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Catra finds her bed to be a nightly hug, a warm place to dream with a wistful sort of indulgence. It’s the aroma of it, when the crickets croon, that Catra drags her body through the doorway, taking in the quiet drip of the fountain, and the softness; the hush; and the sense of rest. It’s become her safe retreat; the curtains she can pull clean open to allow the view of the dark mantle of the sky, the moon like a candle, a muffled shy star in the shroud of gray clouds. Yet, it’s where her love remains, her figure clear under the drape of the cotton quilts that is what truly pierces the night.
Her thoughts slow like wood caught in a stream, enthralled by the colors that embrace the gorgeous palette of Adora’s skin, of her lofty curves and inviting arms. Adora finally notices her after a moment of her scrunching her nose, turning to yawn before gesturing Catra in under the blanket. Immediately, she strips down until she is bare, sliding in with not a moment’s hesitation, once again comforted in brazen muscles that still held the utmost of tender, callous care.
“So, what did the doctor say?”
Catra nearly forgot the good news just upon seeing her partner’s body, but she grins up at Adora and that’s enough of an answer.
“Well, are you excited? I know you’ve been dying for this.”
Ultimately, Catra shrugs, having realized the double edge sword she has agreed to. “Of course I’m excited. It’s just, you know,” she rolls onto her side, “what if it goes wrong? I know it’s incredibly low, but I just keep thinking about it.”
Adora shakes her head, and her smile is almost careful in a way; wasn’t too wide to appear amused, but wasn’t too small to appear apathetic. “Just like you said, it’s such a low chance you won’t even have to worry about it. And say it does get messed up, we are walking around a world of magic: She-ra is completely full of magic. Honestly? I could just heal it like it’s nothing.”
Catra scoffs. “If you’re going to be putting your hands on my junk, you may as well get me off while you’re at it.”
There’s a pause.
Catra clears her throat. “I’m just joking . . .”
“Are you though? Because it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done that.”
Her face is too fiery, looking at Adora like this. Her expectant face would almost lead Catra into thinking she was plotting something.
“Well, I . . . may as well give it a goodbye sentiment, right?”
Catra was tempted to laugh, but when she felt Adora’s hand rest gingerly against her hip, suddenly it wasn’t such a terrible idea. This wasn’t their first time, their times of physical fun had grown something to be accustomed to; of Adora’s rough hands that draw across her skin, of her muscles flexing against the headboard where Catra may force her to lay her palms against. This tug and push was nothing new, rather comforting if anything, but the idea that this would be the last as to what they were used to proved to settle a feeling akin to anxiety in her stomach.
“Catra?”
She blinks and finds her eyes again in the dark. While she saw better in such shadows, she still couldn’t place where Adora’s gaze was locked. She appeared to be seeking for a further peak below the cotton, the depths of where Catra was certain she was hardening, but she still found Catra’s eyes.
“Are you okay? You’re quieter than usual.”
Catra has to swallow. “Yeah, yeah, I’m great. Was just realizing how much of this is going to change . . .”
“Is that bad?”
“No, I’ve just gotten so used to what I have -- tolerating it before you made me feel . . .” stunning, gorgeous, an angel? There was so much Adora made her feel. “I’m being dumb.”
“Hey, talk to me. Nothing is going to change, you know that right?”
“Reasonably, I do . . .”
“But?”
Catra sighs. She was ruining this. This was supposed to be just as it always was; let Adora take control, allow her to take what she desires from her alpha. It wasn’t that hard.
“Catra--”
“I’m going to be so different from the others,” she admits, and the way her voice croaks makes a strong taste of bitterness become apparent. “I can’t do what they do after this.”
There’s a moment of pause. “Will this make you happy?”
Catra looks up to her. “What?”
“The surgery. It’ll make you happy, right?”
She can see where this is going. “Don’t turn around and give me the same speech I give to you.”
There’s a flash of teeth, and Adora laughs. “Why not? It’s only fair.”
“No, because I’m allowed to complain.”
Adora rolls her eyes, and draws Catra closer by the hips, hands encapsulating her lower thighs. Catra can feel her throat flex to swallow again. Did Adora always have to prove a point by manhandling her? It worked, but Catra wished it didn’t. She felt too easy.
“Catra, you are going to be the same as you’ve always been. Plus, you know how there are plenty of alphas like you.”
“They’re so uncommon though.”
“And?”
There was no “and” Catra could think of. She was drawing this out, digging teeth and insecurities out for what? She knows better, she knows that Adora would compliment her until her final breath; she’ll trace love filled messages with her finger on her body when she goes down, always hard to read but it wouldn’t be the first when Adora traced “I love you” on her lower back.
“Do I have to prove something to you again?”
Catra groans. “If you’re going to suck me off, just do it already.”
Adora almost flinches back at the language. Catra forgets how being raised in Brightmoon has left her with a tasteless plate for a vulgar tongue, and Catra has come to love exploiting it.
“What’s wrong? Thought you were needy for my dic--”
She squeals when Adora finally forgoes gentle gestures, and grasps onto Catra’s softened cock, having already started to wake. Her blank stare is then filled with amazement.
