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Michael is used to keeping to himself among his teammates. Dodging the cameras as best as he can after every game and keeping it strictly professional when he's with his team. Going to France for the world cup isn't supposed to change anything about that and yet the presence of one Kylian Mbappe makes it hard for him to stay so detached. His team captain is such a lovable guy and yet an equally as intelligent and challenging player on the pitch. Mbappe is someone who Michael had always looked up to, a capable player. But Kylian is slowly but surely melting through his icy exterior all the way to his core. Warming him up wherever he goes and brightening his days with his presence. Soon he finds himself seeking out the warmth of the older player on his own. The revelation scares him when it hits him. He doesn't like to let himself grow attached to anyone. It only makes the eventual separation more painful than it needs to be.
Kylian isn't the only one Michael finds himself growing attached to. The whole of the French national team embraces him with a warmth he isn't used to from before. It shakes him as much as it touches a part of him that he long buried out of sunlight's reach. That vulnerable part of him that yearns to belong somewhere. The comfort he finds makes him never want to leave the team. He doesn't let himself go down the spiral about the finite time he is going to spend with his brothers during the world cup. About facing his return to loneliness. No need to stoke unnecessary pain when he can focus on game strategy and training. He wants to pay his teammates back their kindness in gold medals.
He is more comfortable around his new teammates than he has ever been. This causes him to express himself in ways he himself isn't used to. He makes it a habit to tease his teammates during practice by stealing the ball off their feet, or tripping them up at the last second before a pass. It's funny to watch them get frustrated with him while he keeps a perfectly straight face. Until they eventually realize he's messing with them and break out into collective laughter.
He doesn't usually test Kylian's patience like this. Too much respect for their team captain. Or at least that's what he tells himself to maintain his distance. The first and only time he trips up Kylian during practice the result is such that Michael swears to himself he won't ever do it again.
They've been training as usual when Michael takes a shot at Kylian. Ruining the perfect pass he had lined up to Ousmane. Kylian doesn't react in the moment while Ousmane groans loudly in annoyance. Kylian only briefly let's his eyes flit over to Michael then he simply continues playing. Not wasting a second of their training. Michael figures he'll leave it at that and the moment is gone from his mind a few minutes later. That's why he doesn't have his guard up when Kylian approaches him after training with a smile that promises mischief.
Before he knows it, it's too late. With a quick movement the captain throws Michael over his shoulder and starts running down the field in wild zigzag motions. Michael tries his best to wiggle out of the hold Kylian has him in. Only to discover that the older player isn't budging in the slightest. His laughter is free and contagious as it breaks out of him. Behind them he hears the team cheering at a distance. Clearly encouraging that Michael is finally getting his Karma for messing with them.
"Kylian what-"
He asks, breathless from the physical exertion of trying to free himself. His captain just beams at him. Grinning while barely seeming to have broken a sweat from sprinting down the pitch at full speed with a fully grown man on his shoulders. Michael pointedly ignores how that casual show of strength makes something tighten pleasurably in his gut. He is left slightly nauseous and humiliated.
It's not that Michael is uncomfortable with Kylian's attention on him so keenly. It's the opposite actually. He finds himself relishing being the sole focus of Kylian's gaze way too much. But he can't let it mess with his performance.
It's during one of their many strategy sessions that he slips up. Distracted by Kylian's presence and calm authority, he can't help it.
The team are all aware of the memes circulating online about Kylian being a dictator. No one takes it too seriously except for a joke here and there. Kylian himself is known to find the jokes unfunny and distasteful, which only encourages the use of them. Much to his chagrin.
There are also those people online, who liken Olise to being dictator Kylian's second in command because of their undeniable chemistry on the pitch. "Young leader" they call him. Michael would have paid no mind to the jokes fans made, if it wasn't for the small annoying part of his brain that internalizes the hierarchy in the titles and tries to adjust itself accordingly.
On multiple occasions he has to bite his tongue before accidentally calling his team captain, sir. Or addressing him with the actual deference warranted by a superior military officer. He isn't exactly sure when the jokes smoothly transitioned over into reality in his brain. He doesn't know where the instinctive need to show respect comes from but he isn't a fan of it at all. He prefers being in control of his impulses.
