Poppy started her Period but Branch doesn't mind one bit.
It's not like Poppy expected to be turned down when she paused the terrible film Branch brought over and climbed into his lap, but it still makes her feel kind of giddy when Branch rakes his hands through her hair, rocks his hips up and kisses her back. The reality is definitely measuring up to the fantasies she'd found herself entertaining, sitting unnecessarily close to him as she had been on her ginormous sofa.
"This all right?" Branch asks, unbuttoning her dress. The Pop Queen thinks about telling him she could've wriggled out of it after the first few buttons, but the light, careful brush of his fingers feels far better than it has any right to.
She fastens her mouth to the side of his neck instead, scraping her teeth over the skin. Branch moans, and Poppy didn't think she liked guys being vocal but she bites down again, harder, and the noises Poppy earns make arousal pulse right through her.
"Hey, you trying to give me a hickey?" Branch pushes half-heartedly at her chest. "I don't bruise easily, y'know."
Poppy's never one to turn down a challenge, but Branch pulls his shirt over his head before she can lunge at him again, which is just cheating, because then she's too distracted by his abs to do anything but stare. And grind her hips into his thigh, gripping the muscle of his upper arms to steady herself, of course. Branch's hand slipped into her knickers, and it's not that his shorts had felt bad sliding against her, but rocking against his knuckles, one thick finger moving inside her, is even better.
"I'm so wet," Poppy murmurs, right in his ear. She assumed that other guy ready to get laid with any girl seemed to be really into that, but not Branch. He frowns.
"No you're not," he says, pulling his fingers free. "You're bleeding."
"Oh Frosting" she hisses, stilling her hips, because he's right. Branch's hand is stained red, which means her dress and knickers probably are too. "That's not fair, it's a whole week early."
The teal troll doesn't push her off him, or make a disgusted face, or even try and wipe his fingers off on something. He just laughs. "Do you always swear more when you're on your period? Because I have to say I approve."
"I wanted to fuck," Poppy says, plaintive, which only makes Branch laugh again. No troll never laugh at anything Poppy says. It's incredibly irritating, as is the way it makes her chest feel all weird and fluttery.
"What," Branch says, "never had menstrucourse?"
The Pop Queen makes a face. "Gross," she says, and Branch says, "It's just blood and dead uterus," and Poppy makes another face.
Branch kisses her nose. "Of course, if you're not comfortable-"
Poppy yanks his face down so they're kissing properly. "I'm comfortable," she growls, shoving at his chest until his head hits the arm of the sofa. "Are you?"
The teal troll looks up at her, his eyes wide, his jaw slack. "Oh yeah," he says. "It'd be less messy if I were on top, but I really have no objection to you bleeding all over me."
Part of Poppy is thinking that she can already feel blood trickling down her thigh, probably dripping onto Branch's chest because of the way she's straddling him, and she should really put a tampon in and change her knickers and maybe shower, too, not necessarily in that order. A far larger part, though, wants to hold Branch down and fuck him until her - beige crocodile leather, cost a small fortune - sofa looks like a battlefield.
"Good," she says, and starts to undo his belt.
After, she'll collapse on top of him, barely mindful of the red lines smeared across his belly, red lines that she put there with every needy thrust of her hips. Thinking about it'll be enough to send aftershocks jittering through her legs, and Poppy will sigh and Branch will glance over with this smile on his face which can only be described as fond.
"Whatever," the pink troll say, rolling her eyes, "are you going to carry me to the bathroom so we can fuck in the shower or what?"
