Chapter Text
Catra glances up, still with wrists bound by cuffs and on her knees. Several dozen feet away and upon a throne sits Adora. She's been waiting expectantly for this moment to come. Adora now wears a new uniform, one she's eager to show off — added gray body armor over her usual shirt, and shoulder pads too. Her new boots are just as steely, and quite heavyset. Her right leg is casually crossed over her left, and her fingers absently twirl the mask of She-Ra a few inches above her lap. A massive electric staff leans menacingly against the side of the throne.
It's astonishing how familiar that monster looks to Catra. She feels her blood boil as Adora stands and places the mask on the throne's armrest.
Catra determinedly looks back down at the ground. Her ears prick when she hears Adora walking towards her, but she doesn't dare move her gaze until Adora arrives. Even then, it isn't by choice, as a surprisingly soft finger comes down to lift Catra's chin.
"Hey, Catra."
Bright blue eyes and blonde hair are only inches away. Adora's taunting smile somehow makes reading her even harder.
Catra narrows her eyes suspiciously. "What's with the getup?"
"Haven't you heard? You could say I got promoted."
"Good for you." Of course. Who else but Adora would?
Adora releases Catra's chin and turns away, forcing the bound woman to hold herself up if she wants to see. Grudgingly, she does.
Adora sighs with fake relief, then glances back with a grin. "Happier than when I was promoted to Force Captain? Cute."
Catra's mind frantically whirs. What even comes after Force Captain? Her eyes widen upon the realization that... no, it can't be. Adora had just been sitting on the throne.
"Where's Hordak?" Catra asks, ice in her tone.
Adora still has her back to Catra. "What else did you think I got promoted to?"
Wait, wait, wait, wait. No.
"Where's Hordak?" she repeats.
"Leave us." The command comes out far too smoothly for Adora to have said it, yet it's followed.
"Yes, Lord Adora." The guards comply without question. Now, they are alone. Chills ripple down Catra's spine.
Adora turns to face Catra, hand proudly on hip. "Hard to believe I got this far, right?" Her voice now shifts suddenly — and it's damn near playful. Adora falls onto both her knees in front of Catra, somehow not sacrificing an ounce of her new authority. She's terrifying.
"... Adora ..."
The new leader of the Horde cups Catra's cheek with her hand. She even smiles. "I did it. You always said I could do it." Adora's thumb traces over Catra's lips, causing Catra to shudder.
Adora's eyes sparkle. They're almost normal, so it has to be twisted. It's definitely wrong. A lie.
"Adora."
"Don't say you don't want this…" Not really a question. A command. Adora tenderly strokes Catra's cheek.
It hurts to deny her. "Adora, you already know I can't." Accepting her would hurt even more. "Don't make me keep saying it, please."
Adora sighs in frustration. "You're safe, Catra. Don't you want me?"
"... No, I don't," Catra says.
Like the flip side of a coin, any prior softness in Adora's demeanor fades. Her sparkling eyes burn out like a light, too. They're suddenly dull.
"You know… I've never believed you were hopeless," Adora mutters and stands up. "I thought I could reach you…"
"You twisted this up in your head, Adora. It's the other way around. I can't reach you because you're on a power trip," Catra replies, relatively sure how her words will be taken, but still determined to speak.
Adora's voice is suddenly sharp with malice that Catra has never heard before. "I'm not asking anymore. I'm commanding you to stay until you decide you make the right choice. If not as mine." Mine. Her tone is entirely domineering coldness. "Then as my prisoner." She glares down with such forcefulness, it causes Catra’s fur to instinctively spike.
Of fucking course. Despite her fear, Catra lets out a chuckle of deep displeasure, swiftly breaking Adora's control of the conversation. "Sure. Alright, Adora. I'm your prisoner. But since I've got you here? You should know that if you stopped trying to please everyone, maybe you'd actually know what you want."
"I'm not trying to please anyone," Adora states bluntly — now on the defensive. Somewhere inside, she's taken aback at Catra's outburst. It's upsetting, but above all, it's disrespectful.
"Oh please," Catra laughs louder. "You even tried to please me."
