Chapter Text
From the very first handshake, Kylian knew he was already falling.
He felt a strange tingling pass through his hand. Was it stress? Maybe excitement? Years later, it was impossible to tell. What he did remember was his face. The short curls slightly messy after the warm-up. The green eyes narrowed against the sunlight that highlighted his golden skin. The corners of his mouth lifted into that charming smile.
At that moment, barely eighteen years old, Kylian was still trying to find his place in the world of football. A new club. New coaches. New teammates. And Neymar Jr. smiling at him kindly during his first training session at PSG.
Years later, Kylian still couldn't say exactly how his relationship with the Brazilian star had started. One day he was awkwardly shaking his hand, and the next he was kissing him in a bathroom at some random party. Neymar's hands wandered over his body without hesitation, and his moans disappeared between their lips.
The arrangement was simple. Only sex.
That was what Neymar always repeated, leaving a kiss on his lips before saying goodbye and closing the door to his apartment behind him. And Kylian never protested. Would he have entered something like this if he had known from the beginning? It was difficult to say. But back then, he hadn't really been given a choice. He only learned the rules after a few nights already spent in the older man's bed. Neymar hadn't asked what he wanted. He had simply presented him with the facts. Yes, technically, Kylian could have walked away. He could have said this wasn't what he was looking for. That he wanted something else. But how could he? How could he say no while looking into those green eyes staring at him sleepily on a warm, humid evening? He simply swallowed and nodded.
"I understand."
Neymar knew. Kylian wasn't sure how long he had known, but he knew. He had to. The Frenchman had never been good at hiding his feelings. His face always revealed everything he couldn't say out loud — or at least that's what Achraf claimed.
He was in love. And Neymar knew. And he did nothing about it.
He still let Kylian come over. Still kissed him goodbye. Still smiled at him during training sessions. Kylian was grateful for that. Neymar could have asked him never to come back. Could have told him to leave him alone. But he didn't.
This was Kylian's problem, not Neymar's. Ney had never promised him anything. He didn't owe him anything.
Finally, a break.
Normally, Kylian had no problem with long training sessions, but on a day as sunny as this one, the practice had to be divided into shorter parts.
Mbappé could feel his shirt sticking to his sweaty skin as he walked off the pitch shoulder to shoulder with Achraf. Despite their exhaustion, the two of them were laughing about something only they understood. Every few seconds, their shoulders bumped together, causing another round of laughter. Kylian absentmindedly pulled up the legs of his shorts, exposing his thighs.
They stopped in front of the bench where Neymar and Messi were already sitting. The two of them were calmly discussing one of the earlier plays on the pitch. The young Frenchman tried to follow the conversation, but the speed of the discussion in a foreign language made it much harder. He considered his Spanish pretty good. But he couldn't compare himself to teammates who had spent years in Spain and spoke so quickly it sounded like they swallowed half their syllables.
"Tú estás de acuerdo conmigo, ¿no, Kyky?" ("You agree with me, right, Kyky?") Neymar asked, lifting his gaze until he met the younger man's eyes.
Kylian only shrugged.
"No entendí nada de lo que estaban diciendo." ("I didn't understand anything you were saying.")
Messi immediately laughed.
Neymar smiled as well.
"Vale, más despacio." ("Alright, slower.")
Kylian listened carefully this time before shaking his head.
"Okay. Pero sigo sin estar de tu lado." ("Okay. But I'm still not on your side.")
"The two of you are worth each other," Neymar concluded dramatically, sighing.
Kylian opened his mouth to respond, but he suddenly felt a familiar weight on his shoulder. Achraf had returned with bottles of water.
"Here you go, bébé," he teased, pressing the bottle against Kylian's lips.
Kylian snorted, amused.
"You're so caring."
"Next time, you're the one going," the Moroccan replied. "Papa cornered me and started complaining that we're irresponsible and that jumping from the balcony into the pool is apparently dangerous."
"Since when do you two have the same father?" Messi asked, frowning.
"Sergio decided he's their dad," Neymar explained without looking up.
For a moment, he simply watched Kylian. His eyes lingered longer than they should have. Mbappé felt his gaze and immediately turned toward him.
"What?" he asked, amused.
Neymar blinked, as if he had just returned from somewhere far away.
"Nothing."
After training ended, everyone was changing in the locker room. Kylian stood facing his locker, stuffing his sweaty shirt into his bag. Suddenly, a hand landed on his back.
"Kyky."
He turned and met Neymar's intense green gaze. Kylian already knew that look.
"Are we going back together today?" the Brazilian asked without looking away.
To everyone else, the question sounded completely innocent. Two teammates spending some time together after training. Nothing more. But between them, it meant something else.
"Sure."
Neymar smiled triumphantly before disappearing to say goodbye to Messi.
After he left, Kylian caught Achraf's gaze. His friend was looking at him with obvious disapproval.
"Don't start."
Hakimi immediately raised his hands defensively.
"I'm not saying anything."
"Your face is saying enough for you."
"I can't control it, you know that."
Kylian gave him a look that was half amused, half annoyed, then zipped up his bag. He squeezed his friend's shoulder lightly.
"See you tomorrow."
In the parking lot, he immediately spotted Neymar's car parked crookedly. The vehicle was taking up at least two spaces, but Kylian had already gotten used to Neymar's careless habits. He threw his bag onto the back seat and dropped into the passenger seat.
"Buckle up, princess."
Kylian sent Neymar an annoyed look.
"I know. I wouldn't risk my life by driving without a seatbelt while being in a car with you."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that attack on my driving skills," Neymar huffed as he pulled out of the parking lot.
