#tchou & koo koo

[emjayewrites]

The Year I Turned 25 • JK + AT (2/10)

SYNOPSIS: Grammy-winning R&B artist Y/N Y/LN, 25, is closing out the North American leg of her tour, riding high on the success of her sophomore album "The Year I Turned 24" - a raw, emotional project born from her public breakup with an NFL player. As she prepares for six weeks in Europe before the international leg of her tour, she's determined to have her own "hot girl summer," yet she’s unaware that she's about to get entangled with not one but two professional footballers - Jules Koundé and Aurélien Tchouaméni - sparking new public interest in her love life and forcing her to confront her fears about dating athletes again.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Y/N Y/LN (fc: Ayra Starr) x Aurélien Tchouaméni

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., not so glamorous life of a celebrity, mentions of mental illness/misogyny/slut shaming/cheating, drug use (marijuana), drinking, rotational dating, eventual smut, paragon partners/polyamory — 18+ only

TAGLIST: @irishmanwhore, @sucredreamer, @whoevenisthiz, @saturnville, @peyiswriting, @greedyjudge2, @alika-4466, @julescpu, @lettersofgold, @hopefulromantic1, @a-moment-captured, @serpenttines-library, @f1-football-fiend, @purplelewlew, @elyseesarchive, @enretrogue, @2serenity0, @yeea-nah, @127hydrangeas, @sunfairyy, @pinkcatcus, @muglermami, @bbgkoo, @greyishbach @sinflowersugar @cranberryjulce @sailurmewn

A/N: I know that I said that I am no longer writing but I promised a mutual that this would happen. There’s changed to actual events in order for this timeline to work (i.e. Spanish Grand Prix happening on June 21st). Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist.

CHAPTER 2: Le Français

"Je suis une femme," YN repeated after her Duolingo owl, spooning mushy oatmeal into her mouth. After that kiss last night, learning French seemed like the logical next step.

The fluffy hotel robe did little to cool down her overheated skin, even after a shower so cold it could rival an Arctic expedition. She was down astronomically bad, and it was all because of Jules Koundé.

"Jules. Koundé." She tested the name on her tongue. Jhool Koon-day. Even his name was sexy, all masculine energy and French sophistication.

They always said French men were the best lovers. Though Enzo had definitely set a high bar for the Italians - especially that night with Carina. YN had gotten more action in the past week than in her entire relationship with Damari.

Don't think about Damari and his boring, porn-educated ass, both her rational and intrusive thoughts agreed. She had to come to a whole different continent to get properly dicked-down without using her beloved Rose.

"Well, RIP Rose," she saluted her trusty vibrator back home. "You served me well, but after this summer? Retirement."

Her phone buzzed twice:

Jules 🇫🇷: 30 minutes. Can't wait to see you 😚

LewLew Bean: How's Germany treating you? 👀 Also - you free July 7th? Silverstone race. We need to catch up

She checked her calendar quickly - no conflict with Jules' matches.

YN to LewLew Bean: Germany is… interesting 😏 And yes! Count me in for Silverstone!

LewLew Bean: "Interesting" = You're already causing trouble aren't you? Good. That's what I taught you 😌

YN to Jules 🇫🇷: Can't wait! See you soon 😘

Sliding off the bed, she rifled through her closet before pulling out a white halter-neck tennis dress. She paired it with Adidas Court Bolds and the "FRANCE" cap she'd bought last night during her post-kiss vape-and-pace session at the corner store (the horniness had been THAT real).

A knock at her door sent her heart racing. One last finger-comb through her hair, another swipe of lipgloss, grab the Constance, make sure she has her phone and hotel key card—

Jules stood there in his national team tracksuit, dreads pulled back in pigtails, looking unfairly cute and sexy at the same time. His eyes did a slow scan from her feet up, lingering on her lips.

"Morning."

"Morn–" was all she managed before his lips claimed hers, drawing a soft hum from her throat. When he pulled back, he nipped her bottom lip, making her gasp.

"You're such a nasty freak," she said in wonderment.

Jules just chuckled. "Let's go, ma belle."

YN let him guide her to the elevator, very aware of his hand at the base of her spine, hovering dangerously close to her ass.

In the lobby, Jules kept one hand on her lower back as they chatted about breakfast ("Mushy oatmeal? I'll take you somewhere proper tomorrow"). Before sliding into the waiting SUV, he opened her door - ever the gentleman - then delivered a firm pat to her ass that was anything but gentlemanly.

Did this man just… That wasn't just a pat, that was a whole statement of intent.

The drive to the stadium was a blur of Jules explaining the tournament structure while YN tried not to fixate on how that simple touch had reignited every nerve ending in her body.

"So quarter-finals next week, then semis next if you win?" She tried to focus on the actual conversation.

"Oui. Then hopefully the final in Berlin." His confidence was infectious.

The Merkur Spiel-Arena rose before them, all modern architecture and gleaming glass. Jules led her through the VIP entrance, up several elevators, until they reached the highest level of the stadium.