“Oh wow, that feels weird.”
“Can you . . . not treat it like a science experiment?”
“Sorry. I’m just used to feeling it when it’s . . . up more.”
Catra scoffs. “If I was making it awkward before, you’re now making it weird.”
Her heart thrums with a jump as Adora presses a chaste kiss to her throat. “Hey, give me this chance, this will be the last chance we get to do this before you’ll be too sore from surgery.”
She had a point, but it was still a task Catra was not suited for: letting Adora fondle her to alertness, seeing such a loving gaze directed to a body that had caused her years of torment and mocking gazes to the mirror.
“Hey, there it is,” Adora murmurs, and Catra can feel her cock twitch, now having reached its full length, pre cum already dribbling onto her fingers.
“Please, no more talking.”
Adora shrugs, appearing to agree, then sliding down, disappearing under the covers.
“Hey--!”
Adora hushes her, her voice muffled, “you said no more talking, right?”
While having her words thrown back at her proved near embarrassing, feeling the ginger warmth of lips pressed against the length of her cock, drawing up to the tip before only a brief tongue circles it and disappears had language returning back to her.
“Don’t tease me, come on,” Catra groans.
“No talking,” Adora near sings.
Catra could feel her grinning, and that made the itch to grab her head and have her own way appear into her mind, a graphic idea that made her cock jump; but such an urge felt too animal; too coarse. Until Adora is drawing out this show of dominance, gladly dragging her fingers to grope and cup Catra’s hips and ass, certain to try and leave bruising. How Adora could claw and bite, and yet take delicate heed all the same never failed to leave Catra opening her legs further for her.
Adora drags her tongue from the bottom, darting it around the tip, and much to Catra’s surprise, takes the entirety down her throat, digging nails into her thighs when Catra jumps, a startled moan that escapes from her chest, longing and gravelly. She rests her hands on the top of Adora’s head, carding her fingers through her silky hair, and without much thought she started grinding her hips up against her mouth, drinking in the sound of garbled spit.
Catra releases her for a brief moment. “You remember our safety thing, right?”
“I bite you, right?”
“ Adora .”
She feels a kiss against her thigh. “Yes, I know: two taps to stop and a squeeze to continue.”
“Good girl. Just have to be certain.”
Adora hums, drawing her lips against her cock again. “I know. You’re such a softie, even when you won’t admit it.”
Grunting, Catra takes Adora by her hair, claws digging in before she’s grinning at how she hears her gasp quietly. “Still think that?”
“Oh, Catra, I know that.”
Catra felt Adora was doing this on purpose, this rearing need to tease and provoke. She was almost solidified in her belief when she pulled the blanket up just enough to see Adora’s reddened lips around her cock, but found her eyes were half-lidded and staring up at her, the blaze in her blues that were so ocean-strong, swimming with warm passion. It is solidified when Adora keeps that stare, drawing her tongue from the top down to the bottom.
Fuck it.
Catra positions her feet firmly on the mattress, locking them before her hands are firm on the back of her head, sheathing her completely on her cock. The sputter of spit is near stunning, but Catra still has to ask, “you okay?”
A hand squeezes her side after another sound of choked gagging. Good.
She sets a steady pace, pushing Adora’s up and down, the warm enclave of her mouth still as welcoming as it always has been, her throat perfect for the sheer thrusting that holds barely an ounce of remorse when desired. There’s shuffling, and Catra knows Adora is pushing fingers into herself, already knuckles meeting her pelvis by how she garbles out a groan.
A rumbling purr falls from Catra’s chest, deep in the cavity as it settles, continuous. Perhaps being such a woman like Adora that shoves anything edible down her gullet proved beneficial seeing as she takes Catra’s cock like it’s nothing, barbs and all; she even welcomes when Catra presses her so far down, her nose greets the dark hair above her cock.
Tugging her off then, she raises her eyebrows at how Adora’s whimpers like an animal pulled away from its meal. Drool fell past her lips, now swollen and rosy, and her lashes were the finest black butterfly wings, glistening with leftover tears.
In the shared symphony of their labored breathing, Catra asks, “still okay?”
Adora grunts, swallowing, but she manages a curt nod.
Catra responds in kind with a jerk of her chin before she’s sitting up herself, propped up against the pillows, grasping onto Adora’s hair like a leash to tug.
“Now what exactly--”
“Come on, get on top of me, princess. You’re so hardheaded.”
If Catra didn’t know any better, she thought she could see Adora’s cheeks flare with heat, but finally raises her legs to sit atop her girlfriend, her thighs twitching, arms now clasped around Catra’s neck.
“Comfortable?”
“Yup.”
“You’re certainly tense for someone supposedly comfortable.”
Adora makes a face. “It’s just been a while since we’ve done this . . .”
