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Something in Adora's head is screaming. Howling with animal rage as the red creeps up her veins, her blood is on fire, it's agony and she needs to push that pain outward, to break and tear and crush and conquer.
There's prey in front of her, a small and fragile looking woman, reaching a hand out towards her. Foolish. Adora adjusts the grip on her sword and gleefully leaps, pinning the lithe woman in the dirt.
The woman under her looks familiar. It doesn't matter. She's stronger. She needs to break her. She needs to—
"Red!"
—stop. She needs to stop. The thought hits her like a solid wall of force, her muscles seizing up. Something in her growls in anger, screams that she doesn't need to listen to this pathetic little—
"That's right. You know what that means, don't you? You know me."
She does. It's hard to focus past the thick red haze, but she does. She tries to reach for a name, fails. But she looks down at this woman and thinks soft and warm.
"I need you to focus for me. Can you do that, baby?"
She can. She wants to. She needs to. Those words are so familiar, and so is the need that surges up inside her along with them, the cloyingly sweet desire to be good, to follow instructions and make Catra happy.
Catra. That's this woman's name. The name that means everything to her. It pierces through the fog, overwhelms her, slips out of her mouth without her realizing.
"That's right. It's me, baby. It's your Catra."
Her Catra. Hers. Catra belongs to her. She doesn't want to break things that belong to her.
She wants to enjoy them.
Catra's fur, her skin, feel so good under Adora's mouth. She kisses roughly along her neck, following distant memories of whimpers and short stacatto breaths when she touches here.
"Whoa there, babygirl. Yellow. Slow down for me."
She doesn't want to. She wants to go faster, take more. But she does. She lets Catra's soft, small hands guide her face away, meets those eyes. Two different colors. She thinks that's her favorite.
"Is that what you want right now? To touch me?"
Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes—
"Can you be careful? Can you listen for your words?"
She nods, gaze fixed on those fascinating eyes.
"I need you to say it for me."
Words are hard to come by right now. There's too much red, pounding, pulsing in her head, overwhelming everything. She pushes through. She needs to do this, if she wants to touch Catra.
She wants to touch Catra.
"Yes."
Catra's smiling and oh, seeing that feels incredible, almost as good as touching. She leans in again, not to suck or bite but just gently brushing her forehead against Catra's cheek, nuzzling her. Something tells her that's what you do, when you feel like there's a sun rising inside you.
"Good girl."
She feels as shocked as Catra looks when that turns the low growl in the back of her throat into a pathetic sounding whine. A piece of her, red-hot and angry, wants to be humiliated at that, but so much more of her is glad for it. She needs to show Catra that she's being good. That she's safe. That Catra can trust her to listen.
Catra guides her back in and she kisses her again, more slowly, listening for the sharp intake of breath—there—that means she's doing it right. Gingerly, she slides her hands up and under Catra's shirt, brushing her sensitive sides. Catra gives her an encouraging smile but... It's not right. She's not doing this right. She feels... Clumsy, like a thoughtless animal pawing at its food. Her hands are too large, too rough, made for hurting—
"Hey."
Catra's voice is so gentle. Feels so good.
"Just... Focus on my voice. Do what I tell you. Be a good girl and follow my instructions and I promise you'll make me happy. Okay?"
It's okay. It's perfect. Adora can't think right now but she doesn't have to, she can let Catra's words pour into her, flow into her limbs, her fingers, carry out her will without any need for Adora to intervene. She can sink below that warm red tide, now fading to a hazy pink, lose herself in emotion and sensation, pure irrational desire. Catra will tell her what to do, when to stop. She can't do anything wrong as long as she just listens.
"Back to kissing my neck. Use your teeth. I'll tell you if it's too hard."
Adora eagerly complies, sinking her teeth into the warm flesh of Catra's neck, stopping when some muscle memory of long experience tells her to. It seems to be what Catra's looking for because she moans and pushes her hips up against Adora's body and Adora realizes she's throbbing, aching and hard in an unfamiliar but delicious sensation. She presses back against Catra's hips with her own, her strength slamming the smaller woman into the ground.
"Yes," Catra hisses, tossing her head back. "Grab my wrists. Hold me down."
Adora does, one large hand circling both of her prey's wrists. This is what she wants. This is absolutely perfect, satisfying both her desire to conquer Catra and to please her. All of her, everything she is, wants to be here, above Catra, on top of her, taking her and making her feel good.