"This is my favorite spot," he said, leading her to the edge. The morning sun cast long shadows across the pristine pitch below. "You can see everything from up here."

"It's really nice."

"Your cap is cute," he nodded at her tourist shop purchase. "But we need to get you proper Les Bleus gear. Jersey maybe?"

From their perch, Jules spotted movement below in the corner of his eye. He yelled out something in French that had YN weak in the knees, even if she had no idea what it meant, and the people yelled something back.

"Who's that?" YN squinted at the tiny figures running drills below. "They look like very athletic brown blobs to me. My eyesight is garbage. I'm basically blind past ten feet."

"My teammates," Jules explained, turning back towards her. "Want to meet them?"

Oh wow… now we're being introduced to his teammates? Personal much? her rational thoughts chimed in.

This is solid, meaning he wants to fuck you. For real! Get 'em girl! her intrusive thoughts countered.

After using the elevator to head down, they walked through the tunnel onto the pitch, and the first player to bound over was pure sunshine energy. His micro dreads bounced as he jogged up, grinning like an excited puppy.

"Cama!" Jules dapped him up. "This is YN."

Camavinga was cute - all bright eyes and boyish charm. But her horn-o-meter barely registered a 3. Sweet, but not the kind to make her pussy throb.

And then he approached.

Where Jules gave off "runway model who'll make love to you by the fireplace with a few kinks up his sleeve" energy, this man emanated pure male BDE - the type to choke you out while calling you a worthless little slut and spit in your mouth.

Tall, dark-skin, lean but muscled, shirtless (Lord help her), with hair styled in a high-taper fade and features that belonged in a high fashion campaign. His walk was pure predator, all confident swagger.

Jules dapped him up as well. "YN, this is Aurélien."

Aw-ree-lee-an.

The way Jules said his name, all French pronunciation, had her hot and bothered before Aurélien even opened his mouth. His name matched him perfectly - regal but with an edge, like expensive dark chocolate with a little spicy kick.

Aurélien's gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her mouth go dry. "What's up?"

YN's brain froze. Actual words failed to form. "I-I…"

Jules giggled (literally!) at her obvious short-circuit while Aurélien's mouth quirked into a knowing smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing and he knew he had her hook, line, and sinker.

Well fuck, her intrusive thoughts swooned. Looks like the roster just got another spot.

"So you're the singer Jules won't shut up about," Aurélien's voice was impossibly deep, his French accent richer and darker than Jules'. Every word felt like honey dripping down YN's spine.

"That's me," she managed, proud her voice didn't crack.

Cama launched into rapid-fire questions about her music, while Jules kept his hand protectively at her waist. But Aurélien… Aurélien just watched.

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, teeth worrying it as his eyes tracked her every movement. Even when she was focused on answering Cama's enthusiastic questions about her tour, she could feel that intense gaze.

"Your song about identity struggles," he suddenly cut in, his deep voice making everyone else pause. "It's really dope."

Lord, even when he's being vulnerable he sounds like he wants to rail you against a wall, her intrusive thoughts screamed.

"The bridge of that song," his tongue made another appearance, "it's tough."

"I-" YN started, but her brain was barely working as he finally broke into a full smile.

Roster status: CONFIRMED, her intrusive thoughts declared. Hot Girl Summer just leveled up.

"We should let you guys get back to practice," Jules said, a note in his voice that YN couldn't quite read. "I'll see you both at dinner?"

DINNER? With both of them?

Aurélien's smirk returned. "Wouldn't miss it."

As Jules led her away, she could still feel those eyes following her. YN's thoughts were still racing about Aurélien - that intense gaze, the way his tongue worried at his bottom lip, how his voice seemed to vibrate through her entire body. The man was dangerous in the best possible way. Maybe she could–

Her internal monologue cut short as Jules suddenly backed her against the tunnel wall, caging her in. His expression was unreadable — a mix of amusement, intensity, and something darker that made her pulse quicken.

"Jules?" she wondered with wide eyes.

"I knew it would happen." He shook his head, letting out an almost skeptical chuckle.

"What are you—"

"You feeling Auré?" YN's lips pursed together. "It's okay if you are, I'm not mad."

"But you're pinning me to a wall says otherwise..."

He removed his hands from either side of her face and moved back. "Désolé."

"'S'fine."

Jules cleared his throat. "Auré and I go way back - we knew each other since teenagers playing for Girondins in Bordeaux. Him and I...it always happens." Another laugh, then his eyes hardened with intensity. "We tend to like the same girl....a lot."

"Oh?" YN said, eyebrows furrowing, encouraging him to continue.

"Our type is the exact same so what can you expect? I just never...well actually no, this makes sense."

"Wait, how did you know that he likes me?"

Jules just gave her a look that screamed Woman, are you fucking blind?

"You're grown, so I won't go off and say it's me or him, that's pathetic as fuck. I just want honesty, however."

"On?" YN asked, sass creeping into her voice.

"If you fuck him or not."

