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Mama's Girl

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Catra rolls over in their shared bed, facing away, and shoves her body back against Adora's, wordlessly demanding to be held. Her movements are still sometimes a little rough and awkward, unaccustomed to sharing intimate space. It's gotten better, though, and Adora knows she's trying; knows what it means for her to be willing to turn her back on someone.

Adora curls herself around her. Slides her arm around Catra's waist, drawing up her knees and gently fitting their hips together as though Catra is sitting in her lap. Catra's tail lashes until it finds a comfortable place to lie along Adora's bare thigh; Adora can feel the fluffy tip flicking against her ankle. She tucks Catra's now shoulder-length hair aside, exposing the back of her neck, and kisses her there firmly, feeling the thin velvet of her fur against her lips.

Catra tilts her chin down, showing her nape to Adora. Surrendering that to her.

Adora knows what that means. And as she plants more kisses up and down the bumps of Catra's spine, drawing out shivers, Adora feels it between her own legs—an ache to take care of her. She pets Catra's belly soothingly. The lean muscles there go tense, but then gradually relax under Adora's patient, predictable touch.

As they lie together, it's quiet except for their breathing, in and out of time with one another, and the evening cricket-song outside Brightmoon's walls. Adora feels the tip of Catra's tail, too, eventually stop flicking and lie still against her skin.

The stillness begins to feel deeper, like a comforting blanket around them. Adora's come to know this stillness, this shift in the air not unlike the tingle of magic. So it doesn't surprise her when, at last, Catra places her hand over Adora's and whispers:


That secret whisper makes Adora's body come alive. Her heart beats faster, her breath comes quicker. It's almost like getting ready to fight, but... the shadow of that, somehow. She's not sure she could put it into words. But the words that do come out are these, spoken hesitantly, tremblingly into Catra's nape:

"You... you need Mama, baby?"

Catra nods slowly, taking Adora's hand and interlacing their fingers. "Mm-hm."

"Okay," Adora says, tamping down her nervousness and molding her voice into something warmer, slower, sweeter than the way she normally speaks. "Mama's here," she murmurs. "You're safe."

Catra lets out a deep, shuddering breath and clutches Adora's hand almost too hard, the tips of her claws squeezing out slightly and nudging into Adora's skin.

"It's okay," Adora assures her. She nuzzles into the side of Catra's neck, eyes falling shut. "It's okay. Mama's always gonna take care of you."

"Love my Mama," Catra whispers, hoarse and secret and soft. Soft in a way that she never lets herself be in the light of day. It's a voice Adora never heard before they started doing this—not even when they were little.

"Oh, Mama loves you too, baby," Adora answers, cuddling her fiercely. "You're so good, sweetheart... Mama's perfect, precious little girl." Her heart is overflowing with emotion, letting these words of such fantastical power pass her lips like a spell.

Catra snuggles back against her with a sigh of deep, deep relief, like she's been waiting for this all day. Maybe longer. She brings their intertwined hands up to her chest and asks, "Pet me here, Mama?"

Adora's hand trembles as she touches gently, cupping her breast. She finds Catra's nipple and brushes the tip lightly with her thumb; Catra gasps.

"Like this, baby?" Adora asks. Acutely aware of the curious tangle of the innocent and the forbidden between them, shining like a cut jewel with many facets. "Are these the pets you need?"

"Yeah," Catra breathes tensely, arching against her. "Feels good when Mama pets like that."

Adora uses what she's learned of how Catra likes to be touched—stroking her nipples, gently pinching, teasing them until they're tight and hard. Catra still likes that even when she's being little, but her reactions are different. She squirms and wriggles and lets out the most adorable squeaks, rubbing her bottom into Adora's lap almost like she doesn't know she's doing it. Like she doesn't know what it does to Adora, their bodies moving together like that.

"Aw, you're so cute, baby girl," Adora praises her warmly, grinning. On top of her arousal, there's a little thrill of delight at being able to get away with calling her cute. "Mama loves to make it feel good for you."

"Feels good," Catra echoes, sighing. So easy, so relaxed. "Mama, can you..." And she takes Adora by the wrist and draws her hand down, away from her breasts, over her belly, and further, into the thicker fur above the meeting of her thighs.

Adora gasps at the desire that surges through her own body. She's touched Catra there many, many times, but never when she's little. "You want..." She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. "You want Mama to pet your—your kitty?"

It's just a guess at what Catra wants to hear, and when Catra laughs there's an eye-rolling edge of the grown-up Catra in there, and for a moment they're both laughing, acknowledging how strange and funny this all is, letting some of the tension out. Adora's cheeks blush warm, but she's only a little bit embarrassed.

"Yeah, that's right," Catra chuckles, cuddling back into her soft little whisper-voice. "Pet my kitty." And she lifts her outside thigh, inviting Adora in.

Adora's fingertips find Catra soaking wet, her fur slicked-down with it. She gives her labia a gentle, inquiring stroke, and Catra sucks in a breath through her teeth.

"Does it feel good, baby?" Adora asks, finding a stable place for that voice to rest, a confidence that she's in control, that she can hold Catra through this. She always finds that when she really needs to. "You like it when Mama pets you here?"

Catra lets out a high, shaky sound as Adora strokes her softly, rhythmically.

"Uh-huh, I like it! Do it more, Mama? Please? Pretty please?"

