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Adora slicks back her bangs as she sits on her knees above the heaving body beneath her. "Are you good?" She wets her lips, the salty tang of perspiration spreading on her tongue.
"Y-Yeah." Catra swallows a thick glob of saliva, bare chest rising and falling as she catches her breath. "Just give me a few minutes." Through half lidded eyes, Catra drinks in Adora's naked body. Sculpted muscle beneath sun kissed skin that twitched with the slightest of movements, and those electric ocean blue eyes… Goodness, Catra could drown in their intensity.
"Great, good. That's good." Adora inspects Catra's languid form. Beautiful. Her voluminous mane, her mismatched eyes, her lithe body. Adora thought everything about Catra to be gorgeous, but her eyes (precious things they were), Adora cherished them the most. Two precious jewels, rare and unheard of. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Catra bites her cheek, feeling the heat churn in her lower belly. Gods, to hear Adora's husky voice filled with leftover lust and compassion. She clenches her thighs, aware of the sleek mess she's made. She wants to answer, wants to say No, maybe we should go again, just to make sure you do , but they've been going at it for the better of the day. She's drained, and dehydrated, and needs rest. They both do. "You're safe. Sore, but I like it."
Adora nods, throat bobbing as she swallows.
"Come here?" Catra rasps, patting the space beside her. Despite basking in the afterglow, a nagging sensation bites at her nerves. She loves the visual of Adora above her, but it's becoming unnerving. Memories of herself trapped in situations and being rendered powerless rearing their ugly heads.
"Sure, yeah. Of course." Adora lays her front on the bed, obliging the request without hesitation.
"Thanks."
Adora hums in response. She keeps a hand on Catra's pelvic bone, burying calloused fingers in the dense, dark fur of her lower stomach . "You're totally sure I didn't hurt you?"
"Positive."
"Awesome. Perfect." The idea of hurting Catra never sits well with Adora. It's become a routine of hers to ask for feedback whenever their amorous trysts end, to ascertain that Catra felt at ease in the aftermath. Adora's fingertips tickle the tender belly beneath the fluffy trail, resulting in a rumble she's intimately familiar with.
"You're lucky I like you. I'd claw any other person's face for daring to touch me there."
"But, you're so soft there." Adora brushes her lips against her shoulder. "I wish my hair was like yours."
"You'd want to have a forest between your legs?" Catra quirks a brow.
"The texture, Catra. I mean the texture. And, I like your 'forest'." Adora states. "Your mane, especially, it's amazing."
"It's a nightmare when the heat rises, though." Catra murmurs. "I like your hair as is. Reminds me of the sun."
"Heh, thanks."
"Mhm." Catra scrunches one hand into glossy tresses that appeared to be woven from light itself, careful with her claws.
They enjoy each other's presence in relative silence. Adora lightly snoozes, comforted by the low rumble produced by Catra.
Catra carefully rolls onto a side, and studies Adora's profile. Her features are much more relaxed as she sleeps. Catra wonders if the same could be said for her.
She explores the broad expanse that is Adora's back. A breath catches in her throat, a constricting sense of apprehension wishing to strangle her.
The scars stand in stark contrast on Adora’s otherwise perfect back. Big, and faded pink, and a combination of raised flesh and jagged edges, starting from her shoulder blades, and coming to a stop near the small of her back.
I did that. Catra hovers a hand above the blemish, and without making contact, traces a path along one of the rugged lines. I hurt her. Regret clung to her like something sticky caught in her fur, almost impossible to remove.
Adora forgave her, because of course she did. She’s Adora. Adora, fiercely loyal and protective of those she loved. Under the word ‘loyal’, you’d find the image of Adora (as well as Scorpia) in all her shining glory. Catra thought her naive. If she were in Adora’s place, she would’ve given up on her from the very beginning. Regardless of the pain Catra inflicted upon her and her friends, Adora’s faith in her remained unwavering.
"Why are you here, Adora?" Catra stares out a window in Brightmoon's infirmary. She's yet to make eye contact with her, neck stubbornly twisted away from Adora. "You should be with your friends celebrating."
"I'd rather be here."
"Why?" There's a strain in her voice as the wound on her stomach throbs. "I'm not exactly the best company."
“I'm here because you're my best friend, Catra,” Adora tentatively touches her thigh, and for the first time since entering the infirmary, their eyes meet, "and, I care about you."
"Even after all I put you through?” After a few seconds, Catra turns to the window again. “Maybe you're more brain damaged than I thought."