"Mine," Adora growls, the sound muffled against Catra's throat.
"Yours," Catra agrees, "All yours, princess."
Princess. The pet name makes something roar inside of her, angry and needy, making her press harder against Catra, grips her wrists tighter—
"Yellow. Watch the wrists, babe."
Shit. Adora relaxes her iron grip, not letting go—she knows that's a different word, even if it's not coming to mind right now—rubs at the underside of one of Catra's wrists with her thumb, instinctively. The welling guilt and fear in her stomach must be showing on her face, because Catra smiles gently, strains upward against Adora's hold to press a quick kiss to her nose.
"You're okay. You listened for your word, did exactly what I told you to. You're still being a good girl for me."
Warmth washes through her, relaxing her muscles. Good. She's being good. She didn't hurt Catra. She watches Catra's face with a lazy smile, waiting for a cue on how to continue.
Catra smiles back at her, meeting her eyes like she's searching for something. She must have found it because after a few moments she rolls her hips upwards again, pressing herself against Adora, making her groan.
"You got something there for me, princess? Wanna share with the class?"
The words fly over Adora's head but the tone, the intention is clear. She presses herself against Catra again, relishing the contact, the pressure against her, but it's not anything close to what she needs. She's not sure what her body wants right now, but she knows it's not this, there's too many layers of cloth separating her from her Catra, she knows it should be something hot and wet and—
"Fuck, I want you inside me," Catra whispers and immediately it falls into place, the image clear and perfect in her head, telling her to tear their fucking clothes away and bury herself in Catra and rut her until she's stretched and screaming—
"Slow down, babe, I don't want you finishing before we even get started."
Adora doesn't know when the long, slow press of her hips had turned into a desperate grind but with effort she pulls back. She needs Catra to give her permission. To guide her in.
Catra isn't. She's not saying anything, just watching Adora with a smug, teasing smile. Adora can't even be angry about it. She's too desperate. Catra holds all the cards here. She needs to make Catra happy, do what she's told and hope she gets a reward—
Something sparks in the back of her brain, a memory, maybe a lot of memories, and Adora knows what Catra's waiting for.
"Please," she murmurs, voice ragged.
"Please what?"
Adora can't, can't make words right now, can't work out how to say what she needs in a way that will make Catra decide to give it to her. She groans, frustrated, hoping that will be good enough.
It isn't. Catra slips a hand out of Adora's distracted grip, strokes a claw softly down her captor's cheek. "You've been so good for me, baby, and I wanna reward you, but I can't give you what you want unless you ask me for it."
This is torture. Catra is torturing her because there's no way she can do this, push through that warm pink haze and make a sentence. She can't do it.
But Catra asked her to. Catra told her to. She needs to do what Catra tells her.
So Adora tries. She focuses, pulls together every last scrap of her scattered intelligence to find the right word, remember how to move her tongue and teeth and lips for something other than worshipping this goddess of a woman, pushes herself to just be good for Catra and give her what she wants.
"Inside," is what she finally manages, breath heaving from the effort. "Please," she adds again and it's not even a word, just a noise that a half-awake scrap of her brain is telling her might help get her what she wants.
For an endless, horrible, moment, Catra looks like she might ask for more, demand more than Adora can possibly give her right now and leave her desperate and wanting with no hope of satisfaction.
It seems like she knows how hard Adora is working for her, though, and relents. "Good girl," she murmurs with another soft kiss to Adora's cheek. "Take my clothes off. Try not to tear them, okay?"
Adora tries. She does. She's just too worked up, too eager now that she has permission, she's still unused to her strength, the size of her hands, and Catra's clothes are left in tatters in Adora's desperate rush to touch her, everywhere. It's not until Adora's been able run her hands down the exposed length of Catra's torso that she realizes she failed and has the sense to look apologetically at the ruined pile of cloth.
Catra just laughs and, both hands freed during Adora's frenzied stripping, sets her claws gently against She-Ra's uniform. "Well," she smirks, pressing in a little more and reveling in Adora's gasp, "fair's fair." Catra rakes her claws down Adora's body and shreds her clothes, leaving them hanging off her in tatters.
