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longbobmckenzie · 9 months

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Choose Me - Roberto/MC

Summary:

Roberto just wants this Stick or Twist ceremony to be over so he can leave the villa, like he should have done the night his girl was dumped. But sometimes, things have a way of working themselves out…

Rating: Teen

Words: 2,440

Read on AO3

(or read under the cut!)

Roberto runs a hand over his weary face as he takes his seat on the bench around the fire pit. The glow of the flickering flames should give him a sense of warmth, but he’s been cold ever since a few nights earlier, when he watched his girl walk out of the villa.

Andi.

God, he was an idiot not to walk out right then and there. But the boys convinced him to give it a day or two first, to make sure his feelings were real. After all, they’ve only known each other a couple weeks, and they live in different countries, for chrissakes. He would be crazy to chase after her, wouldn’t he? Things on the outside aren’t the same as things in the villa, or so the boys said. But being without her only confirmed what he’s known all along, since the night he first laid eyes on her — she’s the one for him.

But then the girls were swept off to Casa Amor, and a new set of girls came in. The guys encouraged him to get to know them, but it didn’t feel right. None of it did. The villa lost its lustre when Andi left. Even the neon beanbag chairs and cheeky sayings posted around the place seemed to have dulled overnight. But he could hardly leave the show in the middle of Casa Amor, without saying a proper goodbye to the original girls. They’re his friends too, and Bella in particular would never forgive him if he walked before she could give him another sock in the arm or ruffle his hair.

The corners of his lips tip up just a little at the thought of that blue-haired firecracker. The two of them became fast friends, and he can’t wait to see her again. There’s never been anything romantic between them and never will be, but his Love Island experience wouldn’t be the same without her.

He just hopes she found someone in Casa Amor. He’s banking on it, actually — because if she couples up, then he’ll be single. And if he’s single, then… well, maybe, hopefully, he’ll be dumped. Either way, he’s planning to leave at the first opportunity to go find his girl, but he wants to make sure Bella’s taken care of first. He doesn’t want to risk leaving her vulnerable.

Finally, the host walks in and does her spiel, and the ceremony begins. Ozzy is the first to rise to his feet, and it comes as no surprise when he says he’s sticking with Grace. Roberto shakes his head in annoyance, making a tutting sound. It’s no secret that Ozzy had a thing for Andi, and now without her in the picture, he’s falling back on Grace, knowing how much the girl is obsessed with him. But as much as Grace has been wilfully blind to all of it, Roberto can’t help but think she deserves better. She might be coupled up with him, but she’s clearly Ozzy’s second choice.

Grace comes in alone and flings herself into his arms, and Roberto rolls his eyes as he pretends to clap along. There’s a brief moment when some doofus from Casa Amor storms in and yells at Grace about something or other, but security is quick to drag him back into the villa, leaving Grace flustered and embarrassed and Ozzy confused and not a little like he’s been made to look like a mug.

Fuckin’ deserves it.

Then Lewie gets up and makes a speech about going with the flow, which causes a few titters and giggles around the fire pit as a blue-eyed blonde steps forward from the row of Casa girls. The two of them are a perfect match, and they’ll have perfect blonde, blue-eyed babies.

And then Roberto thinks he’s dreaming, because that’s Andi walking towards him, on the arm of—wait, no. He gives his head a shake and looks at her again. The woman walking in may share the same face as his girl, but she wears her hair a little longer and wavier, her nose isn’t pierced, and her lips have a way of twisting into an ugly smirk that Andi isn’t capable of. It’s Amelia, her twin.

He lifts a curious eyebrow as he takes in the man she’s with, barely stifling the bubble of laughter that almost courses out of him. Of course Amelia would couple up with the carbon copy of Ozzy, although this guy has longer hair, a beard, and a few tattoos peeking out from under his clothing. And judging by the look on Ozzy’s face, he’s not so happy to see his dear brother. Which tracks, considering he never even told the guys that his brother is actually his twin.

The two of them exchange a few tense words before Amelia leads Marshall to an open space on the opposite side of the bench, throwing a jealous look in Flo’s direction.

And then it’s Roberto’s turn.

He wipes the moisture from his palms and takes a deep breath as he rises to his feet, gazing around at all the familiar faces. This isn’t his goodbye speech, not quite yet, but it’s still the final time he’s going to be doing one of these recouplings. He might actually miss it.

