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Leo never says you're good. Sometimes he says you did your best, sometimes he says nice pass. Sometimes the journalists probes and he says he's a great kid.
When Leo says a great kid, Neymar feels ashamed of how much those words please him, how much those simple words are enough to make him happy. Leo always calls him a kid when he talks to the media, when he talks to anyone really, smiling politely and yes, we have a good relationship on and off the pitch, and yes he'll become one of the best, and it's always polite and rehearsed, never spontaneous and Neymar still doesn't know whether it's genuine or not.
He pretends it is, and he listens to those interviews and closes his eyes and imagines Leo praising him and that never fails to work him up – enough that he finds himself jerking off while Leo talks in the background, and Leo calls him a kid and Neymar feels ashamed but he jerks off faster because he loves it, he loves the fact Leo's older than him, he loves the fact he's kneeling at his feet and Leo can do whatever he wants with him, and even though Leo doesn't seem to be aware of it, in his fantasies Neymar is a doll made for Leo to play with.
When he's nominated as a Ballon d'Or finalist, he doesn't expect much. They all agree Luis should have been there too, and Luis congratulates him heartily and Neymar says loudly for anyone who's willing to listen that he should have been on the podium too. But when Luis ruffles his hair and says congrats, Neymar smiles happily and shyly because he's there, he's finally there.
Leo says as usual, I don't know who will win and these are two fantastic players, because Neymar knows Leo wants to win everything but still he never takes a side, never criticizes, never steps out of line, at least not where anyone can see. Neymar doesn't ask for anything anyway. He can't imagine a greatest honor than to be nominated alongside him, as though they both were on a level that was even close to comparable.
Next day in training, he's welcomed with cheers and teasing remarks. No one is surprised by Leo's nomination but everyone grins at him anyway, because here he goes, their prodigy. Neymar grins too, even when Geri locks him under his armpit and ruffles his head until his hair is thoroughly ruined.
Neymar smiles through the congratulations he receives. The smile only drops after training, courtesy of Dani and Gerard who, as soon as Neymar is showered and dressed, empty several cans of red bull over his head.
Neymar can do nothing but arch his back while the cold drink seeps through his clothes, running down his spine, soaking his underwear in pink liquid.
“Congratulations wonder boy!” Geri shouts, laughing loudly as Neymar insults him.
Neymar chases after the both of them, attempting to give them a deadly hug with his sticky body, but they escape to the showers and Neymar is left with the sound of his shoes squishing against the tiles and his teammates laughing at his predicament.
His clothes being completely ruined, he has no other choice but to borrow a clean kit. Of course, there is no spare underwear.
He sits gingerly at a coffee table, waiting for a staff man to bring him socks too, because his calves are naked and Neymar doesn't like feeling cold. He's on his phone, trying to think up ways to get back at Dani and his dumb giant of a teammate, when someone clears his throat in front of him. Neymar looks up and there stands a freshly showered, clean-shaved Lionel Messi.
“Hey. Are you busy?” he asks, glancing at his phone as though Neymar ever did anything important on his phone.
“No,” he answers, and Leo sits down heavily in front of him.
“I've been meaning to talk to you.”
“Is something wrong?”
“No.” Leo shakes his head. “I just, I talked with Luis, yesterday, and he said I might have been unfair to you.”
“Unfair?” Neymar frowns. He loves Luis but he's ready to fight him if he said anything mean to Leo, even though he stands no chance of winning against him.
“He said that I didn't-- congratulate you enough.”
“What?” Neymar blinks confusedly. “That's stupid.”
“I don't think it is actually,” Leo answers, frowning. “He said I never acknowledge your efforts, and I think he's right.”
“You do, you- I mean it doesn't matter.”
“No, we're teammates and it's important that I treat you well. When I was younger, Ronaldinho and Deco, they always told me when I was doing something right, and it gave me confidence.”
“Yeah but you've always been otherworldly.”
Leo frowns. “That's neither here nor there.” He taps the table with his fingers, considering him. “You deserve to be on that podium,” he finally says.
He looks straight into his eyes, like he actually means it, and Neymar can't tell whether his blood rushes south or north, because he feels his cheeks heat up but there's an unmistakable spark in his lower-belly.
“Ok,” he says, and he hopes his voice isn't as high as it sounds in his head.
Leo seems to take his short answer as doubt. “I mean it. You've really evolved ever since you came here, and now you're one of the best player in the world.”
