles her head just in time to not sneeze directly on Catra.
"Guh," she sniffs, eyebrows tweezed together. "Your fur got in my nose."
And before Catra can say something snippy back, Adora grabs hold of her by the shoulders, and forces her onto her back on the roof. Not so roughly that the impact would hurt, but sternly enough that she wouldn't just wiggle out of her hold. As much as she liked Catra's looming form above her (and she did, she did, a lot), she likes not getting a mouthful of fur more.
"Too bad we don't have a blanket here," she teases, pinning Catra into place with one hip at either side of her. "Could've helped keep you still."
She's-- kidding, at first, but then her gaze catches on her discarded shirt and Adora finds herself reconsidering the weight behind those words. A grin sprawls across her lips, slow and wolfish, as she picks the garment up.
"... But this'll do," she continues, voice edging lower. "Put your hands up."