The host gives him a nod, and he clears his throat. “As you all know, the last few days have been… well.” He throws a sheepish look towards Ivy and the other two girls who were sent in to tempt them, whose names he never even bothered to learn, giving them an apologetic smile. “My mind and my heart have both been elsewhere, so I’ve been pretty poor company. I’m usually a lot of fun, I promise.”

There’s a chorus of muffled laughter around the fire pit.

“Although I’m technically coupled up with Bella—” A hard glance towards Elliot makes the other man flush “—there’s been another girl on my mind, and these last few days have given me all the clarity I need to go after what I want. I hope Bella found someone while she was away, but I have to do what’s right for myself, and that’s to stick.”

The host smiles softly. “Alright, let’s see what Bella decided to do.”

All eyes turn towards the villa. Roberto doesn’t know why his heart is pounding, but it is, until finally his partner appears — holding hands with someone else.

He lets out a sigh of relief, and a wide smile crosses his face. When she catches his eye, she beams at him, as if she’s as happy to see that he’s standing there alone as he is to see that she’s twisted to someone new.

When they reach the fire pit, she stands next to the host, but all she can look at is him, her eyes sparkling with joy and excitement — and a hint of mischievousness. He knows that look well, the look that says that she knows something he doesn’t. But what could it possibly mean?

The host asks her a few questions, and Roberto learns that the new guy’s name is Andy — which makes him chuckle a little even as a pang goes through him at the reminder of his Andi. He seems nice, and he’s looking at Bella like she hung the moon, so Roberto couldn’t be happier for her. They come over and he gives Bella one of his biggest hugs, Andy a firm handshake, and then they all sit down together.

“Turns out we both have a thing for Andis,” he whispers to Bella, making her giggle as Elliot stands up. “I’m so happy you found someone.”

“I’m so happy you didn’t,” she replies, that twinkle reappearing in her eye, though it’s replaced by a flash of worry as her mouth quivers. “I almost didn’t switch, you know. To keep you safe.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I… Bella, you know there’s no one else for me. If I can’t have Andi, then I don’t mind getting dumped.”

The worry disappears, the sparkle beaming even brighter, and she covers his hand with one of hers, giving it a squeeze as they both turn to watch Ivy cross the fire pit towards Elliot, looking like the cat who’s caught the canary.

Bella sighs. “I knew he’d switch.”

Roberto shrugs. “He kinda had to, didn’t he? Andi’s gone, so he’s single.”

She looks like she’s about to say something, only to quickly snap her mouth shut. He narrows his eyes, wondering why she’s acting funny.

The host starts speaking again, and he’s fully expecting her to end the proceedings and say her goodbyes, but what she says instead stops him in his tracks.

“Before I let you all go, I have one more surprise for you.” She looks at Elliot, then at Roberto, before turning to look towards the villa.

Roberto is bewildered. What’s going on? The rest of the boys are just as confused as he is, but the girls are all beaming at him. But what for? His palms begin to sweat, his heart pounding faster in his chest, and then he hears them.

Footsteps.

His breath catches in his throat as his eyes lock onto the space where the other girls have appeared. Is it another new Islander? Already? Or is it—

Andi. His Andi.

There she is, like a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. Her eyes meet his and they light up bright, filling the villa with vibrant colour again. The air whooshes out of his lungs, and he’s on his feet, his knees wobbling beneath him.

But then his vision blurs, starting at the edges, and his heart squeezes in his chest. Of course, she’s just a mirage. This isn’t real; none of it is. He’s sleeping, and any moment now he’ll wake up to find himself on the daybeds, having napped the afternoon away. And then he’ll have to do it all over again, going through the motions of getting ready for the evening and then watching everyone recouple while he wishes he’d walked out days earlier.

“Roberto.”

It even sounds just like her. Warm hands cup his cheeks, which he realizes are wet with his tears. A soft, gentle laugh that makes him squeeze his eyes shut, wanting to return to those blissful moments with her.

“Roberto, it’s me.”

He’s scared to open his eyes, but he does it anyway, and she’s standing in front of him, tears streaking down her own face, but she’s smiling. God, he loves her smile, and he can’t help but mirror it.

“Pinch me.”

Instead, she presses her lips to his, salty tears mixing with the sweet strawberry flavour of the lip gloss she always wears, and he crumbles. His arms slide around her waist, just as much to give himself something to lean on as to bring her closer to him.

“Is it really you?” He can still scarcely believe it, but she tastes and feels so real.

Andi nods, her eyes glowing with the happiness that he feels. “C’mon,” she says, threading her fingers through his and leading him to the bench, where Bella and Andy scooch over to make room.