"Why does that even matter?"

Jules moved close again, his brown eyes never leaving hers, except for a brief glance at her lips. "Because I want to fuck you too."

I TOLD YOU, GIRL!!! her intrusive thoughts screamed in victory.

Fuck... her rational thoughts whispered.

YN stood there, thoroughly shook. Summer of YN had just taken an unexpected turn.

_______________________________________________

YN paced her hotel balcony, taking desperate pulls from her CBD vape like it was a lifeline. Her hands were shaking slightly as she pulled up Lewis' contact.

He answered on the second ring. "I know that tone. You got tea." Always the gossiper.

"I'm having a crisis."

"Miles and Roscoe are with me – want me to call back?"

"No, put me on speaker. I need all the guy perspective I can get."

"Huge fan, by the way," Miles' British accent chimed in.

Any other day, two British accents would have her swooning. Today? She was too stressed to even notice.

"Go 'head," Lewis encouraged.

She spilled everything — the kiss with Jules, meeting Aurélien, the tunnel confrontation, her and Jules' heated makeout session before he left for practice. "I should be getting ready for the match but instead I'm out here having an anxiety attack!"

Lewis was quiet for a moment. "Shit. I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

"Don't mock me!"

"I'm deadass."

"You not gonna fuck 'em both, are you?" Miles asked. "They're best friends."

She heard Lewis murmur something about "like how we shared Corinne…"

"Oh that was fun," Miles reminisced, "but I don't think this is the same, bruv."

"Hello? What about ME?!" YN screeched.

"Fuck them both," Lewis said simply.

YN's eyes bugged out cartoon-style. "Lewis!! Did you not just hear what I said–"

"It's your Hot Girl Summer, right? You're getting your lick back and exploring all the things you weren't given by that limp-dicked motherfucker. Fuck. Them. Both. But use protection."

"Oh fuck, bruv," Miles laughed. "YN, maybe they want you to do that? Usually code for wanting a threesome. You don't have to if you're uncomfortable. Most guys–"

"I already did that, Miles." Another deep inhale of CBD.

"Holy fuck, when?" Lewis demanded.

"In Florence… 'member Enzo? I… uh… kinda slept with him and his friend, Carina…"

"Oh wow, a girl? So 'What They Don't Know' is really true?" Miles asked.

"Well, more bi-curious but Carina's tits were insane and she could even — you know what, let's not get distracted. Yes, I did it before. Now, do I want to do it again? Maybe. Depends how it comes about but I don't want to ruin their friendship."

"If they have the same type, I'm certain it happened before," Lewis reasoned.

"Plus Jules just wants honesty," Miles added. "Said he respects if you sleep with Aurélien. Ball's in your court."

By the time she hung up, YN was somehow more confused than before. But her shoulders felt lighter.

Now she just had to figure out what to wear to this damn match. After two more puffs from her vape, she went back into her room and got dressed.

An hour later, YN studied her reflection, adjusting the Les Bleus jersey Jules had given her. The fabric felt expensive, custom-fit. She paired it with high-waisted jeans that made her ass look fantastic - if she was going to have two French footballers eyeing her, she might as well give them something to look at.

In the car, she deep-dived their Instagrams. Jules' feed was pure fashion editorial — designer fits, artistic shots in Paris and Barcelona, the occasional shirtless workout pic that made her bite her lip. His captions were thoughtful, sometimes poetry in French that had her reaching for Google translate. Meanwhile, Aurélien's grid screamed quiet confidence — training videos where his muscles rippled, candid shots with that intense gaze, photos with his family that somehow made him even sexier. Both their comment sections were thirsty as hell, but neither seemed to engage with the attention.

JULES: Pros:

Those dreads and that smile that haunted her dreams

French model vibes with the fashion sense to match

Already kissed (and LORD what a kiss)

Gentleman in streets, freak in sheets energy

Actually listens when she talks, remembers details

That swagger when he walks

Speaks three languages fluently

Likes her music (actually listens to it)

Cons:

Not usually her type physically

Athlete (still trying to break that habit)

Best friends with potential other dick appointment

Might be too smooth for his own good

AURÉLIEN: Pros:

Tall dark and handsome (her exact type)

That VOICE could make her pregnant just listening

Those EYES that seem to see right through her

Built like a Greek god with abs for days

BDE off the charts

Probably throws it down like a champion

Quiet confidence that screams "I can ruin you"

Has a cute dog (Ocho gets extra brownie points)

Cons:

Athlete

Best friends with current makeout partner

Might be too intense

Haven't even kissed yet (but lord does she want to)

Probably knows exactly how hot he is

The stadium was a madhouse. French fans had taken over one end, their chants echoing across the pitch. She filmed some of the pre-match atmosphere for Big Kyle ("Girl what in the soccer hell are you doing?" he texted back) and her mama ("Get you one of them fine men baby!").

When the teams lined up, her breath caught. Jules and Aurélien stood next to each other, both in their element. Jules caught her eye and winked while Aurélien's gaze was pure heat – a deadly combination that had her squirming in her seat.

