Poppy took care of Branch, now Branch takes care of him.
Poppy was in his bed. Poppy was in his bed, drowsy and content in the afterglow of the orgasm he’d just coaxed from her. The spice of Poppy's arousal still clung to his fingers and lingered on his tongue. Poppy's voice, frantic and heated, pleading for him not to stop, echoed in his ears.
It had to be a hoax. Some sort of dream. An odd reaction to his First Class boosters.
As Branch stood under the shower spray, the images of their recent activity constantly replayed in Poppy's mind. The feel of her curvy form spooned into his. The sweet way she welcomed his touch, and the feel of her honeyed core clenching around his fingers. The bite of her nails where Poppy clung so tightly to his shoulder and wrist.
Soap-slick fingers curled around his cock, stroking in time to the rhythm of her hips when she’d writhed in his arms. The Pop Queen has been as helpless in her need as Branch was in his, and all the more beautiful for it. So shy when she touched herself in response to his urging, so abandoned when she came undone at his hand.
And surprised. Utterly unprepared for how much better it could be. How much better it would always be with him. This time Branch hadn’t bothered to tease or linger, hadn’t attempted to draw it out. The teal troll had been too eager to give her what her body craved. But next time, next time he planned to linger.
Ifrit, the wicked things Branch wanted to do to her. With Poppy. Branch wanted to feel Poppy come against his tongue, her hands fisted in his hair. Wanted to teach her how to use her mouth and hands on him in turn. Wanted to experiment with every position under the sun, until Branch learned what Poppy liked best, what made her come the hardest. His grip tightened as he imagined the grasping touch was her body in the throes of release. Imagined lasting through it, the motion of his hips never slowing as Branch worked to catapult the pop queen into a second and maybe a third.
Someday, Branch will spend an entire morning letting Poppy ride herself into exhaustion before taking his own pleasure.
Swallowing a moan, Branch braced his left arm against the wall of the shower, leaning into it as his right continued its steady motion. Not too fast. Let it build slowly. The slower the climb the bigger the high, and all the better to sate himself.
As if he could ever sate himself when it came to Poppy. Years hadn’t done it. Distance hadn’t done it. There was no chilling his ardor. Remembering the way Poppy hungered for him in her sleep, Branch thought maybe that was mutual.
It was almost enough to finish him. Almost.
Adding a twist to his wrist, Branch pumped his length a half dozen times before he reached his limit. Biting his lip against the urge to groan, he came in heavy, drugging spurts.
