Kylian Mbappé one shot
Day 6 of Kinktober
Sorry it’s late
A trois universe 🤭
Warning: threesome — it gets a little gay
Madrid is still alive outside. Horns blare somewhere down the street, the kind of wild, joyous noise that only comes after El Clásico. You and Aurélien slip through the door, the warmth of the apartment wrapping around you like quiet relief. The adrenaline is fading now, replaced by the deep, humming ache of satisfaction. Ocho bounds forward before you can even take off your shoes. You laugh softly, crouching to ruffle his fur.
“We won, baby,” you whisper into his ear, your voice hoarse from ninety minutes of shouting and tension. He wiggles happily, nuzzling into you as if he knows exactly what that means.
Aurélien drops his bags by the door. He’s still in his blue training kit under his jacket, hair still slightly damp with the remnants of his shower.
“You were loud tonight,” he says, amused, watching you feed Ocho a treat.
“I was right behind the bench,” you answer, grinning up at him. “You think I could stay quiet when Kylian decided to shoot from there?”
The mention of his name hangs in the air like static. And almost on cue, there’s a knock.
One, two, then three deliberate raps against the door.
Aurélien doesn’t even look surprised. “Of course,” he mutters.
When he opens it, Kylian stands there, already clean, hair still damp, wearing a burgundy T-shirt that makes the gold of his skin shine brighter. There’s the faint trace of cologne, the one he only ever wears after wins. He’s smiling — not the polite, press-room kind — but the slow, knowing curve that means he came here for them.
Your pulse stumbles. You hadn’t realised you were waiting for this.
“Missed the bus,” Kylian says, though the lie is paper-thin. His gaze slides from Aurélien to you, deliberate, electric. “Thought I’d finish celebrating here.”
Aurélien exhales, half-smiling despite himself. “Of course you did.”
Ocho barks once, tail wagging, already trotting toward Kylian like he’s part of the pack. Kylian bends down to scratch his ears, laughing softly, the sound too easy, too familiar. The air tightens as soon as he steps inside.
The door shuts, muting the world outside until it’s only the three of you. Breath, warmth, heartbeat. Kylian drops his bag, crosses to you without hesitation. His grin is the same one he wore after scoring, sharp and intoxicating.
“Did you see me?” he asks, already knowing you did.
Aurélien’s voice comes from behind, low and amused. “He’s annoying after a win.”
“Then stop helping him score,” you shoot back, but your voice trembles when Kylian’s fingers curl under your chin.
Kylian’s fingers linger under your chin, tilting your face just enough to catch the light in his eyes - dark, molten, like he’s still chasing the high of the pitch.
“You didn’t answer me,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “Did you see me out there?”
Your lips part, but the words tangle in your throat. He’s so close now, the heat of him radiating through the thin space between you. Aurélien’s hand finds your waist, steady and warm, anchoring you as Kylian’s intensity threatens to pull you under.
“I saw you,” you manage, your voice softer than you mean it to be. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Kylian’s grin widens, sharp and satisfied, but there’s something softer in it too, a flicker of vulnerability that only you and Aurélien ever get to see.
“You were on your feet the whole time,” he says. “I could feel you watching.”
You let out a shaky laugh. “You always say that.”
He shrugs, unbothered. “I’m always right.”
Aurélien snorts, moving closer. “He’s unbearable when he scores.”
“He’s worse when he’s right,” you add, and the three of you laugh, a short, human sound that cuts through the charged air.
The quiet after the laughter feels different: heavier, deliberate. He steps closer, his chest brushing yours, and you feel Aurélien’s fingers tighten slightly, a silent check-in. Kylian’s thumb drags lightly along your jaw, the touch turning the air to static. Aurélien’s palm slides up your spine, tracing a line of heat under your shirt.
Their combined presence presses in until you can’t tell whose breath is whose.
“Easy,” Aurélien says, his voice a low rumble behind you. He’s talking to Kylian, but his thumb traces slow circles against your hip, grounding you. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Kylian chuckles, the sound vibrating through you. “I know,” he says, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “Just making sure she feels it.”
And you do, God, you do. The weight of their attention, the way they orbit you like you’re the sun in their universe. Aurélien’s hand slides down your back, under your shirt, his fingers warm against your skin. Kylian’s still holding your gaze, but his hand drops to your jaw, then lower, tracing the curve of your neck with a touch that’s almost reverent.
“Tell us what you want, ma belle,” Aurélien whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice is steady, but there’s a hunger there, tempered by the love that’s grown between you three over the years of nights like this.