Catra flicks her eyes downward and tosses her head back with a groan. "Gods, why'd you have to make it so big?" She asks, a question that Adora doesn't have an answer to. It had just— happened, she doesn't even know when, only that she's hard and throbbing and she needs to be inside Catra, right now, can't wait don't want to wait want it want her want more NOW—
Catra grabs her by the chin, forces her eyes upwards to meet her gaze. "Go slow," she says, and the teasing edge is gone from her voice. "Understand me?"
Adora nods, but she can tell this is important, so she searches for the words to make Catra know she understands. That she's safe.
"Slow," she says, holding Catra's gaze. Not enough. She needs to make sure. "I'm listening," she tries, and she gets a soft smile from Catra that makes her lean in close, close enough to kiss her which somehow seems even more important than being inside her right now. "Won't hurt you," she whispers, watching her breath stir the short fur on Catra's face. Suddenly, the words come easily, obviously, like they were waiting on her tongue the entire time and she simply failed to notice. "Love you."
Catra does kiss her then, surging upwards and burying her hands in She-Ra's long, golden hair. When she finally pulls away, her eyes are wide, wanting, dark with a portion of the utter desperation consuming Adora.
"Good girl," she whispers, dragging a hand down Adora's chest, past the hard muscles of her abdomen, wrapping gently around her cock. "I love you too."
Catra strokes her thumb over the head of Adora's cock and fuck, she has no idea how she ever thought she was the one in control when she's this needy, this sensitive under Catra's fingertips. It doesn't matter that she's stronger, that she's She-Ra, that she has raw, red power pulsing through her veins, she's weak for Catra, completely helpless at the lightest touch.
Catra laughs at her reaction, at the high, pathetic whine that hums in her throat. "Wish I knew how easy you were like this back in the Reach, princess. Would have saved me a lot of trouble."
Adora has no idea what she's talking about but just the sound of her voice, her laugh, sends frisson shooting down her spine.
She can't control the jerk of her hips, seeking more touch, more friction, more Catra, anything she can get.
"Calm down, princess, just hold still for a second and I'll give you what you need."
Adora takes a deep breath, steadies herself, manages to hold still as Catra wraps a soft hand around her cock and slowly, achingly slowly, guides her in.
The moment she feels the slick heat of Catra's cunt against her all she wants is to drive in hard and deep, bury as much of her as possible in that impossible, velvet warmth. The rest of her feel so cold in comparison, unbearably so, and the only remedy she can think of is closer, more, harder.
But she promised slow, so she fights against her own desire, trembling as she keeps herself still, the tip of her cock just barely slipping inside of Catra. Her breath comes fast and heavy, the pink haze is filling her more every second, the promise of pleasure dancing in front of her and all she wants to do is chase it.
"Good girl," Catra coos as she guides Adora in a little deeper, pulling her hand away to cup her own breast. She wraps her legs around Adora's waist and crosses her ankles, pressing them against the small of Adora's back, urging her deeper.
And deeper she goes. Every centimeter is a hard fought battle, won in fits of starts and stops dictated by the pressure of Catra's heels at her back. Slow is what she promised and slow is what she gives, letting Catra set the pace, breathing deep and focusing on the delicious sensation every moment brings and not her growing hunger. She listens, for instructions or her words or for the small, precious groans Catra makes at the way Adora stretches her out. It feels like this might last forever, the gradual, measured progress, their mutual dedication to what seems like a physical impossibility, the new discovery of pleasure with every small movement.
And then, it's done. Catra's ankles uncross, her legs shaking, and Adora pants heavily into her shoulder, now buried in the smaller woman to the hilt.
"Just— hold still," Catra whispers, sounding almost awestruck. "Give me a second, to, to, fuck you feel so good inside me."
Adora has to agree. She can feel the soft twitch of Catra's body with every heartbeat, the tight grip of her walls around her cock. It's perfect, and yet she somehow wants more. She wants to move, to thrust, to rut into this woman until they're both screaming, desperate animals, mindlessly fucking each other into exhaustion.
Catra lets out a long, shuddering breath underneath her. "Okay," she says, "okay baby. Start slow. I'll tell you when to speed up."
Adora begins agonizingly drawing herself back out, the friction pulling groans from both of them in harmony. She only makes it halfway before the promise of that warmth lures her back in again, and Catra urges her to go faster, just a little bit.