A sigh escapes. It was truly a pain to have someone like She-ra as her partner, always working from a place of duty, a servant for the meek because their voice was her own, her sword blunt with every battle that was fought with the love of a bleeding heart. Working hard for the villages was her honor. Catra almost hated it. Adora deserved to be treated with proper spoils, too, as no other god could hold a candle to her heart nor her beauty. Even amid the chaos, amid the melting horizon of the war, she was the one who walked to the most steady drums.
“Catra.”
“Huh?”
“You’re staring again.”
Catra tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just thinking. You still want to do this?”
“Yeah, yeah!” she murmurs, staring down between their stomachs. “Feel like I’ve forgotten how to do any of this.”
“Just let me lead then.”
It wasn’t new for Catra to do so, but Adora had to be strung along to allow another to lead for her, even after the war ended its bloody tale, she was still stuck in the mindset of needing others to look to her; she had to always be bordering on a servant; a soldier forever painted red. Catra draws her fingers to stroke Adora’s cheek, settling a hand upon her hip, watching with stifled murmurs of her name. No matter how many times they have recounted doing such, it still feels like their first, Adora splitting open on her cock head, her breath sticking in her throat.
“Oh, wow . . .”
Catra can’t help cracking a grin. “You impressed or something?”
Adora whines, drawing further on Catra before she bottoms out, wiggling against her pelvis. “Shut up, just . . . forgot how this felt.”
Huffing out a hot, whispery curse, Catra brings Adora up before dropping her down again, and the sheer groan that escapes past her lips forces Catra to thrust her hips upwards just to hear it again and again until she is certain she can almost be greeted by the aroma of Adora’s sex in her dreams. Her beautiful red face viewable in the monochrome musings of light by the moon as she lifts her head, moistened lips parted permanently.
Adora cages Catra’s head in with her arms, grinding now full humping, murmuring Catra’s name under her breath. For such a shy person that came to even the idea of sex, Adora is anything but restrained. There is a part of her mind that is in its need for decorous build, and yet the primitive actions for what Catra can offer. Neither her nor Catra grew in polite spaces where the idea of sex was kept away in a box; they found out about it sooner or later after how many showers they had to share, yet there is something ultimately very bonding about secrecy and privacy. There is something tethering between them that keeps tantric emotions alive as Adora rides Catra, filling herself over and over; Catra digging her hands into Adora’s hips until she is certain they will raise with black and blue.
“Catra,” Adora breathes, bending over and watching how they meet together. “ Fuck .”
Catra shared the sentiment. She arches upwards, Adora leaning down to capture her lips as the hot, liquid heat of Adora’s cunt proves blistering; she is both lit TNT and a fine bottle of wine to savor. The soft muscles of her body told a story of quiet determination, flexing and strung as she began to tremble. Catra knows she’s teetering on that edge she’s set out.
Words are forgone, the heavy panting and cardinal huffs before Adora finishes, her walls grasping onto Catra’s cock, rendering her useless as she feels herself bordering on being milked for all she’s worth. It’s not long before Catra follows, stomach rippling with the burn of effort, the high tenseness of a climax so intense she swears she sees stars from where she sat.
Her name leaves her like a mantra, until her throat is raw and she’s satisfied and quiet, lips split in silent thanks.
“Adora?”
“Hm?”
“You okay?”
The grin cracked is taunting in a way that’s careful and sweet all the same. “Don’t you always hate when I ask you the same thing each time we do this?”
Catra smacks her gently. “I never said I hated it! You’re just such a dope about asking every time I cum.”
“And yet when you do the same, you’re not the dope?”
“You know, you can just hop off already, I’m done.”
Adora laughs until there are tears in her eyes, and she’s leaning back down to take Catra’s lips again. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For this. I never realized just how much I missed this.”
“You’re the one who wanted to make me feel good. Really, thank yourself.”
Shaking her head, Adora is certain in staying hilted to her partner, awkwardly shuffling and bringing them to both lay on their sides.
“This would be easier if you would just let me pull out.”
“No.”
“Fine, fine.”
While Catra knew this would wake up to be slightly uncomfortable, she can’t deny staying inside to fall asleep in an indescribable warmth bordered on a fantasy, as if she would return back to the Horde’s barracks as soon as she awoke. There is something so disarming about seeing Adora naked and bundled together with her like this. There's a vulnerability in her closing eyes Catra can't resist. Her eyes travel from her strong face to her neck wired with muscles, colored with flush; her collar bone, delicate in the semi-darkness, then to her breasts. Without her binder they sit lower, more natural, each molded to her form and beautiful. But the sleep starts to claim her to where she can’t linger too long, just enough to be reminded how lucky she is, how beautiful and handsome Adora really is. It's her eyes Catra always wants to see in the early morning and her calloused hands to hold her every night.
Catra will awake to the thin curtains of orange aglow in the perfect sunrise, reminding Catra she has slept without a nightmare, watching her lover finally, truly sleep. They will breathe deeply together, their hearts synced. The light will pour through every open space between fibers, illuminating like brilliant fireflies. Adora will be even warmer beneath her fingers, and when the sun floods the room, painting them anew, Catra will feel a little of those golden rays soak into their skin together and Catra will kiss Adora awake again as before, as she’s always done.