Kylian’s fingers pause at your collarbone, waiting. He’s fire, all heat and impulse, but he’s learned to wait for you, to let you set the pace. You feel the power of that, the way they both surrender to you in their own way.
Your breath hitches, and you lean into Aurélien’s touch, your hand reaching for Kylian’s wrist. “Just… you,” you say, the words spilling out, raw and honest. “Both of you.”
Kylian’s smile softens, and he glances at Aurélien, a silent agreement passing between them. Aurélien’s lips press against your temple, a quiet promise, while Kylian leans in, his forehead resting against yours for a moment before his lips find yours. Slow, like he’s savouring every second.
His kiss deepens, a slow burn that steals the air from your lungs. His tongue traces yours, deliberate, like he’s mapping every inch of you, committing it to memory. Aurélien’s lips linger at your temple, then slide lower, grazing the sensitive skin behind your ear. His breath is warm, steady, a counterpoint to Kylian’s fire.
You’re caught between them, their warmth pressing in until it feels like the world has narrowed to this. This heat, this rhythm, this love. Your hands find Kylian’s chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt, while Aurélien’s palm flattens against your stomach, pulling you closer to him.
Aurélien pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, dark and unwavering. “Not here,” he says, his voice low, a quiet command wrapped in care. “Let’s take our time.”
Your breath catches at the way he says it, like every moment with you is something to savour. Kylian’s lips curve against your neck, a soft chuckle vibrating through you.
“He’s right,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but warm. “You deserve more than the living room, bebe.”
Aurélien moves, his hands steady on your hips, and he guides you toward the hallway with a gentle nudge. You feel Kylian’s warmth behind you, his fingers brushing yours as he follows, the three of you moving like a single breath. The apartment is dim, the city’s glow filtering through the windows, casting soft shadows across the walls.
As you reach the bedroom door, Aurélien’s hand finds yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. He pauses, turning to Kylian, and for a moment, their eyes lock.
The air moves, charged with the weight of their shared history. Aurélien leans in, his free hand cupping the back of Kylian’s neck, and their lips meet in a brief, soft kiss. A quiet pulse of their connection, warm and unhurried. You’re pressed between them, Aurélien’s hand still holding yours, Kylian’s fingers resting lightly on your waist, and the sight of their kiss sends a rush of heat through you. It’s not isolating; it’s intimate, a reminder of how deeply they trust each other, how they’ve built this space for you.
The door shuts behind you with a soft click, and the energy in the room changes instantly. Cooler. Thicker. Charged.
Kylian doesn't wait.
He moves first. Three long strides, the soles of his feet silent on the hardwood, and drops onto the mattress with a soft bounce. The bed creaks once, a low, intimate sound. He grips the back of his t-shirt, yanks it over his head in one fluid motion, and tosses it aside. It lands somewhere near the dresser, forgotten.
He stretches out across the sheets, bare-chested and smug, one arm behind his head like he’s already claimed the space.
“Don’t take too long,” he says, voice low, teasing. “Been waiting all day.”
Aurélien huffs a breath behind you — amused, aroused — and his hand finds your waist, pulling you back against him as Kylian watches from the bed.
“Ignore him,” Aurélien murmurs against your neck. “He’s always impatient.”
You start to turn, some clever retort half-formed, but Aurélien’s mouth is already on yours.
The kiss is nothing like before.
It’s hotter, rougher, all tongue and the sound of breath catching. His hands are on your hips, your back, sliding under your shirt like he can’t stand the distance anymore. You respond immediately. Pressing closer, fingers gripping at his shoulders as you tilt your head and let him take what he wants.
Your hands find his chest, palms flattening over the thin cotton of his top, feeling the hard thud of his heart beneath.
Time stretches.
The kiss turns hungrier.
His tongue slides against yours, lazy, then urgent, coaxing a soft sound from the back of your throat. You feel the slow drag of his teeth over your lower lip, the way his breath stutters when you answer with a nip of your own. His hands move: one sliding up your spine, the other slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, calloused fingertips tracing the dip of your waist.
You arch into him without thinking.
Clothes start to come off, slow and unhurried.
Your shirt is the first to go. Aurélien peels it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor. His mouth finds the newly exposed skin of your shoulder, your collarbone, the hollow of your throat. You feel the wet heat of his tongue, the gentle touch of his lips.
Your bra follows. Hook undone with a practiced flick of his fingers. The straps slide down your arms, and the cool air kisses your skin just before his palms do, cupping you, thumbs brushing over sensitive peaks until your breath catches.