She's building. Catra knows it, so does Adora. This is how the former escalates, and Adora knows she must shut it down.
"Don't be ridiculous. I tried to make you see sense, Catra. You don't want to." Adora clenches her fists as she replies. She's pacing back and forth now, eyes darting between her agitator and her staff. Her tone dips back into coldness once more. "I suggest you think before you speak."
A warning.
No one else on Etheria would be so lucky to receive a warning from Lord Adora.
But it's a warning to be ignored.
"I've been thinking a lot, actually. Thanks for reminding me. You know what I hate? That I finally realized what I want, and you treat me like shit for it. Let me guess, you hate me for it. What are you, jealous? Is that why you're locking me up? It's pathetic!" Catra bulldozes forth without caution, her vitriol bittering the air between them.
Adora's eyes widen at the accusation. Catra's words are clearly not what she expected. "Catra — I don't hate you. I know that for sure." A pause. Is she hurt? Or confused? For a few brief seconds, she seems to forget her anger — for a few brief seconds, she is calmer than Catra. "And I'm not jealous. It's not my fault you're choosing the wrong side, I only want you back."
This reaction simply will not do. Catra needs to push her until she comes completely undone. It's an impulse she simply cannot deny. "You want to talk about wrong? Back when we were growing up. I always thought if anyone was gonna end up a good person, you would. You used to be an inspiration, Adora. So you tell me, how the hell am I here —" Catra angrily shakes her restraints for effect. "— and you're there!? Trying to ruin everything!"
Like that, Adora's expression is wiped of hurt as she remembers her rage. She's losing her temper faster than ever. Her eye twitches. Her fists tremble.
"How could you. I am a good person," she says.
"Yeah, whatever," Catra cackles. "Good fucking person. What a hero. Making me your damn prisoner. Do you even want that? The Horde — this place — they're controlling you, you idiot."
"Nobody is controlling me! I'm in charge and you are being a belligerent child," Adora yells with increasingly mounting fury.
But the harsh words don't stop Catra from firing back. "Taking after Shadow Weaver now, huh!? You sound just like her! I guess that makes sense, though! You have no clue who the hell you want to be, you'd rather be a coward!"
"QUIET!" The room itself seems to scream. Adora's words echo a thousand times over, and Catra flinches, then finds her jaw clenched shut in fear.
The satisfaction she expected to get from pushing Adora over the edge is not there. There is only dread, because Adora has never yelled before. Catra has never once dreamt she would ever hear Adora speak with such ferocity.
Catra remains silent and watches as Adora recovers, panting. "I… I know you're lost. I get that you're confused." How quickly her rage turns to comfort causes Catra to shake. Very little makes Catra afraid — but Adora manages it. Then, Adora's voice borders on rage once more. "But you will never, never compare me and her, ever again."
A pause.
"Guards." The doors open immediately. "Take her away."
-
It's evening now, and Adora is dressed in more casual wear. The ever familiar red shade of sunset illuminates the side room in a warm glow. It's been an hour since they began their meeting, and things have since deteriorated.
"She should be thanking me! I brought her home." Adora's kick sends several crates flying. It's actually the second time she's said this. She never has been good at modulating emotions, but it's odd to think that Catra might be better at it now.
Scorpia chuckles nervously as she watches Adora vent. She knows she's the only one privy to these outbursts, and regardless of the repetitiveness, she doesn't want to say anything that could jeopardize their closeness. "I'm sure she'll come around, Adora. It's obvious she cares about you."
Adora shoots her a scowl. "It's… obvious?"
Scorpia considers the idea that maybe it would be better if she didn't say anything at all. Oh well, too late now.
"Absolutely!"
Adora approaches her subordinate with a stony expression. "Force Captain Scorpia, tell me what makes you think that."
Is it a test? It's a test, isn't it. Scorpia gulps.
"Well, you know..."
"I don't. Explain."
"It's just not possible! You two grew up together. You spent years together. It wouldn't make sense if she didn't care." Scorpia offers up her most convincing smile.
It is… an acceptable answer. Adora returns to her demolition of the room. "Even if that's true, after everything I went through to get her here, she's still an ungrateful brat. She told me that I don't know what I want."
