Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You have reached your destination!

“Like hell!”

How.

The fuck.

Did this happen?!

Just be on the lookout for a few scattered flurries, folks! That’s what the oddly cheerful meteorologist had said. I’m sorry to say the most we can expect for Christmas Eve is a light dusting of snow; perhaps an inch at best. Keep those caps and sweaters at the ready, though, and keep your fingers crossed for a Christmas miracle!

“Miracle indeed,” Rey snarks to no one in particular. She’s alone, after all, maybe the most alone she’s ever been in her twenty-five years. With a dead phone, decrepit GPS, and what she’s recently inferred is a snow-bound vehicle, she’s certainly well on her way to roughing it off-grid.

Fuck. Her. Luck.

Fuck this Giant Piece of Shit that Teedo told her had been refurbished and updated. Fuck the meteorologist who’d predicted an inch at best, but hope for a miracle! Fuck her bald tires, fuck her dead phone, fuck her Scrooge-of-a-boss, Plutt, and fuck her absolutely, positively, infuriatingly wretched luck!

She beats her fist against the sun-bleached steering wheel, determinedly fighting back tears. This is a gods-damned nightmare. One day, just one day of vacation was all she’d asked for and all she’d been (reluctantly) given: the quietest day of the year at the junkyard, Christmas Day.

Of course, as anyone who’s worked for Unkar Plutt could testify, any crumb of generosity qualifies as an outright miracle. These parts don’t scavenge themselves, is his oft-used, back-handed threat delivered through a grimy scowl to any one brave enough (read: desperate enough), to beg off for any reason. It’s what he’d grumbled to Rey mere weeks ago, even as she’d all but sold her soul to him, promising to triple her scrap and fabricating quotas in the meantime.

Try as she might, she can’t shake the image of his big, bulbous eyes as they’d watched her from behind his giant desk. Sweat had gathered behind her knees, slicked her forehead, and all but dripped from her palms as he’d chewed over her offer. An entire lifetime seemed to pass in the span of his cantankerous musing.

Then—finally, wonderfully, blessedly—he’d agreed; so long as she held up her end of the bargain, of course. With as unaffected a nod as possible (Plutt prefers an impersonal approach to interfacing, after all), she’d excused herself and all but bolted to the tool box-turned-safe she used to store her few belongings.

Naturally, calling Rose Tico had been her first post-miracle priority.

This is amazing! her dearest friend had gushed, no doubt bouncing in place the same as Rey had been. I’ll invite everyone: Paige, Finn, Poe, Hux, Jess, Kay, Phas….

Rey smiles as she remembers the overwhelming joy suffusing that conversation. To think she’d finally be seeing her college friends again, Rose most of all—

You have reached your destination!

A snarl rips from her throat. “Oh yeah, you fucking windbag? Exactly where the fuck am I?!”

Rey wrenches the infuriating device from its mount on her dashboard. It’s an exhausting 400 miles of interstate that separates her from Rose—a six-and-a-half hour drive from Niima, Kentucky, to Haysville, Pennsylvania—and yet Teedo’s shite GPS has been leading her on an hours-long wild goose chase for less than half of the total distance.

Honestly, why did she think he would ever try to do her a favor?

Rey squints at the pixelated screen. The nearest town name she sees is Danville, but it’s still several miles ahead of her. In fact, the majority of civilization seems to be centered around Danville—an observation supported by the fact that, upon a visual sweep of her surroundings, Rey finds a single building nearby.

Lovely.

“Oh, duh! How did I not recognize this place, Giant Piece of Shit? This is obviously the town just south of Danville, West Virginia: Bumfuck!”

It takes every last bit of self control not to toss the inane device out the window. Not like it would do much good anyway; the snow is now deep enough to cushion its fall.

Maker, give her strength. Exactly how she’ll figure a way out of this mess before her vacation ends, she has no idea.

So much for finally seeing Rosie….

She should’ve asked for a half day today. The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon by the time she’d finished her day’s work, and now it’s nearing midnight on Christmas Eve. Not only is she completely lost, but as her tires continue to spin, Rey accepts that she’s really and truly stuck in the snow.

Motherfucker!

A harsh jangling fills the air as she all but rips her keys from the ignition and takes a deep breath.

Then another.

Right. She can either sit here and freeze her ass off all night, or she can try to find help. Her elderly smartphone had died about an hour into the journey, and as luck would have it, her car charger has also mysteriously disappeared.

Fucking Teedo….

A sudden flicker of light in her periphery steals her attention. It’s that old building again, the one that looks like a half-abandoned business or something. A darkened sign mounted on the road-facing side of the building glints in the waning light of a lone, ancient streetlight, but she can’t quite make out what it says from this distance.

“D… Dunk… Tank? Duck… Tape…?” Rey snorts at her guesses, but a humorous name isn’t enough to bolster her spirits right now; she’s got to leave the residual warmth of her trapped car if she wants to get help. No, there’s nothing for it—nothing but the sudden appearance of light from within an upstairs window.

Thank the Maker. At least now she won’t have to break-and-enter on Christmas Eve. (Even she—a self-serving street rat—has standards, after all).

“Well, Kanata,” Rey mutters under her breath. She zips her jacket and adjusts her scarf, praying it will be enough. ”It’s now or never.”

She can do this. She talks with strangers every day at Plutt’s junkyard, does she not? Albeit she’s the one assisting them, but that’s beside the point.

The point is, Rey feels physically ill at the thought of being beholden unto anyone. Whether it be a complete stranger or a dear friend—it’s irrelevant. Eventually, people expect recompense, and if her early years on the streets taught her anything….

No. She can’t go there. Not right now.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Rey pops open the door of her snow-bound car and steps out into the freezing December evening.

“Maker—!” she gasps into the howling wind. The ice-cold air slices through her cheap polyester jacket with ease and whips her scarf’s tassels into her eyes. Fuck, she’s got to get out of this shit!

Shoving her hands into their inadequate pockets, Rey slogs her way across the empty highway and up to the business’ parking lot (or what she assumes must be the parking lot when it’s not buried under two feet of snow). She’s hardly taken a couple dozen steps, and already, her toes have gone completely numb in her rubber rain boots. To say she had sorely underprepared for this eventuality would be an understatement, but as she glances once more to the single illuminated window overhead, she prays whoever’s inside will prove to be that one miraculous, benevolent stranger who doesn’t expect immediate, violent compensation for assistance rendered.

They’re her only hope now, as fate would have it.

Several slow, bitterly cold steps later, and she’s on the front porch of the quaint little structure. As the planks creak under foot, she wonders if the occupants are already alerted to her presence. Will they rush down to confront her? Will they quickly douse the light and hide, praying she eventually goes away?

Whatever their reaction, Rey has only one option left to her now.

Raising a trembling hand to the door, she draws a shaky breath and knocks.

Please be kind, please give me shelter, please let me in—!

Seconds pass, carried swiftly away by the howling wind.

Then a minute.

Then five.

Rey’s shivering evolves into full-on convulsions.

Fuck. Maybe they just didn’t hear her?

She knocks again, louder this time.

The sound of her fist repeatedly banging against the wooden door echoes profoundly throughout the silent, frosty evening, and Rey’s sure they had to hear her this time. Hell, she’d be surprised if someone all the way over in Danville hadn’t heard her just now.

“Hello?!” she calls out after several more minutes of frigid, windy silence. With each gulp of ice cold air, a bit more of her resolve evaporates. “P-please! I-I n-need h-help….”

Slowly, defeatedly, Rey sinks to her bottom against the porch railing. She’s suddenly very tired, and for better or worse, the cold pervading her senses has eased into a general numbness, lulling her to rest, if only for a moment.

Maker, I’ll do anything, anything to get out of this fucking nightmare….

Suddenly—

—a flicker of movement behind the curtained window—

—thud, thud, thud, thud, thud—

—a muffled curse, a sharp bang—

—and then—

—shift, clank, pop—

The door flies open with enough force to draw a few loose hairs across her face, but Rey’s so numb she can’t even feel them. Her eyes slip closed even as she senses someone approaching.

“Uhhh—miss? Hey, can you hear me?”

Just let me sleep, she wants to tell them. Can’t they see how tired she is? I’m comfortable now. Just let me sleep….

“’Fraid I can’t do that, miss.” Ugh, but why not? “Come on. Let’s get ya inside.”

It’s an odd sensation, being carried. Rey has no recollection whatsoever of being held in another person’s arms, not even in her earliest memories. To her surprise, she finds it oddly soothing, especially considering how warm her perfect stranger is. Are all people really this warm? Is this person part space heater?

Though her eyes refuse to open, Rey senses the vastness of a large room as she’s carried into the building. Her rescuer’s footsteps echo a bit as they make their way across the room, and then they’re suddenly treading a flight of stairs.

Fuck…! What has she gotten herself into?!

Moments later, and with all the gentleness of a parent tending a child, the stranger is lowering her to—a couch? For the first time since she’d felt the draft of the front door, Rey finally gets her eyes open, determined to assess her situation and, for better or worse, give her would-be savior a once-over.

“Oh….”

Toffee. Yes, that’s the best way to describe the color of his eyes. Set as they are beneath a brooding brow line, Rey decides he could compete with The Thinker himself—and probably win. Combined with a long, sharp nose and jawline, a pale complexion peppered with an endearing constellation of beauty marks, a neatly-trimmed goatee, and dark, shoulder-length waves, Rey’s weary mind can’t comprehend a reality in which this man, this fucking Disney prince of West Virginia, is her saving grace.