You feel his mouth again, warm and sure, kissing lower now. Slower. He drags his lips across the top of your breast, not rushed, not greedy — like he knows he has all night. Like he knows you’ll let him. You tip your head back when his tongue flicks across your nipple, a soft gasp slipping out before you can swallow it.
Behind you, the mattress creaks.
Kylian fidgets slightly, the kind of movement that says he’s watching, that he’s getting comfortable. You don’t look back, but you feel it, the weight of his attention like a second set of hands. His voice follows a beat later, lower now, darker.
“She always makes those sounds for you first,” he says, almost to himself. “Drives me fucking crazy.”
Aurélien hums against your chest, the sound reverberating through your skin. He pulls back just enough to glance over your shoulder, his mouth still flushed, eyes burning.
“Because I take my time,” he says simply.
And then he kisses you again.
This time you take control.
You push into him with more force, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his joggers, dragging them down just enough to feel the curve of his hip beneath your palm. His breath catches. His grip tightens. You feel him hard against your stomach, heat radiating through the thin fabric still between you.
You shift your weight, walk him backward with slow, deliberate steps until the backs of his thighs hit the edge of the bed.
Kylian’s already sprawled across the mattress, one hand resting lazy over the bulge in his briefs, his eyes locked on you with a kind of focused hunger that borders on worship.
Aurélien’s knees buckle the last inch when the mattress meets the backs of his thighs. He sinks down slowly, the sheets cool against his heated skin, and lies back against the pillows with a low exhale that sounds almost relieved.
His joggers are already halfway down his hips, shoved there by your impatient hands; you tug them the rest of the way off, letting them drop to the floor. The lamplight catches the sharp cut of his hipbones, the taut line of his stomach, the heavy, flushed length of him straining against the thin cotton of his briefs.
You crawl up the bed after Aurélien, knees sinking into the mattress, the sheets whispering beneath you. The air smells like warm skin and faint cologne. You settle between Aurélien’s thighs, palms sliding up the hard muscle of his legs, thumbs brushing the sensitive crease where thigh meets groin. He watches you the whole time, chest rising and falling in shallow pulls, lips parted.
You hook your fingers under the waistband of his briefs and peel them down. His cock springs free. Thick, flushed dark, a bead of pre cum already pearling at the tip. You wrap your hand around the base, feel the heat of him, the thrum of his pulse beneath velvet skin. A low sound rumbles out of his throat, half sigh, half groan.
You lean in.
The first slow lick is flat tongued, from root to crown, tasting salt and the faint trace of soap. Aurélien’s hips twitch; his hand comes up to thread gently through your hair, anchoring himself.
You swirl your tongue around the head, teasing the slit, then sink down, slow and deliberate, taking him inch by inch. The stretch of your lips, the weight on your tongue, the way he fills your mouth until your jaw aches just a little. You hollow your cheeks and pull back, then take him deeper.
He’s big.
You manage maybe two thirds before the head nudges the back of your throat and your eyes water. A soft gag escapes you - wet and involuntary - as Aurélien’s moans, his fingers tightening in your hair, a reflex.
That’s when Kylian moves.
The mattress dips hard behind you. Kylian’s on his knees now, briefs shoved down just enough to free himself, cock heavy in his own fist. His free hand slides over the curve of your shoulder, brushing the side of your breasts, before he wraps around the base of Aurélien’s shaft where your mouth can’t quite reach.
His grip is firm, slick with the spit you’ve left behind, and he strokes once, slow and twisting, in perfect counter-rhythm to the way you bob your head.
Aurélien’s head falls back against the pillows, a broken curse in French spilling from his lips. His abs flex, hips rolling in tiny, helpless thrusts. You feel the vibration of Kylian’s low laugh against your shoulder blade, the heat of his chest pressing close.
“Easy, baby,” Kylian murmurs, voice right at your ear, rough with lust. “We’ve got you.”
You pull off just long enough to breathe, then sink down again, lips sliding over the ridge of the head, tongue pressing flat along the underside. Kylian’s hand stays where it is, stroking the inches you can’t take, fingers brushing your stretched lips, smearing wetness.
The dual sensation, Aurélien’s cock pulsing against your tongue, Kylian’s grip gliding slick and steady, makes your thighs clench, a low throb starting between your legs.
You gag again, softer this time, and Kylian’s hand stills, waiting. You swallow around Aurélien, feel him jerk, and pull back with a wet pop. Strings of saliva connect your lips to the flushed head; you lick them away, eyes watering, and look up.
Aurélien’s staring down at you like you’re the only thing in the universe. Kylian’s gaze is darker, hungrier, fixed on the place where his hand meets your mouth.
“More,” Aurélien rasps, voice shredded.
