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Just ignore it if you don’t like it. Kylian got the text from Achraf before he even saw the gift.
The present was waiting for him though, right on his kitchen counter, no doubt delivered while he was at training. Nothing on the outside indicated anything special, besides how almost suspiciously plain the box was. He bit his lip. Should he have given something to Achraf for Valentine’s Day? Maybe it’s not too late to send some flowers to Paris. Kylian thought. But then again, what would Achraf do with flowers? While he was thinking, he opened the box and took the gift out from inside.
The gift was, in fact, another box— this time wrapped tight in bubble wrap. Kylian peeled away at the layers. The whole thing was shockingly cliche. The heart-shaped box was pink, extremely pink. Pink from the soft velvet it was covered in to the neat little bow that sat on top. It looked expensive. Kylian ran his fingertips over it. He gave it a shake. It felt expensive. What on earth did you get for me, Achraf?
They’d given each other handjobs, blowjobs, rimjobs— they’d fucked, more times than Kylian could count on both of his hands. And it wasn’t exactly casual sex either. He’d let Achraf do things to him that he’d never allow anyone else to even think about. His situation with Achraf had officially lasted longer than any “real” relationship he’d ever had. And yes, through those years they’d given each other gifts. NBA jerseys and headphones and concert tickets. They’d always been good to each other. So really, a gift on Valentine’s Day from Achraf shouldn’t have surprised him.
But there had never been any gift between them that was like this. It wasn’t just that it was pink, or that it was soft, or that it was a heart— no, actually, it was exactly that. It was so very, very feminine. It almost seemed like— Kylian for a moment wondered if Achraf had meant to send this to Hiba, or some new girl he was seeing. He felt an irrational stab of jealousy. No, Achraf had texted him about a gift— it would be one hell of a coincidence for this not to be for him.
Opening the heart confirmed that thought. There were the chocolates that they’d enjoyed in Morocco, nestled next to a Miami postcard that showed the pier that they’d visited last summer. And underneath that was a framed polaroid of them together, early on in Paris.
There were butterflies in his stomach as he took more gifts out, discovered more of the things that Achraf had picked out for him. It was sweet. It was romantic. Achraf had always been capable of the most incredible kinds of romance— but Kylian felt like he’d seen more of it with Hiba and the subsequent girlfriends than he had experienced it for himself personally.
Nothing could have prepared him for what was at the bottom of that box.
He felt a sting of jealousy again. Because, there, right at the bottom, was lingerie. Panties and a bra. They were silky and lacey and pink— a bright hot pink. Maybe—impossibly— the package was for someone else after all.
He picked up the bra with a scowl. Achraf had probably sent out so many gifts for Valentine’s that he got them mixed up. Kylian ran his thumb over the silk. It was soft; so soft that it almost felt like liquid in Kylian’s hands. There was a robe to match the lingerie set— the same obnoxious shade of pink with big heavy feathers on the fringe. I’m sure whatever girl he’s seeing will love these. He thought bitterly. They weren’t exclusive, which was fine, but that also didn’t mean that he necessarily liked to be reminded of that fact.
He picked up the underwear only to suddenly drop them, as if they’d burned his skin. That would have been less surprising, actually. His stomach twisted. Because, he had realized with a shock, that these were men’s panties.
The whole lingerie set was made for a man. Yes, it was a bra. A bright pink bra, with thin straps and barely there cups that were almost completely overshadowed by the heavily intricate lace. But it was obvious when looking at the panties. The fabric curved differently, stretched differently. Despite being pink and delicate, this was a set that was clearly designed to be worn by someone like him— someone with broad shoulders and muscles and a cock, not some waif.
All that was left in the package was a note, in familiar clumsy handwriting. I saw this and thought of you.
You thought of me?
He looked at the note again, just to make sure that he had read that right. The same words as before stared back at him.
Kylian held the clothing out in front of him, tried to imagine what it would actually look like on someone’s body. On his body. This was the type of gift that a bride would get on her wedding night. His face felt very hot.
What had Achraf been thinking? Did he actually… Kylian turned the bra over in his hands. Did he actually want to see Kylian wear something like this? It reminded him of me.