The host is talking again, but Roberto doesn’t catch a word. He’s too busy staring at Andi, unable to believe his luck. She’s back. He has no idea what she’s doing there, but she’s back.

She squeezes his hand, and he snaps to attention. “She just asked us something, hun.”

He looks back over at the host. “Sorry, could you repeat…?”

The host smiles. “I have a feeling I already know the answer to this, but… as you and Andi are both single, you now have the option to couple up with each other, or to stay single and vulnerable.”

“Fuck yes!” he exclaims with a fist pump, before turning to Andi and smashing his lips against hers. She lets out a squeal before melting into it, wrapping her arms around him.

The ceremony ends, the host leaves, and one by one, the other couples wander off to do their own thing, leaving Roberto and Andi to themselves.

“How are you here?” he asks breathlessly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear and letting his hand linger. He can’t stop touching her, he hasn’t stopped touching her since she walked in.

“I wasn’t actually dumped. I was sent to Casa Amor early.”

“What?”

“I know! It was so dumb. Supposedly I got the most votes, not the least.”

Roberto smiles, his heart swelling with pride for his girl. “That tracks. Not that I’m happy about you being in Casa Amor with four new boys all to yourself.”

“It was a waste of a plot twist, really,” Andi replies with a shrug. “The guys were nice enough, but none of them were you.”

“Phew.” He wipes his forehead, laughing. “I might’ve been in trouble if they were.”

She laughs, and his heartbeat quickens. Oh, how he’s missed that sound.

“You had to know Elliot would switch, though, right? He thought you were gone. You knew you’d be left single.”

“Bella was worried about leaving you single too, but I encouraged her to switch. She deserves a romantic couple, and Andy is great.”

“He seems nice.”

“He is! But we figured, well… If Elliot left me single, and Bella left you single, then at least we’d be single together.”

“Or dumped,” he points out.

“Apparently not.” Her thumb brushes over his skin where their hands are still laced together. “I can’t believe we got to couple up.”

“I would have left for you, you know. I was ready to pack my bags tonight if I needed to.”

“Well, thankfully you don’t need to.”

“Would that have been so bad? Getting dumped?” he asks. “I would leave right now with you by my side, if it meant never getting separated again.”

She gives him a soft smile, her eyes full of tenderness. “I won’t let that happen again.”

“We still could, you know. Leave. I already know I have everything I want.” He gives her hand a squeeze for emphasis. “I don’t need the rest of it.”

Andi shakes her head. “We can’t leave.”

“Why not? Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

The corner of her mouth turns up into a smirk, and she gazes across the villa before turning back to him, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“We can’t let Amelia win.”

Roberto’s head tilts back as he laughs. All his doubts immediately vanish — he’s not dreaming. This is real. This girl who he’s grown to know and—yes—even love is really back.

#litg #litg ff #litg fanfic #litg fanfiction #longbob writes #litg roberto #stick or twist fix-it

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litgwritersroom · 10 months

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can you please write the background story of ozzy hooking up with the mystery celebrity??

LET ME BE YOUR WOMAN

Ozzy / MC - 5000+ words - @mrsbsmooth NSFW

It’s professional. It’s strictly professional.

Ozzy rolled his neck, stretching the tension from his shoulders. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous.

Being a choreographer was his dream job. The choreography videos he’d posted on social media had been fun to make, but he’d never imagined he’d get this big. Dance classes with a waitlist four months long. Invitations to choreograph music videos and international tours. Working one-on-one with celebrities and popstars, all to great success.

But he’d never worked with someone as famous as Brooke Barrow.

Millions of fans. Tens of millions of albums sold. A twenty-country international tour that had fans getting in fistfights over merchandise. And in just a few minutes, she’d take the podium as the biggest celebrity he’d ever taught.

He cast his eyes around the studio one final time, wiping a smudge from the floor-to-ceiling mirror with a silent curse. Did he have time to go over the whole thing again? He checked his phone. No. But he did have a text from Marshall.

Snogged yer worldie yet?

He frowned.

She’s not my worldie. She’s a client, he typed. This is professional.

The dots danced at the bottom of his screen as the reply came instantaneously. Professional my arse. I can feel you sweating from Essex.

Ozzy rolled his eyes, setting his phone to do-not-disturb.

Maybe it wasn’t strictly professional.

All the celebrities he worked with were gorgeous, but she was like something out of his imagination– though he supposed he wasn’t alone. Curves like murder, eyes wide and innocent, skin like a summer evening; bronze and glowing and warm. Hair like silk, and lips you couldn’t help but want to bite down on. FHM, Maxim and Playboy had tried beating her door down for years, not one of them successful; her “good girl” image hadn’t aligned with the type of photo spreads they’d want to put her in.