Either way he's aware that being close to Kylian affords him certain privileges over his teammates. He's generally never denied anything he asks for by Mbappé. He is also notably the only one of them who can get away with touching Kylian's hair. All in all, it's a pretty fair assessment to call him the dictator's trusted right hand. Michael really wouldn't mind so much if it wasn't for the stupid impulsivity of his brain. Neither him or Kylian ever really cared for formalities anyway. Working strategy was what counted for both of them. And it's what they often do.
They are discussing their upcoming game against Paraguay now. It is their coach and Kylian who are leading the discussion.
"Their defense isn't the strongest. But we shouldn't rely on that, if there is a chance to score we take it"
Everyone makes noises of agreement, the whole team wearing the determination to win on their faces.
"We'll try to keep the game in midfield until a chance to score presents itself."
Kylian adresses Michael directly this time. A stern and serious expression on his face. Michael suppresses a shiver at the intensity.
"You know what to do when it comes to that Michael. You find me."
It's past his lips before he can stop it.
"Yes, sir"
It earns him a couple of amused laughs from his teammates who collectively think the slip up is hilarious. It cements the "Dictator Kylian and his second in command" dynamic for the months to come. But that isn't what Michael is worried about. He's watching Kylian's reaction carefully fighting to to keep his calm. Their eyes meet and for a split second something intense and unreadable passes through Kylian's gaze. It makes Michael's breath catch in his lungs. But then he blinks and it's gone. Kylian turns his head. Mildly smiling at their teammates amused laughter. Michael somehow manages to keep his neutral expression. Playing it off as the joke it was meant to be. Right?
He hasn't ever seen Kylian angry and he doesn't expect to. Then they play against Paraguay.
He doesn't think much of it in the beginning. Their opponents are making a dishonorable show of their lacking sportsmanship but he has dealt with their kind before. It only annoys him once they start going for Mbappé. That's when he feels compelled to step in, pulling his captain from the center of the conflict and brushing off the player's who try to bait their captain into a fight. He can't risk it. Kylian is too important.
They win the game but no one celebrates. Anger and frustration cloud the air of their changing rooms. Too many close calls. It was hardly a fun game to play with how violently the Paraguayan players were conducting themselves.
Kylian is quiet in the aftermath. Not how he would usually be: cheerfully joking and laughing with their teammates. Discussing post-game strategy no matter the outcome. He holds himself back instead. Simply observing as the others loudly smack talk the other teams unsuccessful attempts at sabotage. His dark eyes are solely focused on Michael.
"Olise with me."
He announces as soon as they reach the hotel. It catches the younger player off guard and he looks between Désiré who he was in conversation with and his team captain. After a heartbeat of silence Désiré only shrugs.
"Can't let the captain wait." He says and walks away with a squeeze of his shoulder.
Michael follows his captain without complaint. Slightly confused at the olders cold exterior. Technically there is nothing unusual about this. Kylian has invited him over to his room multiple times after a game and they spent the night playing chess or watching tv in whatever hotel they found themselves in. Conversations flowing from game strategy to the other players of their team to childhood and family. He can tell that tonight is different. Tension charging the space between them. But Michael doesn't falter. He trusts Kylian. He has no reason not to.
Kylian stays silent until the door of his room clicks into the lock behind them.
"Take your shirt off."
Michael stops. His whole world comes to a screeching halt.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"Kylian stop joking-"
"Off."
He looks for any hint of humor in his captain's eyes and finds none. Kylian only looks back at him, his dark eyes fixating and serious. The commanding tone does something to Michael. Something in him foolishly responds to the orders he is being given by the man he respects the most. He can't help but to follow them.
"Yes, sir."
Kylian doesn't comment on it. Doesn't say anything as if this is the most natural way for them to behave. As if Michael surrendering control to him is the same thing as an assist h would give him on the pitch. He slips out of his shirt without another word.