His cheeks blushed even brighter.
If he put this on, it would be a permanent mark on his masculinity. A scar. Even if he never did it again, even if he was the only one who knew about it. The scar would remain. He could ignore Achraf’s text; the next time he saw him he could say thank you for the package and play dumb about the panties. He could say that he threw the box away, that he never even saw them in there. Achraf would get the message, loud and clear, and neither of them would ever talk about this again. That would be the easiest thing to do.
But Kylian never wanted what was easy.
He took the box upstairs, into his bedroom. Even though he was alone in the house, he made sure to lock the door behind him. It just felt right to do this someplace private.
He hesitated one last time before stripping down completely and pulling on the panties. He did it fast; he didn’t want time to overthink things. The bra fit surprisingly well over his flat chest and the underwear felt comfortable around his cock. Achraf knew a lot about clothes, and they knew each other’s bodies well; it wasn’t surprising he had managed to find something that would fit.
He took a look at himself in the mirror. It was… Kylian didn’t even know what word his mind was reaching for.
He was used to wearing Nike— Jordans with baggy pants and hoodies. On his fancier days, he liked to hide himself away in a wooly Dior sweater.
There was no place to hide now. The robe that Achraf had picked out for him was low-cut, with fluffy feathers on the sleeves and trim. It was so light and airy that it bounced whenever he moved. He gave an experimental twirl.
One thing was for certain— Kylian was very, very pink.
The words on the note came back to him. I saw this and thought of you.
Achraf wasn’t as crazy as he thought. The bright color actually looked nice on Kylian; the pink had a way of making his skin look warm. His eyes seemed softer, gentler. He looked… cute. It was a part of himself that he didn’t know existed until now. But somehow Achraf had seen it.
He suddenly felt self conscious. Goosebumps peppered his skin. In some strange way Kylian felt more naked now than before he had put on the clothes.
Wearing this by himself was one thing. Wearing this for Achraf would be another thing altogether.
Before he put the box away, he got out his phone. Don’t worry. He texted back. I like it.
♡♡ ♡♡ ♡♡ ♡♡
A little over a week had passed by the time Achraf could fly up to Madrid. It ended up feeling much longer than that.
They had settled on Saturday, the twenty second of February, for their meetup. So much preparation went into every one of their little get-togethers now. Kylian often told himself that he didn’t miss Paris, but he couldn’t deny missing that— having his best friend be only minutes away from him on any given day.
“What are you smiling about?” Bellingham had asked him during that Friday’s training session.
“What do you mean? I’m always smiling.” Kylian replied.
“Yeah, but you’ve been beaming all week,” Bellingham said. “What are you up to?”
Kylian had just laughed it off. And if Bellingham noticed him blushing, he didn’t say anything.
In those days he spent waiting for Achraf to touch down in Madrid, Kylian discovered just how true that text he’d sent him was. The thought that his friend had picked out an outfit for him, just because he thought it was hot, was something that Kylian liked. It was, in fact, something that Kylian liked a lot.
But what he liked most of all was the thought that he could now surprise Acrhaf.
They had their Saturday all planned out, and it was supposed to start with them getting lunch with Hiba. He was going to stop by his house and pick Kylian up. It was interesting, how a man could go from being married to someone to being scared to be alone with them. Not that Kylian minded; he liked the idea of being Achraf’s protector.
But as he admired himself in the mirror, he had to admit though that right now he didn’t look much like anyone’s protector.
Honestly, he looked like some sort of whore.
Kylian wrapped the robe’s bow around his waist. He felt like a whore too. Much more so than that period of time when he was— technically speaking— actually Achraf’s whore, the person he sneaked out of his marriage with.
“Kylian?” The Morrocan’s voice called from downstairs. The other man had a key to all of Kylian’s houses. He let himself in, just like he always did. “Are you ready to go?”
“Give me just a second!” Kylian shouted back. Normally Achraf would be the one making them late, trying to decide on which eccentric outfit he wanted to wear.
Well, to be fair to him, this is kind of fun. Kylian gave himself another once over in the mirror. He fiddled with his puffy sleeves. It was ridiculous, how fast his heart was beating. He’d played in World Cup finals, faced down hostile crowds, been booed and cheered and everything in between. This was nothing. Achraf had asked him to wear this, and now he was going to wear it. That was it. There was no real reason for him to be this nervous.