"What? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You're the most ambitious person I know!"
The praise causes Adora to smile ever so slightly. That is, until she breaks apart another container with a huff.
Scorpia stands up and warily moves towards Adora, determined to cheer her up. "You take care of the Horde. You take care of me! You clearly know what you're doing."
"I wish she'd see that," Adora mutters, a trace of something dark in her confession.
"Woah now. You have to give her time." Scorpia lays her claw on her friend's shoulder. "Don't get stuck, okay? You're doing well. I'd hate to see you get obsessed."
Adora flushes bright pink and roughly pushes Scorpia away. "I'm not obsessed."
"I never said you were! Jeez..." Scorpia takes a deep breath in order to find her good natured and positive smile once more. "Listen Adora. Forget what I just said. If it's bothering you this much, if you really can't wait, I'd go and talk to her."
"She doesn't want to see me." Adora shakes her head, voice breaking slightly.
"No way! Just try. Be vulnerable! Open up. You'll feel better." Scorpia's claw rises to comfort Adora again. This time, Adora doesn't reject it. "I promise, okay?"
A smile reminiscent of the kind she used to display months prior appears on Adora's face. For a moment, she looks genuinely grateful. "Okay."
Moments such as these never last long.
Because Adora knows she doesn't want to open up to Catra after how she had just hurt her. Scorpia can't understand that. But more importantly, her friend is definitely not allowed to know that Adora is hesitant.
So, when Scorpia finally does leave, Adora's faux gladness immediately drops away, and her expression is replaced by something much more troubled. Something acutely… unnatural. She's angry again. Angry, desperate, and insecure. She isn't even sure why anymore.
Usually, talking to Scorpia helps at least a little. Not this time. In fact, she feels worse. Adora smashes yet another box in an effort to calm down.
Then another.
Another.
Until the whole room is a wreck.
Sweat drips down her brow.
Yet suddenly, Adora's mind becomes clearer. She imagines Catra apologizing for acting so foolishly. She can almost hear her agree to stay with her forever. Somehow, it's not a warm thought. It doesn't quite warm her heart.
Maybe nothing can anymore. Then again, maybe Scorpia is actually right. Maybe she has a point about opening up and getting feelings out. Maybe Adora… should try to talk to Catra… one more time.
-
This room isn't one she's seen before. It's not a standard cell, and there's no energy barrier. Instead, the prison has a thick, steel plated door.
Outside of the cell, the guards that have watched Catra for the better part of twenty four hours are leaving. Catra hears them say the three words she's been waiting for.
"Yes, Lord Adora."
She tries to brace herself. Although in reality, there is little she can do to prepare for whatever sick interrogation is going to come next. Two chains bind Catra's wrists to the wall. They give her enough length to access roughly half the room, but Catra chooses to almost exclusively sit on her bed, back firmly pressing against the wall.
She doesn't like how the chains clink whenever she moves.
For the second time, Catra's ears prick as the door opens with a creak.
The voice she hears next, she hates even more than her chains.
"Hey, Catra. Nice to see you again." Adora flips on the fluorescent lights. It's bright. Too bright. It hurts Catra's eyes. Adora saunters into the room anyway, although her stride is not the same as before. Neither is her voice, come to think of it.
No matter. She's still smiling.
"Where's my mask." Catra doesn't frame her question like a question at all. She's bubbling with resentment.
It was good that it wasn't really a question, because Adora completely ignores it. Instead, she pulls the room's sole chair over to her prisoner, positions it in front of her, and sits.
"Catra, do you remember all those nights you'd sneak into my bed when we were cadets?" Adora asks.
Catra narrows her eyes, staunchly refusing to reply.
"We came up with so many plans, didn't we? We were always going to have each other's backs." A tinge of pink colors Adora's cheeks. There's an odd quality in the way her fingers drum her thigh. Her expression… strangely different. Her tone, off.
"Honestly, I always thought we'd be inseparable," she chuckles. Then, suddenly, she stops. "But, you left, and I've realized how stupid I am." There's something darker in her voice as Adora points up to the white scar defining her eyebrow.
