#dev patel x reader

Per usual, there was a mad dash to the office elevator once the clock struck six. The thirty person office trickled down to ten.

Then five.

Then just two on opposite sides of the office floor, heads buried in papers and pages of post-it notes. Deemed the hardest workers in the company, no one was ever surprised when you two were the last to leave. You insisted that you both just worked well together, and had the analytics to show it.

And you were right. T's were crossed. I's were dotted. Numbers were calculated. There was no smoking gun.

And yet...

Your peers exchanged whispers in the bathroom and break room about how you both were seen leaving the office, oddly euphoric, at nine o'clock at night.

Security footage would show you standing on opposite sides of the elevator, speaking casually or scrolling through your phones. You always left the building and walked down separate side streets.

All of this crossed your mind in a brief flash as Dev propped you up on your boss' desk. He unzipped the back of your dress to reveal the cherry blossom pink lingerie he bought you for your birthday.

"God." He groaned. His neatly styled curls were now a cloud of dark locks framing his gorgeous face, and his dark eyes bore into you like he wanted to swallow you whole.

You couldn't lie, it thrilled you when he looked at you with a hunger you've only seen in men with nothing to lose.

It was a huge shift from the sweet, nervous man you talked to everyday. And it satisfied you knowing that only you, for whatever reason, had the power to bring this out of him.

"What?" You asked with mock curiosity. His large hands gripped your thighs tightly. You felt your lower stomach twitch.

He said nothing but slid his hands up your thighs to pull your dress off of your hips. In a beat, one hand wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you into a deep kiss. One of many that night. His lips were already swollen from how many times you'd gently nipped at him or sucked his bottom lip between your teeth. And each time you did, you could hear a deep groan permeate the air from deep in his chest.

This time, he used his knees and his free hand to push your thighs apart and prop one knee up on the desk, "God I'm so fucking glad your period is over. I needed you so bad."

You laughed. It was a light, bubbly laugh that surprised you.

You didn't like that. You pushed the implication away as his teeth tugged at the cup of your bra and snapped it back into place.

"I've been dreaming about how you look in this. Fuck," he muttered, pressing his lips to the swell of your breast, "it looks perfect on you. So perfect. My perfect girl."

He hooked his fingers into the strap of your bra and slipped it over your shoulder.

"So you admit it," you asked coyly as he dragged his lower lip over your hardened nipple, "you are wrapped around my finger."

He laughed. Short, and airy, with a smile that lit up his entire face. "Shut up, you don't need me to tell you that. It's a given."

As you combed your fingers through his thick, dark hair, you gently tugged at a handful of it. You cooed just above a whisper, "But I'm needy. I want to hear you tell me."

He laughed again, this time standing up straight and wrapping both hands around your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the desk. You took the opportunity to wrap your legs around him and walk your fingers up his stomach beneath his shirt.

"You truly get off on the power you have over me don't you?" He groaned, leaning down to brush his nose against yours, "Do you revel in the fact that you own me and that I need you?"

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your lips, "Yeah? I own you?"

"I'm yours."

"Mmm. That's right. You're mine."

He pulled you in for another deep kiss, cupping your cheeks in his hands. It was desperate and sloppy, like he worried you'd slip away if he let go for just a moment.

"Be with me," he sighed against your lips, "please. I need you."

You tried to ignore what he said, choosing instead to pull him down on top of you across the desk and kiss down his stubbled throat, "God, you're so beautiful."

"Bee--" he let out a hoarse groan, hiking your thigh up and around his hip as you rocked against him, "shit."

You reached down to rub the front of his pants, earning a sharp gasp and another low groan in your ear.

"This is mine," you purred, "you're all mine."

He buried his head in your neck as you unzipped his trousers, and he muttered something against your skin that you barely understood.

"Hmm?" When he looked back up at you, his wide brown eyes were glossy with need and something else you really didn't want to think too hard about. "Dev..."

"Bee, you know what I'm gonna say. You know what I'm gonna fuckin' say."

You looked him over and felt the pang of frustration in your chest--and between your thighs. You knew this conversation was coming, and you kept putting it off hoping that he'd just forget about it and move on.

"I'll leave her right now, I'll do it." The haze of lust was gone from his gaze, and he looked deathly serious. "I'm not fuckin' joking when I say that you. own. me. I only want to be yours. I don't want to be anyone else's."

You winced, avoiding eye contact with him, "You know why--"

"Enough with the bullshit, Bee." He pinned your hands above your head on the desk and lowered his head to meet your avoidant gaze, "Am I yours or not?"

