The Bad Guy

| smut | hate sex | lucas/mc | one shot | love island the game |

This is smut. Seriously. It's a little fucked up. Mildly dubious consent (sorta kinda maybe). Written for the monthly prompt competition from LITGFanFiction on Reddit. On July 23rd you can go to r/litgfanfiction and vote for this if you enjoyed it. 

Song on repeat whilst writing this mess: Rollins Band - Liar.

***

The last recoupling. Finally.

Lucas pushed a stray dark hair back into place as the lads took their seats at the firepit.

Henrik dropped heavily beside him and sighed. "Whoever Eve chooses, I want you to know that this wasn't personal. I'd love if she chose me, but I don't want to throw our friendship away over it," Henrik said. "I liked her a lot before I was dumped, and she liked me. I just want her to be happy..."

Lucas relaxed the tension around his eyes and gave Henrik an easy smile. Not that he needed to fake it too much. The best part about naively honest people was that they assumed everyone else was just as honest as they were. "Of course, mate. Gotta make your own destiny. I understand." He clapped him on the shoulder. "May the best man win and all that."

That done, he focused on what was happening in front of him. It wouldn't do for his mind to wander too much. Things tended to become unpredictable in these high stress recouplings and he needed to stay on top of his reactions. Keeping up the Lucas Koh facade twenty-fours a day was more difficult than he'd imagined.

Nothing much was surprising though, as the ceremony wore on. Hope and Noah. Lottie and Gary. Sure. That made as much sense as anything else in this moronic place. He flicked a droplet of sweat from his temple. The night was unbearably chilly yet sticky, just like every night in the godforsaken villa. Tropical paradise, his arse.

He appreciated the wardrobe girl's suggestion of open button-downs that provided relief from the humidity while also showing off his muscled torso. While it looked carved from stone, in reality it was a blend of reasonably defined muscles and carefully applied waterproof bronzer.

Lucas believed in hard work. Or rather, just enough of it to sell the next illusion.

Another phone buzzed and the only woman who mattered stepped forward. Eve. His Disney princess with dusky skin and short honey-blonde curls. The perfect blend of money, class, and sweetness. She nervously smoothed the yellow silk dress that hugged every centimetre of her lush body. She was quite tall, but tonight she towered over the other girls, because she wore those shoes. The Louboutin snakeskin stilettos with laces that wrapped around her ankles and calves. Fuck, every time he saw those shoes, he pictured her on her stomach, legs pulled back, the scaled straps knotted around her ankles and bound to her wrists. He shifted as his cock awoke at the thought of her splayed before him, wet and helpless, as he fucked her however he wanted.

Not that he'd ever get the chance to do such a thing with her. Eve was great in bed, but more vanilla than a bowl of custard.

Pity.

A chilly breeze swept through the area. The fire, reflected in her amber eyes, flickered as she looked around. Those eyes, large and vapid as a newborn fawn, had destroyed more than one man's heart in the villa. Lucas glanced at Bobby, who was struggling to hide the longing on his freckled face.

Poor idiot.

"This wasn't an easy decision," Eve began.

He arranged his features into a mask that projected just enough anxiousness to make himself seem deserving and likeable. Not too hot. Not too cold.