Kylian had done his best to prepare himself before Achraf arrived. He wanted to make it as easy as possible for both of them. Experience had taught him how to be efficient; when he was methodical about it, he could fully prep himself in just under an hour. If he came downstairs and Achraf told him he still wanted to go to lunch instead, he would feel like an idiot. An idiot with a loose, sensitive asshole.
If he laughs at me, I’m going to kill him. The Frenchman thought as he moved down the stairs, robe swishing around him. Or at least, kick him really hard.
Achraf was still standing by the front door, checking his phone, with that familiar look of concentration on his face. This was probably one of the rare times where Kylian was the one who was more flamboyantly dressed. All Achraf had bothered with for today was a simple cardigan and slacks. Not that it mattered. Kylian often thought his friend looked more like a model than a footballer no matter what he had on.
“We’re already running late, so—” He froze when he saw Kylian.
In any other circumstance, Kylian would’ve laughed. Eyebrows raised, eyes wide, mouth hanging open; Achraf Hakimi was the perfect image of astonishment. There was a moment where he seemed frozen in shock, just staring at Kylian. But then, as quick as a lion pouncing on his prey, his friend’s hands were on his hips. He pressed up from behind, and Kylian could tell he was already getting hard.
“I can’t believe you.”
“Do you like it?” Kylian tried his best to sound confident instead of insecure.
Achraf rubbed his erection into the curve of Kylian’s ass— everything about that man was fast, he was already completely hard. The silk fabric was so thin that it was easy to feel every inch of him. He pressed his lips against Kylian’s neck, right behind his ear where he knew Kylian was most sensitive.
“Of course I do,” Achraf said. “You look so hot right now.” His hands slid lower, down from Kylian’s belly and into his panties. He grabbed Kylian’s cock. “You’re already so wet.”
Kylian realized he was right. He’d been so focused on Achraf that he hadn’t even noticed his own erection. There was a definite wet spot of precum staining the panties.
He moved to undo the robe’s bow, but Achraf’s hands stopped him.
“No, keep it on,” His tone was firm.
Kylian swallowed. “Okay.”
As their mouths found each other again, Kylian felt something deep inside of him ache. He felt empty. He needed him— right now. He couldn’t wait any longer. But they were still in the mansion’s foyer; his bedroom was an entire staircase away.
Achraf didn’t seem too worried about that. He began to play with Kylian’s chest. It started off gentle, his hand sliding underneath the bra, circling one of Kylian’s nipples with his thumb. It tingled. But then he gave it a particularly hard pinch and Kylian gasped. His friend laughed as he began to pull at him, very lightly at first, and then more insistently, until his nipple had stiffened and begun to ache.
“Do you like that?”
Kylian might have actually whimpered as Achraf’s fingers began to work at his other nipple. His mouth went to Kylian’s neck, sucking deep bruises on his skin. He closed his eyes. His hands are amazing.
“You’re so pretty like this,” Achraf said.
“Don’t you mean handsome?”
“No, I don’t.” His finger grazed over one of Kylian’s newly sensitive nipples. It was strange— he didn’t think anyone had ever called him pretty before. “Can we fuck?”
“Here?” Kylian asked. “Or the bedroom?”
“Do you think we can make it to the bedroom?”
Suddenly unable to find his voice, all Kylian could do was shake his head.
Achraf grabbed him by the hips and pushed him back onto his white leather couch. A part of Kylian worried about windows, about someone else coming to the door— but then Achraf was on top of him, kissing the places on Kylian’s chest where his hands had just been.
Fuck. He needed this, right now. This was what Achraf reduced him to— an empty hole that was desperate to be filled with cock.
“Why are you still wearing this?” He pulled at his shirt. “Why are you still wearing anything?” He got off of him and finally began to strip.
And what a sight that was. Kylian couldn’t hide his smile. Achraf— cock erect and leaking, tripping over himself in excitement and desperate to remember how zippers worked, frantically throwing off his belt, his pants, and then finally his boxers—made for a very funny image.