Kylian's hands are on him immediately. The sudden possessive touches draw a surprised gasp from Olise that makes heat rise to his cheeks. Once the captain is satisfied with his careful inspection he nods and steps away. A relieved breath escapes him. Before Michael can ask what the hell this is about or what is going on the captain turns to him abruptly.
"How dare they touch you."
He whispers with anger in his eyes.
"Bad enough that they would do it to me. I couldn't stand watching those putains put their hands on you."
Michael shivers at the open display of emotion on his captain's face. Was this the reason his mood was so down all evening? Because the paraguayan players had played more roughly than expected? But that wasn't it, was it.
How dare they touch you.
That's what he said. Is their captain bothered by the way Michael was treated? But why? Other teammates had taken just as much of the rough housing. Michael frowns.
"I'm not frail, you know." he says flatly. His eyes meeting Kylian's defiantly. But what he sees in his captain's eyes is no longer anger but fear.
"What if they hurt you? What then?"
He says his voice edging on something close to panic. It startles Michael.
"You'll play a game without me."
It is the plain truth and yet he feels like he is missing something important.
"We only have a few more games left together. Once the world cup is over we will go our separate ways again."
There is pain in Kylian's voice now. Michael's chest squeezes painfully. He tries his best to avoid the thought of their limited time together. He had no idea Kylian was struggling with the same thing.
"I promise I won't let that happen. I won't get hurt Kylian."
He reaches out for the other. Touching their foreheads together. Aware of what an intimate position they're in. He decides to risk it anyway if it helps to soothe the older's nerves. This day has already been full of crazy. Indulging for in his need to touch his captain for once wouldn't make it any worse.
That night Michael goes to bed with the lingering sensation of Kylian's warm hands on his skin. The concern written on his face as he thoroughly checked Michael's body for signs of injury.
The memory makes his face flush with heat. The open display of care messes with his head more than he would like to admit. He can't help but to imagine his captains searing touches going further. Teasing and caressing him until he's reduced to intelligible noises of pleasure.
He can feel himself harden in his shorts and begins to palm his covered erection to release some of the pressure. He imagines it being someone else's hand on him. A bigger rougher palm covering him with the confidence of an experienced man. A chest pressed to his back. Warm breaths that hit the back of his neck. Words of encouragement and praise whispered into his ear. The overwhelming need he feels takes him over and he ruts into his hand desperately before he realizes what he is doing.
"Ngh- Kylian, sir."
He moans feverishly, the damn honorific on his tongue again. He keeps expecting himself to hit a point of reflection that makes him realize how wrong this is. He is going too far with this. It's a mistake. But that moment never comes. Instead his head supplies him with thoughts of Kylian rutting into him from behind. Hands grabbing onto his waist firmly guiding his movements while whispering dirty encouragements and praises into his ear. Calling him a good boy for how he is taking it.
Damn it.
He comes hard with Kylian's name on his lips. The need he hoped to satisfy has doubled in its intensity. Breathing heavily he drags a hand over his face. He is so fucked.
He gives it his all in every game they play after that. Half to punish himself for the growing need he feels for his captain. Half because Kylian's words gave him fiery wings on the pitch. It's as though the world narrows down to the existence of the two of them when he steps on the grass.
We only get to play so many games together.
It lights his veins on fire knowing that Kylian cares so deeply about playing with him. He always regarded playing the game with Kylian as a great honour. Something he was lucky to have been chosen for. As a privilege. To give him the most challenging passes and for Kylian to catch them with his inhuman speed.
To know that this spark of joy is reciprocated fills him with a deep satisfaction he cannot help but to chase. It also reminds him painfully of how limited the time they still have together is. A time so fleeting he can feel it running through his outstretched fingers. It makes the need to reach out for Kylian and to pull him close grow ever stronger inside of him.
It breaks a dam between them the extent of which Michael can't quite grasp. They were always more touchy with one another. Neither of them mentions what occurred the night after their game against Paraguay but there's an obvious shift. So much so that Doué pulls Michael aside after dinner one time to ask him if something has happened between them. He says he won't judge and when Michael mutely shakes his head at him he let's it go but either way it's getting too much. He needs to do something about it.