Her eyes are colder. "... Really fucking stupid," Her voice almost cracks, and her unnerving smile is gone. "Because you enjoy hurting me, don't you, Catra?"
Catra doesn't like it. Adora's not supposed to swear. She isn't even acting like her new and improved self. Why isn't she taunting Catra? Where is the teasing? Adora had spent the entirety of prom just fucking with her. Every chance she gets, the monster tries to get a rise out of Catra. Where is Adora's pride?
"Maybe you don't enjoy hurting me, though. Maybe you really are just as confused as I thought." She almost sounds unsure. "... Maybe I got too angry."
Is this insecurity? Catra doesn't trust it either way. Instead of responding, she turns her head away from Adora in favor of glaring at the opposing wall.
"Aren't you going to say anything?"
The answer is still no. Catra remains defiant.
There's a creak as Adora rises from her chair and moves towards the edge of the bed. Then, a hand fiercely rips Catra’s jaw back forwards. Adora's grip is firm. "I came here to talk, Catra."
"Fine," Catra hisses, turning more angry than afraid. "Where's. My. Mask."
"That thing? That weapon? You're not allowed to have it." Adora finally graces Catra with an answer with as much hostility as in the question. "Not until you decide to behave."
"Behave!?" Wide eyed with visible contempt now, Catra struggles against her restraints. She wants to kill Adora for that. "What the fuck does that mean?"
"You always were a bad listener." With that, Adora unceremoniously drops Catra’s jaw. "I still don't understand it. I don't know how to help you when you're acting like this."
"I—I'm the bad listener?" Catra laughs derisively, causing her chains to rattle. She's definitely not going to be able to disguise how utterly furious she is. "Do you ever stop and listen to yourself?"
Adora doesn't seem to notice. Maybe she just doesn't care. But, she's looking at Catra, and it's clear from her hazy expression that she's not really seeing her. "I built all of this for you, Catra. To keep us together. This is what you wanted, don't you remember? You and I against the world. I've tried to reach you so many times. Why can't you see that? I don't understand you anymore."
"And I've told you a thousand times, no."
Adora's eyes snap back into focus, but they aren't hard. "With me in charge, we can even try and contact your family." The coldness lifts, and if only for a moment, Catra thinks she can hear slight pleading in Adora's voice. "Wouldn't that be nice?"
She's never going to stop trying. Catra fucking hates it.
"Idiot," Catra snarls. "When are you going to get it through your thick skull that I am never coming back to the Horde?"
Adora's gaze is sharp, although Catra thinks she sees a flash of hurt. If she did, it's gone within an instant. "It's called home, Catra. Your home. My home. Our home. And you're already here."
It's too much. Catra writhes against her chains again. So much for home. "You're an idiot! A delusional, scatter-brained dictator. You just don't get it, do you? If you continue on like this there won't be a world for my people to come back to!"
Before Catra realizes what's happening, Adora is on the bed. And then, Adora has her pinned against the wall, dangerously furious eyes piercing through Catra's every defense. Catra feels all breath leave her body. Adora's shoulders rise and fall rapidly in an attempt to contain the fury that is obviously coursing through her veins.
What… What is Adora doing?
"Tell me you don't mean that."
"... I — I don't know." Even saying that? It's a lie. It's the best Catra can do. She doesn't know why she's doing it. She tells herself it's not for Adora's sake, but for her own safety.
"Then tell me you don't think I'm an idiot," Adora demands.
This one is easier. "... I don't think you're an idiot." The answer is the truth, although she still says it with an edge.
The seconds tick by.
"... Adora …?" Catra eventually asks with hesitation. She is primed for retaliation.
Yet it never comes.
Adora's heavy breathing settles. But then, much to Catra's shock, tears begin welling in Adora's eyes. Almost as soon as Catra speaks, Adora's grip on Catra's wrists slackens. All the pent up anger in both of the women seems to leave. Disheveled and unsure, Adora almost looks like — like herself. Tears start streaming down her face. Above all else, Adora looks… lost.