The match itself was intense. She found herself actually getting into it, screaming at calls she didn't understand and filming Jules' defensive masterclass and Aurélien's midfield dominance.

"This sport is all edge, no release," she muttered in annoyance during halftime.

France's goal in the 85th minute sent the stadium into chaos. She jumped up with everyone else. The team celebration was pure joy – until she caught sight of Jules and Aurélien, shirts clinging with sweat, muscles pumped from exertion.

I'm in trouble, she thought, crossing her legs.

Her pussy throbbed in agreement.

_______________________________________________

YN waited in the designated area, trying not to stare at the crowd of women who looked like they'd stepped straight out of a Fashion Nova ad. All skin-tight dresses and platform heels, clutching jerseys and phones.

This must be the WAG recruitment section.

Aurélien emerged first, fresh from the showers in ripped jeans and a Dior tee, topped with Virgil's Nike collab.

"RIP Virg," YN said automatically, nodding at his feet. "I've got the same pair."

His eyes lit up. "You know about Virgil?"

"Please, I cried when he passed. The Louis drops were iconic."

They fell into easy conversation about fashion until Jules appeared, also shower-fresh and designer-clad.

"Cama's staying back to play COD with Michael and Ibou," Jules announced.

Aurélien kissed his teeth, saying something in French that made Jules smirk (she really needed to learn ASAP).

Oh god, she realized as panic began to settle at the pit of her stomach. It's just us three.

The restaurant was all mood lighting and exposed brick, with intimate crescent-shaped booths. Of course she ended up sandwiched between them, Jules' thigh pressed against hers on one side, Aurélien's arm brushing her shoulder on the other.

She focused intently on her menu, then the silverware, then counting the exposed beams above - anything to distract from the heat radiating from both men.

Aurélien's throat clearing broke her concentration. "The wine here is excellent."

"Especially with the steak," Jules added, his hand finding her thigh under the table.

Her foot-in-mouth disease struck again: "Isn't this a bit awkward?"

"Only because you're making it awkward," Aurélien's voice dropped lower as his arm settled around her shoulders.

"Very awkward," Jules agreed, fingers drawing patterns on her thigh.

The waitress's arrival was both salvation and torture - salvation because it broke the tension, torture because after ordering her strongest cocktail, she was right back to being trapped between them.

Summer of YN? her intrusive thoughts purred. More like Summer of Getting RAILED.

For once, her rational thoughts didn't disagree.

"The duck here is a good choice," Jules suggested, his hand still drawing lazy circles on her thigh.

Aurélien's touch crept up her arm to the base of her neck, fingers gently caressing. "The fish too."

The dual sensation sent electricity through her body. "I have to pee!"

She practically sprinted to the bathroom after Aurélien let her out, locking herself in a stall and calling her mama.

"Mama, I'm at dinner with both of them and I don't know what to do!"

"Baby girl, listen to me," Sherelle's voice was unusually serious. "Don't make any choices tonight if you're still conflicted – not about one, not about both. Just enjoy the free meal."

"Thanks mama."

After actually using the bathroom and washing her hands, YN stared at her reflection, taking deep breaths.

She returned to find them laughing, speaking French:

"Ce but était fou!" (That goal was insane!)

"Oui, mais ton arrêt était meilleur." (Yeah, but your save was better)

"We were about to send a search party," Aurélien teased, letting her slide back in.

Jules pushed her drink closer. She muttered thanks and downed half of it.

"Damn girl," Aurélien whistled.

Jules chuckled while YN sat up straighter, trying to ignore how their hands found their previous positions - though now Aurélien was playing with her hair.

The waitress returned for their orders, both men responding with "Danke schön."

Four languages, her brain noted. Impressive.

As they ate, Aurélien showed her more pictures of his Belgian Malinois, Ocho. "He's my baby."

But their touches never stopped — Jules' hand on her thigh, Aurélien's fingers in her hair. Their eyes kept finding her, both clearly interested.

The rest of dinner was a delicious torture. YN learned that Aurélien had picked up some Italian during his time at AS Monaco, both men were well-traveled, passionate about their craft, and seemed to genuinely want to know her thoughts on everything from music to politics.

"Your take on identity in 'Quarter Life Crisis' went hard," Aurélien said, his fingers still playing with her hair. "Being Black in predominantly white spaces…"

"The pressure to conform," Jules added, squeezing her thigh gently.

They had dessert – a dark chocolate mousse that had YN trying not to make inappropriate sounds as she ate. Both men watched her lips wrap around the spoon with undisguised longing.

When the check came (which they split, waving off her attempt to contribute), YN's head was swimming from both the cocktails and the constant physical contact.

"Where to next?" Jules asked, helping her out of the booth.

"I should probably head back…" she started, but Aurélien's hand found the small of her back.

"We could get drinks at our hotel," he said, that deep voice making her shiver.