For a second, you don’t move. Your lips are wet, cheeks flushed, jaw sore in the best way. Your chest rises and falls in shallow pulls, and your hand still rests against the tip of his cock, slick with spit and heat. He looks down at you like he’s seconds from unravelling — eyes glassy, jaw clenched, the muscles in his stomach twitching under the weight of restraint.
Kylian doesn’t say anything. He just leans in, mouth brushing the shell of your ear.
“Give him what he wants.”
You don’t need more than that.
You shift forward, tongue flicking out to catch the taste of him again, and then you’re sinking down, slower this time. Your movements calculated. You want him to feel every inch of it. Your lips stretch wide, throat working as you push past the point of resistance. You gag, barely, and swallow around him, letting the sound of it ring loud in the quiet space between his moans.
Kylian’s hand slides down your spine. The weight of him behind you, watching you work, makes everything burn hotter.
Aurélien curses again, breath breaking open.
“Putain… she’s…” His voice shatters, fingers fisting in the sheets now. “She’s gonna make me come.”
You moan around him at that, the vibration dragging another low growl from his chest. You bob your head once, then again, hollowing your cheeks on the way up. Kylian’s still at the base, palm moving in time with you, wrist twisting just enough to make Aurélien shudder.
Aurélien’s only answer is a broken sound, somewhere between a groan and your name.
You pull off just enough to catch your breath, lips red and wet, tongue catching along the underside of his cock. You look up at him through your lashes, and the wrecked look on his face, the way he’s fighting it, only makes you want to ruin him more.
“You close?” Kylian asks, and his voice is all gravel and hunger now. “She can take it.”
Aurélien’s hips jerk once, sharp and involuntary, the moment the words leave his mouth.
“Do it,” you whisper again, voice raw, lips brushing the slick head of him. “Come for me.”
Kylian hears it like a starting gun.
His hand leaves the base of Aurélien’s cock and slides lower, slow, deliberate, cupping the tight weight of Aurélien’s balls. His fingers roll them gently at first, then firmer, thumb pressing into the sensitive skin behind. Aurélien’s breath punches out of him in a ragged groan, thighs trembling.
Kylian leans in, mouth at your ear, voice a dark, filthy murmur.
“Suck them, baby. Get him there.”
You don’t hesitate.
You pull off Aurélien’s cock with a wet, obscene pop, saliva stringing from your swollen lips to the flushed tip. Your hand wraps around his shaft, stroking slow and slick, keeping the rhythm steady while you duck lower.
Your tongue flicks out, tracing the seam of his balls, tasting salt, heat and the faint musk of him. You take one into your mouth, gentle suction, swirling your tongue, then the other. Aurélien’s back arches off the bed, a broken curse tearing from his throat.
Kylian’s hand is still there, cradling, massaging, rolling them against your tongue in perfect sync. His other arm loops around your waist, pulling you closer, his cock hard and leaking against the small of your back.
You feel the tremor in his thighs, the way he’s holding himself back, but his focus is entirely on Aurélien, on you, on the way the two of you are unravelling him.
“Fuck… putain…” Aurélien’s voice cracks. His hand flies to your hair, grounding himself, fingers trembling. “I’m…”
You pull back just enough to speak, lips brushing the sensitive skin, breath hot.
“Come in my mouth.”
Then you’re back on him, lips sealing around the head, tongue pressing hard along the underside as you sink down. Kylian’s hand returns to the base, stroking fast now, slick with spit and pre cum. You take Aurélien deep, throat fluttering, gagging softly, swallowing around him. Kylian’s fingers tighten at the root, twisting on every upstroke, thumb smearing wetness.
Aurélien’s hips snap once, twice, and then he’s coming, hard, thick pulses flooding your tongue, your throat. You swallow greedily, moaning around him, the vibration dragging a final, wrecked groan from his chest.
Kylian doesn’t let go, milking him through it, slow and relentless, until Aurélien’s thighs shake and his hand falls limp against the sheets.
You pull off slowly, lips swollen, chin wet, chest heaving. Kylian’s still behind you, breath ragged, cock throbbing against your spine. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck, teeth grazing.
Aurélien’s breath is still ragged, chest rising in shallow waves. His hand slips from your hair, fingers twitching where they fall against the sheets, boneless. Spent.
You don’t move.
Kylian’s still behind you, his chest pressed to your back, cock hot and heavy against your spine. He hasn’t said a word since, but his breathing is sharp now — too controlled to be calm. One of his hands slides up your stomach, palm flat, the other braced against the bed beside you. His mouth brushes the side of your neck, lips parted, not kissing yet.
“Look what you do to us,” he says, voice low, wrecked.
