Sunflower (Clyde Logan x Reader)

Chapter 22

Clyde's POV:

Clyde closed his eyes as instructed, confused as to what present you could be giving him or what you could be referring to. There was no way to see you whenever he wanted - he had already thought about all the possible ways you could manage that (mostly a phone and visits - both of which would be frowned upon and instantly suspicious) and none of them ended well.

On Clyde's worst nights, when his mind chose to act out his anxieties, he dreamed that he got you fired or caused you to be transferred or, even worse, that you would find out about his secret and ask to never see him again. That one always hurt the most because when he woke up, Clyde could never envision fully getting you back. Those days he would wake up with a tight feeling in his chest and a pit in his stomach that wouldn't ease up until he saw you again - until he could truly convince himself that it had only been a night terror.

The feeling of something being placed in his hand snapped Clyde out of his thoughts, his pout deepening as he tried to piece together what it was. Clyde was about to ask when you suddenly stopped mid sentence, muttering a low curse while you pushed his hand into his pocket and pressed a kiss to his cheek, whispering for him to look at the mysterious present alone in his cell.

Clyde gave you a confused look and tilted his head but you just smiled and looked towards the guards, as if nothing had happened. What was in his pocket? A note or letter? It was small and seemed to be made of some sort of fancier paper. A card maybe?

The guards called to Clyde and he shuffled over, returning the small wave you gave him before going back to thumbing at the curious little offering in his pocket as he was led out towards his cell.

***

Clyde couldn't think about anything but his new secret, your lips on his skin and your hand in his. He wished he could tell the officers to hurry up but they took their sweet time, talking to other guards and walking as if they had all the time in the world. Didn't they have other places to be?

Finally, the two men dropped Clyde off at his cell and he promptly closed himself in, grateful for the privacy of the small room as he ducked into his bed to dig the piece of paper out of his pocket. He turned the little square in his hands and realized it was a polaroid, mouth dropping open as his eyes scanned the picture.

It was a picture of you on all fours, forearms on the plush bedding and your ass up with knees spread, back arched as you looked over your shoulder towards the camera. Your face was soft and relaxed, lips parted and hair down, a perfect little bow like a present waiting to be unwrapped decorating your dark red panties. You weren't wearing a bra and Clyde was able to get a tease of your breasts pressed into the bed.

"Fuck, darlin'. What are you doin' to me?" he groaned, turning over suddenly onto his stomach and setting the photo down to push a pillow between his legs.

Clyde flattened himself down, rubbing against it and holding your picture up as he propped himself up on his forearms. Clyde pictured you encouraging him as he humped the almost flat mound, frustrated when he couldn't get the right angle and friction, but more upset that he didn't have his girl here under him. This sorry-looking pillow was a poor excuse for you - barely a substitute for what he really desired.

Clyde gave up with a huff, embarrassed by how desperate he felt and how much he actually ached for you. Is this what you had intended? To remind him of what he was missing out on? To tempt him to show you just how much he craved you?

What a little tease. And it worked, too. Clyde would show you tomorrow just what you did to him - how crazy you could drive him with just a simple picture, his bratty little librarian had to know.