Exactly what sort of alternate reality has she fallen into? One in which beautiful men occupy old buildings, just waiting for damsels in distress to knock on their doors?

Whatever the case may be, human popsicle Rey decides she’ll take it, even if it means she has to turn in her feminist card. Truthfully, watching Mr. Tall, Dark, and Muscular move around the space before her lessens the sting considerably, especially once she realizes what he’s doing.

“We’ve got central heat in the bar now; just installed it a couple summers ago, in fact.” Rey swallows hard as she watches him palm half a log and wedge it into the old wood stove in front of the couch. “’Fore that, we relied on this ole thing. Works just as well—better even—but it takes a bit more work. An’ right now, you need a bit more firepower than the HVAC can dish out.”

As she listens to him ramble, Rey feels her numbness begin to give way. His voice is low, slow and steady like a big river winding through a valley, and it lends a certain amount of calm to her frayed nerves.

In fact, it’s almost like he’s talking to himself, like he’s leading his mind through the process even though he obviously knows what he’s doing. Within minutes, fledgling flames lick up the sides of the logs neatly piled inside the stove, the reward for his careful tending, and Rey fidgets a bit in her seat. Why does she feel flustered just from watching a man build a fire?!

Perhaps that’s a question best left for another time.

Before she can so much as gasp, he’s at her side once more, his enormous frame filling her entire field of vision. She risks a glance upward—

Only to find him staring at her. Intently.

Rey gulps. Should she say something? Look away? Make a run for it?

Suddenly, he’s reaching for her, and then it’s too late. Rey freezes like a deer in headlights, equal parts terrified and mesmerized. Her street smarts escape her, words fail, and the world as she knows it constricts to the shape of his hand as it hones in on her face—

“Here, you should wrap up in this.”

Rey blinks. What just happened?

One moment, she’d been convinced she was facing down her imminent demise, and in the next, her handsome stranger is offering her—

“A blanket…. T-thanks.”

She’s gifted a small smile as she reaches a wobbly hand to accept the thick, woolen throw, but when she has trouble tucking it in around her (fucking shivering! stupid numb fingers!), her good samaritan springs into action once more.

“May I?” he asks quietly, gesturing near her thigh. Rey draws a shaky breath. Oh, Maker. Nod, Rey. Remember how to nod? Yep, there you go. Chin up, chin down, chin up, chin down….

If he notices anything off about her bizarre body language, he doesn’t mention it. His right hand slides against her trembling thigh without fanfare, deftly tucking the plaid fabric beneath her leg in one swift motion. He silently continues up between her back and the sofa, then her shoulder, and Rey has to bite her tongue to keep from making any number of embarrassing noises.

Honestly, even she’s horrified by her lack of self-control.

None the wiser, her blessed caregiver continues tucking until he’s satisfied with the coverage on her left side, then moves to mirror his work on her right.

Rey busies herself with counting backwards from one hundred as the process begins anew. If she’d known this awaited her once she swallowed her pride and asked for help, she would’ve done it yesterday. His hand is warm and gentle as it works its way along her person, but it’s not until he reaches her second shoulder that she notices something… odd.

“There. That should help warm ya up a bit quicker,” declares her mild-mannered hero, a downright adorable flush tinting his cheeks. As he straightens to his full height, Rey forces herself to look him in the eye. “You need to drink something hot, too. It’ll warm ya up from the inside, make sure ya don’t go hypothermic.” I can certainly think of a way to warm me up from the inside…. “I’ve got coffee, hot chocolate, cider, tea…?”

Maker, he’s so fucking innocent. Rey fails to stifle a blush of her own as she pretends to consider her options (as if she would ever pick anything else).

“Cocoa sounds lovely, actually.”

Oh, now he’s really smiling. A full, toothy grin that makes her want to do anything and everything in her power to see it again.

“I was hopin’ you’d say that. It’s my favorite.”

“So you’re ridiculously kind and have great taste in hot drinks?” she asks, feigning total awe. “I’m glad I chose to be stranded here of all places.”

He laughs, actually laughs, and her heart soars at the sound. “I gotta say, I didn’t peg ya for one of those highway robbers, miss…?”

God, his mouth looks so soft…. “Shit, sorry—I mean, I’m Rey—Kanata. I’m actually on my way to Haysville for the holidays to see my best friend….”

A frigid wave of dread washes over her. Dammit! She still needs to call Rose!

“Actually, I—I have an even bigger favor to ask of you, mister…?”

Too soon for her liking, his quiet demeanor returns, erasing the mirth she’d only just gotten a taste of. “I’m Clyde Logan, Miss Rey, but please call me Clyde. I’d wager you need to call your friend and let ‘em know you’re safe but stranded?”

Rey nods, far too concerned about Rose to get distracted again. Please, please don’t let her be freaking out….

Returning her nod with one far more composed, Clyde the Kindly Giant lopes away, and it’s not until he’s out of sight that she thinks of something else she wants to tell him.

“Oh, and C-Clyde?”

She cranes her neck just in time to see him pause and give her his undivided attention once more. Damn, does he stare at everyone so intensely?

Rey swallows. “T-thank you. For everything.”

There it is, that precious smirk. Already, it’s becoming an addicting sight, and Rey wonders how on earth she’ll be able to leave here without looking back. It’s not every day she meets someone so blatantly genuine, after all, nor so motherfucking handsome….

Maybe she’ll ask to be pen pals or something. That’d be innocent enough, right?

If Clyde replies to her thanks, she doesn’t hear a word of it over her feral inner monologue. On the contrary, she watches with rapt attention as he disappears through a little doorway across the room—the kitchen, she figures.

It’s then a little dark cloud drifts overhead, and Rey forces herself to turn back to her lovely fire. Not only does she not want to be caught staring, but she needs to think.

Right. First things first: how will she be able to make it to Rose’s in time?

Even if a wrecker were immediately available to assist her, Rey is well beyond exhausted. It’s got to be past midnight by now. Combined with a hectic workday and nearly freezing to death, she’s probably not fit to continue driving for tonight.

Rey sucks in a steadying breath. Okay. Fine. It’s not the end of the world; she’ll just impose on Clyde’s hospitality for tonight and be on her way first thing in the morning, right? Surely the roads will be cleared by then, and a wrecker will be able to get her back on the road lickety-split. Calling for roadside assistance on Christmas is certainly less than ideal, but unless Clyde can help her push her car out of the ditch, she doesn’t see any way around it.

Fuck my luck….

Rey draws another deep breath. It’s okay, coos her subconscious. If it weren’t you, it would be someone else calling for help. Don’t worry about it too much.

Right. These things happen, and it’s not like she won’t be paying them for their service. Who knows? Maybe they’ll appreciate the unanticipated income in spite of working on a holiday.

It’s the best she can hope for now.

At that moment, the sound of ceramic mugs clinking together from Clyde’s general direction brings her back to her earlier observation—about the man himself, no less. Admittedly, she feels kind of gross and childish for being so curious. It’s his business, after all; what gives her the right to think about or comment on it whatsoever? (Answer: nothing!)

Truthfully, she would be honored if he felt comfortable enough to share with her the story of how he lost his left arm. At the very least, she hopes it doesn’t hurt and that he isn’t embarrassed by it. Though she can’t begin to fathom what he’s endured as a result of its absence, she decides then and there not to be one of those morbidly curious people who feels entitled to ask questions. At the end of the day, they’re just passing strangers, after all.

(But, oh, how she hopes they won’t stay that way for long).

As if on cue, Clyde reappears from his trip to the kitchen with a plethora of snacks and drinks in tow, and Rey’s stomach growls.

Wow, Rey. Way to play it cool….

Clyde lifts an eyebrow at her as he deposits his hoard onto his coffee table. “Glad I grabbed the snacks while I was at it,” he says with a wink, and Maker-fucking-fuck—! “Here’s your hot chocolate, and here’s the phone. Oh, and make sure ya dial the area code or it won’t go through.”

Rey offers him a genuine grin in thanks as she accepts his gifts. The cocoa smells incredible, but she abstains from trying it for the moment; she’s got to call Rose.

Dialing her number from memory (thank fuck for that shitty old phone that wouldn’t save her contacts correctly), Rey presses the receiver to her ear and waits for her best friend to answer.

She doesn’t wait long; Rose picks up almost instantly.

“Hello?”

“Hi Rosie, it’s Rey—”

“OH THANK THE GODS! I’ve been trying to call you for the past hour, babe!” she says in a rush, hardly pausing for breath. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

Rey directs a sheepish look toward Clyde when his brows lift at Rose’s volume. “I’m still in West Virginia. Teedo’s stupid GPS tried to show me a shortcut, but I just wound up on a side-route through the mountains, and now my car’s stuck in the snow on the side of the highway—”

“What?!”

“Relax, Rosie. I’m fine; I actually got stuck right outside a little bar, and the owner was kind enough to invite me in and lend me his phone. He just made us some hot cocoa and brought snacks and—”

“Gods, Rey…” Rose sighs, obviously fretting. “Please be careful. I’m glad he’s being kind, but just… stay on alert, okay babe? What’s his name and the name of his establishment in case I need to call for a welfare check?”

Rey’s heart warms at the concern in her dearest friend’s voice. “His name is Clyde Logan, and I think the name of the bar is—”

“Duck Tape,” inserts his low timbre from beside her. Now it’s her turn to jump; Clyde blushes once he realizes he’s startled her. “Sorry for interruptin’, but I wasn’t sure if ya saw the sign before ya came in is all.”