You turn your head slightly, eyes meeting his in the half-light. He’s flushed, wild-eyed, jaw tight with restraint. You can feel the tension radiating off him in waves — just need, held taut between his ribs like a bowstring.
He shifts his hips, grinding against you once, and the sound he lets out is half growl, half groan.
You reach back, hand finding his thigh, then higher.
“You’ve been so good,” you tease. “You waited.”
Kylian laughs, breathless, biting down on the sound like it hurts.
“Not anymore.”
His hand slides down your stomach and between your thighs in one smooth motion, fingers finding you soaked and sensitive, and he curses under his breath.
“Fuck. You’re dripping.”
You arch into the touch without thinking. Behind you, Kylian noses along your jaw, breathing you in like he’s starving. His fingers drag slow circles against you, teasing but firm, and you feel the pace of your own heartbeat begin to climb again.
“You want me to take my time?” he murmurs, voice dark, teasing. “Or do you want it rough?”
Your lips part, but no sound comes.
He smiles against your skin, fingers pressing deeper, dragging another gasp from your throat.
“That’s what I thought.”
Kylian’s fingers still, just for a heartbeat, letting the silence stretch taut.
Then he moves.
Kylian guides you forward, firm hands at your hips, easing you up until you’re straddling Aurélien. Knees braced on either side of his body, palms finding his shoulders for balance. The shift pulls a low sound from your throat, and beneath you, Aurélien stirs.
His eyes blink open at the sudden weight pressing down on him, dark and dazed, before his focus sharpens. He props himself up on his elbows, gaze trailing over you - taking in the flush on your chest, the tremor in your thighs, the way your back arches instinctively.
Kylian settles behind you, knees bracketing yours, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs. His palms are hot, calloused, spreading you open with a low, appreciative hum that vibrates through your spine.
“Regarde-la,” Aurélien breathes, voice shredded. “She’s perfect.”
Kylian’s answer is a kiss pressed to the base of your spine, soft and deliberate, a vow. Then another, lower. Then his tongue, flat and warm, licking a slow stripe up your center. You jolt, a sharp cry catching in your throat, and he steadies you with both hands on your hips.
“Easy,” he murmurs against you, lips brushing slick skin. “We’ve got all night.”
Aurélien moves closer, the mattress dipping under his weight. He cups your face, thumb stroking your cheeks, and leans in to kiss you, slow, filthy, swallowing every sound you make. His tongue slides against yours, tasting himself on you, and the intimacy of it makes your head spin. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.
“Let us take care of you now,” he says, voice rough with devotion. “Every inch. Every breath.”
He begins to slide down your body. One hand steadies your back, the other drags slowly down your front, guiding you up, urging you to rise with him. His mouth doesn’t stop, pressing hot kisses to your neck, your collarbone, then down to your breasts as he pulls you higher. You lift for him instinctively, thighs quaking, Kylian’s tongue still working you from behind, licking up and over your folds, circling your clit with maddening precision.
Aurélien groans against your skin. “Fucking hell, Kylian, don’t make her cum that quick.”
Kylian chuckles, low and wrecked, hands gripping your hips to spread you wider, thumbs parting you so he can lick deeper. “I’m not stopping,” he murmurs against your cunt. “You want in, move faster.”
“I am,” Aurélien groans, and then he starts to slide down your body. One hand rests firm on your back, the other traces down your front, urging you to rise. You follow blindly, thighs trembling, hands bracing against the headboard. Kylian’s grip tightens on your hips to steady you as you shift forward.
“Come on, bébé,” Kylian murmurs against your cunt, nose brushing against your ass. “Up. Let him taste you too.”
Aurélien lies back fully, positioning himself beneath you, guiding your thighs apart until you’re hovering just above his mouth. His hands slide up your inner thighs, slow and possessive, fingers trembling with restraint. He doesn’t rush. He worships the view first, eyes locked on your soaked folds, lips parted, breath fanning hot over you. “Y/N,” he whispers, like a prayer, before pulling you down gently, sealing his mouth to your clit with a soft, reverent kiss.
Kylian groans behind you. “That’s it. Keep her right there.”
And then they both start.
Aurélien devours your clit from below, tongue circling and flicking, lips pulling, relentless. Kylian stays buried behind you, tongue pushing deep into your cunt, fucking you with slow, deliberate strokes that leave you shaking. They move like they’ve planned this — working in sync, one dragging you to the edge while the other pulls you over.
You’re suspended between them, body trembling, face flushed, thighs burning. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You’re split open and worshipped, devoured from both ends, every nerve lit up, every thought erased.
