There's something different about it this time, when Adora moans and jerks into her knuckles. Something hotter, something that seizes Catra's body and acts without her. Her hips try to lift, struggling to match Adora's movement, but all she earns for the instinctual effort is a pleasant-but-not-satisfying grind of pressure low against her pelvis.

She needs Adora so, so badly. If she can get Adora to just shift down a bit, then her weight will be right where Catra needs it; but she doesn't even get a chance to try, because Adora - the jerk - is grabbing her wrist. Catra manages to struggle against this one, twisting her arm and shoulder to try to break Adora's grip, but Adora is the one person in the entire world who can keep Catra from wriggling away.

It isn't fair, and Catra hisses at her for it as her wrist meets the unyielding metal, meeting Adora's eyes with a stubborn glare. She tries jerking her arms again, testing Adora's hold; but she's strong and she's heavy, and she's got that stupid steeled look of determination set across her face. The one she wears when she's Serious, Catra, and actually follows through with it.

Catra's tail lashes again, and she growls when she tears her eyes away, conceding. Adora's close but she's not close enough, and Catra wants to arch her back into her but that would be -- giving in, or something. It'd be like admitting how much she wants her.

"Whatever," she grumbles. If this is what it's going to take to get Adora to stop screwing around... "It's your loss anyway, genius."