"It's not that simple."

"It's very simple. Am I yours or not?" He returned his knee between your thighs and pressed down right where you needed him to. You sighed. "Tell me to leave her. I'll do it."

"She's good for you--"

"No."

He pulled the thin fabric of your panties to the side and traced the seam of your lips with the thick tip of his middle finger.

"Say you'll be with me." He whispered in your ear, as his fingers brushed just over your sensitive clit before moving away again. You squirmed under him, "Tell me you don't want anyone touching me but you. That no one can have me but you."

Under the airy demand was a clear plea to free him from whatever torment you were putting him under. After months of back and forth, of claiming him and sending him back, you were finally getting your retribution.

"Do you hate me?" You breathed, your hand inching down to press his hand down against your aching core. He snatched it and pinned it back down against the desk.

"You know I don't. But, God, I wish I did," he admitted, laughing humorlessly, "it'd make all of this so much easier." He buried his head in your neck again, casually circling his finger around that spot you were silently begging him to touch.

"Please..." you whimpered.

"Tell me she can't have me," he muttered against your skin, "and I'll make the ache go away."

You shut your eyes, tightly, fighting against the words that you'd been tucking away in the shadows of your soul since you met him. You swallowed hard and let out a shuddering breath.

"I need you," you admitted, your voice sounding so small to your ears. He dipped his fingers into you, and your eyes rolled back when his teeth latched onto your neck. "Dev."

"Say it."

Your mouth popped open but nothing came out but a whine.

"Bee, say it."

"I-I'd ruin you."

Your chest heaved. He picked up the pace between your thighs, "I'm already ruined. Say it. I'm yours."

You were struggling to find the words as you rocked your hips against his hand, "You're m-mine. Shit, shit, shit. God, you feel so good."

"And no one else can have me."

You nod, chasing the high, "Just mine, only mine."

"Who else's?"

The words came spilling out of you. You gripped his wrist, trying to anchor yourself to anything for the sake of your own sanity. You could feel your heart thumping against your chest and hear your pulse steadily increase in your ears.

"No one. You're mine, mine, mine. No one can have you but me--shit, shit, fuck, oh my god." You dug your nails into his skin, "Right there, right there!"

You felt your brain temporarily shut off and your hips rise off the desk. You could just feel your lips moving and the voice that escaped sounded like a mix between a cry, a whine, and a choked sob.

The light is low, but just enough to cast a gold light into your room. He shifts, and you see two round eyes looking up at you. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, daring him, just a little. Take a bite, if you want. 

He rolls you to your side smoothly, taking some of the flesh of your shoulder between his teeth. He doesn’t bite down, not really. He just keeps you there for a minute, before working his way down again. 

He seems a bit happier after he gnaws on you, he’s a beast sometimes, but not here. 

You gasp when his mouth works down to the meat of your ass. His teeth grip down harder. 

Not pain - but almost. 

you work at the club as one of the girls, and see him in the kitchen, see him around the bar, and he’s always just watching you…like, studying you, and he almost goes to say something, but never does. so intense. you communicate without language, until he sees you nursing a bloody lip in the back alley, and queenie scorning you for overstepping your mark. nobody wants a smart girl, she sneers, before stepping back into the club.

he comes out of the shadows, curly hair hanging on his forehead, with beads of sweat running down his neck. you flinch from your seat on the barrel, and he holds his hands up, walking towards you as if you’re a frightened cat.

when he eventually nears you, he pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket, and displays it so you can see. once you give him a short nod, he reaches out and wipes the blood from your split lip.

he catches you with his big, brown eyes.

Quickly finding yourselves a damp and dingy little cave to pass the night in, Gawain gets to work starting a fire as you shiver uncontrollably. 

“You know–” He begins, fumbling with two rocks and a handful of dryish branches, looking up at you for a moment, “You look good, all soaking wet.”

The warmth of his gaze sweeps over your form, lingering on your shaking shoulders, passing by the water dripping off your linen shirt and how your arms curl around yourself to keep the heat in – heat he stokes with that cheeky look, the quickness of his breath, the biting of his lovely, soft, bottom lip…

A spark goes off, catching fire to the branches, cutting the tension like a hot knife over butter. But it does not dissipate, the fire does not cool, it merely wanes to a simmer.

“I bet you’d look even better.” You blurt out, just to get the last word in before sitting by the flames, not entirely aware of what you’ve just said and where his beautiful, hasty mind would take your words. Then again, you’re much more concerned with not freezing to death.