Kylian gripped his own cock and gave himself a tight squeeze over the panties. It was too soon to be this excited. It would be embarrassing if he ended up cumming all over himself before Achraf had even slipped a finger inside.
Achraf, for his part, got back on top of Kylian to continue his quest to give as many hickies as possible. He gave a deep kiss right below the ear. “Careful,” He said. “You’re leaving a lot of evidence.”
“Maybe I want people to see,” Achraf replied. “And, even if they did, nobody would guess how you got these—” He sucked harder. “or who gave them to you.”
Kylian snorted. “I didn’t know that you found stuff like that hot.”
“I don’t,” He said. “Or, not really.”
“Hm?”
Achraf took a break from kissing his neck and looked him in the eyes. “If it was anyone but you, I wouldn’t be interested.” He paused. Kylian listened and said nothing. “ You know you’re the… the only guy. The only guy I’m interested in. Like this, I mean. And I know it’s different for you, but…” Achraf trailed off. He seemed shy. “I liked the idea of doing something with you that you hadn’t done with anyone else. Finding a way for me to be special to you, I guess.” What are you talking about? How could you not be special? But he kissed him before Kylian could say anything.
When his friend pulled away, he became hyper aware of just how naked he was. Achraf’s cock had a slight bend to it when it was fully erect like this, big and thick with precum dripping from the tip. That look in his eyes told Kylian that he wasn’t going to be able to walk once this was over. He was going to get fucked, and fucked hard. His skin tingled in anticipation.
“So you’re not just really into male crossdressers?”
“Oh, fuck off.” Achraf laughed. “I just opened up to you.”
“I think you just used a lot of words to tell me that you’re a sex freak.” Kylian teased.
Achraf got on top of him. “And if I’m a sex freak, what does that make you?” He said, slipping his hand underneath Kylian’s underwear to slide his first finger inside. “You already prepared yourself.” He grinned mischievously. “You’re such a good girl for me.”
“I’m not a girl,” Kylian huffed.
“Really? Because you’re wet like a girl.” Achraf slipped another finger inside and Kylian bit his lip. Fuck, maybe I am a sex freak.
Outside the bedroom, Kylian was dominant, controlling— pushy would be the word that Achraf liked to use to describe him. And he wasn’t wrong. Oftentimes, both on and off the pitch, he was more like a manager than a player; he always knew who should do what when and why. On top of that, he understood exactly what other people needed from him, and he worked his ass off to give it to them. He was proud of how hard he worked, how much he gave— to everyone, all the time.
But that didn’t change the fact that it was exhausting.
Achraf was the only person in his life that he could trust with taking the reins from him, even if only for a moment. Kylian spread his legs further apart, taking the Moroccan’s fingers in deeper. The amount of excess fabric from the pink robe made things difficult for them, but they managed. Maybe he’ll finally wake up and see that he belongs with me here, in Madrid.
Achraf rearranged him, positioning Kylian’s knees so that they were pressed against his chest. He swallowed. From this angle, Achraf’s cock would be able to thrust in deep, easily finding his prostate with each thrust. He could already feel the difference as Achraf slid a third finger inside. “How are you so tight?” He made a jabbing motion that had Kylian seeing stars.
“Slow down,” He hissed.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No it’s just,” Kylian stumbled over his words. “If you go any faster I’m going to cum.”
Achraf smiled. “Maybe that’s what I want.”
But then he took his fingers out and the next thing Kylian felt was the head of his friend’s dick pressing into him, and any thought that was still left in his head slipped away. Achraf’s low grunt almost covered the whine Kylian let out as he was slowly filled up, cock sliding into him past muscle and through lube. Kylian’s body easily gave way as Achraf gave a shallow thrust.
Fuck.
His hands searched for purchase on the couch, desperate for anything to grab on to. Kylian might have been bigger than Achraf, but that didn’t mean Achraf was by any means small. Another thrust had Kylian’s eyes fluttering shut.
He reached down to touch his dick but Achraf quickly leaned forward and pinned his hands above his head.
“Come on Kyky, good girls aren’t supposed to do stuff like that.”
Kylian scowled. “What? Good girls aren’t supposed to touch their cocks?”