He can't go anywhere without a hand from Kylian subtly on him. Always maintaining touch in some way that is casual and leaves Michael burning. Guiding him gently by the waist, knocking their knees together under the table at dinner, an arm slung around his shoulders, supportive ruffles of his hair. A playful slap on the butt while walking by him in the changing rooms.
The older's insistence to keep touching him drives him mad. And fast. He craves more and he knows he is insane for wanting it to become more. His composure is holding on by a razor thin thread.
He almost breaks before training one day. His teammates are taking the occasion to let off some of the built of steam between games by play fighting each other. Nothing serious just some harmless rough housing between friends. One thing leads to another and Dembele is shoved a little too strongly. He falls back and bumps straight into Michael who just entered the room with enough force to be pushed back out into the hallway. He expects to fall and attempts to catch himself but instead steadying hands find their ways around his waist and he feels a firm chest against his back.
" Are you okay?"
None other than Kylian speaks into his ear.
Warm breath hits the senstive skin of Michael's neck.
They're close. Close enough that Kylian only has to turn his head into the wrong direction to practically nuzzle his neck. He barely manages to suppress a gasp. He needs to calm the fuck down. It's fine. Kylian only helped a teammate to prevent a possible injury.
Yes that's it. It would have devastating consequences for the team if one of their top player's was benched. It's a perfectly reasonable thing for a team captain to be doing-
But then all of Michael's thoughts disappear because Kylian wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him into his chest. He hooks his chin over Michael's shoulder. And Michael is burning. He is going to die a horrible death. He needs to stop this now before he makes a severe mistake that will end his career. He barely registers the quick apology Dembele mutters before he rejoins the others antics and the door slams shut in their faces.
Anyone could walk by at any second. Why isn't he moving away? Michael's mouth dries up and he tries to think of anything to say but all he can focus on is the hard line of Kylian's body that is pressed up against him. Practically boxing him in against the door. God why isn't Kylian saying anything?
Michael let's his head sink forward against the door. He feels Kylian sigh against the side of his neck. It gives him goosebumps from how intimate it feels. It's stupid, they're not even doing anything, why is Michael being affected?
He finally gathers the determination to move away and put a few steps in between them but Kylian's arms only tighten around his waist in response. He isn't letting go. Michael's heart flutters annoyingly at the realization.
"Just- let me hold on to you for a little while longer before I have to go in there to deal with these fools."
He sounds tired and Michael can't help but feel concerned. As their captain and world famous striker Kylian always carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. If Michael can take that weight off of him for even just a few minutes he won't hesitate to do so. It's the least he can do. Stupid feelings be damned.
So he nods silently, not trusting his voice at the moment and hesitantly let's himself relax into the embrace. They remain entwined in the silence of the hallway. Listening only to their own breathing and their teammates muffled shouts that can be heard through the dressing room door. Minutes pass.
When Kylian finally let's go and straightens himself out it feels to Michael like a whole day passed like this. Without turning around he pushes through the door for the second time that day. He can't face Kylian right now. If that makes him a coward then so be it.
The captain seemingly pays it no mind as he steps into the room behind Michael. The atmosphere immediately shifts from wild wrestling and shouting to composed conversation. The sudden change has Michael suppress a laugh despite the weight he feels. He holds much affection for his french teammates and their familiar chaos. He also never gets tired of seeing the effect Kylian has on people. It never fails to amaze him.
He's a dictator alright, he thinks. As meticulous about the game as Michael himself.
They're watching TV in Kylian's hotel room on the night that the tension between them finally collapses.
Kylian has his arm resting on the couch behind Michael. Casually in his space again. Body pressed along the line of where Michael is sitting. Kylian runs hot and the physical warmth he radiates does not help Michael with keeping his attention on the screen at all. There is tension in every fiber of his body. Yet his captain seems completely oblivious to the effect he is having on his younger teammate.