"It’s a possibility.” Adora snorts. She runs her palm over the sheet until it meets Catra’s. She holds it, but not quite, instead locking their pinkies together. “The fact remains that you’re my friend, and there will always be love in my heart for you. The promise we made as kids. I forgot about it, and broke it.” Adora feels Catra’s finger twitch in response. That’s good. That means she’s listening. “But, you never forgot. That’s why I want to make it up to you, I’m going to be a better person for you." The words tumble out of her mouth, and Adora backpedals, aware of how forceful she might have came across. "A-As long as you'll give me a chance, that is! A-and if you do give me this opportunity, and I mess up, you have my permission to smack me, o-or whatever."
Catra's voice is but a hushed whisper as she speaks, and though Adora can't see her face completely, she sees the rise at the corner of her mouth. "I'm going to hold you to that, Princess."
"Why do you do that?"
Catra focuses back to the present. She isn't in the medical bay anymore, assaulted by the scent of heavy disinfectants. She's in her shared room with Adora. Adora, who is currently watching her with knowing eyes.
"I never figured they would've scarred." Catra touches them this time, padded hand mindful although the wounds have long since scabbed. "They weren't supposed to scar. You were She-Ra."
"Emotionally charged attacks can have a more lasting effect on She-Ra." Adora shrugs. “Light Hope’s words.”
"You have all the reason in the world to despise me."
"That's true."
"Yet, you don't."
"And, I never will." Adora guides Catra into arms, flush against her bare skin. In return, Catra tucks her under Adora's chin. So near, Catra listens to the soft, steady rhythm of Adora's heartbeat.
Normal people don't usually have these kind of talks after coitus. It ruins the mood, making things awkward and unsteady. They're not normal people, however. They've never been.
"Why?" She's asked this question a dozen times before, and she's received the same answer a dozen times over. Maybe she's hoping for a different answer each time, or maybe she likes the reassurance she's given when Adora says—
"We were at war. War isn't pretty. People always get hurt, especially the ones we love the most." Adora presses her mouth against the crown of her head. "We've both done things we're not proud of." Catra shivers as a rough index finger drags along the scar on her stomach. It begins underneath her right ribcage, arching across to her left hip bone.
Bow calls it 'catharsis.' This thing they do. Catra remembers the way she glared at him, confused. Several explanations, and four diagrams later, Catra finally gained some insight.
As might be expected, he was right.
What they did, what they're doing now, they needed it. Tough as it was, it was their best option if they ever hoped to be fully healed.
Nonetheless, Catra hated how much of a whirlwind it was when it came to her emotions. Words came out wrong, sometimes they didn't come out at all, guttural growls and hisses replacing basic speech.
Adora isn't any better off; wanting to say things, but unsure if she should. Even saying too much in certain cases, and floundering in the end.
"You know, most normal people don't talk about such heavy topics after sex." Adora murmurs as she plays with the thin skin of a big ear.
Catra scoffs, draping her tail on Adora's hip with a 'thump'. "Us, normal? That'll be the day." Her statement is followed by a quiet mewl, and the flexing of her toes as Adora toys with the short tufts inside her ear.
"Why do we find it easier to talk about this stuff when we least expect to?"
"Think the Horde's to blame for that. Coping with emotional abuse wasn't exactly on the syllabus."
Adora lets out a breathy chuckle. "We're pretty messed up, aren't we?"
"Oh, definitely." Catra smirks.
Adora tilts her head down, catching sight of the light coloured tufts in Catra's dark locks. "Say, remember when you cut back here? And, you had that awful undershave?" She touches the spot hidden beneath the heavy tresses, grazing the shorter locks that grew there.
"Like you're one to talk, Bangs." Of course, Catra remembers. She'd spent a month cleaning the bathrooms for stealing the razor from an older cadet, but it was so worth it. "Who went all chop city on their hair, and had Shadow Weaver catching conniptions when she saw?"
Adora's chest rattles as she bellows out a deep laugh. "That was priceless. She looked so horrified."
"I think I saw her swoon, too." That makes Adora laugh even harder, and soon, they're both cackling, and wheezing for air.
Their mirth eventually dies off, and the room goes quiet again. Catra's cheeks hurt, and her head's light, but she doesn't mind.
"Hey, Adora?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think someday we'll be okay?"
Adora doesn't respond right away. "I do." She says after some deliberation.
"How are you so sure?"
"Because," Adora shimmies down until she's face to face with Catra, "as long as have each other, nothing bad can really happen."
Catra goes wide eyed, stunned for a good couple of seconds before a smile showing fangs and gum takes up the whole of her face. "You promise?"
"I promise."