Catra doesn't know whether it's okay to trust it. But, she slowly wriggles her right wrist free of Adora's grip. Adora allows her. She allows Catra to reach out — unsteady though the movement is, until Catra's palm is cupping Adora's cheek.
"I need you, Catra," Adora whispers. Her tone is low and desperate. "I miss you so much."
The two confessions send a pang directly Catra's heart. It throbs. She closes her eyes to try to regain her sense of control, only to have it swiftly taken away.
She can feel Adora surging forwards again — she's lost contact with Adora's skin. What she doesn't expect is for lips to roughly press against her own.
Catra's eyes jolt open from shock. Her whole body startles, and her shackles clammer. "Mmmph...!?"
She has no mind to react as a familiar hand comes to rest on her jaw. It's less rough than before, but not unsolid. It still serves to hold Catra in place.
Something about everything happening feels so very wrong. It's happening too fast. No, it's wrong that it's happening at all.
Adora's intruding tongue momentarily stifles any doubts — and Catra moans, betraying herself. She knows she's searching for something herself. It's selfish. She's searching for her Adora. Even through the kiss, Catra's subconscious knows she knows she's not there.
The scarred eyebrow. Those blue eyes. They are not the same. But where is that Adora too? The question returns, where is the teasing and pridefulness?
Catra cannot help but to wonder: Where is the monster?
It's as if Adora knows. As if she can feel Catra's hesitation. She pulls away for breath, and a slick of saliva drips from between their lips.
"I'm just me. I'm Adora," she croaks. It still doesn't feel quite right, but it's just close enough to ease Catra for the moment. There are still droplets at the edge of Adora's eyes, although she is hardly crying now.
There is no monster here. Yet Catra knows that this has to be a lie. Catra knows she cannot trust it.
"Catra. It's only me."
So why Catra sucks down another breath and resumes kissing the woman in front of her is beyond her. It's pure impulse to give in.
Of course, Catra does not realize that tears have filled her eyes too.
Slowly but surely, and like a machine revving, Adora's grip on Catra's jaw tightens once more. It starts slow. But then, it's not slow at all. She presses her body into Catra's, pinning her firmly against the wall again. Her breathing is ragged between sloppy kisses. Soon, it's filled with something other than desperation — something Catra cannot place. A knee separates Catra's thighs. It pushes roughly to the crux of Catra's pants, prompting her to cry out. It's rough, so she bites down sharply on Adora's lip. It's the first thing so far that causes Adora to moan.
It sparks heat that Catra calls traitorous. She struggles to stifle her now racing heartbeat, but when determined hands release her jaw — Catra feels the same hands rip her shirt apart, then move down and tear her pants and underwear away too. Catra shudders into Adora's lips with building anticipation; there is no recovering from this anymore.
The kiss breaks, and Catra latches onto Adora's shoulder with her fangs. Another moan. Catra's claws scrabble urgently at Adora's shirt, then bra, shredding them in return for ruining her own clothing. It's not equal payback, but it's good enough. Soon, her claws find Adora's smooth bare skin. Catra scores Adora's shoulder blades as she bites harder. There's blood, and Adora groans in pain. A hand roughly tugs at Catra's tail to get her to release, which she does so with a yelp.
Adora lets Catra slide down onto the bed. She's laying on her back now, Adora towering over her and undoing her own waistband.
Catra's eyes widen once Adora is bare.
She doesn't look at all emotional anymore, in fact, quite the contrary.
"Spread your legs," Adora orders.
… Is this happening?
"Did you hear me? Spread them," Adora barks again.
Catra does so obediently, but Adora shakes her head with displeasure, not enough, and immediately separates Catra's thighs even further.
"A—Adora…!"
Adora then hoists one of Catra's legs up as high as it can possibly reach, propping it over her shoulder to ensure Catra's legs remain far apart. Adora moves the other leg out of the way too, so she may clunkily jostle the center of both their hips closer and closer to each other until she can directly push her cunt against Catra's. The first grind is surprisingly brusque, and it instantly provokes new flames inside of Catra's core. Catra cries out. Claws dig into the bedsheets. Adora confirms that Catra is securely in place, then firmly places her hands on either side of Catra's head before committing to thrust.