Rey mouths ‘thanks’ through a small smile, then quickly relays the info to Rose.

“It’s called Duck Tape. D-U-C-K-T-A-P-E.”

“Okay, I’ll definitely be googling that to see what I can find out. Please, please be careful, Rey. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Rosie. Thank you for looking out for me. And-and I’m so sorry—about tonight,” she adds, her voice faltering to a broken whisper. Her heart feels a hundred pounds heavier as it sinks low in her chest. Depending on how soon she can get her car out of the snow, she may not be seeing her very best friend anytime soon, or at all.

Across the line, Rose makes a sound of dismissal.

“Babe, your boss is an asshole and the weather sucks; neither of those things are your fault. I’ll see you soon, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Rey gasps, trying (and failing), to hide her scandalized expression. “Rose!”

“Ha! I knew he was hot. Anyway, I stand by what I said. Be safe!”

Too soon, the line goes dead, and Rey’s left flushed and flustered as she turns to face her unassuming savior once more.

“So, uh, thank you for-for this,” she mumbles awkwardly, returning the phone to his waiting hand. “She was surprisingly cool with it. Just warned me to beware of rogue bartenders; apparently they’re considered a nuisance in this area?”

Thank the Maker, her half-assed joke throws him for a loop. She’d rather take her chances with the snow than repeat anything Rose just said to her. To her endless delight, Clyde snorts quite adorably in the process of sipping his own mug and levels her with a look of faux concern.

“Well, she ain’t wrong. There’s a decent-size population, but I dare ya to take a sip of that hot chocolate and tell me ya’d rather spend your stay with anyone else.”

Oh…. Before she can prevent it, a scorching blush paints her cheeks, her neck, and lower still. Fuck. Way to be a gods-damned creep, Rey. Obviously he meant that being stranded with a bartender has its advantages, not himself exclusively. Get a fucking grip!

Seemingly none the wiser, Clyde just sits idly by as she reaches for her still-steaming mug and gives it a test sip.

A moan just barely gets caught in the back of her throat.

“Oh, wow…. Clyde, this is delicious.”

“Glad to hear it. It’s been a hot minute since I made any. My niece only ever wants the store-bought kind; she likes the little marshmallows.”

Damn, she could drink an entire gallon of this; it’s so good. “Have you thought of making it for her again? Maybe she’ll like it this time.”

“I hadn’t.” Clyde grins, looking between her and the fire. Rey focuses on literally anything other than the size of his hand compared to his mug; he makes it look like a child’s teacup and it’s doing things to her already-delusional brain. “She’s not one to settle for anything less than what she wants though. Sadie Bug’s a force to be reckoned with.”

Rey indulges another gulp of cocoa as Clyde launches into the tale of Sadie’s life: her young parents having her almost right out of high school; their short-lived partnership; Sadie’s various hobbies, all of them constantly changing. It’s obvious she and her Uncle Clyde are very close, partners in crime even, and the thought causes Rey’s heart to swell at least ten sizes over the course of his stories.

In turn, she tells him about her own upbringing in the foster system. How she’d been one of the lucky ones because she’d been adopted by her late mother, Maz, at a young age. How Maz had then made it her mission to give her as normal a childhood as possible, even sending her to summer camp a few times. She then tells him about working for Plutt and the shady business deals he’s so fond of making—especially at the expense of his employees. Clyde glares at the wood stove as she explains how tomorrow is her first approved vacation day after five years on the job, and how she’d had to work her ass off just to “earn” it. She gets the sense that he’d like to say something about Plutt, likely something scathing if the sour twist to his mouth is anything to go by.

Rey grins at his obvious attempt at tact, deciding to throw him a bone.

“Yep. To put it lightly, he’s a piece of shit.”

Immediately, Clyde relaxes his fist and drops his shoulders, but he still only nods his head in agreement. Rey feels vindicated regardless.

Sometime around their third cup of cocoa and second sleeve of Oreos, they lapse into companionable silence, only the crackling fire to be heard. Thanks to Clyde’s kindness, Rey can finally feel all of her extremities again (thank fuck), and it’s steadily getting more and more difficult to keep her eyes open. Across the room, an analog Miller High Life clock blinks its silent announcement of the three o’clock hour, and Rey yawns.

“Don’t think I’ve talked that much in a long time,” rumbles her steadfast companion. Resting on the arm of the small sofa, he props his head on his fist and joins her in watching the fire dance. “I’m used to bein’ everyone else’s listenin’ ear or shoulder to cry on, not the other way ’round.”

Rey hums. “Glad to be of service. Have you considered visiting another bar to enjoy the customer experience from time to time?”

“Nah. I ain’t one for talkin’ too much anyway. B’sides, I don’t trust anyone’s ability to pour drinks like I can.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that I suppose. You do make a mean hot cocoa, Mr. Logan.”

Rey yawns again, louder this time. In fact, so befuddled is she from her exhaustion, she doesn’t even realize she’s resting her head on Clyde’s shoulder until he nudges her arm.

“Hey, Rey? I’m gonna go get ya a pillow, okay? It’s time we turned in for the night; you’ve got a long drive ahead of ya tomorrow.”

Rey blinks heavily. What’s he saying? Drive? Oh yeah, she’s going to Rose’s tomorrow. Today. Whatever time it is.

Still, her sleep-addled brain doesn’t really want to cooperate. He’s so warm, doesn’t he know that? All she wants to do is stay like this, even if it’s the most she’s allowed to touch him before she has to leave. Some long-dormant, instinctual part of her brain is screeching all manner of nonsense at her, things pertaining to procreation and the process therein….

So big… so handsome… warm… strong….

Without warning, Clyde vanishes from her side.

As she drops to the couch beneath her, Rey sweeps the room, but doesn’t find him. What the fuck just happened? Was it all just a weird fever dream? How long has she been asleep?

Before she can worry for long, however, he appears from the hallway just beyond the wood stove, a pillow gripped in his human hand. Her heart does a weird leaping thing behind her ribs as he approaches, but something seems… off, somehow. He doesn’t look her in the eye as she thanks him, nor as he wishes her goodnight and turns back the way he came.

A door shuts quietly just a few moments later, but Rey can only stare after his long-gone figure and wonder: what on earth went wrong?

Chapter Text

For the next hour, Rey sleeps in fits and spurts. The fire soon dwindles to dampened embers, and despite Clyde’s mention of central heat, she’s certainly having trouble feeling it. Even fully clothed down to her socks, her toes just can’t seem to get warm, and she’d given up on trying to warm her nose ages ago.

In a last-ditch effort, she snuggles the front of her body as far into the back of the sofa as possible. It’s not a perfect solution, and she’s still fairly cold, but it’s enough to stave off the worst of the chill. After cinching the blanket tight against her back, Rey shuts her eyes and decides to try counting sheep—

Until she hears footsteps.

Shit…. Did she wake Clyde with all her tossing and turning? She hadn’t considered how loud she might’ve been as she was trying to get comfortable. He’s probably coming to ask her what her problem is, or in true Clyde fashion, bring her ten more blankets and a gallon of cocoa—

To her complete shock (or perhaps delight is a better word), he does what she least expects.

Before she can even register what’s happening, the couch cushions dip with the weight of an additional person, and Rey nearly yelps. Of course he doesn’t touch her, but he doesn’t have to; his mere presence implies warmth, not to mention the way she feels instantly overheated at his sudden proximity.

Still, she can’t help but wonder how he even found room to fit on the couch with her already taking up fifty percent of it. Terrified as she is to open her mouth and potentially ruin the moment, her curiosity wins out.

“C…Clyde?”

“Yeah, Rey? You okay?”

How can you ask me that when you’re laying right there?! “I-I’m fine. Just kind of cold. Are you?”

His shoulders rise and fall with a breath. “Yeah. Power’s out and it was gettin’ kinda chilly back there. Figured you’d be gettin’ cold in here, too.”

“Shit, I hadn’t even realized…” she breathes, glancing at the hilariously-bachelor beer clock she’d noticed earlier. Sure enough, its bright red numbers are dark, and she can’t help but feel as though time itself has somehow stopped along with it. “Are, umm, are you… comfortable?”

Clyde hums. “Me? Yeah, I can sleep about anywhere, don’t you worry.”

“But… your legs aren’t even entirely on the couch. Are you comfortable, really?”

A long pause precedes his defeated sigh. “Not particularly.”

“That’s what I thought,” she replies, pulling herself up to a sit between Clyde and the back cushions. Of course he’d laid down with his back to her, the gentleman. Rey nearly laughs at his determination; if only he knew half of the depraved things she’s thought about him in the past few hours.

Put a sock in it, Rey! Get warm first, seduce him later!

Right. It’ll be kind of hard to potentially fuck him if they’re both frozen solid by morning.

Rey sighs, giving in to her determination. “How many blankets and pillows do you have?”

❄️

For the next few minutes, Clyde focuses on rekindling the fire while Rey cleans out his linen closet. Luckily, there's already a decently sized rug spread in front of the wood stove, and once she piles it high with every blanket and pillow she can find, it quickly transforms into a cozy little pallet fit for two.

They’ll need to be close enough to share body heat, after all.

Clyde also fetches her a thick pair of sweats and a hoodie, and though they swallow her and her own clothing entirely, she certainly appreciates their warmth as she moves about his rapidly-cooling home.