They don't stay slow for long. On every stroke Catra begs for faster, harder, claws scrabbling at Adora's back, tracing an ecstatic pattern of thin red lines across her skin. Adora is only too happy to obey, putting more and more of her strength into every thrust, trusting Catra to know her own limits, to tell her if it's too much, letting herself focus on her movements and the overwhelming sensation.
Adora's losing herself again. The haze in her thoughts is overwhelming, the furious desire to take and crush and conquer burning in her blood, driving her movements. She lets it overtake her, secure in the knowledge that part of her will still be listening, responding to Catra's words, ready to slow or stop if she needs to. Of course, those commands are the last thing coming out of Catra's mouth right now, as she screams another long string of obscenities, digging her claws into the firm muscle of She-Ra's upset back and growling "Don't you dare fucking stop," in her ear.
She doesn't plan to.
The first time Catra comes, it's obvious, her walls clench down tight around Adora's cock and she goes rigid and briefly quiet, the only sound she makes a small whimper in the back of her throat as she gives in to the orgasm. Adora slows momentarily, until Catra exhales again and whispers "Keep going."
The second time is subtler, Adora isn't sure she would have realized it was happening if it wasn't for Catra panting out "coming— coming for you oh fuck," before lapsing back into the unbroken string of moans Adora's bringing out her.
After that, neither of them are counting.
Adora doesn't know how long it's been when she feels the gentle touch of Catra's palm against her cheek, guiding her focus down to meet those lovely eyes, that soft, sweet smile. She looks absolutely wrecked, pushed to the point of exhaustion, the short, peach-fuzz fur of her face damp with sweat.
Beautiful.
"Feel so good," Catra murmurs, voice soft despite the harsh movement of Adora inside her. "You feel so fucking good."
Adora grunts in response, so far beyond words but preening at the praise, desperate for it.
"You're being so—ah—so good for me, baby. I want you to come for me." Catra bites her lip, maybe from the sensation of another thrust, maybe in a moment of consideration. "I want you to come inside."
And who is Adora to deny this woman anything she wants?
Adora comes with a bang—literally, the wave of magic rippling off her is explosive, not enough to pose any serious danger but more than enough to leave Catra's ears ringing and vision blurred as she feels the arrhythmic pulse of that absurdly huge cock inside of her.
She feels achingly empty when the transformation takes it away again, leaving her sweet, soft Adora curled up on top of her in the grass. Her hair is a complete mess. Catra strokes a hand through it affectionately. She's proud of her wife, for listening, for being careful, and, admittedly, for giving her one of the best fucks of her entire life. Still, as ludicrously sexy as She-Ra can be, she's very happy to have her Adora back, eyes fluttering open and giving her a hazy stare.
"Hey Catra," Adora murmurs, blinking thickly in the mid morning light.
"Hey Adora," Catra says back.
Adora closes her eyes again, going limp and burying her face in Catra's shoulder. "You smell like my wife."
Catra laughs, a little weakly. She is fucking exhausted after all of that, physically and emotionally. "I am your wife, princess."
"Oh," Adora says, taking a moment to process this information. "That's good. Catra would kill me if I got married to someone else." Adora opens her eyes again, and Catra realizes how much she missed them being blue. "You're Catra."
"Stars, Entrapta wasn't kidding about you getting floppy," Catra says. She glances over at the crimson red Eternian disk laying in the grass. "We should probably get that back to her, hopefully she can unbreak your brain." They'll probably have to destroy it, just to be safe, and the tiniest part of her thinks that's a damn shame.
Adora nuzzles into her wife's fur, humming tunelessly. "You're soft. Oh fuck," she says suddenly, eyes going wide, meeting Catra's gaze. "I think I'm in love with you."
"You fucking better be," Catra responds indulgently and then, softly, "I love you too."
"You love me," Adora repeats, grinning, "Catra loves me. You're Catra."
"And you're a dumbass who goes around grabbing artifacts in ancient ruins like you're at the candy store," Catra says fondly. "Just rest, princess, it's a beautiful day, we can stay here for a little while before heading back."
"Okay," Adora says happily, snuggling closer against Catra and closing her eyes again. Within seconds she's snoring gently, face awkwardly squashed up against Catra's tits.
Gorgeous.
Catra stretches out as much as she can underneath her, relaxing into the springy pink grass of this alien world. It was abandoned when they got here and, for now at least, there's no one in the entire world but her and Adora, millions of miles away from Etheria, and perfectly at home.