“Trying to warm up with wet clothes isn’t going to do you any good. It isn't going to do anything at all, really.”

“What do you suggest, then?” You sigh, knees tucked to your chest, sitting opposite the dashing young knight.

“You should take off whatever clothes are wet and let them dry by the fire.” He begins shrugging off his thick wooly cape to lay on the stone floor beside him, “And sit close to me – we can share body heat.” he adds on quickly, as if he hasn't made his intentions with you clear enough throughout this journey already.

You’re not sure when it started, when his dark eyes began wandering, when his touches started lingering, or even when you started doing the same. But it’s clear to the two of you; the want– the need too transparent to hide. 

There’s more to it though, for you at least. It would be almost too easy to dive into him otherwise. Like a nymph’s bewitching calls into murky waters.

But it could never be that easy. Not with the one they may one day call King. That and his womanizinging reputation.

Expecting anything other than a purely lustful encounter out of this would be foolish to say the least, but perhaps you are a fool. Because the way he looks at you; the way he has been looking at you since– whenever you started noticing; makes you feel as if there might be a chance. 

So you do as he suggests, stripping down to the basics under his unwavering gaze, shuffling over to his side and nuzzling against him.

Questions swirl endlessly within your mind while leaning on Gawain's warm body, his shirt so thin you could almost perfectly imagine what he'd look like without it in your mind's eye.

But then, those eyes, clear as spring water in their intentions, cage you in with their stare and suddenly you feel as if everything must be laid out plainly, “What are your intentions with me, Sir Gawain?”

The look on his face nearly makes you regret it, fearing you may have offended him, but surely he’s aware of his reputation – surely he must understand.

After a beat he exhales with a slight smile as his large hand comes around to your shoulder, “Are they not clear?”

“Clear as they may be, I like things to be absolutely transparent, especially when it comes to men of your… caliber.” He hums in acknowledgement with a smirk, before it slowly slides off his face, replaced with a thoughtful expression so rarely seen it could be possession.

“I understand what you mean, love. But, in truth, I cannot answer you as of yet.” At the inquisitive look you give him he begins trying to explain himself, “It is that… Well, I am to be King somewhat soon, I assume. So it would be reckless for me to act as carelessly as I once did. But then also, I do not yet know what my intentions are – beyond tonight, that is.” Your face warms slightly at his suggestive tone as his hand drifts down your naked back, “All I know, is that you intrigue me. Greatly. If anything, I know– I feel as if… once will not be enough…”

A dark hand of long, slender fingers lifts your chin to meet his fathomless stare, looking deep into your eyes and beyond that – to your vulnerable soul. 

“I feel… the same.” You speak, suddenly breathless as your face nears his subconsciously, giving in to his siren call.

Lips meeting like a spark to a fire, a beginning. His hands wander over you, reverent, gentle, as yours grasp at the front of his tunic, urging him as close as humanly possible – as if close isn't nearly close enough.

The kiss grows fiercer, a push and pull of soft pink muscles attempting to gain control, before being forced to part, open around heaving breaths while eyes grow hazy with lust– no, yearning. Gawain draws back to shed that bothersome tunic before his hands attach themselves to your hips to pull you onto his lap. The ease with which he does it has you grinding down instantly, hands running over sweat-slick caramel skin.

His dark curls bounce as he tosses his head back under your movements, desperate for some control of the primal urges suddenly overloading his brain – to fuck you without mercy, to ruin you for anyone else – but no, that’s not how he wants this to go.

“God above, you're beautiful.” He breathes, hands stilling your hips to let his eyes sweep over your features slowly. The intensity of his gaze makes you squirm and the strength in his hands warms your inside more than the fire ever could. 

Burying your face in his gorgeous, exposed neck you speak so low not even God could hear, “Shut up and take your pants off.”

You feel him smile against your hair, laying a kiss against it before drawing away to do as you ask, somewhat clumsily, but earnestly all the same. Sitting still on his cloak, you watch him avidly, eyes catching on every new inch of dawn-hued skin revealed.

The singularity of the moment strikes you suddenly; back at the castle, amongst duties and expectations, this would never be possible – this calm, this undemanding rhythm. You have no place to be, no one to meet, so you can just be. Together.

“Where did you go?” He whispers, caressing your face with a softness undeserving of a knight’s strength, making your eyes focus back on his features and immediately surge forward to connect your lips to his, “Nowhere important.”