“There. See what you think.”

Before long, she’s nudging the last pillow into place, and she then motions for Clyde to try out her makeshift nest. He moves wordlessly to lay on his back at the far edge, leaving her more than enough space to cozy up by the fire. Rey bites her tongue to keep her exasperation to herself. If that’s where he wants to lay….

“Certainly the most comfortable a floor has ever felt,” he says after a bit of shifting, throwing her that crooked grin from earlier. She has to tear her gaze from him quickly or else risk becoming entranced by the way the firelight dances over his defined features.

“Good.”

Without further ado, she crawls in beside him, making sure to grab the quilts and comforter she’d set aside to cover them with. However, it’s not until she brings his corner of the blankets up to his chest that she notices his prosthetic arm is missing.

Duh, Rey. Why the fuck would he sleep in it? It’s probably not that comfortable even when he has to wear it.

“Right, well… goodnight then.”

Clyde yawns, blessedly unaware of her outrageous inner monologue. “Night, Rey.”

It’s more out of obstinacy than decorum when she lays with her back to him, determinedly watching the fire. It pops and crackles and dances away, seemingly without a care in the world. Rey wishes she could be so blissfully ignorant of herself right now, ignorant of social structures, standards, and unafraid of rejection.

Don’t get her wrong; she’s had her fair share of one-night-stands. With a demanding job and a distaste for emotional vulnerability, they’re about the only way she can work out partnered sexual frustration at this point in her life.

But now….

It shouldn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. She’s known this person for all of four hours, and suddenly she never wants to sleep beside anyone else ever again?

For all she knows, he already has a partner. He didn’t mention one, but why should he have to explain his life to a complete stranger?

Wholly unwelcome, tears spring from her eyes and roll to the pillow beneath her head, one that smells distinctly of his stupidly gorgeous hair. Fuck, why is she acting like this? Her period ended four days ago, but she feels as emotionally wrecked as she does the day it starts!

Rey dabs her traitorous eyes as carefully as she can. Gods, she hopes he’s already asleep, or at the very least, that he doesn’t notice her movement.

…But of course, she could never be so lucky.

“Rey?” rumbles a sleepy Clyde from just over her shoulder. She feels him shift until he’s on his side, hovering over her. “Hey, what’s wrong? I promise I’ll call Earl again first thing in the mornin’, and he’ll have your car back on the road before ya know it.”

Rey sniffles, just barely holding back a sob. If only that were her main worry. “Th-thanks.”

As she tries to hide her pitiful display, Clyde makes a sound of confusion. “That ain’t why you’re cryin’, is it?”

Now she really doesn’t trust her voice. How does he know? It takes all of her resolve to slowly lift her gaze up to his, to try and convey the depth of her conflict and her heartbreak—so much so that when she shakes her head, she worries it’s barely perceptible.

To this day, she can’t explain what happens in that breath of time. Frankly, it defies explanation.

Because Clyde knows. He knows. He admits it with a quiet gasp, and Rey shivers as a bolt of electricity travels the length of her spine.

Somehow, in the span of that glance, it’s as if they share a single, identical thought:

Don’t leave.

When Clyde reaches to rub his thumb beneath her eyes, it feels natural, like he’s done it a thousand times before. Rey’s heart soars at the intimate contact, but she does her best not to get her hopes up. He’s been kind from the moment they met; how can she be sure he’s not about to let her down easily right now?

“Rey….” A gentle finger tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll, uh, I mean… dammit, I-I don’t want you to leave tomorrow. Today. Whatever day it is.”

“I don’t want to either,” she readily admits, sniffling again. “I want to see Rose, but….”

Clyde smiles sadly. “I know. I sure don’t want ya to feel guilty about it, but I… just needed to tell ya that.”

Rey mirrors her endearing bedfellow’s dismal expression, wishing with all her heart that circumstances were different, that she didn’t have a shite boss, that she could somehow spend her one day off with Rose and Clyde….

Maybe she’s had some of the worst luck of anyone on planet earth lately, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t take what she can get while she can get it. What’s the point of being here, now, with the man her dreams could never have imagined if she doesn’t even try to make the most of it?

Rey draws a steadying breath. “Clyde?”

He looks up from twirling her hair between his fingers. “Hm?”

“Could you… um, never mind….”

“What is it? Tell me, please.”

Do it, Rey, just do it, you were so brave just five seconds ago—

“Could you just… hold me? If that’s okay—oh!”

No sooner has the request left her lips than does Clyde slip his arm around her waist. He deftly pulls her up against him until her head rests just under his chin, and his left arm tucks beneath her pillow to cradle her head. It all happens so fast that, by the time he’s done moving, Rey feels like she’s ran an entire marathon in a fraction of a second.

But Maker…. She’s never felt so comfortable being the little spoon.

“This okay?” he asks as he drops his own head next to hers. His breathing tickles the baby hairs long the nape of her neck with each exhale, and holy fuck, this is better than okay—

“Perfect, thanks,” she amends. “Goodnight, Clyde.”

The arm around her waist constricts ever so slightly.

“G’night, Rey.”

Finally, cradled in the only set of arms she’s felt at home in since the death of her mother, Rey sleeps more peacefully than she has in a long time.

❄️

When she wakes, the sun shines brightly through the eastern-facing windows, igniting thousands of tiny dust motes that slow dance through the chilled air. At her back, a solid wall of heat covers her from head to toe: her kindly bartender-slash-rescuer-slash-potential-soulmate snores softly just above the crown of her head, and she’s glad he’s still holding her tight; she feels lighter than air to be here at his side, to know that he feels the same.

As such, she wastes no time snuggling back into his embrace as much as she possibly can without disturbing him. First her head, tucked neatly beneath his scruffy chin, then her shoulders to his broad chest. Next, she presses her back to his stomach, her bum to his crotch, her legs to his—

Oh fuck—!

A sleepy growl erupts from the body melded to hers, and—oh shit!

“Rey…” Clyde rasps against the shell of her ear, seemingly still half asleep. Even if they’re on the same page now, she doesn’t think he’d be doing—what he’s currently doing!—so casually if he were fully aware of his actions—

A third time, his hips grind into her bum, and Maker help her, she’s got to stop him before he wakes up, but fuck, she knew he’d be huge—!

“C-Clyde—!” she squeaks as he moves again. Dammit, why couldn’t he be doing this while he’s awake?!

“Rey… darlin’….” Grunt. “So… perfect….”

Fuck! Not a pet name! This is going to be impossible!

“Cl-Clyde.”

Before she totally gives in to his half-conscious desires, Rey extricates herself from his iron-grip of an embrace and moves to hover over him, watching with rapt attention as he slowly comes-to. His good morning smile is downright precious.

“Mornin’,” he says with a stretch, pausing once he’s finished to run the tips of his fingers over her cheek. His smile abruptly falls. “Why are your cheeks so red? Are you feelin’ okay?”

Rey just barely holds back a snort, but her grin is another story. “Oh I feel fine, but I’m worried about you.”

“Me? What for?”

Be brave, Rey, just be brave, the worst he can say is no—

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Rey runs her left hand up over his thin pajama pants and doesn’t stop until she’s just beneath his hard-on.

That fast, Clyde transforms from sleepy, warm, and contented, to something akin to feral.

“Fuuuuuuck—!”

“Do you want me to stop?” she asks, suddenly nervous when he reaches to manacle her wrist in his hand. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—”

“Noooo, no, no, no, no, no,” Clyde quickly interrupts. He also releases her wrist, seemingly unaware that he’d even grabbed it in the first place. He’s still panting as if he’s just finished a cardio workout, though. “I mean—fuck— I’m sorry—for cursin’…. Just was-wasn’t expectin’—that.”

Rey’s cheeks burn all over again. “Well, about that…. You were kind of humping me in your sleep just now—which I’m not mad about!” she adds when he makes a horrified expression. “I’m not mad at all. I just wanted you to be aware of what we might or might not do when we… do or don’t do it.”

Below her, Clyde’s throat bobs nervously. Rey tucks some of his own wild mane behind one perfectly enormous ear as they stare one another down. She lets him be the first to break the silence.

“Rey… I-I want to—all of it. I want to-to kiss you and court you and-and make love to you and….”

She laughs to hide her tears. “So you’re ridiculously kind, have great taste in hot drinks, and you can read minds?” Maker, his hair is so soft…. “I’m glad I chose to be stranded here of all places.”

Clyde smiles sadly at her. “Me too, darlin’. So much.”

Right on cue, the universe rears its ugly head in the form of Clyde’s phone ringing off the hook.

“That’s probably Earl. I’ll get it.”

“Right.”

Clyde gets to his feet in stages, careful to keep his lower half hidden from sight. It’s not necessary, though; Rey slumps back into their cozy little nest and yanks the covers up over her head. Maybe she’ll go back to sleep, wake up, and this will all have been just a cruel, soul-crushing dream—

“Whaddaya mean, ‘look outside’?” she hears Clyde ask from the direction of his kitchen, loud enough that it cuts through her moping. “The salt trucks will have come through by now, surely. If you just don’t wanna get out in this cold, that’s fine, Earl. Just tell me and I’ll call triple-A— holy shit….”

Now that gets her attention. Rey jumps up from their pallet with renewed urgency, padding off in Clyde’s direction to find out what’s got him so freaked out. He literally just apologized for cursing in her presence, so she’s almost afraid to ask what’s wrong—and that’s when she looks through his kitchen window.

