ONESHOTS ⊳ gavin reed x reader

[(Little to) no strings attached]

In which you and Gavin are friends with benefits.

[Sorry for being inactive lately, but there's something longer I'm focusing on at the moment, not to mention I'm in the middle of my finals season. Have this as a little apology!]

THIS CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT.

He sinks his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder, unapologetically, hungrily sucking on the skin as his hands roam your body, searching, aching for more contact, any kind of contact.

Gavin hears you purr out his name, barely audible, muffled by one of the pillows on his bed. It's meant for only one person, but he doesn't mind, because of two good reasons. First: it's an excuse to hold you even closer, and second, it leaves no room to hide. Absolutely none. And that gives him the power rush he loves oh-so much—because to him, you're a mystery, a riddle he can't even dream to wrap his head around. Yet when you're there on his bed, sprawled out, with him between your legs, for just a second, he feels like he's solved it. Like he's found every answer, like he knows every curve and nook and cranny and sound and glance and word. Like he knows you. But he doesn't.

And that's exactly what drives him insane.

"Shit..." Gavin mutters against the nape of your neck. His iron grip on your hip twitches, falters for just a second before it returns with unmatched force, just like his next thrust. He sets his other hand on the wall in front of the both of you as he slows his pace and takes a deep breath. He pulls out, slowly, even tentatively gently, though he'd never admit it. Never admit he's feeling anything but unadulterated lust at that moment, but he is. There's something else mixing with the itching desire, something he doesn't bother distilling nor analyzing, simply because it seems far too...complicated to bother with at that moment. So he pays no mind to the warmth that's not only in his lower abdomen, but chest as well, and tenses. His muscles ripple under his skin as he gives another forceful thrust that has you mewling his name in bliss.

He can't hold back a prideful, shit-eating grin, fully aware of just how good he's making you feel. Gavin dips down his head to place a kiss between your shoulder blades, then uses the hand he was holding your hips in place with to instead lift them up in the slightest. He doesn't exactly know why, but he has the sudden, eager urge to please even more, to see you writhing under him from the overflowing amounts of bliss he drowns you with.

You're his to take, and to his pleasure.

"Up." Gavin's demand is quick, yet spoken in an unusually soft manner as he gives another thrust. He taps his fingers against your lower abdomen to give further instructions to what exactly he wants, and you're more than eager to comply. Your head dips lower into the pillow, elbows and forearms digging into the mattress as you lift your ass up. Just what he asked for. "Good." Gavin places another kiss on your lower back, a garnish to his praise.

You smile at him over your shoulder in turn, almost dreamily. Your gazes connect for a few seconds, and you get overwhelmed by the sudden desire to pepper his neck and face with kisses. Why exactly are you thinking about showing affection to your fuckbuddy? You can't tell. You don't know, and you don't want to know. Because after all, it doesn't matter. You're using him, he's using you, and it's a mutual, contorted kind of pseudo-love. Pseudo-lust.

Feelings don't matter, neither yours, nor his.

The only thing that counts is that at the end of the day, the both of you are a little less lonely, even if it's all pretend.

You can work with falsity. Very well, in fact. That's the last thing on your mind before your thoughts flood with pleasure. Gavin's found a special spot inside you, and has observantly noticed that it makes your legs go weak and moans bubble up in your throat.