Then he moves his hand to rest on Michael's thigh instead. The slight grip makes Michael shiver with need. His eyes shoot up to meet Kylian's but his captain's gaze is still glued to the TV. Not paying any attention to the crisis he is causing his assist with his casually possessive touches.
Michael wants his hands on him all the time and everywhere. To make him squirm and cry out for everyone to hear and know exactly who is doing it to him. He wants to moan Kylian's name.
And really Michael should have gotten up and left right there. He should make up some excuse and put as much distance between them as possible. For the sake of his career and their professional relationship as teammates. But he feels his legs become useless under the slight touches of Kylian, who picks that moment to move his hand up Michael's thigh even further.
Michael's face is flushed with heat. He is afraid Kylian might hear his pulse from how aggressively his heart is beating in his chest.
"Kylian..."
He whispers. His voice coming out rough. Cracking on the desire he is holding back with all his might. His captain turns to look at him. He has to notice the need Michael is emanating. There is no way he doesn't.
Kylian tilts his head. Regarding him with the same amount of interest he always holds for his favorite assist.
It's ridiculous isn't it. The whole team notices it, has to. God their trainer's probably know too. Their attention always revolves around each other. Never escaping each other's orbit.
"What do you need, mon coer?"
Kylian speaks softly, in that tone he reserves for Michael alone.
Michael can't help but whine in response. His mind blanking out on him at the gentle way he's being spoken to.
He can only hold onto Kylian to anchor himself as two strong arms abruptly pull him into the other's lap. He whimpers weakly at the matching arousal he feels pressing against his own. Kylian follows that sound right into his mouth. Swallowing it up in a greedy kiss. It's like breathing air again after spending too much time under water. They move against each other with the full force of their shared desire.
Michael feels Kylian's tongue in his mouth. Feels it invade him in ways he has needed for months. His arms wrap around Kylian's shoulders to pull him in impossibly closer. He can't contain the wrecked sounds he makes when Kylian moves his hips up against him. Stimulating them both with the friction. His hands grip onto Michael's hips possessively. As if Michael will run away and disappear if he let's go.
"Please."
He moans as Kylian moves to place hungry open mouthed kisses down his neck. He knows Kylian will give him what he wants if he only asks for it.
"Take me."
"You want to be good for me mon coer?"
He nods shakily, already reduced to the bare essence of the want Kylian brings out in him.
"Words my love."
"Yes, sir."
"I want you on the bed on all fours. Can you do that for me?"
He stands on unsteady legs and makes his way towards the bed. Stripping his shirt and pants off in the process.
He hears Kylian groan behind him as hands find their way onto his waist appreciatively grabbing at him.
"You're so good for me. I knew you would be so good for me." He whispers, nuzzling into his neck where he stands. Biting at the skin there lightly.
"Y-yes."
Is all the reply he can get out before Kylian strips him of his last piece of clothing. Michael hears him click open the cap of a bottle of what he assumes is lube. It's all so fast and he finds him self breathing in as Kylian gently pushes in his first finger. Teasing his rim, before plunging into the knuckle.
The whine he let's out is embarrassing but Kylian only kisses his neck soothingly. Rubbing palms up and down his sides. He let's Michael get used to the size of his fingers slowly. Waiting for strained breaths to become moans of pleasure.
"Kylian, please-"
Michael knows what he is begging for and he is still burning with need. Luckily Kylian doesn't seem to be very patient either because the needy plea is all it takes for him to remove his fingers and line himself up with Michael.
"You're really okay with this? I can still stop if you need me to-"
Michael interrupts him without thinking.
"I need you. Just please, fuck me."
It's all it takes for Kylian to push into him. The stretch makes Michael drop a hand to his stomach instinctively. Wondering for a brief moment if he'll be able to feel where Kylian is inside of him.
Kylian's hand interlinks with his, pressing down and making Michael cry out. He has never felt this way before. No one ever touched him like this. It's overwhelming, it's everything. He never wants it to end. And then Kylian starts moving. Michael wasn't aware he was able to produce such sounds of wrecked pleasure. He would feel shame but the pleasure is strong and it takes him like an ocean wave. He is powerless to fight it.