“Clyde….”

“Hey, Earl, I’m gonna have to call you back—”

Rey keeps staring. And staring. And staring, but—

“Yeah, I’ll holler if anything changes. Alright, bye.”

“C-Clyde,” Rey squeaks again. “W-where’s my car?”

Standing just to her left, Clyde shifts his weight. “Well, if it ain’t moved since last night, I’d say it’s around where that skinny little pine tree’s sticking up… right there.”

“Oh….”

He abruptly walks out of the kitchen as Rey just keeps gawking at the incomprehensible sight before her, totally uncaring for how ridiculous she must look at the moment.

It’s not like anyone but Clyde could see her right now, anyway. No one in their right mind would be out in this weather—willingly.

Rey squints in the general supposed direction of her car, trying, and failing, to decipher its shape from beneath the incomprehensible amount of snow piled several feet high on either side of the highway. A narrow path she imagines can hardly be wide enough for a single vehicle has been carved directly down the center of the four-laned road, only adding to the mind-boggling amount of freezing white shit Mother Nature has already dumped on her poor car.

Surely this isn’t normal for the area. Did she and Clyde actually sleep through the apocalypse?

It’s not until she hears radio static that she finally manages to tear her gaze away from the unholy sight; Clyde has returned with a small radio that he quickly tunes to a local news station.

—correct, Jim, none of us could have foreseen such an act of Mother Nature according to what weather models were showing us yesterday and even into the night last night. Even our colleagues at the National Weather Service are baffled by this. It really appears to be a Maker’s Act that, at least at this time, none of us has a way of explaining. We’ll be working on an answer for you as the day progresses, but for now, I’m sending it back to you, Jim….

As the next anchor launches into an in-depth explanation of blizzard safety and how soon citizens can expect their electricity to be restored, Rey finally gathers her bearings enough to ask for the phone once more.

As with last night, her dear friend answers immediately.

“Rey? This is you, right?” Rose asks, sounding even more on edge than Rey feels. “I-I just turned on the news, and—”

“Rosie, I’m… I’m not going to make it in time to see you for Christmas,” Rey squeaks, just barely holding back a sob. Why, why, why is the universe doing everything it can to keep me from seeing my very best friend on this gods-forsaken planet?! “I-I can’t even s-see my car—there’s s-so much snow!”

“Honey, I’m so sorry this is happening. Fuck Mother Nature, honestly! And certainly not in the good way!” spits Rose, obviously irate. “But seriously, are you at least safe? Clyde hasn’t been creepy or mean or rude?”

“Oh, I’m more than okay, Rosie,” Rey quips through a watery chuckle, drying her eyes on the sleeve of Clyde’s enormous hoodie. “He’s been a perfect gentleman, honestly. The power went out last night, but thank the gods he has a wood burning stove.”

Just then, the scent of bacon wafts beneath her nose, and a peek into the living room reveals a downright sinful sight. How did he even sneak past her with a skillet and a pound of bacon?!

Rey tucks her head around the corner of the kitchen doorway to dampen her voice, doing her best to speak quietly. Gods help her if he hears anything she’s about to tell Rose.

“Oh my gods, Rose! Now he’s cooking breakfast on the wood stove… a-and he’s shirtless.”

Across the line, Rose cackles. “Girl, it sounds to me like you’ve hit the jackpot as far as ‘being snow-bound in the middle-of-nowhere, West Virginia’ goes.”

A memory of hard, hot flesh prodding repeatedly against her bum flashes through her mind, and her face immediately ignites.

Yeah, she’s not wrong about that.

“Maker, Rose, you don’t even know the half of it.”

“Then tell meeeee!” her best friend squeals.

“Well, it's kind of hard to explain… But last night, we kind of realized at the same time that we really like each other, and he even spooned me when I asked him to. It was….”

Maker, words can’t describe it….

”Perfect. Incredible. I never wanted it to end, but then….”

She can practically feel Rose vibrating with anticipation across the line. “Tell. Me.”

Rey’s pulse doubles as she again recalls the excitement of the morning. “Let’s just say I got to wake up with a bit of… extra wood… in the bed that definitely wasn’t there when we fell asleep.”

“Rey Kanata. Tell me right now.”

“Big,” she breathes into the receiver, giddier than a hormonal teenager. “Like… I think I can manage, but not without some extensive prep-work—”

“What needs prep-work?”

…aaand that would be the proverbial shoe dropping to the ground beneath her feet.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit—!

“SorryRosieI’llcallyoubacklaterloveyoubye!”

Rey whirls to find Clyde standing far closer than she expects him to be. Close enough that she can count the individual hairs in the single patch at the center of his chest. Close enough that, if she were so inclined, she could close the distance before he could back away, steal a taste of his bare skin on her lips—

“Rey. Look at me.”

With an audible gulp, Rey gives him her best puppy dog eyes. Please don’t ask me to repeat myself. Please don’t ask me what I was talking about. Please don’t hate me for being a disgusting weirdo—

To her endless relief, he does none of those things.

It’s too bad she could never have guessed what he does instead, however.

Is it possible to go into cardiac arrest from a single touch? she wonders feverishly as Clyde’s human hand rises to hold her chin, coaxing her to tilt her mouth towards his. He’s mere centimeters from her at this point, close enough to share breath with her, and oddly, the thought alone raises goosebumps along her skin.

Maker, is he actually trying to kill her?—

“Breakfast first,” he rasps, watching as his own thumb traces the underside of her lip. “Then we’ll revisit this prep-work you’re talkin’ about. Alright?”

There’s a buzzing sound in Rey’s brain that’s steadily revealing itself to be a dial-up internet sort of screech. Did he really just say what she thinks he said? Did she die in her sleep? Either way, her tongue is rendered absolutely useless. Rey tries offering him a drunken nod instead.

Clyde clicks his tongue. “Uh-uh. Use your words, darlin’.”

Rey swallows. Then again. Fuck, her throat is bone dry!

Still, Maker help anyone or anything that tries to stop her now.

“Y-yes… sir.”

She’s pleasantly surprised by the enormous grin that splits his face, proud even. But when his lips proceed to skirt across her cheek, drawing a scorching line from mouth to ear, she‘s swiftly rendered mute once more.

“Good girl. Now come eat.”

And just like that, Rey has never been so hungry for meat in her entire life.

Chapter Text

When she sees the spread Clyde had prepared while she was busy divulging her less-than-noble desires to Rose, Rey wants to kick herself for being so oblivious. How exactly did she miss him making so many trips to the kitchen?! Not only is he decidedly hard to miss, but she wasn’t even talking that loudly!

…Right?

Gods, this is such a mess. Sure, now he knows just how badly she wants to fuck him, but that also means he now knows just how badly she wants to fuck him.

Maker… this will either be her demise or her salvation.

Maybe both.

She must stand there staring at the breakfast smorgasbord for too long; Clyde clears his throat expectantly.

“Huh? Sorry, I’m—”

“Here, let me.”

With a gentle smile, Clyde takes her plate and sets about assembling a small feast: several strips of bacon, a mound of scrambled eggs, and two fluffy biscuits, followed by a generous scoop of gravy.

On its own, the sight of so much food on a single plate does a fair job of overloading her senses, of inspiring such an overwhelming sense of awe as to hinder most of her rational thought. She eats well enough now, of course, but when one spends the first seven years of their life as a street rat, those long, cold nights spent crying through pangs of hunger aren’t easily forgotten.

“Rey? You alright?”

“Y-yes, sorry!”

Focus, Kanata, come on now—

Clyde deposits her plate at the seat closest to the kitchen doorway, near where she’s standing, so Rey takes this as her cue to sit. As he wordlessly pours them each a cup of coffee and then fills his own plate, she does her best to remain inconspicuous as she watches him from the corner of her eye. He still hasn’t replaced his shirt, nor has he commented on exactly why his went missing in the first place. Maybe he spilled something? Did he get too warm while he was cooking? What if he—

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Rey shakes her head free from her inane thoughts, but her mortified blush gives her away anyway. Gods, she’s such a disaster….

Clyde has since seated himself just to her left, an imposing figure at the short end of the table. He watches her with obvious concern, and Rey just wishes she could fall through the damned floor already. Would it be too much to ask to let her be ridiculous in peace?

Oh. Right. He’s still waiting for her to answer.

“I-I’m fine, I swear,” she finally mumbles, not quite brave enough to meet his gaze. “I just—I’m worried about Rose….”

There, that sounded believable enough. It’s not like it’s entirely un true, either; she worries about Rose all the time. That’s what best friends do, right?

Though perhaps new friends do that, too.

Before she can register what’s happening, Clyde’s hand moves to grasp hers where it rests between them on the table and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

Truthfully, Rey still feels a bit unbalanced and more than a little nervous about the new dynamic they’ve only just introduced to their… friendship? Courtship? Whatever this is, she wants to do whatever it takes to make it work. Add to those nerves the very real possibility of losing her job as a result of being stranded in a snowstorm hundreds of miles from home and thereby losing her only source of income, and….

“Can I say somethin’?”

Rey blinks through the fog in her brain, half convinced she only imagined him speaking just now. He’s giving her a pointed look though, as if he’s waiting for her to respond, so she decides to go with it.

“Okay.”

Clyde squeezes her hand again. “Rey, I just… I wanna make my intentions known. I don’t want there to be any confusion, and if ya don’t feel comfortable with anythin’ I say or just ain’t on the same page, please tell me. I hope you’ll wait until I get my piece said, though, if ya don’t mind.”