Neymar's heart misses a beat. These are words he never thought he'd hear from Leo, and there is a warm, pleasant feeling spreading through his body, along with what he's pretty sure is his cock stirring down there. He laughs nervously.
“Never as good as you.”
Leo huffs. “Stop putting me on a pedestal. One day you'll win trophies over me. Maybe this one even,” he says, a smile at the corner of his lips.
“You don't actually think that. You'll win this one, and all the other one. There will never be someone better than you at football.”
Leo smiles, shaking his head, but he doesn't answer. “My point is, you're a really good player.”
“Thanks,” Neymar mumbles, shifting on his seat. His dick is getting hard incredibly fast and this is utterly ridiculous.
“You-- you're really inventive and you're really a great help, on the pitch.”
“Thanks,” Neymar repeats, his voice high again and he can't look Leo in the eyes. He fidgets, trying to will his boner down. Dani wouldn't let him live if he knew he got a hard-on so fast and so easily.
He's ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.
“You really grew since coming here, both as a person and as a player.”
“Yeaaaaah.”
Neymar feels his heart beat in his dick and he's already hard as rock and this is absolutely embarrassing.
“I really enjoy playing football with you and Luis. I'm really happy in my life right now, and I think you both play a big part in it.”
“Me too,” Neymar chokes, voice tight like he's constipated. “I'm really happy, too,” he clarifies. He can't sit still, his hard-on incommoding him even more since there is no underwear to constrict it in any way. He clutches his phone, trying to focus on something besides the embarrassment that is his libido right now.
“You don't give yourself enough credit you know? You're an amazing player.”
Neymar nods and looks up at the ceiling. He almost wants to cry because of the shame, because of the way his heart fills with pride and love. Leo is his teammate, his idol, his crush really, the one he dreams about and longs for, and he never expected to hear these words from him. He didn't have the time to prepare himself for this possibility and he has no idea how to deal with it. Leo makes him crazy, sends his body and heart in a frenzy with just a few words and Neymar has lost hope of his willpower being enough to will his boner down.
“So yeah,” Leo goes on. “I just wanted you to know that I-- I mean I'm proud of you.”
There's an explosion in Neymar's body and as soon as Leo pronounces those words he knows he's fucked.
“Oh God.”
He comes.
He comes with no warning, from nothing but the pure feeling of pride taking over his body. He comes untouched in his shorts, and he has absolutely no control over it, he just cums and he can't repress a whimper, dropping his head on the table to hide his face in his arms. He bites his lips, planting his feet firmly on the floor in an attempt to ground himself while he orgasms, his body filled with a mixture of shame, embarrassment and plain euphoria.
“Oh my god,” he repeats. “Oh my god.”
“Ney?” Leo probes, worry in his voice. “Are you ok?”
He reaches out to touch his head and Neymar jolts as though burned.
“Yes!” he squeaks. “Perfect.” His legs are weak and he feels wet ; he needs to get out of here. “Thanks, really but I need-- I mean, yeah,” he stutters, getting up hastily.
“Ney? Are you sure you're fine? Did I- did I say something weird?”
“No, not at all, really I just need--” Neymar feels breathless, shaking on his legs as he stands awkwardly next to the table.
“Tell me if you--” Leo trails off as his eyes wander down. “Ah.”
Neymar wonders how much his legs are shaking for him to be staring like that. He follows his gaze, looking down at his legs and---
Oh no. Oh no no no.
Neymar can't quite believe his eyes. He stares incredulously at the cum trailing down his thigh, running past the red fabric of his shorts, gliding on his skin like a rivulet. And damn it, damn Geri, damn Dani, damn Luis, and damn his fucked up dick.
Neymar pales as fast as he got hard. “It's not--”
“Were you--- while I was talking to you, were you---” Leo looks shocked, blinking repeatedly. “Your hands were on the table, I saw them.”
Neymar whimpers, frozen on the spot.
“Did you-- without touching--”
Neymar whines again. “I'm sorry.”
“Were you--” Leo frowns, and he looks slightly upset. “Were you even listening to me at all?”
“Of course I was!” Neymar squeaks. “That's why I--” he trails off, paling even more. “Oh God, I need to leave. I'm sorry, I really am,” he says.
He finally regains control of his body, running away before Leo can think of stopping him. He hears his voice, calling him, but he only runs faster, the sound of his heart thundering in his ears covering the sound of his shoes squishing on the floor.
He feels dizzy by the time he reaches the bathroom, his blood still pulsing in his dick instead of his brain, where it should have been in the first place. He's trembling, his breath ragged, because he hasn't had time to properly come down from his orgasm. He has no idea how he'll face Leo tomorrow, and after he said all those things too--- it's completely ruined.