But things had changed. The label said she wanted a rebrand; a sexier, more grown-up persona better suited to her now 22-year-old self. The issue was that the label thought she had absolutely no idea how to look hot when she danced. She needed help to nail it for her next video.

And she’d requested him specifically.

They’d spoken on the phone many, many times, to clarify the vibe she was after, or discuss the preparations and stretches she should be doing beforehand. They got along great. She was a professional, but still wonderfully friendly, something he’d come to understand was rare among celebrities. She put on those sequin shorts she was famous for one leg at a time. There was nothing to be nervous about.

He made the last few adjustments to the studio, breathing steadily to calm himself down. He had the choreography down, he’d recorded it and it had been approved by her management team. Everything was set and ready to go. He just had to teach her how to do it, that was all.

But as the studio door flung open, he suddenly felt a little queasy.

God Damn.

Her perfectly curated Instagram had nothing on what she looked like in person. She was unreal, a loose, white t-shirt hung off her shoulders, exposing the hint of her brown skin. The flash of a black sports crop stretched over her perky breasts. Tiny, skin-tight shorts he was sure Lululemon never intended to be so pornographic, and heels; sky high, lace-up heels he’d told her to wear, knowing she’d need to be dancing in them on stage.

He had to avert his gaze, shaking some sense into himself as he greeted her with a smile and an outstretched hand.

“Brooke,” he said, as politely and professionally as he could. “I’m Ozzy, great to finally meet you.”

“Ozzy!” she grinned, smiling with recognition. She took his hand, shaking it gently, but didn’t immediately let go. “Hi! It’s so nice to meet you in person, I really am such a fan.”

Ozzy’s eyebrows shot up. “A fan… of… mine?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Huge fan. I swear, about 50% of the views on your Youtube videos are from me and my friends.”

“Well, thank you,” he laughed, feeling a lot more at ease. “That’s really nice to hear. I’m glad you enjoy them.”

“Enjoy is one way to describe it. My friends would call it “drooling over…” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. She bit her lip, and he couldn’t hide the surprise on his face.

…What?

He couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline that flooded his veins. Jeez, his dancing had helped him with women in the past, but… he definitely hadn’t expected—

Was Brooke… flirting with him?

He was suddenly a little at a loss of what to do. Flirting back would’ve been insane, not to mention crazy unprofessional. He couldn’t get a rep for flirting with his students. But… he knew this choreo– he’d created it himself. It wasn’t exactly “leave room for Jesus” type of dancing. So maybe a little harmless flirting would help her to feel less… exposed.

He glanced down at their still-enclosed hands, and looked back up at her, only vaguely trying to hold back the heat in his eyes.

“Well,” he said, a cool confidence in his voice. “I’ve obviously seen all of your music videos, too. Maybe we should leave it at that… for now.”

He held her gaze, and she bit those beautiful lips again, his eyes lingering on them. Brooke released his hand with a coy smile, placing her bag down on the floor in the corner of the studio. She pulled a water bottle from it, wrapping her lips around the mouthpiece of it, tapping it gently against her lips after taking a sip.

“So,” she said. “Where do we begin?”

Ozzy showed her every move, running her through it in sets, slowing her down and adjusting her position as she followed along.

But she wasn’t getting it.

She was rigid. Stiff, even, like she was embarrassed to fully let go.

“I’m so screwed,” she groaned, flopping to the floor to take a drink of water.

“No, you’re not,” Ozzy chuckled, sitting down alongside her. “You’ve got the steps down perfectly. You’re just too stiff.”

She sighed, tucking her leg underneath her as she turned to face him. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Make being sexy so fucking easy?”

Ozzy’s eyebrows twitched upward, and he couldn’t help but look her over once more. God, she looked so fine with a sheen of sweat over her body, the glow on her skin like she’d been kissed by sunlight.

“You’ll get it. You just need to loosen up. Let go a little.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t know how,” she complained, pouting at him.

He laughed, getting to his feet. “Here, I’ll show you.”

He reached out his hand, helping Brooke to her feet, and she let him pull her up with a huff.

Ozzy led her to the mirror which spanned the breadth of the wall, turning her to look at herself.

“Okay, do the leg sweep.”

Brooke did a rigid leg sweep, her hands firmly on her hips.

He raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t jazz dance, Brooke. Make it slutty.”

She giggled, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, you’re serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” he smiled.

“Oh, God, how on earth do I do that?”