“She’s so fucking wet,” Kylian groans, breath hot against your skin. “Dripping all over my face.”
Aurélien moans in agreement, mouth locked on your clit, eyes fluttering shut like he’s tasting heaven.
You sob something incoherent, and Kylian just laughs softly, licking into you again. “Let it go, bébé. Let us have it.”
You’re split between them, consumed, their faces pressed close enough that you feel the brush of their cheeks. You feel their lips graze, soft, accidental at first, then intentional. Aurélien’s tongue flicks out to meet Kylian’s, sliding wet and warm over your entrance, tasting you together. They moan into you, the vibration dual and devastating
Kylian’s tongue curls against Aurélien’s, slick and deliberate, both of them moaning your name in ragged unison, the sound filthy, prayer-like, vibrating through you.
Their cocks brush too, hard and leaking, rutting against each other in the tight space between your bodies. Kylian’s hips roll forward, grinding slow and desperate against Aurélien’s cock, Aurélien’s twitching up to meet him, the wet slide of pre-come smearing between them. Every thrust is for your pleasure, their moans rising like offerings
It’s raw, uncontrolled, but their focus never wavers, every thrust, every rut, in service to you.
Aurélien’s tongue circles your clit now, slow sucking pulls, while Kylian spears deep from behind, fucking into you with filthy precision. Their lips meet again in the middle, brushing soft and hot over your entrance, tongues tangling briefly, tasting you on each other, before diving back in. You feel it all: the velvet drag of Aurélien’s mouth, the insistent thrust of Kylian’s, the way their stubble scrapes your thighs in tandem, their moans rising like a chant.
“Y/N,” Kylian groans, voice breaking, hips snapping harder against Aurélien’s cock.
“Y/N,” Aurélien echoes, sucking harder, tongue flicking relentlessly.
Your thighs quake, vision blurring, the coil in your belly winding impossibly tight. Their hands roam, Kylian’s kneading your ass, Aurélien’s stroking your sides, holding you steady as you shatter.
You come with a broken cry, hips bucking wild between their mouths, flooding them both. They don’t stop. They worship through it, lapping soft, greedy, sharing every pulse, every drop, their cocks rutting frantic now, slick sounds mingling with your gasps.
Whilst aftershocks still ripple through you, soft tremors in your thighs, they ease you down between them, boneless and trembling. Aurélien’s lips find your temple, Kylian’s your shoulder, soft kisses, murmured praises.
“Perfect,” Aurélien whispers.
“Ours,” Kylian adds, voice hoarse.
The aftershocks fade, when Kylian’s hands slide up your sides, slow and possessive.
He’s behind you now, chest to your back, skin fever-hot, heart hammering against your spine. His lips brush the shell of your ear, breath ragged.
“Still with us, bébé?” he murmurs, voice velvet-rough.
You nod, barely. Your throat is raw, your body humming. Kylian’s hands settle on your hips, thumbs tracing the small of your back.
“Up,” he whispers. “Just a little.”
You rise onto your knees, thighs trembling. He guides you back against him, your spine to his chest, his cock hot and heavy between your thighs, nudging your entrance from behind. He doesn’t push in yet. He teases. Tthe blunt head sliding through your folds, coating himself in the mess they made of you, slow and slick.
Aurélien watches, lips parted, hand still stroking himself lazily.
“Take your time,” he says, voice low, thick with want. “We want to feel all of you.”
Kylian’s mouth finds your neck, teeth grazing, then soothing with his tongue.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, and then he enters, slow, relentless, the stretch burning sweet as he sinks in inch by inch. You gasp, fingers digging into his arms for balance. Kylian stills when he’s fully seated, buried deep, cock pulsing inside you.
“Fuck,” he groans against your skin. “So tight. So perfect.”
Kylian’s hips roll once, slow, deliberate, a shallow drag that makes you gasp against Aurélien’s shoulder.
He doesn’t rush. He savours.
Each thrust is measured, smooth, the head of his cock kissing that spot inside you before pulling back, leaving you empty for a heartbeat, then filling you again. Your back is flush to his chest, his arm banded across your ribs, fingers splayed just beneath your breast. Every time he sinks in, his breath stutters against your neck.
“Look at him,” Kylian murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Look how hard he is for you.”
Aurélien’s on his knees in front of you, cock flushed and slick, hand wrapped loosely around himself. His eyes are locked on where Kylian disappears inside you, the scene slow, wet, obscene. His chest rises and falls in time with Kylian’s rhythm, like he’s feeling every thrust through you.
You reach for him, fingers curling around his wrist, nails digging in just enough to make him groan.