It makes Adora's head spin a little—Catra never says please. "Of course," she answers, steady and sure. "Anything for you, baby girl. Just tell Mama what you need."

"Pet my kitty," Catra begs, the edge of a breathless laugh threaded through earnest desperation. She's not being as quiet anymore, and more of her grown-up voice is audible under the little-girl whisper, hoarse and urgent. "Please pet my kitty, Mama, pretty please..."

"Like this?" Adora asks, husky amusement in her voice as she puts a little more pressure on, sliding her fingertips slowly up and down Catra's slick wetness.

A sharp gasp as Catra thrusts her hips forward, rubbing against Adora's touch, trying to bring her fingers in contact with her clit. "You're teasing me, Mama!" she objects, a little pouty— still playful, but maybe with an undercurrent of nervousness. Adora senses she might be skirting somewhere dangerous; right now, Catra needs to get her way.

"Aw, it's okay, baby, Mama won't tease anymore," she tells her soothingly, and moves up to pass the heel of her hand firmly over Catra's clit.

Catra arches hard, her head back, her feet bracing against Adora's shins, and lets out a whimpering moan. It makes Adora want her desperately, but she holds herself together, keeping steady.

"Is this what you need, baby?" Adora murmurs, finding that spot, her fingertips rubbing firmly over Catra's clit again and again as her hand flexes, making circles. "Just like this?"

"Uh-huh," Catra pants. "Like that, Mama..."

For a second they move counter to each other and Adora has to slow down, Catra has to catch up, and then they hit the rhythm. Not too fast or too slow, just the way they need it—Catra's hips humping under Adora's firmly rubbing hand, the curve of her ass rocking back and forth in her lap.

"That's right, that's my good girl," Adora breathes. Her own clit is aching with need, but she's focused on Catra now, focused on being Mama for her—and wildly aroused by that. By Catra's reactions, and even by her own words as they tumble from her lips. "Mama's always gonna make it feel good for you, baby, just like this..."

Adora can feel the rising heat of Catra's body against hers, can smell the scent of her wetness. Catra whimpers and claws at the sheets in front of her as they move together, swallowing over hitching breaths that are almost sobs.

"Please— Please, Mama! Don't stop—"

Adora's forearm is starting to ache faintly, but it doesn't matter; she keeps rubbing, keeps talking. Almost babbling now as she feels Catra's muscles tensing, hears her cries roughen and rise. Adora lets it all out, everything that's in her head, everything that's in her heart, her voice thick with fierce emotion.

"Oh, baby girl, Mama's not gonna stop. Mama's gonna stay right here and give you everything you want, everything you need... Sweet baby, my beautiful little girl, Mama's gonna keep you forever, keep you so, so safe—"

Catra's wet thighs clutch hard around Adora's wrist, she arches, freezes, and a growl breaks into a wail as she comes in Adora's hand. And Adora holds her tight, presses their bodies together, feeling the orgasm almost as if it's her own. Keeps murmuring sweet words to her little girl as she feels all the pleasure she deserves to feel, all the joy, all the love.

As Catra gradually comes down, relaxes by degrees, her breath slowing and easing, Adora rests her forehead in between her shoulderblades.

"It's okay," Adora whispers, curled around her and still cradling her sex in her hand. "Mama's here."

Catra raises her wrist briefly to her eye, and in the close quiet of their bed, Adora thinks she might hear a tiny sniffle. But she doesn't say anything. Just holds her. Just stays.

They lie like that for long minutes. Adora feels the rhythm of Catra's breathing, becomes aware of the sound of the night air in the trees outside, the light of the full moon creeping up their bodies. She's surprised at the sensation of coming to herself, returning from an altered state. Like when she's been She-Ra for long hours and finally stops. That curious, dizzy uncertainty as she reacquaints herself with her own, ordinary strength. Her own size.

It occurs to her, belatedly, that maybe what they just did was weird, and maybe she should feel weird about it, or about herself. But right now, holding Catra and feeling how relaxed she is, how easy and secure, Adora isn't really convinced that she needs to question it.

After a while, Catra stirs, opens her thighs, and lets Adora's hand loose. Their skin sticks together a little when they pull apart, making Catra jerk and let out a short hiss. No big deal, though. When Catra leans back, rolls halfway over in Adora's arms so that their eyes meet, she's wearing a sleepy, crooked half-smile. Her voice comes out a little creaky as she asks:

"You okay?"

Adora blinks, startled. "Me?"

"Yeah," Catra says. A gentle nudge of her elbow in Adora's stomach. "You."

It's not what Adora expects, and it takes her a second to adjust to the question. To bring herself into focus. Is she okay? Maybe, once, she wouldn't have been. She might have picked up the whole of the responsibility for Catra and carried it with her everywhere, unable to set it down. But this is different. With this, she can wear that duty like a costume—wear it when she wants to, when Catra wants to see her in it, and take it off again when they're done.

"Yeah," Adora says, meaning it. "I'm okay." She hesitates, finding herself looking at Catra almost shyly, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "It... means a lot to me that you asked that."

Catra huffs a laugh, rolls her eyes. "Quit bein' a goof," she says, but even in the silvery moonlight Adora can tell that she's blushing too. And after a second, with a soft note of seriousness in her voice that Adora never used to think could be there, she adds: "I'm okay, too," and then leans in for a kiss.