Ozzy frowned at her. “Come on, Brooke, you’ve seen people dance seductively. Arch your back. Swing your hips. Run your hands over your body.”

He counted her in, and she tried, running her hands awkwardly up her body. She turned, looking hopefully at him, and he shot her a look of disbelief. Brooke blushed, and Ozzy shook his head, teasing her with his gaze to let her know it wasn’t that serious.

Then, he had an idea.

He’d used it many times, and it always worked. Every single time. He switched to the playlist one of his dancer friends had made him. She said it went hard in the Basildon dance crowd.

“You like clubbing, right?”

“...Yeah?”

“How do you dance in the club?”

“Awkwardly.”

Ozzy laughed. “I highly doubt that.”

Brooke grinned at him. “Yeah, alright, I’m probably a little more relaxed. But I’m usually drunk. And it’s dark.”

Without another word, Ozzy walked over to the door, and switched the lights off.

The studio plunged into darkness, the only light the emergency light over the exit. It was perfect, casting a deep red glow over the room, leaving her in almost full darkness. That deep maroon was the only thing allowing him to see her, and even then, only just. He hit play on the remote once more, smiling as the lyrics started.

Nails, hair, hips, heels, ass fat, lips real

Purse full, big bills, bitch I'm a big deal

Ozzy turned the volume almost to the max, and he took her hand.

“Pretend I’m not here,” he said. “It’s just you, dancing with your friends. Or dancing around your kitchen. No one’s paying attention. No one else is here.”

Ozzy started moving on his own to encourage her, and after only half a minute, he saw Brooke starting to move as well. She was hesitant, but quickly realised she could barely see him, gaining the confidence to start subtly dancing in time with the music.

“Yes,” he smiled. “That’s it.”

She huffed a small laugh, moving a little more confidently.

“Now you’re gonna walk,” he said, moving back across the room. “Or more like…, strut. Towards me. Step to the music.”

“What’s that gonna do?” she asked.

“Get you in touch with your body. And make you feel confident. Toss your hair over your shoulder, stop to dance, do whatever feels right. Just move in time with the music.”

He could just make her out in the low light, her brow furrowed as if she wasn’t sure, but he smiled encouragingly at her. As his eyes began to adjust, he saw her walking toward him, the click of her heels on the studio floor perfectly in time with the beat.

“Great!” he called, “Keep going!”

He began walking backwards around the room, drawing her towards him, and Brooke began laughing.

“You’re moving away!”

“Yeah, I know. Keep coming to me.”

“Ozzzzyyy–” she complained. “I feel stupid!”

“Good thing no one can see you, then, isn’t it?” he teased.

It wasn’t long before she started letting go a little.

As Todrick Hall started instructing her through the song, she started following along.

Drop for me, drop for me, drop

Pose for me, pose for me, pose

Striking dramatic, confident poses, or pausing to do a dramatic slut-drop, she was laughing her head off in no time, loosening up her movements as he finally stopped moving away. Brooke was having so much fun, she didn’t notice him stop, colliding into his chest with a thud.

“Oof,” he groaned, catching her by the upper arms, laughing.

“Oh my God, sorry!” she giggled. “I was getting too into it.”

“Good!” He grinned. “It’s a good exercise to get in the right headspace.”

“Can we keep going?” she said. “That was really fun.”

He slipped the remote from his pocket, hitting next, and Brooke burst out laughing as a deep, sultry rhythm started.

“Oh God,” she groaned. “Is this Buttons? Whose playlist is this?”

“Mate of mine. She loves making dance playlists. This one’s called ‘Hoe town, population me’.”

Brooke burst out laughing. “And you thought that was a good playlist to put on for me?”

Ozzy suddenly blushed, absolutely embarrassed that she might think he’d done that on purpose.

“God, Brooke, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“Shhh!” She laughed. “It’s exactly the vibe I need. I love this song.”

She took his hand, twirling herself underneath it, swaying in time with the beat. She was rolling her head around, relaxed and carefree, her shoulders beginning to follow as she sang along to the lyrics. And as she sang, he couldn’t help but watch her.

You've been saying all the right things all night long

But I can't seem to get you over here to help take this off

The way her mouth formed every word, her tongue flicking gently and her teeth biting at her lip as she began to move. Jesus Christ, she was sexy. He felt his body starting to react as she joined her hands with his, lifting his hands into the air between them. He couldn’t help but step a little closer, bringing them to the side as her body heat began to radiate against his.

