“I have to go check on the prisoner.”
Because for some awful reason, it’s still Adora at the front of her mind.
Even though that’s over now.
It has to be.
Because that is how Catra will win.
Catra grips the sword tighter as she walks away, making her way down a hallway to another small room where she knows Adora is being held captive. Her stomach flutters at the thought of being alone with her again, and she curses her body for the automatic reactions she has to Adora’s presence, as much as she wants to fight it.
Catra walks into the room to find Adora bound by ropes, on her knees, tied to a pillar.
And oh, she absolutely hates that her first thought is that in another setting, this would be fulfilling all kinds of fantasies.
Adora’s straining against the ropes, and she whips her head toward Catra, ponytail coming undone and a sheen of sweat pressing flyaway hairs to her forehead.
She looks just like she does in bed when Catra’s teasing her, working her up and edging her closer and closer before pulling away and pulling a loud moan from Adora’s lips.
And it almost weakens Catra’s resolve.
“Catra, you can’t do this.”
“Well, hello to you too.”
Catra looks over at the guard and nods toward the door.
Catra waits until the door is closed again, and she and Adora are completely alone.
Adora tied up, and completely at her mercy.
Adora keeps struggling against the binds, and it’s all Catra can do to not kiss the stupid glare off her face.
But Catra still can’t help but want it, can’t help but feel the electricity that crackles between them no matter what.
At the very least, she can’t help but tease.
“You know, when I’ve imagined you tied up, it’s been under much different circumstances, princess,” Catra says, drawing out each of her words like she’s slowly, surely trying to pull Adora in.
She doesn’t miss the way Adora’s breath catches. But Adora recovers quickly and sets her face back into the glare she’s held it in since Catra walked in. And then smirks.
“So you’ve imagined me tied up, huh?”
Catra smirks back, and the words on neutral ground come to mind and stick to the front of her brain. She looks around the room, empty save for a few pillars like the one Adora is bound to, and hears the muffled sounds of the party in the distance.
They’re completely alone.
And maybe an ancient spaceship belonging to Adora’s predecessor isn’t the most ideal spot for this—really, they’re not emotionally in an ideal spot for this, Catra knows—but one more look at Adora’s arms wrestling against the holds has Catra taking a shaky breath.
And besides, nothing could be worse than the time Scorpia almost caught them, right?
Catra repeats it to herself.
But Adora’s staring at her, all hungry eyes and pretty pink lips and—
Maybe a little more teasing couldn’t hurt.
She can play this out a little further, go back to her room, and get herself off later. Easy.
And besides, Adora is watching her like she’s waiting for Catra to respond, and she knows better than to keep a good thing waiting.
“Are you kidding me? Big, strong, powerful She-Ra at my mercy?”
Adora frowns when Catra says She-Ra, and the use of the name is entirely intentional.
“And what about Adora?” she asks with a bite. “Can’t exactly transform right now and fulfill that particular fantasy.”
Catra smirks and steps closer to Adora, until her hips are inches from Adora’s face. She doesn’t lean down. She just stands there, waits—
And Adora strains against the ropes once again.
“Oh, believe me, babe. You’re more than enough to keep me satisfied without the glowy princess bit.”
Catra takes a half-step closer still, cants her hips toward Adora until her chin presses up against Catra’s stomach. She sees the way Adora’s throat bobs in a gulp.
Catra can’t take this much further, or she’ll snap completely, give up whatever control she actually has on the situation—imagined or real.
She also can’t bring herself to step away, not when she’s imagining the last time Adora’s head was here, traveling south and pulling all kinds of curse words and dirty sounds from Catra’s mouth.
Adora never strays from her gaze into Catra’s eyes, and they stare at each other, in a stalemate.
Waiting for the other to break.
Waiting for the other to turn inward and intersect the other.
And Catra wants to pull back—she needs to—
But Adora is right there. Almost right where she wants her, and—
Adora keeps peering up at Catra, icy blue eyes set firmly on hers still. And then Adora smirks, tilts her chin down, and places a kiss on Catra’s stomach through the fabric of her shirt.
Catra can’t stop the shudder that shakes her shoulders and instinctively reaches out to grab Adora’s hair to steady herself.
She feels more than hears Adora chuckle against her, nuzzling into Catra further.
“Neutral ground?” Catra hears her mutter.
Catra needs to pull away.
She needs to go back to the party.
She needs Adora’s mouth all over her as soon as possible.
“You’re literally my prisoner,” Catra grits out, more to remind herself than Adora.