The look Jules and Aurélien exchanged wasn't lost on her. Her mama's words echoed in her head: Don't make any choices tonight if you're still conflicted.

"Rain check?" she managed.

"Sure, chérie," Jules smiled, though his eyes held heat. "Let us at least drive you back."

The car ride was silent but charged. Jules sat next to her in the back while Aurélien took the front, but she could feel both their attention on her.

Outside her hotel, they both got out to say goodnight. Jules kissed her cheek, lingering. "Sweet dreams."

Aurélien's goodbye was a whispered "À bientôt" that made her toes curl.

In her room, YN collapsed on the bed, her skin still tingling from their touches.

Her phone buzzed - a group chat had been created:

Jules 🇫🇷: Thank you for having dinner with us x

Aurélien 🌹: Sleep well, belle

I really am in deep fuckin' trouble, she thought, staring at the ceiling.

YN scrolled through her phone, some German reality show playing in the background. Her Instagram feed was flooded with footage from yesterday's match, but one post made her pause:

[Photos: YN cheering at the match, YN in Jules' jersey, zoomed shot of Jules looking her way during warmup]

Liked by theshaderoom, balleralert, and 394,197 others

PopCultureTeaaa: Grammy winner YN_YLN spotted at France vs Belgium match in Düsseldorf 👀 Wearing Les Bleus jersey and sitting pitch-side… Wonder which French player caught her attention? Sources say she was seen with defender Jules Koundé 🔥 Hot Girl Summer continues!

view all comments….

damari_rushes: Lmao anything for clout 🤡 ↳ tsrfans: You really got the nerve after what YOU did? 💀 ↳ popculture_tea: Not you in the comments when you got caught with 3 different girls ↳ ynglobal: WEREN'T YOU JUST WITH A SWIMSUIT MODEL?? Sir… ↳ chartdata: Her album about you went #1 tho 🤷🏾‍♀️ balleralert: Jules Koundé? Good upgrade sis 👏🏾 complex: W rizz sportsbible: Koundé's defense strong on and off the pitch deuxmoi: Actually saw her at dinner with TWO French players 👀

The DeuxMoi comment made her stomach flip. There were blurry shots of her with Jules, but none with Aurélien… yet. If people found out about both of them…

A knock interrupted her spiral. She adjusted her bonnet, wrapped her robe tighter, and peeked through the peephole – only to find it blocked.

"Just open the door, cherie," Jules' voice called out.

She opened it to find both men holding paper bags. "This has to be a fucking joke."

Aurélien's smirk could melt steel. "Are you gonna let us in or…"

"I'm seriously thinking against it."

Jules chuckled. "We got crepes."

The smell hit her nose and her stomach betrayed her with a growl. "Fine, but no funny business." She moved aside to let them in and watched them unpack enough food for a small army, squinting suspiciously.

They'd clearly planned this.

After washing their hands, they settled at the dining table.

"Come sit and eat, YN," Aurélien said, biting into his bacon.

"Yeah, cherie," Jules added.

YN sat between them again and they ate in silence until Jules shifted toward her. "We want to apologize about last night. We might've come on too strong. We're French, it's unfortunately in our DNA to just–"

"Go off the deep end?" YN finished, spreading jam on her croissant.

"Yeah…" Jules laughed. "Like I told you before. Auré and I have been tight since Bordeaux - that's about nine years of friendship."

"Give or take," Aurélien added.

Jules rolled his eyes fondly. "That's my bro. And dealing with liking the same girl…again… is annoying but it is what it is."

YN blinked. "So…?"

Aurélien interlaced his fingers, placing both hands on the table. "We just trying to see who should talk to you or if you could make it so much easier and just hang out with us both. Separately or together."

"Oh." Then a lightbulb went off in realization: "OH."

"I mean if you want," Jules rushed out, eyes mischievous.

"Or separately," Aurélien added.

"Either way works with us."

"Hold on," YN's mouth moved faster than her brain. "You guys… did… it… before?"

"Once or twice," Aurélien shrugged. "We were young, eighteen and twenty with some girl from Bordeaux."

"We really didn't know what we were doing," Jules admitted. "But Auré and I were talking last night after we dropped you off. Hashed some things out. Decided that if it did happen again, we should talk about it."

"And this is what you guys came up with?" They nodded and she fanned herself with a napkin. "Okay… uh… thanks for the honesty?"

"You're welcome."

"No problem."

"Can I think about all this?" YN asked. "I mean, yes to separately, but the idea of both… at the same time…. I need more time to reflect on all that."

"Sure," they chorused.

"And you guys wouldn't be mad at each other, will you?"

They laughed. "No, Jules and I are brothers for life," Aurélien smiled.

"Okay, whew…" She wiped fake sweat from her brow. "And you know this isn't serious, right? Like don't catch any feelings…" Foot, meet mouth again. "What I mean is that I'm focusing on my career and I don't want to get in any relationship right now–"

"We understand," Jules said.

"100%" Aurélien agreed.

They finished breakfast, Jules and Aurélien clearing the table like they'd done this a hundred times before.