"Good. The important thing is that you'll sleep well tonight."
Neymar only shook his head, disbelief written all over his face.
"I'm not arguing with someone who doesn't even have a driver's license."
"I just can't be bothered to take some stupid exams."
Kylian lowered his seat back.
"Mhm."
"I have more important things to do," he added, making himself comfortable.
"Are you seriously getting that comfortable?" Neymar glanced at his passenger, who was already completely relaxed.
"I would be if you turned on the air conditioning."
"Such a spoiled prince," the Brazilian commented, but still turned it on.
"Merci," Kylian muttered, adjusting himself even further.
Neymar looked him over. At some point, his hand moved away from the steering wheel and onto Kylian's thigh. Neither of them commented on it at first. Not until Neymar's fingers slowly slipped beneath the edge of his shorts, brushing against the fabric of his underwear.
"Are you really that desperate?" Kylian asked, looking at him with a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"Kylian..." Neymar didn't take his eyes off the road. "You've been walking around all day with your shorts rolled up. I had to stare at those thighs for hours."
Mbappé let out a quiet laugh.
"No one forced you."
"Trust me, I tried. I'm the victim here," Neymar complained, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze.
"So all your missed shots are my fault?"
"Exactly."
Neymar smiled teasingly. But after a moment, his expression softened as he remembered something.
"Kyky..."
"Yeah?"
"By the way, tell me when you don't understand something."
Kylian lifted himself slightly from the seat.
"Something I don't understand?"
"When me and Leo are talking."
"Are you insulting my Spanish?"
"You literally said earlier that you didn't understand anything."
"Because sometimes you guys talk weirdly," Kylian complained.
"Exactly. Leo speaks Argentinian Spanish, and I have a Portuguese accent, so it's understandable that sometimes you struggle," Neymar explained gently.
He stopped in front of the automatic gate leading to his apartment building.
"It's not a criticism of your skills," he added, turning slightly to look at Kylian. "Honestly, I admire how well you speak, considering you've never even lived in Spain."
A faint blush appeared on Kylian's face.
"Because I spend so much time with you guys," he replied. "I don't really have another option except speaking Spanish."
"Kind of unfair," Neymar commented as he drove down into the underground parking. "We're in France. We should be the ones learning your language."
"Then start learning it," Kylian said with a small snort, though there was no real irritation in his voice.
"Your French is way too fucking complicated."
They didn't talk much once they were inside the apartment.
The moment they kicked off their shoes, Kylian's back hit the wall. Neymar's hands immediately found the thighs he had been craving all day. Kylian didn't even register when they made it to the bedroom. One moment he was standing in the hallway, and the next he was falling onto the soft mattress. Neymar settled over his hips and leaned down to capture his lips in another messy, desperate kiss.
"Você é tão perfeito." ("You're so perfect.") he murmured while pulling off Kylian's shirt.
Every time Neymar switched to Portuguese, something in Kylian's mind seemed to react. A small, pleasant shiver ran through him. He practically melted beneath the Brazilian's touch.
Whenever Kylian ended up in Neymar's bedroom, he always went through the same few stages. First came the complete awe of being wanted by him. Then, for a while, he forgot how to think. He felt like a doll, completely helpless beneath him, staring absentmindedly into his bright eyes. Eventually, though, awareness always returned. That was the worst part. Because that was when he remembered he wasn't special in any way. Someone else had been lying in this exact spot only a few days ago. This was just an arrangement. Something they did for pleasure. It didn't matter how gently Neymar touched him. How his fingers traced over his face. How he pressed kisses to his hair.
Despite everything, Kylian liked to believe that the praises falling from Neymar's lips belonged only to him. That he wouldn't say those things if he didn't mean them.
They were his.
They lay in the dim light of the bedroom. Kylian rested his head against Neymar's shoulder while the Brazilian wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. Neymar calmly scrolled through his phone. Kylian found himself glancing at the screen as well. He couldn't be bothered to reach for his own.
Then a message appeared. Neymar immediately opened it.
Heyyyy
Doing anything tomorrow evening?
Oh. Lucas. One of the others.
Kylian frowned as Neymar started typing a reply. Could he really not give him even a little bit of his attention while they were lying in the same bed?
"Could you at least wait until I leave?" Kylian commented, trying to sound casual.
Neymar immediately stiffened.
"That's not your business. Who I reply to or when."
"It would've taken literally five minutes and I would've been gone."
"So?" Neymar shifted beneath him, making Kylian lift himself slightly. "I can reply whenever I want."
"It would just be polite not to do it directly in front of my face."
Kylian sat up, creating distance between them.
"Kylian, don't make a scene." Neymar's voice hardened. "We're not together."
"I know."
The answer came immediately.
For a moment, silence filled the room. Neymar went back to his phone, finishing his reply to Lucas. Kylian looked around the room awkwardly.
"You should probably go." The words came from Neymar without him even looking up.
"Sure."
Kylian got out of bed slowly. It wasn't anything new. Most of their nights ended this way. He pulled his shirt back on and gathered his things into his bag. He left the bedroom without looking back.
Neymar appeared in the hallway when Kylian was already putting on his shoes. He walked over lazily and, almost absentmindedly, adjusted the collar of Kylian's jacket.
"You have a talent for ruining a peaceful atmosphere," he muttered while opening the door.
Kylian didn't know what kind of response Neymar expected from him, so he gave him none. Before he could leave, Neymar placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Barely a touch.
"Text me when you get home."
And then he closed the door.