Sunlight drips through their curtains and onto the linen sheets of their bed. Branch groans at the way it hits his eyes, turning away from the window and towards her. The teal troll burrows his face into the area between her shoulder and the pillow Poppy lays on, wrapping an arm around her bare waist to pull her closer.
The Pop Queen hums at his touch. "Is it really morning already?" Poppy asks, sleep still evident in the lilt of her voice. She brings one of her hands down to his that lays against her skin, placing her fingers in the empty spaces between his.
"No," Branch replies, the sound of his voice muffled by her flesh, "not if we fall back asleep."
Laughter pulls her away from him, shifting her further towards the edge of the bed. Branch feels as Poppy shakes her head, and then shifts, forcing his hand further down to her hips as The Pop Queen sits up, casting her legs over the side of their bed.
"C'mon, Branch," Poppy says, "We should get going." Branch feels her weight shift as she stretches, hears her joints pop as she moves. The teal troll turns his head so he can see her fully, and catches a sight of none other than perfection.
Her bare back lays in front of him, her arms stretched high over her head as Poppy stretches. The sun casts a golden glow onto her, highlighting the highs and casting shadows over the divots in her torso.
His breath is no longer his own. It stutters as it escapes him, his hands no longer calm and steady. Branch can hardly comprehend the way Poppy moves, the way the muscles in her back give to her demands so easily.
Branch supposes he can hardly blame them. He, too, follows her beck and call. He, too, follows her movements with ease and gives way to her without ever having a thought.
The Pop Queen pulls her hair up and away from her neck, forming it into a bun held only by her delicate fingers. Her neck tilts to let the wind of their ceiling fan catch it, creating soft chills that travel down her spine.
Branch almost envies the way the chills get to live under her skin—the way they get to move with her and be a part of her without even knowing. Yet, Branch does not envy them for not knowing their own presence.
At the thought of them, the teal troll drags his hand up from her hip, and with the light touch of his middle finger, follows the shadows in the valley of her spine, feeling the way those chills raise under the wake of his touch. Poppy's back arches beneath him and her head falls to the side, a sigh escaping her nose.
"Branch," The Pop Queen warns, her voice more like a melody than an actual wish for caution. Still, Poppy leans into his touch, melting into his fingers. The teal troll hums, still too entrenched by sleep for his words to be fully formed when he speaks.
"Yes?" Branch replies, voice low and gravelly with the memory of nightfall. Poppy doesn't respond to him, only intakes a contented breath as his fingers travel back up her spine and onto her shoulders. His touch traces patterns between her freckles that lay there, figure-eights and randomly formed, languid shapes becoming nothing more than muscle memory for him.
When another breath escapes her and Poppy releases her hair from her fingers as his touch falls down from her shoulder onto her upper arm, Branch takes the invitation to sit up. He wraps one arm around Poppy's waist, the other lightly tangling his fingers in her hair, moving it off of her neck.
The teal troll presses his lips just behind her ear, and her head falls further onto her opposite shoulder. One of her hands falls to grasp his forearm that lays at her waist, allowing him to continue to trace shaky patterns into her stomach.
"You're shaking," The Pop Queen states, running her hand up his arm to feel as his fingers move unsteadily against hers. "Are you nervous?"
"No," Branch lies, "Only excited to bring you back to bed." Poppy laughs and her head bows, moving away from his lips, but she's quick to sit back up again.
At that, Branch leans further into her, kissing behind her ear again, and then below it. The teal troll moves around her until he's kissing the back of her jaw. Poppy leans into his lips as he moves, and he can hardly hold back the smile that begins to form on them.
"I think it's working," The teal troll hums. Poppy groans at him, shaking her head.
"You're awfully playful this morning," Poppy replies, but she doesn't move away from him. Instead, her hand moves to allow him more freedom against her waist. Branch presses the pads of his fingers lightly into her hips, feeling as more chills rise against her pink skin.
"Playful's a word for it." Branch's lips press to her jaw as Poppy scoffs at him, her lips barely parting as the breath escapes her.
"Perhaps bold is a better choice of words, then," The Pop Queen replies. Now Branch laughs, his head falling onto her shoulder and burying into the crook of her neck. The hand that's holding her hair off of her neck travels down to her waist to mirror the other, now both hands pressing into her hips.
"We have work to do," The Pop Queen offers as another warning, but it's weak as her head leans on top of his, one of her hands coming up to tangle into his hair.
"Is there any work that can't wait only a while longer?" Branch asks. The teal troll melts into the hand that plays with his hair, letting out uneven breaths beneath her fingertips.