"Got a sponsor meeting," Jules announced. "See you later?"

"Yeah, later," YN agreed before his lips found hers, his hand cradling her head. Even with Aurélien watching, the kiss made her toes curl.

"Prends soin de notre fille," (Take care of our girl) Jules told Aurélien.

Aurélien sucked his teeth, pushing him playfully before dapping him up.

Once Jules left, Aurélien's gaze found her. "Let's chill, bébé." He took her hand, leading her to the bed. He kicked off his sneakers - careful not to crease them - and lounged like he belonged there.

YN's thoughts went into overdrive. The way he moved, all casual confidence and lean muscle, had her brain shorting out. And those hands….Lord, those hands looked like they could...

"Come 'ere," he beckoned, and something about being told what to do made her melt. She lay beside him as he propped himself up on an elbow, studying her. "You're stunning, you know that?" His fingers traced her jawline. "Those eyes... that smile... the way you light up when you talk about music."

"You're handsome," she offered.

"I know." That smirk revealed an unexpected dimple on his right cheek. His cockiness should've been a red flag, but somehow it just made him more attractive.

Maybe athletes aren't ALL bad, she mused. At least these three.

We don't date them, her rational brain warned.

But fucking them? Go 'head girlfriend! her intrusive thoughts cheered.

"What're you thinking about?" His voice was pure sin - deep like aged whiskey, the kind of voice that could talk you into anything and make you thank him after.

"Nothing much." She changed the subject. "What did Jules say before he left?"

"Honest?"

"That's the best policy."

"He said to 'take care of our girl'."

YN blinked. "Wow, you guys really don't waste any time."

"We're French," he chuckled as if that explained everything. "Europeans are a little…"

"Possessive? Handsy?"

"We like what we like," he shrugged. "And we're just going off of you. Like you said at breakfast - separately until you want both. So separate it is. For however long you want to hang out with us, you're our girl."

Something about being "their girl" made her stomach flip pleasantly.

"And if I wanted to 'hang out' with other people?"

He gave her a look. "As long as it isn't anyone on the team, we're cool."

"I don't even know anyone else on the team besides you and Jules–"

"Good, let's keep it that way. No more teammates, but outside of that… sure, why not?"

"Are you going to see other–"

"Nah, I'm fine with what I have in front of me."

"Interesting."

"What can I say? I know how to share," he chuckled. "I'm a big brother, so I guess it comes with the territory."

"I saw the pictures on your IG, the ones with your siblings."

"Are you stalking me?"

"No," she said quickly. Yes.

"Yeah, I have two younger siblings. Anne-Maïsha and Yannis. Do you have any?"

YN shook her head. "Only child… at least from what I know. My dad left me and mama when I was three, so who knows?"

"I'm sorry, ma belle," he said softly, his large hand covering hers and giving it a light squeeze.

YN scoffed as memories of her absent sperm donor flooded her mind. "It's okay. Fuck him."

"Fuck him then."

Her smile had barely formed before his lips found hers. If Jules kissed like he was trying to steal her soul, Aurélien kissed like he already owned it. His lips were soft like the finest pillows, and the way he kissed was pure dominance — all teeth and tongue and promises of what that mouth could do elsewhere. When he pulled back, that smirk was deadly.

"You're going to be a problem. Aren't you?" she asked, but already knowing the answer.

"Maybe a bit," he said, truthfully. "I've been told that I make women go crazy over me."

"Wow...you're a cocky bastard."

"All cock, no bastard," he quipped then pulled her towards her for another kiss.

This kiss was hungrier, deeper. His tongue swept into her mouth as his hand gripped her hip, pulling her closer. She moaned as his teeth grazed her bottom lip, his other hand going inside her bonnet to touch her hair. Every touch felt electric, his fingertips leaving trails of fire on her skin through the thin robe.

When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. His eyes were dark with want, that dimple appearing again as he smirked at her dazed expression.

Best. Summer. Ever, she thought hazily, already leaning in for more.

The fro-yo place bustled with early evening energy. Jules was loading his cup with toppings - chocolate syrup, Oreos, and caramel gummies.

"You like chocolate?" YN teased.

"I love chocolate," Jules said winking at her and then slowly licking syrup from his fingers in a way that made her mouth water. The sight of his tongue sliding over his skin had her mind wandering to all sorts of inappropriate places - like how that skilled tongue would feel trailing down her neck, her stomach, between her—

"YN?! Oh my God, it is you!"

She plastered on her ‘fan smile’. The teenage girl bounced excitedly while her boyfriend looked bored.

"I love your album! It's on constant repeat!"

"Unfortunately," her boyfriend muttered, earning an elbow to the stomach.

"Can I get a picture?"

"Oh, we're kinda–"

"I'll take it, bébé," Jules offered.

The girl's excited scream nearly burst YN's eardrums. "Sorry," she whispered.

Jules turned into a whole photographer — crouching down for the perfect angle, directing them to move left, then right, catching the best lighting. He even suggested different poses, making the girl giggle as he found her best side.