Maker take me…. How can she refuse him with such a sweet smile on his face? Hell, how could she refuse him regardless?

Her lips curve upward of their own accord as she nods to him, encouraging him to continue.

“Alright, here goes….” The wide plain of his chest expands with a breath, and then he speaks. “Rey, I was raised pretty old fashioned, as I’m sure you can imagine. Taught not to curse in front of folks, to hold a door for a perfect stranger, to-to court someone, then marry ’em before… goin’ further with ’em. That’s just the way things‘re done around here.

“But… I’m well beyond that stage of my life now. I ain’t always lived accordin’ to my raisin’, but I’d ’bout decided I’d follow through with whatever I could for the right gal.”

The words right gal pierce Rey right in the soul, their meaning leaving no room for interpretation. He’s staring at her just as intently as he did last night when she’d tried to thank him for helping her. Her throat constricts with barely-contained emotion as she realizes the gravity of what he’s saying to her, how it so closely resembles what her own heart wants.

She wants him. Oh, how she wants him.

Still, marriage might be a bit… rash for the time being.

Ever attuned to her thoughts, Clyde continues before she can get distracted again.

“That bein’ said, this ain’t just about me. What I was taught was ‘right,’ ain’t always the same for everyone else or every situation, and I don’t plan to impose those ideas on anyone. Certainly not you.”

Rey’s cheeks warm as his hand rises from the table to cradle her jaw. Gods, he’s so fucking big. His hand covers the entire left side of her head and then some, and the realization flips some sort of switch in her brain.

Maker, I need him to fuck me. Not want— need.

“Rey,” Clyde continues, holding her gaze. “I hope this can count as our first date, because I sure would like to kiss you, and… and make love to you before you leave, if you’ll have me.”

How… does she even begin to respond to that?

Yes, of course, you can just bend me over the table now if you want, no need to wait! or I’m flattered that you wanted to take me on a date first, but we could totally just fast forward to the fucking part as far as I’m concerned!

Yeah… maybe those are a bit too eager for his taste.

As her blush ignites anew, Rey decides to be brave, to answer him as succinctly and definitively as possible. He’d said he didn’t want there to be any confusion between them, after all, and now that she knows they’re on the same page, she wants to leave no doubt as to her feelings on the matter.

Tears threaten to blur her vision, but she determinedly blinks them away. “Yes. Gods, yes, Clyde. I want all of that.”

Like the sun breaking through thick clouds on a winter day, the man beside her gives her a charming show of his dimples, and then, wonder of wonders, he pulls her in for a kiss.

An embarrassing squeak escapes her in the moment it takes her brain to realize what’s happening, that it’s actually real, that she isn’t dead or dreaming. That she, Rey Kanata, is, in fact, locking lips with the most beautiful, wonderful, kind, genuine man she’s ever met, and it’s all because he wants her. 

What perfect luck she has.

She deepens the kiss on instinct, giving herself entirely to the newly-awakened part of her brain that is all but screeching for him. The urgency with which she works her mouth against his draws from him a guttural growl unlike anything she’s ever heard, and gods does she want to hear it again—

Suddenly, Clyde breaks their kiss, parting from her with a peck on the nose when she whines at his absence. Still, nothing makes up for the pause like the distinct tone of arousal now roughening his voice.

“Oh, I ain’t finished with you yet, darlin’. C’mere.”

Without warning, Rey is gently tugged from her chair and over into Clyde’s lap, and their kiss picks right back up from where it left off. Her arms immediately wind around his neck, her fingers twine in his hair, and he gifts her with another low, lazy groan that ignites something deep in her core.

Gods how she wants this man!

She’s got to reposition herself though, and fast. Her cunt aches with a near-frenzied desire for friction, and with her legs trapped together across his lap, it’s simply impossible. She refuses to pull away, however—holy fuck, she knew his lips would be soft—so ever so carefully, she begins scooting forward, her toes searching desperately for the floor, when—

“Ooh—”

“Not so fast, darlin’,” rumbles Clyde, deftly swiveling her in his lap until she’s face to face with their rapidly-cooling food. He holds her fast against his torso with his left arm and picks up a slice of bacon with the other hand. “We might be goin’ about this all out of order, but I ain’t budgin’ on puttin’ some food in your belly first.”

As she tries to process what he’s just said, a familiar hard, hot length of flesh twitches just beneath her left thigh, and Rey is unable to stifle her startled gasp.

Clyde indulges a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. We’ll put that in your belly next.”

Gods dammit, she’s going to faint. Though Rey can’t explain it, Clyde must somehow sense her weakening; in the next moment, he’s holding the slice of meat directly in front of her burning face.

Fuck, that smells delicious. Steadying herself with one hand, Rey reaches for the bacon with the other—only for Clyde to pull it away.

“Let me,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear, and yep, yes, okay, sure, certainly, uh huh, indeed—

“Y-yes sir.”

When he offers it a second time, Rey takes the slice between her teeth and bites off a healthy amount, making sure to chew well enough that she doesn’t get choked. What a horrific way that would be to ruin the moment.

“Good girl,” Clyde praises when she takes another bite, effectively justifying her precautions. Gods, this man! His chin falls to rest on her shoulder. “I’ll feel much better knowin’ you’ve had plenty of calories to fend off this cold, darlin’. I shoulda made you some food- food last night instead of feedin’ ya all that junk.”

“N-no, it was perfect, Clyde!” she tries to reason, though the weight of her words is lessened a bit when he brings a forkful of scrambled eggs to her lips. She swallows quickly and continues her argument. “Really, it was more than enough. You-you’ve done so much for me since I’ve been here…. I’ll never be able to repay you—”

The harsh clattering of his fork onto the plate below is deafening within the confines of Clyde’s small kitchen, and Rey flinches despite herself. The metal arm around her waist tightens its hold ever so slightly, but nothing gets her attention as quickly as his human hand reaching up to grip her jaw and turn her to look him in the eye.

Toffee. Warm and sweet and….

“You think ya owe me for any of this?”

“W-well, yes—I-I mean, I don’t like being indebted to people….”

Hard. Toffee is warm and sweet and hard. How could she have forgotten that last bit?

She can’t miss it now, that’s for sure, not with the blatant mix of stubbornness and sincerity staring back at her.

His next few words he says slowly, not unlike someone making a threat. “Let me make one thing very clear: you don’t owe me a damn thing, Rey. I mean it.”

With the span of his thumb and index finger so close to her windpipe, she can hardly gather her wits well enough to comprehend what he’s saying. She… doesn’t owe him? Excuse him, but who does he think he is to tell her what she will and will not owe to someone?!

“I can see you’re thinkin’ ’bout arguin’ with me, but it ain’t gonna change nothin’, not even if you left right this second,” insists Clyde, returning his hand to the fork. He slices through a bit of biscuit and gravy and brings it to her mouth expectantly. One glance at his stern expression is all it takes to earn her compliance; she accepts the bite with naught but a resigned sigh. “Good girl. Thank you for lettin’ me take care of ya, Rey. Really, it makes me… happy.”

Rey swallows hard as some unnamed emotion attempts to seal her throat shut. “Y-you… like taking care… of me?”

Both arms wrap snugly around her waist now, holding her with a barely-restrained sense of urgency, as if he’s afraid she could disappear at any moment.

“So much, Rey. Last night, I-I wasn’t sure what I was gonna do when you left today…. It was hell tryin’ to keep it to myself, my not wantin’ ya to leave. I was worried sick you’d be disgusted with me for just tuckin’ that blanket in around ya. More than anything, I just wanted to hold you like this and warm ya up myself. But the last thing I wanna do is scare ya, darlin’, and I hope you’ll tell me if I do.”

Rey’s vision becomes blurrier and blurrier as Clyde reveals this precious bit of insecurity. What he’s admitted to her just now—it should scare her, right? Surely there should be warning bells going off somewhere inside her thick skull, or red flags manifesting mid-air. A quiet sob slips past her barriers before she can stop it, and Clyde panics.

“Rey, I’m—Maker, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinkin’—”

“Clyde, please,” she stops him, drawing a shuddering breath. Rey turns to face him as much as she can, and her heart nearly shatters when his embrace weakens, convinced she means to escape him. Her hand reaches back to cradle his gritted jaw. “Make love to me, Clyde... please.”

She has the distinct pleasure of watching his pupils expand to the very edge of his irises, instantly betraying the true depths of his desire. He’s done a bang-up job of masking it up to this point (or perhaps she’s more clueless than she thought), but there’s no way of hiding it now—not with the way his gaze leaves a blazing trail along the length of her body.

She may still be fully clothed, but she’s never felt more naked in her life.

Clyde’s throat bobs. “You sure?”

“Yes,” she breathes. Her eyes drop to his mouth of their own volition. “Y-yes sir.”

With a low curse, her kindly giant jumps to his feet, releasing her for all of a heartbeat before—

Rey gives a delighted shriek as he throws her over his shoulder. “C-Clyde! Put me down! You’ll hurt yourself!”

Her tummy vibrates as Clyde laughs and deftly maneuvers them through the kitchen doorway. “I can’t tell if that’s an insult toward me or you, darlin’, but either way—” Swat! He smacks her bum half-heartedly, chuckling anew at her startled yelp! “Don’t you worry about it.”