“Nope.” Achraf gave him a big toothy grin. He was clearly enjoying this.
“Seriously?” Kylian’s mouth was dry.
“Seriously— don’t you think I can make you cum just from this?” He thrust in again and hit his prostate, dead on. Kylian took a deep shuddering breath.
“Achraf, please.” He needed a hand on his dick— his hand, Achraf’s hand, anything to relieve the pressure that was rapidly building up inside him. He was embarrassingly close already. His cock was leaking precum everywhere, ruining his panties. Just one touch. But Achraf’s hands continued to keep his held flat.
“Nope,” Kylian had never hated his friend’s toothy smile as much as he did at that moment. “I’m going to fuck you ‘till you spill all over yourself. You’re going to cum from just my cock, or you’re not going to cum at all. “ Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He used to worry about stuff like this showing up on club medical exams. That they would take one look at him and know that he liked to be fucked until he thought he was going to break. But none of his clubs ever figured it out; they always took his word for it when he told them he was only limping because of some muscle he pulled.
He clenched down and he heard Achraf moan as he pushed himself deeper into him. Kylian knew that he was already close; Achraf knew it too. He was pulling his hips back as far as he could now, slamming into Kylian harder, faster, shoving them both forward with the force of it. It was too much.
Kylian went limp as he came all over himself, spilling into and outside his panties, ruining whatever was left of the pink robe and some of the couch too. He can’t remember the last time he came this hard. His body shuddered with the aftershock of it.
He laid there, floating, legs still folded against his chest, brain completely empty. His eyes couldn’t focus on anything— but he knew that Achraf must be smirking. He really was now nothing more than a wet hole for his friend to use. And Achraf was more than happy to use him. Kylian weakly clenched his muscles, contracting as tight as he still could, and Achraf fucked him harder. He was like a machine, the way he pistoned his hips in and out. What would everyone say if they could see you like this? Kylian couldn’t even imagine what he must look like right now.
Achraf’s hands went back to his chest. He dragged them once again over his sensitive nipples as he rolled his hips. Kylian let out a pathetic whine. He didn’t know if he’d ever had anything this deep in him before.
He had been pushed past the point of pain. All there was now was a sweet ache. He wondered how much longer Achraf could last, and how much more his body could take.
“Like how it feels? Having my cock inside your cunt?” Achraf panted. His hands gripped tight at Kylian’s hips, hard enough to leave bruises. He picked up his rhythm, going faster, pulling himself all the way out before pushing forward again. One particularly sharp thrust had Kylian crying out. But Achraf kept fucking him, going in as deep as he could go. Kylian shivered from the overstimulation. “I wish I could keep you here, just like this.”
Kylian didn’t respond, just hooked his legs around him, trying to take him even deeper. He must have two sets of lungs. That’s what anyone who’d ever seen Achraf play always said, and Kylian thought it must be true. How else to explain how he could maintain such a steady pace? As if he could read his thoughts, Achraf pressed himself in even deeper.
"Mon Kyky," he said, and Kylian closed his eyes, tilted his head up so Achraf could kiss him. Nobody in Madrid knew him well enough to call him by that name. Achraf left a trail of kisses along the side of his throat as he slid his hand across Kylian's chest and held him tight.
His thrusts became erratic. Kylian was completely helpless under him. After this, his insides would be completely rearranged, he was sure of it. But all he could find it in himself to do was spread his legs even further. With that, Achraf’s strokes seemed to go even deeper. If he had anything else left to say, Kylian couldn't hear it.
Achraf went still when he finished— Kylian could feel his cock leaving warm wet spurts against his insides. He always likes to mark his territory. He gave a sigh when Achraf pulled out. The next thing he knew, his friend had pulled him into a deep kiss.
The entire outfit had been ruined, that was for sure. They had completely destroyed it— the robes, the bra, the underwear. Everything. At some point, one of them had managed to tear off a large part of the left sleeve— probably Achraf. There were wet spots all over from the both of them. He sniffed. On top of that, Kylian’s outfit now reeked of sex and sweat. He glanced down at himself, at the wrinkled robe and the cum sliding down the insides of his thighs. I really am Achraf’s whore.