Brooke began winding her body, moving her hips in time with the music. She lifted his arms again, turning herself underneath them, and wrapped them around her shoulders. He tried to keep some distance between them, knowing they didn’t need to be dancing so closely, but before he knew it, she’d pressed back against him, their bodies moving together.

“Can you show me how to do those body rolls you were doing before?” she asked, her voice soft and innocent.

Jesus, he was getting hot under the collar.

“Sure,” he said, pulling her just the necessary amount closer. He reached around her, pressing her back into him. “Chest first, shoulders back, then arch your back, pushing your stomach forward. Roll it through, then grind your hips back.”

He pressed his chest into her back, his hand pressing her shoulders back against him. He rolled her with him, her body bending flawlessly with his, ending with her guiding her world-famous ass back.

Directly into his crotch.

She had it straight away, rolling her body against his in a way that had him glancing up at the ceiling for mercy. Her perfume was intoxicating, rich and sweet like caramel and sea salt, and he inhaled deeply as she pulled her hair to the side. He could still hear her singing; it was like a distraction to her, pulling her out of the studio and onto the stage.

Take a chance to recognise that this could be yours—

She began to grind herself back against him, and his heart began to race for real. She felt so good against him, her hips winding into his… but his mind kicked back in.

Professional. Shit. Keep it professional.

“Looser,” he whispered. “Let go of your hips.”

She sighed, her shoulders dropping a little as she immediately became disheartened.

“I can’t do this,” she said, exasperated.

“Brooke,” he said. “You can.”

“I can’t,” she said, stopping altogether. “I just can’t move my body like you can.”

Ozzy frowned to himself. She was almost there when she thought no one was watching. Whenever it was just her and the music, she was perfectly on beat, playing and having fun with it, moving with flawless rhythm. It would take so little to get her there. He just needed to get her out of her own head. Relax her. Get her thinking about something else entirely. He swallowed, hard. Because there was only really one way he could think how.

People acted differently depending on how they were feeling, and there was one mood that he knew would help her. The one that curbed shame and increased risk-taking.

He could turn her on.

“Would it help if I guided you?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“Please,” she groaned.

“I’ll have to touch you a bit though. Is that alright?”

“Yeah,” she said, “but I don’t think–”

Brooke’s voice cut off halfway as he pulled her body flush to his, and she gasped a little at his sudden taking of control.

“Hips,” he demanded. ”Roll them, like you were before.”

He gently brushed her hips, but her movements were static, so he gripped her harder, guiding her firmly into the movement he wanted to see. Side to side, in a one-two grind, swaying her with the music.

“Oh,” Brooke said, her voice quiet. “So…”

He felt her begin rocking into his hands, and he leaned in closer, speaking into her ear so she could hear him over the music.

“Yes,” he hissed. “That’s it. Now hands.”

He didn’t wait for her to try, taking her hands and placing them on her stomach.

“Run them up your body,” he said, covering them with his own. “Touch yourself like you would want someone else to touch you.”

He traced her hands over her taut stomach, guiding them up over her ribs, brushing her breasts and squeezing them with her own hands. Brooke gasped, but Ozzy didn’t stop, dragging them up over her collarbones and onto her neck. He splayed them on her skin, threading them into her hair.

“Ozzy,” she whimpered.

“Don’t be afraid to get into it,” Ozzy whispered. “If it turns you on, you’re doing it right.”

Brooke’s breath fell heavy, and he released her hands, letting her guide them over herself. He watched her in the mirror, her face glowing in the soft, red light, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up as she closed her eyes. Her hands threaded back into her own hair, and she tugged on it gently, trailing her hands onto her collarbones. She traced her fingers across them, and moved downward, her touch falling heavier on her breasts. She squeezed them together, much harder than he had, and kept going. Lower and lower, over her stomach, trailing down her waist, her hands like a magnet for his gaze as she directed them to the space between her legs. She spread them, bending low to the floor, and traced her hands up the back of her thighs, scratching her nails into the skin. She arched her back, touching herself over and over again.

And Ozzy realised he’d stopped dancing.

All this, right in front of him, an arm’s reach away but feeling like miles. Her body was so effortless, moving with all the beauty and elegance of someone who’d been dancing for a lifetime. He was absolutely entranced by her, the heat in his body like a fire in his blood.The song ended, and for a moment, the trance was broken. But as the next one started, he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop what was going to happen. Doja Cat was going to make sure of that.

The beat was low; seductive and sensual and sex in music’s form, and Brooke turned, gazing at him with deep, hooded eyes. She was in his arms before he could even pull her closer, her body pressed back against his as they began to move as one. He wrapped his arms around her waist, that intoxicating perfume curling into him once more, groaning as Brooke took his hands in hers.