“You like watching, Aurélien?” you whisper, voice raw, filthy. “Seeing him fuck me open for you?”
Aurélien’s groan is broken. “Fuck, yes. You’re so perfect like this.”
Kylian’s hips snap forward, deeper, and you moan, loud and unrestrained, letting it spill into the charged air.
“He’s so big,” you breathe, eyes locked on Aurélien’s. “Filling me up. But I want both of you. I want you to feel him inside me, stretching me with you.”
Kylian stills, buried to the hilt, cock pulsing hot and heavy. He presses a kiss to your pulse, teeth grazing.
“Greedy girl,” he murmurs, voice wrecked with awe. “You want us inside you together?”
“Yes,” you gasp, pushing back against him, clenching deliberately around his length. “I want you both. I want to feel you together.”
Aurélien’s hand leaves his cock, reaching for the nightstand. The lube cap pops with a soft, deliberate click, the sound slicing through the quiet like a vow. He slicks his fingers, two, then three, his eyes never leaving yours, dark and reverent. His cock brushes Kylian’s where it’s buried inside you, a fleeting, electric touch that makes them both groan.
“Hold her,” Aurélien says, voice low, commanding but thick with devotion. “Keep her open for me.”
Kylian’s hands tighten on your hips, spreading you wider, his cock still seated deep, unmoving but throbbing. “Like this?” he murmurs, lips against your shoulder, hips giving a slow, teasing roll that drags a whimper from your throat. “You feel how hard I am for you, bébé? Gonna make room for him too.”
Aurélien leans in, lube-slick fingers circling your stretched entrance, teasing where Kylian’s cock fills you. The cool slickness contrasts with Kylian’s heat, and you shudder, nails digging into Aurélien’s forearm.
“Relax, ma belle,” Aurélien whispers, his free hand stroking your thigh, grounding you. “Let me in. Let me feel you both.”
One finger slides alongside Kylian’s cock, slow, careful, the stretch burning sweet. You cry out, sharp and broken, head falling forward. Kylian groans low in his throat, feeling Aurélien’s finger press against him through your walls, the friction electric.
“Fuck,” Kylian rasps, hips twitching involuntarily. “I can feel you, Aurélien. Putain, she’s so tight.”
You moan, filthy and desperate, pushing back against them both. “More,” you beg, voice trembling with need. “I can take it. I want you both now.”
Aurélien’s finger curls gently, scissoring alongside Kylian’s cock, stretching you further. The lube makes it slick, smooth, but the pressure is intense, Kylian’s thick length and Aurélien’s careful finger working in tandem. He adds a second finger, slow and deliberate, and you sob, the burn morphing into pleasure that makes your thighs quake.
“Look at you,” Aurélien murmurs, voice reverent, eyes locked on where his fingers and Kylian’s cock stretch you. “Taking us so well. You’re made for this.”
Kylian’s hips roll again, shallow, controlled, his cock dragging against Aurélien’s fingers inside you. “You feel that?” he growls against your ear, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb teasing your nipple. “That’s gonna be both of us soon. You ready for it, bébé?”
“Yes,” you moan, head tipping back against his shoulder. “Fuck, I want it. I want you both inside me, filling me up, feeling each other.”
Aurélien’s fingers twist, curling against that spot that makes you see stars, and Kylian’s cock pulses in response. “Y/N,” Aurélien groans, your name a prayer. “You’re gonna make us lose it before we even start.”
“Do it,” you whisper, voice raw. “I want you to fuck me. Together.”
Aurélien pulls his fingers free, slow and careful, and slicks his cock with more lube, long, unhurried strokes that make his breath hitch. His eyes meet Kylian’s over your shoulder, a silent agreement passing between them.
“Hold her steady,” Aurélien says, voice thick with want.
Kylian’s arms wrap around you, one across your chest, the other anchoring your hips. “We’ve got you,” he murmurs, lips brushing your neck. “Always.”
Aurélien lines up, the blunt head of his cock nudging alongside Kylian’s, pressing slow and relentless against your stretched entrance. The pressure is impossible, exquisite, and you cry out, fingers clawing at Aurélien arm.
“Breathe,” Kylian whispers, still unmoving inside you, letting you adjust. “Let him in, bébé.
Aurélien’s cock nudges alongside Kylian’s, the slick head pressing slow and relentless against your stretched entrance. The pressure is overwhelming, a burn that blooms into white-hot pleasure, your walls fluttering around Kylian’s buried length. You try to speak, to beg, but all that escapes is a broken whimper, your head lolling back against Kylian’s shoulder, fingers clawing weakly at his arm.