“And I can go back to being your prisoner after I’m done eating you out,” Adora replies, nipping at Catra’s hipbone.
Catra yanks on Adora’s ponytail, pulling her face away from her body, forcing Adora to look up at her again.
“Like I’m gonna fall for that.”
“Keep me tied up then,” Adora answers, daring her.
She’s staring at Catra like she needs this just as badly, like there’s this unspoken thing between them of I didn’t know if I was going to see you again that needs to be handled somehow.
And they’ve become pretty damn good at handling these kinds of things in bed.
And in showers.
And against walls.
This can be the last time.
And then Adora goes and snaps any remaining resolve she has left.
“Tell me you want it, Force Captain.”
It should sting, hearing her title—former title.
But Catra gets a little bit high on it, knowing she’s headed back to the Fright Zone to get that title back, that she’s got She-Ra’s sword in her possession, and Adora now, too.
And she wants—god she wants so badly for Adora to eat her alive, swallow her whole. Consume her.
Just for a little while.
So she pulls away from Adora’s face again and crouches down so they’re eye level. She keeps her hold on Adora’s hair, tugging her closer and scratching gently against Adora’s scalp in the way Catra knows she likes.
Catra presses her lips to the corner of Adora’s mouth and hears her sigh in response, feels the way Adora tries to chase her lips. But Catra holds her head in place, grips her hair tighter, and whispers into the shell of Adora’s ear.
“I want you to ruin me, Adora.”
The sound Adora makes is somewhere between a whine and moan, and it makes Catra crazy when she sees the way Adora is straining still against the ropes that bind her.
Catra takes the fingers of her free hand and skims them over Adora’s wrists, over the rope.
“You sure this is okay?”
Catra pulls back, and Adora’s eyes go right to her lips.
“Now can you please just kiss me?”
Catra doesn’t keep her waiting.
And the lines cross.
Catra twists both her hands in Adora’s hair, the ponytail and the hair poof falling apart under her claws as she pulls Adora in for a searing kiss. Catra only takes her hands off Adora when she remembers she needs to get out of her clothes and tosses her jacket off to the side. Her mouth parts from Adora only to change angles and kiss her deeper, press her tongue against Adora’s bottom lip and wait for the moan that always comes when Catra licks inside Adora’s mouth.
Her body burns hotter hearing all the sounds Adora makes for her as Catra pulls away to kiss down Adora’s neck and bite down on the muscle there.
Adora groans, and Catra knows she must be losing any semblance of control she feels—they do this, this back and forth, sparring and kissing and tangling up in each other. But Adora must know that Catra is gaining the upper hand, gaining confidence, because Adora moans again and then, just above a whisper says, “Bet you wish I had the strap with me, huh?”
Catra can’t help the gasp that falls out of her mouth and immediately sets herself back to work sucking on Adora’s collarbone, tugging on her jacket so tightly that it threatens to tear.
“Shut up,” she mumbles against Adora’s skin.
But Adora just laughs, emboldened by the reaction she’s getting from Catra.
But that’s exactly what Catra wants.
She wants to push Adora’s buttons a little.
Wants her to push right back.
She wants to tease Adora a little.
And wait for Adora to snap.
“You were so good for me that night,” she hears Adora’s voice above her, raw and much lower than usual, the voice Catra only gets to hear in this setting. And Catra smiles against Adora’s neck when she remembers that she’s the only one who gets to hear this voice from Adora at all.
“I think a lot us using that strap again, about how pretty you’d look riding me,” Adora continues, almost casually, like she's not launching into explicit detail about all the ways she wants to ruin Catra.
The imagery sends a shot of heat to Catra’s core and has her hips grinding at the air, desperate for friction and desperate to be closer to Adora.
Catra keeps pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to Adora’s jaw, neck, collarbones, tugging down on her white shirt and licking a line down to the valley of her breasts.
“Mmm, not fair that you get your lips and tongue all over me.”
Catra keeps going. Keeps pushing.
“Fuck, I wanna taste you.”
And fuck, Catra wants that too.
Catra’s pulling back and slipping out of her clothes as quickly as she can, growling at the way Adora laughs when her foot gets caught on part of her leggings.
She stands above Adora again, in the same position as before—Adora’s chin pressed just against Catra’s stomach.
And Adora makes the same motion, kissing Catra’s stomach and nuzzling into her, this time with nothing between them.
Catra tries to remind herself of this. Tries to convince herself that she could still stop now. Maybe. If she wanted to.