Achraf scoffed, and Kylian realized he had spoken out loud. “I treat you much better than any whore.” Kylian’s lips twisted up at the way he pronounced the word salope. I love how it sounds when you say it.
“You’re still practicing your French?” Kylian asked.
“Oui, peut-être.” Achraf said. “Why, can’t you tell?” Kylian snorted. It sounded funny. But even though it was still more than a little stilted, he could honestly tell that it was better than the last time he’d heard it. Something pricked in his chest. It shouldn’t hurt to think of Achraf still in Paris, speaking French with people who weren’t him. It shouldn’t. And still. “Mon mignon Kyky, mon petit Kyky, mon—”
“Mi molesto Achraf,” Kylian said, trying to cover his mouth with a hand. “Muy muy molesto.”
Achraf batted his hand away. “My French is better than your Spanish.” Kylian gave him a look, and then Achraf grinned, and then they were both laughing.
Kylian tried to slide the robe off his shoulders, but Achraf stopped him.“What are you doing?”
“You got your cum all over this thing,” Kylian complained. “It’s gross.”
“It’s gross? Wow, is that any way to talk about my gift?” He raised his bushy eyebrows at him. “You should be more grateful. Keep it on.”
Kylian’s face warmed. He followed Achraf’s order.
He waited for his friend to reach for him, just like he always did after they fucked. The couch was big, and there was more than enough room to cuddle. He put his arm under his neck and then across his shoulders; he wrapped his other arm around his stomach. He moved his legs between Kylian’s. When they were like this, they were as close as they could be.
Achraf’s phone began to ring. “Fuck, I forgot.” He groaned. “We were supposed to be at lunch.”
Kylian bit down on his tongue; he was glad Achraf couldn’t see him roll his eyes. “Just say that something came up,” He said. “That’s not a lie.”
“She’s going to be so pissed at me.” He fired off some texts and Kylian listened to his phone buzz. The sound made him grind his teeth. I thought the whole point of getting a divorce was that you no longer had to care about what pissed her off.
“Well, I’m not getting up.” Kylian sighed. He didn’t want to move from his spot in Achraf’s arms. “I’m too exhausted. You’ve tired me out.”
That challenge was all it took to get his attention back. He heard the click of his phone turning off. “Have I?”
“Yep. I don’t think I can move ever again.” Kylian hummed. He shook his sleeves. “And I definitely don’t think I’ll be able to wear this after today.”
“True,” Achraf said. His hand slipped to Kylian’s belly. The weight of it made a spot inside of him ache. “But that’s why we better make today count, right?”
Kylian hadn’t been lying about being tired. But Achraf was more than willing to put in enough work for the both of them; all he had to do at this point was lay back and enjoy it. He closed his eyes, too exhausted to hold back the sound he made when he felt Achraf's cock slip back inside his sensitive, aching hole. Achraf still had his incredible stamina. He was already hard again, thrusting away into Kylian’s tight heat. It was overstimulating and it hurt. But that didn’t mean that it also wasn’t unbelievably good.
It was later, after several rounds of sex, when Achraf laid on top of him and played with the tear in his sleeve, slipping his fingers in and out, that they talked. “You know, pink really is your color.” He picked at a thread that had come loose and pulled at it. He could feel it as it unraveled.
“If you say so.” Kylian mumbled. He really was tired. He was falling asleep now, even though the day wasn’t even close to over. I’m adapting more and more to Spain. He thought. Here I am, taking a siesta.
“You should wear it more often.” Achraf continued. Kylian didn’t respond. “I’m serious, you know.” He was always serious when it came to talking about fashion.
“Whatever you want, Achraf.”
“I’ll even help you find something.”
“Okay,” Kylian mumbled. He actually liked the idea more than he could say. Achraf, picking out more outfits for him. He moved in closer. Achraf liked to say that each color had its own meaning when it came to fashion. Maybe there was some truth to that. Red and blue did still make him think of Paris; and ever since he was a kid he had seen white and thought of Madrid.
Achraf kissed the back of his head. “Then it’s a date.”
And maybe pink can be my color for you. Kylian thought. He closed his eyes. Laying like this, sleep found him easily.