"Thank you so much," she gushed to Jules, then turned to YN. "You're amazing. And your boyfriend takes great pictures!"

YN choked on air while Jules just smiled, watching them leave. "That's going to blow up online," YN said after they left. "Jules, I'm so–"

"It's okay, don't stress. Let's eat our fro-yo," he said, his accent making it sound like fwo-yoh, and YN doubled over laughing.

"Am I being bullied?" he pouted.

"Boy, don't even."

"What? You're making fun of my accent. You Americans, man," he clicked his tongue, exaggerating his French accent even more.

The cashier eye-fucked Jules as he paid, her eyes trailing over his arms in his fitted tee, but he didn't spare her a glance. YN bit back a smile.

Outside, warm summer air wrapped around them as they walked toward his hotel. Groups of people crowded the outdoor seating areas of restaurants, their laughter mixing with the sounds of clinking glasses and distant music from the bars along the Rhine.

"How was your day?"

She smiled, remembering Aurélien's kisses, how his hands had mapped her skin, the way his teeth had grazed her neck... "It was fun."

"I bet it was."

"Did Auré tell you—"

"No, we don't share details. You just look... satisfied and have a dopey-ass grin on your face."

At the crosswalk, waiting among the evening crowd, she bit her lip. "So Auré and I can do different things, right? Like... sexual stuff without you?"

"Is the world free? Sky blue?"

"Don't be a dickhead."

"Yes, you can do sexual stuff with him. I thought we covered this?"

"We did, but with you two having history–"

"If you're gonna suck his dick, just gurgle mouthwash before kissing me. Fair?"

She nodded, speechless. "What about–"

"Use a condom."

"How'd you know–"

His knowing look said everything.

Jules tossed his empty fro-yo cup in the trash, then turned to her with that devastating smile. "Now, can we stop talking about my best friend and go up to my room so you can let me lick you until you cum?"

Well shit if you put it like that, her thoughts purred. Her thighs clenched at his directness.

"Uh… sure."

"YN, cherie. Yes or no?" His voice dropped lower, making her shiver.

YES YES YES! "Oui." If only Duo could see her now...

"Merci," his eyes darkened with promise.

The hotel lobby was all marble and modern art, their footsteps echoing as they headed to the elevator. The moment the doors closed, Jules had her pressed against the mirrored wall, his lips tasting of caramel and chocolate. His tongue swept into her mouth as his hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer—

Ding!

Someone cleared their throat, making her and Jules jump apart, and Aurélien stood in between the doors wearing black Nike sweats and Bottega slides.

"What's up?" Jules' voice was remarkably steady as they fist-bumped.

"Nothing much. Getting my UberEats." Aurélien's smirk was pure sin. "Have fun."

YN yelped as his hand connected with her ass when she passed him, the sound echoing in the elevator. His deep chuckle followed them down the hall.

Jules' suite was pristine — floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, designer clothes carefully hung in the open closet, Rimowa luggage arranged perfectly in a corner.

"Are you good?"

"You guys are so weird."

"Yeah… just a bit." His eyes dropped to her lips, darkening again. "Now, where were we?"

Before YN could even form an answer, Jules closed the distance between them, his lips claiming hers in a kiss that made her toes curl. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise, one that sent heat pooling in her belly and her mind spinning. She gasped as his hands gripped her waist, and to her shock — and pleasure — he lifted her as if she weighed nothing.

Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried her to the bed, his mouth never leaving hers. The feel of his strong arms beneath her, his body pressing against hers, made her dizzy with desire. He laid her gently on the soft mattress, hovering above her, his dreadlocks falling forward to frame his chiseled face.

Jules kissed her again, slower this time, his hands beginning their journey across her body. His fingers slid beneath the hem of her top, lifting it inch by inch until it was over her head, leaving her in just her bra. He pulled back, his eyes sweeping over her as though committing every inch of her skin to memory.

When his gaze landed on her bra, his lips quirked into a faint smile. "Take it off for me, bébé," he said, his voice a low rumble that made her shiver.

She reached behind her, fumbling with the clasp before it finally came undone. As the straps fell away, Jules’s breath hitched. Her dark, full breasts were soft and inviting, her deep brown areolas taut with arousal.

"Tu es belle," he murmured, leaning forward to press his lips to her skin. His tongue flicked over one nipple, and YN gasped, her back arching into a bow. He took it into his mouth, sucking gently, his hand kneading the other breast with firm, practiced movements. The sensation sent a jolt straight to her core, and she moaned his name, threading her fingers through his dreads to pull him closer.

Jules’s erection pressed insistently against her thigh, hard and unrelenting, but he wasn’t in a rush. He paused just long enough to coax her hips up and slid her pants down her legs, followed by her panties. Her bare pussy was exposed to him, the soft landing strip above her folds drawing his gaze.

"Mon Dieu," he murmured, his fingers lightly tracing her folds. "So pretty."