He hears himself repeat Kylian's name like a prayer. And it is answered. Over and over again as his thrusts make him loose his mind.
Kylian's hold on him tightens possessively as he moves deep inside of him. He hits his sensitive spot and continues to abuse it when he notices Michael's instantaneous reaction. He can't hold back the wrecked sounds he is making even if he tries. His hands are clawing at the sheets over his head. Scrambling for purchase as he is consumed by his pleasure.
"Don't let anyone ever touch you like this. I'm the only one who gets to see you like this, understood?"
It takes him a while to process the words, brain desperately trying to catch up with the sensations his body is feeling. When he doesn't answer Kylian's thrusts become harder until they reach the limit of overstimulation.
"Y-yeah, fuck. Kylian, please."
He can't form full sentences with how the captain is taking him. His words making every moment of contact feel more intense.
"You're taking me apart."
Mbappe growls at the needy admission and turns Michael's head into a deep, heated kiss. Michael feels lost to the world. Claimed entirely by the pleasure his captain is giving him. Being owned and consumed by him like this is all he has been craving he realizes dazedly. The heat that has accumulated under his skin like a feverish sickness is coming to light in his desire for Kylian.
He feels something clench and release deep inside of him.
"D-don't let me come yet."
He finds himself begging. And Kylian understands immediately. He slows down his thrusts dangerously and wraps a hand around the base of Michael's throbbing length only to tighten his grip painfully to stave off the approaching orgasm.
Even though he asked for it Michael howls into the sheets at the pain. Writhing in the steady grip of his captain who only holds him down unwaveringly. Whispering sweet nothing's into his ear.
"It's alright, mon cher. It's better this way. It's alright I've got you now."
He soothes his boy. Placing gentle kisses on his face while his hands roam his body to play with his tender nipples. He loves to see Olise's tears on his face. For him and only him. Knowing he's the sole cause of Michael's pleasure. He would do anything to keep it that way. It's a possessive thought.
His thrusts grow deeper again. Delivering Michael the pleasure he was just cruelly denied. The overstimulation makes him whimper.
"Sir."
"Yes, what is it?" Kylian asks, ready to stop anytime, if Michael indicates any amount of displeasure or pain.
"M-more please." He begs instead and it makes Kylian grin with satisfaction.
He drapes himself over the assists back and sinks his teeth into the sensitive junction between his neck and shoulder.
He holds onto him this way and fucks him deep. Michael's hole flutters helplessly against the assault of pleasure. He can barely process it. Being held down and made to take it from his captain is all he has been craving for so long. Agonizing hours and days he spent being close to the man yet never close enough. He moves his hips back into Kylian's thrusts with abandon. He wants him to carve a place deep inside of him. Where he can keep the pleasure for himself.
"Captain, please."
He moans.
"Who do you belong to Michael?"
Kylian breathes the words hotly into his neck. Michael doesn't hesitate to answer.
"You. I belong to you."
He feels himself tense with pleasure. Body arched and drawn like a bow. In this moment a truth occurs to him that he needs to share with Kylian. Something that is meant to be kept between just the two of them. With tears of overstimulation running down his face and eyes glazed over he adds:
"I'm yours to fuck."
It's a simple truth to Michael in the moment. He doesn't realize the effect the words have on Kylian as his release hits him like a freight train. Kylian growls and fucks him through it. Finding his release in the way Michael tightens around him sweetly.
Michael is perfect for him. In the game and out of it. A brilliant mind. A strategist that can match him. He realizes he will never let go of him. Can't fathom the idea.
Once they have cleaned themselves up and are cuddled up on his bed together, he voices his thoughts. He doesn't know how Michael will feel about it but he needs him to know.
"You are what football can never give me Michael. You're the only moment I feel peace. You're my tranquility."
Michael looks at him with dark sleepy adoring eyes. A lazy smile on his lips that he wants to kiss away.
"Come to Spain with me Michael, please."
There is no world in which Olise would say no to that. If he can spend the rest of his days playing the game with Mbappé he will die happy. He gives the only answer he would ever give Kylian.
"Yes, sir."