Kylian’s grip tightens. One arm clamps around your chest, the other digs into your hip, holding you wide open. His cock throbs, buried to the base, twitching as Aurélien’s starts to push in beside him.
“Shit,” Kylian grits, voice rough and close to breaking. “She’s squeezing the fuck out of me. You feel that?”
Aurélien groans, low, thick, almost guttural. His hands are steady on your thighs, but his knuckles go white. “Yeah. Yeah, I feel you. She's pulling us both in.”
He looks up, eyes flicking to Kylian over your shoulder, dark, locked in. “Don’t rush it. Let her feel all of it.”
You’re beyond words now, fucked out and trembling, your body a live wire between them. Your moans are soft, incoherent, spilling into the air as Aurélien pushes, slow, relentless, the head of his cock slipping past the tight ring of muscle alongside Kylian’s. The stretch is impossible, exquisite, a fullness that makes your vision blur and your breath hitch in sharp, desperate gasps.
You’re trembling between them, every nerve pulled taut. Your jaw slack, moans falling out soft and wrecked. Aurélien eases in another inch and the stretch makes your eyes roll back.
“Putain,” Kylian breathes, lips brushing your neck. “Elle s’ouvre pour de vrai... t’sens cette prise?” “Fuck,, She’s opening up, that grip... Jesus.”
Aurélien’s breathing is ragged now, forehead tight with restraint. “Elle est brûlante,” he mutters, voice strained. “Et trempée de ouf. C’est toi qui l’as mise dans cet état ?” She’s hot as fuck. Wet as hell, too. You made her like this?”
Kylian huffs a broken laugh. “Fais pas genre t’es choqué.” Don’t act surprised.
His hand trails up to your chest, cupping your breast, rolling your nipple between two fingers like he owns it. “Elle prend toujours comme ça quand elle est défoncée. Regarde-moi ça.” She always takes it like this when she’s cockdrunk. Look at her.”
Your body jerks as Aurélien sinks deeper, the blunt slide of his cock dragging against Kylian’s inside you. Your arms give out. You fold forward, only held up by Kylian’s grip.
“That's it,” Aurélien murmurs, more to himself than anyone. “Take it. Let it stretch you.”
Kylian rocks his hips just enough to grind the two of them together inside you. “You feel that?” he pants, barely holding back. “Every fucking inch.”
Aurélien lets out a tight groan. “She's full, tight as hell. Can't move without feeling you.”
You whine, high and wrecked, and their cocks twitch in response.
“Easy,” Aurélien says, hand sliding up to cradle your face, thumb brushing your lips. “You good?”
You nod, barely, too gone for words.
“She’s good,” Kylian says, teeth gritted. “She’s soaked. Feel her clench like that? She wants it.”
Aurélien’s hips press up, the final stretch pushing both cocks tight together inside you. He stills, buried fully. “Fuck.”
They both freeze, breathing heavy, your body locked down around them.
“She’s holding us so tight,” Kylian murmurs, sweat beading at his brow. “I can’t move.”
Aurélien’s hand drifts between your thighs, fingers finding your clit like he knows it by heart. “I got her,” he says. “She’s shaking.”
Kylian’s mouth finds your neck, trailing heat up your skin. “She’s close. You feel her?” His thumbs circle your nipples, soft but relentless. “Tightening up already.”
Aurélien nods. “I feel everything. Her cunt. Your cock.” His voice is barely holding together. “This is insane.”
They start to move, just a little. Bare rolls of their hips, slow grinds that drag both cocks against each other inside you. Every inch soaked, every shift setting off sparks.
You lose it first.
Your orgasm crashes hard and fast. No warning, no buildup, just a brutal drop. Your walls clamp down, pulsing, squeezing them both in rhythmic waves. You scream, raw and choked, buried between two bodies that won’t let you fall.
Kylian breaks with a moan, hips jerking once, twice. “Fuck” His cock pulses deep, heat spilling inside you, groaning through clenched teeth as he presses you down hard on him.
Aurélien doesn’t stop.
His fingers stay locked on your clit, working through your aftershocks. “She’s still moving,” he mutters, voice gone. “Fuck. I can feel your cum inside her.”
That tips him over.
He thrusts once, twice, hips grinding as he lets go, cock twitching next to Kylian’s, thick and hot, the slick pressure of both their loads inside you dizzying. His whole body shudders over yours as he groans your name into the dark.
When it’s over, they keep holding you, limp, boneless. Aurélien’s arms wrap around your thighs. Kylian’s mouth presses to your shoulder. No words for a long moment. Just breath, sweat, and the echo of everything you just gave them.