She placed his hands on her, covering them with her own, just as he had, and began guiding him over her skin. Her hips, her waist, under her t-shirt, pushing them onto her breasts.

Baby, worship my hips and waist

So feminine with grace

I touch your soul when you hear me say

"Boy, let me be your woman"

Every drop of blood in his body was rushing south, and he grasped her in a way that was wholly unprofessional, knowing she could feel what she was doing to him. He moved her hair to the side, dropping his lips to her neck, dragging them from behind her ear down to her shoulder. God, he wanted to bite her, her skin tasted exactly like her fragrance, the sweetest caramel with the delicious taste of her sweat.

“Ozzy,” she whispered, gasping for a breath as she reached behind her head and threaded her fingers through his hair.

Jesus, this was already going way too far, but he couldn’t help himself. One hand was on her breast, stroking her rapidly hardening nipples through her bra. The other on her stomach, toying with the waistband of her shorts. Brooke was grinding her ass against him with a wind that would put professionals to shame, the roll of her body against his only drawing more and more heat from his breath. He had to stop this. He had to stop before it went too–

Before he knew it, she’d turned, and her lips were on his.

Ozzy picked her up, and a moment later, he had her against the wall, holding her thigh around his waist as he held her legs apart. Brooke’s hands were in his hair, holding him against her as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, whimpering with need as he began rolling his hips against hers. She tugged at his shirt, and he gladly let her pull it over his head, drawing an irresistible whimper from her as she traced her fingers over his abs. He pulled hers over her head as well, tossing it across the room, before pushing his hands into her sports bra.

“Fuck, yes,” she gasped, “Yes, Ozzy, please!”

He lifted the tight fabric higher, exposing her to him, and leaned down to take her nipple in his mouth. She held his head to her, her back arched, moaning with each flick of his tongue against the sensitive bud. Brooke reached down, slipping her hand into his sweats, stroking her fingers down his length as he groaned into her skin.

“Oh my Goddddd,” she moaned as she traced his full length. “I knew it, I fucking knew it.”

He couldn’t help it, his body completely on fire with every kiss of her palm against his tip. He couldn’t take it any more. He curled his arm around her waist, sliding it into the tiny shorts that had been tormenting him since the moment she walked in, and he took a handful of her ass for himself. He rolled the fabric down his wrist, exposing her, before pushing the shorts all the way down. She reached down, tugging them far enough down that they fell to her ankles, and she stepped out of them. She reached down for her shoes, but he stopped her, turning her face toward his.

“Leave them on.”

Naked except for her pushed-up sports bra and lace up heels, she stood like a goddess in front of him, every curve and angle of her body bathed in a cherry-red glow. His fingers traced her outline, admiring her for the work of art she was, before lingering on the heat radiating from between her legs. He pressed his fingers against her clit, starting a slow, steady rhythm, holding her legs open with his own as he pressed his hard length against her leg.

She tugged his sweats down, pulling him closer, and before he could even think about what he was doing, she was guiding his tip to her entrance. He captured her lips with his, groaning at how wet she was, and began to push inside her.

Brooke whimpered and moaned at his size, and he pulled back for a moment.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, kissing her softly.

She let her head fall back, exposing her neck to him, an opportunity he gladly took as he began kissing up and down it.

“No,” she groaned. “Oh my God, Ozzy, give me all of it.”

So he did.

Brooke gasped with each thrust, whimpering and moaning his name as if he was her favourite song, and he couldn’t help his eyes rolling back as he savoured her. Every roll of his hips was met by one of hers, drawing forward to meet him as if she couldn’t bear for him to not be inside her.

Jesus, he couldn’t believe she thought she couldn’t dance.

“Ozzy,” she groaned, and he paused for a moment, hearing the pain in her voice. “My heels. My feet are–”

Shit, he hadn’t even realised, capturing her thigh in his hand meant she’d been balancing on one heel. He released her, and she dropped to her knees, laying back on the studio floor, her hands against the wall. Ozzy kneeled in front of her, and she wrapped her long legs around his waist, urging him back toward her. He pressed back into her, his hands on either side of her body, and something came over him.

He’d never had a one-night stand before, it wasn’t his vibe. And almost as if he’d only just realised what he was doing, he paused for moment, looking down at Brooke’s exposed body.

Damn. He’d never had a one night stand before, and he wasn’t going to start now.

He was just going to have to make sure this wasn’t a one-night stand.