Maker, gods, and Mother Nature. If he had any doubts as to whether or not he’d successfully ruin her for any other man, she hopes he knows he’s achieved his goal and then some.

He lopes through the living room and down the hall with a single-minded urgency, and before Rey can fully register where they’re going, she’s already on her back in Clyde’s huge bed, the man himself looming overhead like an evening thunderstorm. She writhes beneath his intense gaze as he reaches for the strap of his prosthetic arm and wordlessly removes it, his eyes leaving hers just long enough to carefully place the device on a nearby dresser.

“C-Clyde, I, um, I haven’t done this in awhile, s-so—”

“Shhh, it’s alright, darlin’,” he says quietly, bending to press his lips to her temple. “We won’t do nothin’ you ain’t comfortable with.”

“O-oh, it’s not that.” Rey swallows back the nerves building in her throat. Come on, Rey, be brave! “I mean, I’m open to anything, really. I just probably won’t be very good at it is all….”

Clyde’s eyebrows disappear behind his hair as he rolls his lips between his teeth, stifling a smile. “Is that right? No good at all?”

“Oh, gods, please don’t tease me! I mean it… I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Careful now, sweet girl,” he warns lowly, reaching for the rolled-up waistband of her borrowed sweatpants. He yanks them to her knees in one swift move, followed by her own leggings. “I’m already itchin’ for a reason to turn you over my knee, and throwin’ yourself under the bus is one surefire way to get there.”

“O-oh.”

There’s a mortifying amount of wetness that’s been steadily pooling in the gusset of her underwear ever since he cornered her at the phone, and Rey wonders if it’s visible through the thin fabric. Clyde’s staring at the junction of her thighs as if he’s a starved man who’s just stumbled upon a four course meal, and she blushes at the attention.

Maker, what I wouldn’t give to know what he’s thinking….

Clyde swallows. “Rey….”

“Y-yes…?”

Without warning, he drops to his knees between her trembling thighs, and not once does his gaze leave her cunt. “May I put my mouth on you, darlin’?”

Rey nods with embarrassing speed. “Gods, yes, Clyde, please—”

The sound she makes next is decidedly not human, or at the very least, no sound any human should be capable of. But considering Clyde has just buried his face against her still-clothed crotch—

“Fuck,” he growls between open-mouthed kisses to her plain cotton underwear. The heat of his mouth so close to where she needs it is perfectly, torturously, gloriously maddening. Her hips cant toward him in a desperate plea, and thank the stars— Clyde gets the message.

He begins by shucking her pants the rest of the way off her legs, then tugs at the hem of her borrowed hoodie.

“Off. All of it.”

Rey complies by instantly rising from the bed, her face burning as she strips down to her equally-plain bra before him. Even as she knows there’s nothing to be done for it and that Clyde could probably care less, she hesitates for a beat before removing the laughably useless garment. She’s certainly never earned any compliments for the size of her breasts, after all, and for a harrowing moment, she wonders if she’s bitten off more than she can chew.

Ever observant, Clyde makes a sound of confusion. “Hey, what’s wrong, Rey? Talk to me.”

“I-I, uh, I’m sorry— about my-my chest, I mean—”

“You’re apologizin’? For your tits?”

“They’re small, okay?” she fires back, giving into the anger from years of insecurity. “Just-just laugh if you want and get it over with….”

“Why on gods’ green earth would I laugh, darlin’? I may sound ignorant, but I certainly ain’t fool enough to laugh at the sight of a beautiful woman in my bed.”

“Y-you’re sure?” Rey squeaks.

“Here,” Clyde says, gently nudging her until she’s flat on her back once more. He then proceeds to crawl over her—only to hook an arm around her waist and pull her closer to the headboard. ”Just relax and let me take care of ya. Okay?”

She nods through a shaky exhale. “Okay….”

With that, the world around her seems to fade. Kissing Clyde is the likely cause, for it’s all too easy to get lost in the taste of him, in the movement of his tongue against her own, in the barely-restrained power of his jaw as he devours her every sigh, whimper, and moan. She gasps for breath as he moves lower, sucking a series of bruising kisses along her jaw and down the column of her throat. More than once, he lets his teeth nip almost too harshly, but when Rey cries out in response, pain has nothing to do with it.

This man —Maker— he’s overwhelming. If his sinful mouth weren’t enough, he murmurs little compliments to her every few breaths, and the effect on her emotional state manifests in the form of silent, euphoric tears trailing to the tousled sheets below. Whether Clyde realizes she’s crying or not, she’s unsure; regardless, he does not stop.

“Beautiful… Soft… So sweet… Perfect, sweet girl… Absolutely perfect….”

He rakes his teeth down, down along the length of her collarbone, ending with a kiss to her shoulder as his fingers skirt over her arm; it still conceals her breasts from sight, and Rey draws a deep breath as he begins tugging her wrist away from her torso.

“That’s right, sweet girl.” Kiss. “Let me show you just how beautiful these pretty little tits are.”

A whimper sneaks past her barriers as he finally reveals her chest to the chilly air of his bedroom, causing her nipples to harden almost instantly. Slowly, silently, Clyde first lowers his mouth to her right breast and presses a featherlight kiss to the flesh just above her nipple.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, darlin’,” he breathes, then repeats the motion only a hairsbreadth from the last. He continues this exploration of her breast until he finally arrives at her nipple, when, without warning, he sucks the entire mound of flesh into his eager mouth.

Rey promptly sobs.

It’s less a conscious choice and more a reaction of instinct when she threads her fingers through his wild, midnight hair, holding him close as he works her breast in much the same way he’d kissed her mouth. His tongue darts back and forth over her nipple with unnatural precision, coaxing from her an entire array of embarrassing sounds for his efforts. He hums his satisfaction some immeasurable amount of time later, but before she has a moment to get her bearings, he’s already pulling her left breast into the greedy cavern of his mouth, and her beautiful, wonderful torment begins again.

“G- gods, Clyde!” she rasps once he finally releases her second breast. He makes a show of licking his stupidly incredible lips, and then he continues his way down along the plain of her stomach, kissing and nipping and tasting her as if she’s some rare delicacy.

Still, none of it drives her nearly as crazy as the sight of his dark gaze locked with hers while he works his way down to her weeping core.

“We meet again, cute little pussy,” Clyde teases, finally breaking eye contact to devote his full attention to her cunt. Rey sees stars when he suddenly hooks a finger through the sopping-wet crotch of her underwear, and her hips jerk violently enough that Clyde pins her to the bed with his other arm.

“Easy there, darlin’. I’m gettin’ to that part.”

“Clyde, please.”

“You want me to eat you up, huh? Make you feel good?”

“Yes, gods, yes.”

“Then be patient.”

“But—!”

Rey practically screams as Clyde tugs her underwear to the side and dives tongue-first into her aching core, taking her entirely by surprise. He moans against her flesh as if he’s the one receiving pleasure right now instead of her, and Rey could nearly laugh at the sheer absurdity of that thought. Truly, no one on planet Earth is as blissed-out as she is at the moment—a fact quickly evidenced by the ease with which Clyde slips one perfectly enormous finger into her cunt and flexes it against that heavenly spot along her front wall.

“Sh- shit!”

“Perfect little pussy, sweet girl, you know that? Gods damn.”

“C-Clyde—I need more.”

“I know, darlin’, I know. I’m gonna give you more. Let me get these damn things off ya.”

Rey gasps as her underwear are promptly yanked down her legs, and before she can properly recover, Clyde’s lips are around her clit.

A humiliating moan erupts from her throat as he proceeds to tease her swollen bud with his brilliant, devilish tongue, and within moments, Rey senses the first warning signs of an impending orgasm on the horizon.

“F-fingers,” she hisses, panting heavily. “N-need your fingers—inside me.”

Clyde gives a hard suck by way of reply, and just as she begins to wonder if he’s going to give her what she wants, she’s speared on his finger once more.

“Gonna come for me, darlin’?” he asks from between her shivering legs. A second finger soon joins the first, the two of them working in tandem to prepare her for something even bigger. “Come on. Come for me so I can get this cock in ya.”

Maker—Mother—fuck—!

“Come on, sweet girl. I wanna see how pretty ya look with my come drippin’ outta ya. Come on—”

Fuck, fuck, fuck—!

Rey’s vision whites out as she’s thrown unceremoniously from the edge of conscious thought. Her orgasm floods her senses with a proverbial tsunami wave of pleasure, and like the mind reader he’s proven himself to be, Clyde just keeps working her through it all.

“Atta girl,” he rasps against her quivering flesh, adding a cheeky wink once she finally gets her eyes open. She’s treated to the sight of his nose, lips, and chin shining with her arousal, and it very nearly sends her over the edge a second time. “Shhh, take a breath, darlin’. Maker, you’re perfect.”

“S-speak for yourself,” Rey replies with a giggle. She makes grabby hands at him until he gets the message and hauls himself back overtop of her. “You just took me apart and put me back together like a master mechanic, Clyde Logan; don’t you know how uniquely talented you are?”

“…I may have spent the better part of one summer learnin’ to tie cherry stems with my tongue.”

She laughs again; the rogue! “And it shows. Now, will you please fuck me before I lose my entire gods damned mind?”

“Ain’t gotta ask me twice, darlin’,” Clyde quips in reply, and after kissing her chastely on the mouth, he reaches for his nightstand.

Rey’s face positively glows as she tries to voice the reckless request her brain is suddenly shrieking at her. “Um, Clyde?”