(And she doesn’t want to.)
“Is this still okay?” Catra asks, voice low and raspy.
Adora nods, whispers “yes,” and stares up at Catra as she leans forward, bracing herself against the pillars with her hands, hooking a leg over Adora’s shoulders, and feels Adora’s mouth slide against her.
Catra can’t help the way her hips jolt at the contact, the way she cries out as Adora’s tongue licks against her slowly—agonizingly slowly—and Adora moans as she does it.
“Missed this,” Adora says, pulling away just enough to say it, muffled by the way she’s still half pressed up against Catra, her lips and chin already slick.
“Mmm, you’re so wet for me, baby,” Catra hears her add, feeling the vibrations of Adora’s voice and her moans against her body, coming undone from the way Adora seems to be enjoying this just as much as Catra.
“Wish I could touch you,” Adora mumbles, pulling away from where she’s teasing Catra’s clit and sucking a bruise into her thigh.
And god, Catra wants that too—wants Adora’s hands all over her, pinning her down while she makes her come.
But not yet.
Catra grinds her face down against Adora’s mouth and all but sobs at the way Adora just holds steady, letting Catra take whatever she wants as she drives herself against Adora’s lips and tongue.
She can’t help it.
She tries so hard to make any sound in the world that isn’t saying Adora’s name. Not when they’re like this.
Sometimes it feels too raw, too intimate, to say Adora’s name.
But Catra’s nearly crying from how good it feels to have her like this, and Adora looks ridiculously sexy with her lips shining with all the evidence of Catra’s arousal, and—
She just can’t help herself.
She asked Adora to ruin her.
And she’s doing a damn good job of it.
Her claws dig into the pillar, grating against the metal and leaving marks that appear with a screeching sound as Adora flicks Catra’s clit with her tongue in a way that makes her legs shake. And then Catra’s pushing Adora’s head away, swinging her leg around from its place over Adora’s shoulder, where her heel was digging into Adora’s back, and tries to stand on two feet.
It takes quite the effort, and she ends up mostly bracing herself against the pillar with her arms and stumbling a little toward Adora, who lets out a “mmph!” when Catra trips and winds up with her chest right in Adora’s face.
She steadies herself, takes a breath, and steps back. Only to see Adora smiling up at her, lips glistening while she darts out her tongue to lick them.
“Not bad, huh?”
Catra just groans, the smug look on Adora’s face only adding fuel to the fire, only adding to her fury, her lust, her lov—
But still, Catra walks and bends over to where she’d thrown the sword off to the side earlier along with her jacket. She points the end of it at Adora’s throat and then tilts her chin up with the point of it.
“I said I wanted you to ruin me,” she growls.
And Catra reaches behind her with the sword, swiping Adora’s ropes free from her wrists with the blade.
“So do it.”
Adora rubs at her wrists, stretching her shoulders and shaking out her arms, before she stands and marches right toward Catra.
“If I put this over there,” Catra says, holding up the sword and pointing toward another pillar in the opposite corner of the room, “are you gonna behave?”
Adora just reaches toward Catra, cupping her face with her hands and pulling her in for a kiss, muttering, “come here,” as she does.
Catra drops the sword.
And Adora backs Catra up against the pillar she was just tied to, pressing her body against Catra’s and pressing Catra’s back into the pillar, anchored there while Adora kisses her senseless.
And then Adora starts sliding a hand down her front, fingers gentle as they skim over her skin and through Catra’s folds.
“Is this okay?” Adora whispers, teasing a finger inside of Catra.
Catra feels Adora lose control.
She fucks Catra hard and rough, curling her fingers against Catra’s walls when she least expects it and all Catra can do is hold on, claws digging into Adora’s clothes and tearing at the material.
She can hear more cheers from the party outside, the harmony of a crowd singing loudly just a few rooms over. Adora drives into her in time with the thump of a bass drum that must be part of the song they’re singing, and all Catra can think, can scream, is Adora Adora Adora—
She closes her eyes tightly and slumps against Adora as she comes, her name on Catra’s lips, spots of color burning brightly behind her eyelids, her voice hoarse. And her legs, impossible to stand up straight on.
Catra clutches her tightly, quietly, while Adora presses gentle kisses against Catra’s cheek, her temple, her forehead.
“Fuck,” Catra mutters because she is completely strung out on Adora and still stupidly, foolishly in love.
Adora pulls back, still holding Catra up, and exhales.
“So, now what?”