Ozzy smirked a little, glancing up at Brooke’s hands to make sure she was holding her hands steady against the wall…

And he danced.

He gave her every movement of his body that he had; hips, torso, thighs; rolling his body into her as he drew himself in and out of her, over and over and over. Brooke’s body wrenched underneath him, begging him with her thighs, squeezing him tightly as she held herself off the wall.

She caught a glimpse of them in the mirror to their side, and she gasped, panting his name with every thrust as she watched him build her toward her peak.

“Fuck, fuck,” she gasped, her voice damn near at a cry, every breath like a wave of curses and groans as she tried to hold back. “Ozzy, fuck, I’m gonna–”

She whimpered, her mouth falling open, and he almost chuckled at how fast he’d brought her there. But he couldn’t help but groan in response as she tightened around him, her strong thighs squeezing his waist as her walls gripped his length inside her.

“Oh Jesus, Brooke, yes,” he whispered, throwing his head back as he guided her through the waves of her climax. He gently slowed as she came down, rolling softly into her so as not to overstimulate her. But almost as soon as she’d taken a breath, she opened her eyes.

She looked up at him with the deepest, hooded eyes he’d ever seen, her full lips parted and her lips wet from his kiss.

“On your back,” she whispered.

Ozzy’s eyebrows raised, and before he could even tell her she didn’t have to, she had him on his back. Brooke slid him back into her, and he smiled up at her…

Until she started moving.

Up. Down. Forward. Back. Side to side and directions he didn’t even know existed. She was a full-body experience, her hips grinding into his, her hands gently caressing and scratching at his chest as she worked herself over him.

“Je–sus–christ,” he gasped, grasping for purchase with each grind of her hips. “Brooke, fuck!”

Her lips fell open, moaning as she watched him underneath her, and she glanced one more time at the mirror. He turned his own head, glancing at their reflection, and almost lost control. Every curve was on full display, her back arched, her breasts exposed, her every movement captured in glass and reflected back at him as he watched her ride him.

She caught his eye in the mirror, biting her lip and moaning as she took him especially deeply.

“Oh, God, Ozzy, you feel so good,” she gasped.

Ahh, Jesus, he was close.

He tried to slow her down, but Brooke had no interest in it, closing her eyes and lifting her pace. So he did the only thing he could do.

He started thrusting back into her.

He fell into her rhythm, meeting her hips with every movement, echoing and mirroring and taking back the lead. His hands left her hips, and he reached for her hands, bringing them to her breasts.

“Touch your body,” he demanded. “Brooke, touch yourself.”

She whimpered, squeezing her breasts the way she’d shown him before that she loved, and Ozzy grabbed her hip once more. He guided her with one hand, thrusting up into her, and brought his other hand to her clit, grinding his fingers against her as he watched her rolling her nipples through her fingers.

Jesus, the visual was too much, and he could feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He was so close, dancing so close to the edge, holding back for her, desperate to–

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Brooke, shit, shit–”

“Ozzy–”

With a sudden heave of her body, Brooke snapped, her head falling back as she came a second time. The tightness surrounded him, and he couldn’t have held back if he wanted to, exploding in a wall of gasping moans as he bucked up into her. The beat of the music pumped through him, the roll and wind of their hips together like a wave of ecstasy that they rode each other through. His fingers left marks on her hips, grinding her back into him with some unholy urge to come as deep into her as possible, and it only drew a darker gasp from Brooke’s lips.

They stayed like that for what seemed like an age, their hips rolling in perfect unison as they came down from the high together. Brooke collapsed on top of him, her body soft and limp against his, and he wrapped her up in his arms, completely at a loss of what to say.

“That was fucking incredible,” Brooke said, panting heavily into his chest. “If that’s what dancers can do, I need to get better at dancing.”

Ozzy laughed, stroking her back. “You seemed to have pretty good control of your hips from where I’m standing?”

Brooke lifted her head, glaring playfully at him, and smiled. “Glad you think so… now. But I think I can get even better.”

He kissed her gently, smiling back, a little amused at his own boldness. “Well, you’re doing classes with me five times a week for the next two weeks. So…”

Brooke giggled, and leaned over him, kissing him deeply. He groaned into her soft lips, holding her to him, stroking his hand through her hair before releasing her. She bit her lip, an adorably excited look in her eyes, and grinned at him.

“It’s a date.”

#litg #litg fanfic #LITG ozzy #LITG season 6 #LITG double trouble #MrsBSmooth #litg writers room #writers room #love island the game #ask #litg ff

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