For a brief moment, there is a pause. Catra reaches up to palm Adora's cheek, a familiar action shared dozens of times, but she's surprised how this time — it is completely electrifying to touch Adora's skin.
Then, she begins. Adora industriously grinds her crotch into Catra's — soon thrusting like it's a military drill she is determined to get right, and Catra finds herself being right pushed up the wall yet again as their genitals are pounded together.
It's awkward positioning.
Thump.
It's also an exercise of stamina.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Having her legs split so far aches. She doesn't have the purchase to take her sorest from Adora's shoulder, however. Catra lets slip many whines and whimpers as Adora bears down on her mark.
The bed objects with a whine as Adora continues to pick up her pace. The heat inside Catra grows. Her cunt pulses with each new moment of friction. It's hardly manageable. Both of Catra's hands desperately grasp onto Adora's hips, and she struggles to keep them steady amidst Adora's brutish movements. Her claws dig. They sink deep.
Yes, it's definitely wrong to be doing this… Catra knows by now that there's very little she can do to stop Adora.
"F—Fuck…" Adora grunts as her thrusts become increasingly erratic. It's impossibly seductive. After all, they are the only words Adora has said so far. Never mind that the slight variation hits Catra's core perfectly, and her eyes roll back in her head. It's so much. Claws. Deeper. She knows she's cutting up Adora's waist just from that retaliation alone, because Adora cries out too.
… Then again, Catra's not sure she would stop her if she could. She settles on chanting her name.
Thump.
"Adora…!"
Thump.
"Adora!"
Thump!
Adora's hands move from either side of Catra's head, onto Catra's shoulders, and her grip suddenly hardens to hold Catra as still as possible. It doesn't work very well. Catra has no control over her body anymore. She is mechanically pushing her hips upwards into Adora's folds in a despairing bid to reach release.
"Adora…! Ahn…!"
"That's it..." Adora grunts. "That's it..."
The sound of wetness slapping is the loudest noise in the room. While their movements are no longer rhythmic, it only makes their impact against each other greater.
"P—Please!"
"Take it." Another forceful drive against Catra's cunt.
It's perfect.
Catra comes first. It's no surprise, even if it's only by a few seconds. She throws her head back into the mattress and moans as her whole tenses, allowing her spasm to blend into Adora's cunt. This time she doesn't realize she's sunk into the fresh cuts on Adora's hips. Adora does, however, and it spurs her roughest grinding yet. Catra isn't even done coming down when Adora ruthlessly thrusts a final time, her own relief spreading over her face at long last.
Adora slowly rocks her hips back and forth, sliding their cunts together until the heat between her own thighs begins to fade. Catra doesn't protest. She simply sinks into the bed — strangely calm. Relaxed. She stares up at the woman above her and observes her every feature. How her golden hair sways, how her eyes are fixating on Catra"s body, how she's breathing so heavily.
Then, all movement stops. It is quiet and still.
Done with certainty, Adora allows Catra's legs to relax. She collapses limply onto Catra’s chest. The weight is unexpected, but the vulnerability is welcome as pale fingers grasp weakly at Catra's skin. She's panting. Catra raises a slightly bloody hand to rest on the back of Adora's head, letting her fingers intertwine in Adora's hair.
She closes her eyes and breathes in the woman laying on top of her. Everything is uncharacteristically calm.
No words. All quiet.
Catra imagines Adora is laying on her, but in her bedroom in Brightmoon. She hears birds outside. Adora is asleep, and Catra doesn't want to move even to save the world. She can smell her freshly washed hair. It's a silly fantasy, but it still almost lulls Catra to sleep. It's such a warm thought. Maybe… there could be something to it… someday.
The comforting pressure suddenly lifts. It had to happen at some point, but it feels far too early. There is shuffling, and Catra does not want to confront reality with her eyes. Instead, she listens.
The door opens.
It closes.
Catra doesn't need to feel around to tell that Adora's pants and the bed's only blanket are gone. Adora must be using it as a cloak. So, she gets the privilege of being covered?
Coward.
Catra is still naked.
Once again, the hatred seeps back in.
Because once again, Catra is alone.
Fuck.