YN squirmed beneath his touch, the praise making her cheeks heat even as her arousal grew. He teased her clit with slow, deliberate circles, watching her reactions with a smug grin.

"Jules," she moaned, her voice trembling.

"I’ve got you," he assured her before stepping back to undress.

Her eyes widened as he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing sculpted abs and broad shoulders. His skin was smooth and warm-toned. When his shorts and boxers dropped, her breath caught. His erection stood proud — long, thick, and with a distinct curve, the head glistening with precum. She couldn’t help the thought that raced through her mind.

It looks so delicious.

Before she could think twice, her hands reached out to touch him, her fingers grazing his abs before wrapping around his length. Jules groaned, his head falling back as her grip tightened.

"Careful," he whispered, his voice tight with restraint. "You’re driving me insane."

Tentatively, she leaned forward, her lips brushing the tip. The salty tang of his precum met her tongue, and she whimpered, eager to please. But as she took him into her mouth, her teeth grazed him slightly, and Jules hissed.

"Watch your teeth," he said gently, his fingers threading through her hair to guide her.

She adjusted quickly, finding a rhythm as she bobbed her head along his length. Jules’s groans deepened, his hips rocking slightly in time with her movements. His taste was intoxicating, a mix of salt and musk that made her want more, even as her jaw ached from the effort.

After a moment, he pulled her back, his chest heaving. "I need you to cum first," he said, his voice rough with need.

He gently pushed her back onto the mattress, spreading her thighs as he settled between them. His mouth found her again, his tongue exploring her folds with the same precision and care he’d shown her breasts. YN’s moans grew louder, her hips bucking against his mouth as he worked her clit with steady flicks of his tongue.

His fingers joined in, slipping inside her and curling upward to find the spot that made her cry out. YN’s legs bracketed his head, her muscles trembling as the tension in her belly coiled tighter and tighter.

"Jules, I’m—"

He groaned against her, the vibration sending her over the edge. Her orgasm hit her like a wave, her body convulsing as she cried out his name. Jules didn’t stop, lapping up everything she gave him with a reverence that made her head spin.

When she finally came down, he pulled back, his lips glistening. One hand fisted his erection as the other caressed her breast, his grip tightening as his hips bucked forward. He managed to jerk off two more times then—

"YN....putain," he groaned, his release spilling onto her stomach in hot, thick streaks. The warmth made her moan softly, her body still humming from the aftermath of her climax. Jules was breathless for a moment, his eyes fixed on her as he caught his breath. Then he smiled, soft and satisfied. "Let me clean you up."

"Okay," she said, her voice low and hazy.

He padded into the bathroom, returning with a warm towel to gently clean her. His touch was careful, his gaze tender. When he was done, he tossed the towel aside and lay down beside her, pulling her close.

"Good?" he asked, his lips brushing her temple.

"Magnifique," she murmured, making him chuckle.

"Not bad," he praised.

YN sighed contentedly, her eyes fluttering closed as sleep pulled her under.

_____________________________________________

The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows as YN stretched, her jaw still a bit sore from getting acquainted with Jules' impressive length, her thighs tingling from his expert tongue work. Dominique was right - European men were built different. She reached for Jules but found his side empty.

"Jules?"

"Bathroom," he called back. The toilet flushed, followed by running water.

He emerged in black boxers, morning wood on display, and YN couldn't help but appreciate the view.

"You're saying I'm the freak, but it's really you," he teased.

"I get down sometimes," she shrugged.

"Oh, do you?" He leaned down to kiss her, then trailed his lips to her neck. She moaned softly before he pulled back. "As much as I would love to keep going... I have to get you back to your hotel."

Reality crashed back - Hamburg, quarterfinals against Portugal.

"Got an extra toothbrush?"

"In the drawer, chérie. The blue one's new."

While brushing her teeth, she examined his skincare arsenal: La Mer moisturizing cream, Sunday Riley UFO acne treatment, Drunk Elephant vitamin C serum, and some fancy French brand she couldn't pronounce.

How does this man have better products than me?

Back at her hotel, Jules kissed her goodbye. "Team bus leaves in an hour. See you in Hamburg?"

"Yeah... though I might hang out a bit with Aurélien."

"You should," Jules smiled against her lips. "Just meet me before the match? I'll have someone bring you to the player's area."

"Not worried?"

"About Auré? Never. About Portugal? A little."

"Promise to kick Ronaldo's ass for me."

"With pleasure, chérie." One more kiss, then he was gone.

While on the elevator to her floor, she sent a text to her other French baguette:

YN to Aurélien 🌹 Dinner in Hamburg?

Aurélien 🌹 Perfect. I can give that ass another smack 😈 Been thinking about it since last night

YN You're impossible 🙄

Aurélien You like it though 😏 I'll make it worth your while, ma belle

Rolling her eyes but smiling, YN exited the elevator, walked down to her hotel room, and began to pack for Hamburg.

This summer just kept getting better.

TO BE CONTINUED...