“Hm?” he asks, pulling a condom from a box tucked away in his drawer. When she’s not immediately forthcoming, he finally stops to give her his full attention. “What is it, Rey? Tell me.”

“It-It’s dumb.”

“I beg to differ,” he says sternly, moving to seat himself beside her rather than above her. “Rey, I mean it. We ain’t doin’ anythin’ until ya tell me what’s got ya in such a tizzy.”

Rey pouts. “That’s hardly fair….”

“No, what’s hardly fair is you withholdin’ somethin’ important from me.” He glances at the condom still gripped in his hand. “Is it this? Are ya allergic?”

“No, it’s not that….”

“Well, why don’t we skip the twenty questions an’ get to the part where ya tell me why ya don’t want me to use a condom, hm?”

“Clyde, it’s so embarrassing!” she insists, hiding her face in her hands. “Please don’t make me say it out loud.”

The perplexed man chuckles as he tugs a hand from her eyes. “Darlin’, what has gotten into you? I was kiddin’ earlier about not bein’ ignorant; I really am as dumb as I look. Now please explain to me what’s so embarrassin’, okay?”

Rey growls. “F-fine! But I-I can’t look at you and say it at the same time, and that’s final.”

“Fair enough,” reasons Clyde from the other side of her hand. “Now tell me.”

Deep breath, Rey. “S-so, it’s like this… I, well—I’m clean, first of all, and I have an implant, in case you were wondering.”

She swears she can hear him smiling. “Good to know.”

“Yes, and so secondly, I, uh, well, I’d really prefer we didn’t use a-a condom so that way… youcancomeinsideofme.”

“Beggin’ your pardon, darlin’, but I didn’t quite catch that last part.”

Rey nearly growls. “I-I said I would prefer that we not use a condom so that y-you… you can….”

Suddenly, Clyde’s low, level voice appears by her ear. “So I can what, sweet girl? Say it.”

Rey swallows the bile steadily rising in her throat. “You know what I’m trying to say, Clyde! Please don’t make me say it.”

“Rey.”

She peeks through her fingers like the coward she is, not the least bit surprised to find him just on the other side.

Do it Rey just do it just say it you’re an adult—

She swallows again.

“Come in me?”

Clyde grins like a Cheshire Cat.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

With that, the condom is returned to the drawer from whence it came, a discarded relic Rey hopes she never has to see again. Thankfully, Clyde seems to be in as much of a rush to finally do this as she is, though she hopes it’s for the same reason. Nevertheless, he makes quick work of shedding his own sweats and boxers, and then he’s crawling over her once more—albeit with a proverbial third arm prodding and bobbing along with his every move.

“Holy fuck, Clyde,” Rey squeaks in disbelief, her eyes nearly bulging out of her head. “I knew you were big, but….”

“Lord, honey… You sure know how to stroke a man’s ego, don’t ya?”

“I’m serious, though! I-I’m not sure it’s going to….”

“Fit?” he supplies. That damned crooked grin of his effectively winds her, though even more so when combined with what he does next.

Without warning, Clyde grabs her around the waist and flips them so that she now hovers over him . She takes a moment to steady herself with her hands planted firmly on his chest, but Clyde’s patience is wearing thin. With an enormous hand wrapped around her thigh, he coaxes her to ride along the length of him, wordlessly guiding her to coat him with her arousal.

“That’s it, good girl,” he praises as she begins to ride him in earnest. She mewls lewdly when the head of him nudges her swollen clit. “We’ll make it fit, won’t we? Hm? Fuck, yeah we will. Atta girl, just like that….”

Rey’s heart soars at his copious praise, and interspersed as it is with his low, commanding dirty talk, her pussy doesn’t stand a chance. A familiar quickening begins again in her lower belly, made all the more obvious when Clyde somehow senses it.

“You’re gonna come for me again, aren’t ya, sweet girl? Maker, you look so beautiful like this, ridin’ my cock, just waitin’ for me to fill you up—”

“Clyde!”

That fast, her second orgasm of the day crashes into her, very nearly as powerful as the first. The man responsible for her pleasure just keeps praising her through it all, eventually crushing her to his chest as she comes down from her high. For the next few minutes, they simply lay there: he, shushing her and combing through her wild, tangled hair; she: trying not to cry at the absolute perfection of it all.

Come on, Kanata, get it together—!

Rey pulls free of his embrace before the tears have a chance to fall, pressing a kiss to his jugular. “I’m ready, Clyde. If-if you are, I mean.”

Her gentle giant grins. “I’m more than ready, darlin’.” Kiss. “You just go at your own pace, and I’ll help ya however I can.”

“Right.” Rey resumes her upright position, swallowing hard as she sights his poor cock. That shade of red—there’s no way that’s comfortable. With one last glance in his direction, Rey gently wraps her hand just below his cockhead, and Clyde sucks a breath through his teeth.

“Shit, sorry, fuck—!”

“No, darlin’, you put your hand back—please. I promise it don’t hurt; I-I’m just—a bit outta practice.”

Rey does as told, wrapping her hand as far as it can go around his shaft, and Clyde groans.

“Tr-try,” he says from between gritted teeth a few seconds later, his resolve solidifying. “Try to take me, darlin’. You can do it.”

“O-okay…” Rey breathes. She starts by lifting her left knee to make room for him to nock at her entrance, and they moan in unison as she then attempts to sink down onto him.

You can do this Rey, slow and steady, easy does it—

They both bite back curses as the first inch of him slips in, then again when she lifts herself and pushes down a second time. Clyde steadies her with a hand on her hip as she continues working herself onto him, and she’s immediately grateful for the assistance. Sweat has gathered along her spine, tracing an ice cold trail over her vertebrae, but she’s far too warm to feel its chill. Her legs are beginning to shake, though, and just as she’s sure she’s about to collapse—

“Fuuuuuck…” they moan in unison. Rey is finally, finally sheathed around Clyde’s cock, and the head of him has just bumped against her cervix.

Rey steadies herself on his chest. “Clyde….”

“Take your time, darlin’,” he says with a breathy chuckle. “I’m outta breath, too.”

A few beats pass in feverish silence as Rey takes his lead and focuses on relaxing her lower half, on remembering to breathe. It’s been awhile since she’s had sex with someone, after all, and besides that, Clyde positively dwarfs everyone she’s ever been with.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, stroking her thigh. “We can stop if it’s too much, darlin’.”

Rey shakes her head, perhaps a bit too quickly.

“N-no, I’m good.” Drawing a deep breath, she gives an experimental roll of her hips—

And then she can’t stop.

“Holy fuck…” Clyde hisses as she begins riding him in earnest. “I ain’t gonna—last long, honey—”

Rey grins at his wrecked expression. She’s doing that to him. Albeit she also feels about as gone as he looks, but with ten or so inches of cock filling her to the brim who could blame her?

“It’s okay. Don’t wait for me,” she says, biting her lower lip. Clyde’s hand skirts higher to stroke a thumb over her swollen nipple, and she shivers at the contact.

“Rey….”

At the sudden seriousness in his tone, she slows her movements. “Yeah?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as his ever-enchanting eyes trace over her features, as his thumb continues stroking her breast, as his left arm hooks behind her waist.

He looks… well, frightened.

Why is he looking at her like that?

“Clyde? What’s the matter?”

“Nothin’ at all, sweet girl. C’mere for a second.”

Rey gives him a skeptical look even as she lowers her body onto his. As he wraps her in his embrace, however, and tangles his talented fingers into her hair, her concerns very nearly drift away. His left arm lightly strokes her back, and enough time passes that she almost falls asleep.

“Rey?” Clyde whispers some time later.

“Hm?”

Without warning, his embrace goes from soft and gentle and warm —to solid, unyielding, and positivity scalding.

“I love you.”

No sooner have the words left his mouth than is he suddenly fucking her for all she’s worth, his hips rabbiting against her at a punishing pace. Rey nearly sobs as an overwhelming warmth pierces through her, as her heart nearly bursts with it.

He loves her. He loves her.

As much as she wants to dwell on the absolute bliss surrounding that confession, the man responsible seems to be trying his hardest to fuck her entire brain right out of her. Rey can’t even tell if her tears are the result of joy or pleasure as the abrupt movement ignites a wave of heat within her core that is so powerful, so acutely euphoric, she’s actually— Maker, she’s about to—!

“Come for me, darlin’,” Clyde growls in her ear. “Wanna know what it feels like when you come on my cock. Maker, I don’t ever wanna forget it—”

“Clyde!”

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up, honey. You ready? Hm? Think you can take it?”

“P- please!”

“Then come, darlin’. Right now.”

A few more thrusts is all it takes.

Clyde roars as his orgasm washes over him, flooding her with the warmth of his spend, and no sooner does she register this fact than is she flying over the edge along with him. Hot, blissful tears flow freely now, rolling down, over the bridge of her nose and onto Clyde’s heaving chest. If he notices, he thankfully doesn’t mention it; he just presses soft, tender kisses to the hair near her temple and returns to stroking her back.

“Clyde,” she eventually whispers.

“Hm? What is it, sweet girl?”

“I love you, too.”

She nearly laughs at his quiet intake of breath. How could she not love him after the past twenty-four hours they’ve shared? But then his arms are holding her that much closer, that much tighter, that much steadier, and Rey can hardly recall a happier moment in her life.

Beneath her, her precious rescuer hums. “Then I reckon I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.”

“No, Clyde,” she says against his collar bone. “We both are.”