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In the sun-drenched pastel quiet of their bedroom Adora raises a single eyebrow and says, her voice like the first roll of thunder before a fast-approaching storm, “For the honor of Grayskull.”
The entire room is flooded with intense light, as if Adora’s pulled the sun out of the sky and poured it out over the floor. Even through Catra’s closed eyelids her afterimage cuts a striking figure. When the stars finally fade from her eyes Adora is still standing right in front of her -- but now she looms over Catra, every inch of eight feet tall to Catra’s 5’2” on a good day, with her thickly muscled forearms crossed over her absurdly ripped chest, and the world’s most insufferable smirk on her lips.
Adora bends at the waist to bring the point of her nose in line with Catra's. Every hair on the back of Catra’s neck stands on end, and most of the rest of her fur along with it. She’s already completely naked, exposed, and her body tries so hard to compensate for the vulnerability as the balance of power shifts dramatically in the face of Adora’s now fully clothed form, but she’s sure she just looks like a fuzzy idiot.
Adora whispers, “Hey, Catra,” right up against her lips, and her throat runs painfully and immediately dry.
“A-Adora...” She blushes at the stutter and coughs a little to clear her throat.
“Come here.” Adora tucks an arm under her butt and lifts, all upper body and no effort. The world tilts around Catra as she’s carried up into the air. Adora’s free hand spreads out over the small of her back, stabilizing, and Catra’s claws scrabble at Adora’s shoulders to catch in the fabric pulled tight over them. Her legs lock around her waist, but it quickly becomes obvious that it would be impossible for Adora to drop her. She feels weightless, inconsequential in Adora’s arms. For a moment, she feels terrified.
It’s safe here -- or -- it should be, but she’s been man-handled by Adora before and under completely different circumstances. She chokes down her initial fight-or-flight response and does what she can to relax into the embrace.
Adora bumps her forehead lightly against Catra’s and smiles, soft, into her eyes. “I’ve got you,” she reassures, and then she catches Catra’s lips up in a gentle kiss.
Catra thaws, loosening her deathgrip to drape her arms around Adora’s neck, her hands snarling in the heavy fountain of her hair. She sighs against Adora, and presses herself fully into the kiss. She gives Adora’s absurdly long blonde hair a sharp tug and digs a fang into her lower lip just to hear Adora gasp, just to feel even a tiny bit in control of the situation.
It shouldn’t be impressive how easily Adora holds Catra against her -- she literally picked up a whole ass tank, and cut an entire space ship in half -- but Catra’s breath catches in her chest all the same. Adora is still wearing that irritating smirk as she trails her left hand up Catra’s side.
Every part of Catra is either soft or sharp, there’s no middle ground. When Adora buries her fingers in the short, thick fur that covers her abdomen, Catra digs her toeclaws into Adora’s hips and bites hard into the thick muscle at the join of her neck and shoulder. Adora smiles through the heavy moan that swells up out of her throat.
“Catra--” She chokes a little on the sound, and then jostles Catra so that she’s perched at a bit of an angle, just enough to fit her left hand between them. Adora draws her fingers -- concerningly large in this form -- through the slick heat pooling between Catra’s legs, and Catra squeezes her eyes shut, panting against Adora’s neck.
“Oh, yes--” Catra presses her lips, open-mouthed, against Adora’s, over and over again. “Please, I -- Adora -- touch me, fuck, please don’t make me beg.”
Adora laughs into the kiss. “Too late.”
Catra whines against her, “Shut up, you complete idiot--”
Adora pulls back a little, looking her over. Catra knows she’s a mess -- the fur on the back of her neck is still bristling and she’s gasping, sucking cold air past her fangs into her heaving lungs. Adora doesn’t say a word. She just lifts a brow, hikes Catra up a little higher, and then eases a single, terrifically thick finger into her.
Catra head lolls back on her shoulders as Adora laughs through her pleasure. “Shh--shut up--” She presses herself against Adora’s chest, and Adora doesn’t have to do anything at all to compensate for her shifting weight. She just stands there in the middle of their bedroom, not even properly braced, as Catra tries to fuck herself against her hand, holding her so that she’s so close to the perfect angle but still entirely too far away.
Catra’s voice breaks around her rumbling purr, “More, I need more.” Adora can be a tease but she’s never been cruel -- she immediately presses another finger in and up and Catra’s too overwhelmed to feel embarrassed when her purr cracks into a chirp. Her whole body lifts with each thrust, and she grinds her hips down hard against Adora’s unyielding hand. It’s like being fucked by a living statue, there’s no give anywhere at all. She’s surely dripping down Adora’s wrist.
“Is this okay?”
Catra growls, sinking her claws through Adora’s shirt and into her back. “If you stop, I’ll bite your ear off,” she promises.
Adora doesn’t stop, and it becomes immediately clear to Catra just how much she’s been holding back. Adora adjusts her hold a little, again, so that she can brace Catra in just the right position as she brings her thumb to bear against her clit. The pressure is inescapably delicious; Catra wants to tear someone’s skin off. She can’t move hardly at all in Adora’s hold, reduced to rocking her hips weakly as Adora pounds into her, rough and relentless.
“Oh, fuck me , Adora, fuck--” She threads her fingers deep into Adora’s hair so that her claws scrape along her scalp and pulls, hard. Adora’s head tips back as she moans long and loud into the quiet of their bedroom, stumbling just a little. In a dark corner of her mind Catra grins, triumphant.
“ Yes,” Adora hisses through clenched teeth, “you feel so good, Catra, you’re perfect.”
Heat drenches Catra’s skin, spilling out over her from everywhere her body contacts Adora’s -- her trembling thighs tight around Adora’s trim waist, her arms shakily draped over massive shoulders, the bridge of her nose now pressed into the hollow of Adora’s throat. Tears prick the corners of her eyes as she cries out, “Adora -- yes -- Adora --” over and over again, her voice breaking in the air around them like so much delicate crystal.
The tension is impossible, and overwhelming, and absolutely terrifying. Through her sudden fear Catra hears Adora whisper into her ear, entirely too gently, “I’ve got you, love. You’re wonderful, you’re perfect -- come for me, Catra, please.”
Her entire being winds, and winds, and winds, and -- snaps around Adora. Catra falls apart in her arms, countless broken pieces held tight to her chest, shaking and sobbing and naked in the brilliant light of Adora's love.
She loses a little bit of time. When she comes back to herself Catra is still nestled up in the circle of Adora’s arms, but now it’s her Adora, not Etheria’s Adora -- somehow more real than her larger-than-life alter-ego -- and they’re sprawled out on the bed together. Adora is running her hands over Catra’s back, smoothing down her mussed fur. She whispers a gentle mantra, “I love you,” into Catra’s hair, holding her close.
After a while, Catra answers, “I love you, too.”