Gentle as a breeze Gawain lays you back, body between your legs and arms beside your shoulders. His prominent nose brushes yours softly, sensually as he parts your legs even further, “Good. I want you here with me. For this will not be a moment you’ll want to ever forget.”

“Oh,” You chuckle teasingly, back arching almost subconsciously against his warm, wide chest while his hips start moving against yours, “You’re sure of that, are you?”

“Your reaction tells me all I need to be sure.” He replies, so cocksure you’re suddenly reminded of who he’d been before the Green Knight had showed up proposing a ridiculous game – knowing he hasn't changed completely is oddly comforting.

“You talk too much… Sir.” You grumble in lieu of remaining silent and further inflating his ego, getting a raised brow at the tacked-on title.

“But you like it, don't you? Don't lie to me, it's unbecoming.” The corners of his lovely lips twitching with the effort not to laugh. Quick as a flash, your legs lock around his waist, pulling his center down to yours and he’s forced to take a breath from between his teeth as his long lashes flutter, “Like I said; you talk too much.”

Gawain bites his tongue – there will be plenty of time to get back at you once you’re mindless and thoroughly spent – he reasons. For now, he just needs to get you there.

One large hand settles at the base of your throat as his luscious lips travel down your neck in flickers of contact that have you arching against his firm grip for more. Soft as a feather, he pulls away your undergarments as needed to kiss at your chest; sweetly at first and then so wet and sloppy you’re left gasping and whimpering, hands grasping at his strong shoulders for purchase.

Grabbing you below the knees, he gently pries your legs open while kissing down your body until you're tingling and trembling all over wishing he'd just get to it.

“Gawain…”

“Hmm? Are you going to beg? Go on.”

You pout petulantly; no you won't beg, he'd enjoy that far too much. But you can, however, tempt him into doing what you want.

“Gawain…” you moan seemingly helplessly, nails brushing his skin making him shiver in delight, “won't you take me? It's clear you want to.”

“It's clear, is it?” He chuckles breathlessly, ceasing completely to just watch you and it makes you want to smack the back of his head in frustration.

Breathing deep, your eyes move over him carefully, appreciating every inch of delicious, exposed skin so many yearn to catch a glimpse of before…

“Gawain,” you raise an amused brow, surely he noticed… “Yes?”

Oh, he's far too good at playing dumb.

You raise yourself until your lips barely brush his, brown hues watching you closely down the length of his nose before your hand boldly presses down on his stiff cock and those eyes glaze over before rolling back in overwhelming delight, “I'd call this pretty obvious.”

Hand squeezing in pulses, you're granted a low groan followed by a deep sigh, “God, you're too much. I cannot– wait.”

Gawain's mouth devours yours, hungry as a wolf, pushing down once more while his lithe fingers graze the inside of your thighs, grinning at what he finds. Cheeks warming at how your mouth chases his as he pulls back, he gives his palm a full lick before wrapping it around his throbbing cock and stroking. The flames illuminate this length of his gorgeous neck like an old painting and your tongue longs to glide over it and follow the path of his sweat so deeply you almost miss him speaking, “Will you beg now?”

You groan most crudely, far over his games and his perfect face and his disarming voice and his damned haughtiness– your hand grasps the curls at the back of his head, delighting in his whimpered response, “Take me now or so help me–,” your not proud of the way your voice wavers but you’re both past that now.

Gawain’s lips connect with yours surprisingly softly, leaning his forehead against yours and lining himself up with your center, “Shh, I’ve got you, just relax.”

A kiss to your hairline is the only warning you get before he starts pushing into you, slow as can be and yet still you cry out at the feeling in between the kisses he places to your lips to offer some comfort.

“There we go, breathe for me. It’ll feel better soon…”

“Gawain…” You moan, clinging onto him as the bite of initial pain melts into pleasure.

Sucking on your neck, his hips sway against yours rhythmically, wavering only when your nails dig into his sides while moaning desperately in his ear, “Gawain please…”

“Now–” his breathing stutters while his hips buck suddenly, pressing a collection of whispered curses from both of your mouths, “Now you beg?”

“Just please fuck me, please.”

The way his cock twitches inside you tells all you need to know on how he feels about your words.

Curls brush the side of your neck as he reaches to bite at your lobe, grunting and moaning into it while speeding up his hips so much your own moans become stuttered and desperate.

As the end nears, Gawain presses his lips to yours, nearly missing in his eagerness, and opens his mouth as if to say something but no words leave him, only a loud moan of your name ringing across the cave just as your body does the same.