He shakes a bit harder, bracing himself on the sink.
“Ney?” a breathless voice calls, startling him, and he watches incredulously as Leo enters the bathroom.
“Why did you follow me?” he asks, slightly hysteric.
“I don't know,” Leo answers, seemingly tense. “I just—”
He doesn't finish, his eyes trailing down again. He stares at the cum trail on his thigh, and Neymar doesn't need to look to know it's running past his knee now. He rushes to wipe it off but Leo snatches his hand away before he has the time to.
“Did you really come just because I was praising you? Just like that?” he asks, wonder in his voice. He sounds a bit off, the edginess in his posture suddenly gone and Neymar isn't sure what he could be thinking about right now.
“I swear it's-- it never happened before. I'm sorry.” He begs for pardon, face discomfited.
Leo doesn't even look up. “It's fine,” he says airily.
“I'm really--” Neymar starts again, on the verge of tears, but he stops himself short when Leo reaches out.
Neymar looks at his hand as it gets closer and closer, until Leo's fingers touch his thigh. He presses down right against the white trail, before letting his fingers follow it up.
Neymar thinks his heart stops beating. He can't move, watching dumbfounded as Leo's fingers slip under his shorts, following the dirty trail. Neymar breathes heavily, erratically, and he grips the sink tightly, trying to not fall or faint or run away.
“I had no idea men could come like that,” Leo murmurs, mesmerized. He looks out of it yet focused, the same look on his face he gets when he's on the pitch, and the only thing on his mind is winning.
“I-I don't think it's very common.”
Neymar stops breathing altogether when Leo's hand reaches the end of its merry way, and there's suddenly Leo's palm flat against his wet, soft dick.
“Do you-- get off on being complimented?” Leo asks, voice hesitant. His eyes are focused on his crotch, seemingly staring at the bulge his hand forms there. He palms his dick unashamedly and Neymar feels this close to fainting.
He thinks twice about Leo's question and realizes how it looks, how it sounds like he comes from people singing his praises. Leo doesn't say it's weird and egocentric but maybe he's thinking it and Neymar can't take the risk of him being disappointed when he just said he was proud.
“No!” Neymar shouts. “I don't it's just-- just you I--” he realizes too late he said too much, and already Leo's eyes are widening.
He searches his eyes. “Me?”
Neymar nods. His body is torn between apprehension and arousal, and there's still left-over euphoria because of all the compliments Leo paid him earlier, and it's pretty hard carrying a conversation when Leo's hand is pressed against his goddamn dick.
Leo hums to himself, focusing back on his crotch and his hand bulging underneath. Neymar came minutes ago, he's wet and dirty already, and his dick feels too sensitive, and he feels utterly helpless. Leo starts massaging his balls and Neymar has to repress a whimper.
“Oh God,” he whispers, but Leo barely pays any attention to him. Neymar trembles, his dick soft but overwhelmed with arousal, and he has no doubt that if Leo keeps touching him, he won't stay limp for long.
He looks down at Leo's arm, clad in a black shirt whose sleeve is rolled up to his forearm, parts of his tattoo visible and bright on his white skin, his wrist disappearing underneath the red fabric of Neymar's shorts, and this, somehow, is the most arousing sight he's seen in years.
Neymar yelps when Leo grabs his dick, for real this time, closing his hand around it. His dick is hardening again, constricted in Leo's fist, and it's too soon, too fast, and it hurts but he doesn't want Leo to stop.
“Leo-” he gasps for air, shaking from head to toes.
“Shh,” Leo silences him easily. He seems in a trance, determined and unforgiving, as overwhelming and imposing as when he is on the pitch, and how many times Neymar wished Leo would look at him as intensely as he looks at the ball during a match, and now he does and Neymar feels euphoric.
He isn't sure what's on Leo's mind but he never thought Lionel Messi would ever jerk him off and he finds he doesn't care that much about his motives. It's Leo, and if only for a moment Neymar can be the only thing on his mind then he will sacrifice everything for that moment, even if he feels vulnerable and exposed, even if it ruins everything after that – it's too late anyway, it's too late and Neymar is hard again in Leo's closed fist.
Leo starts jerking him off and Neymar closes his eyes, tries to anchor himself against the sink not to fall. His legs aren't steady at all but he's afraid if he moves an inch Leo will break out of his stupor and stop altogether. He bites his lips hard for the same reason, willing his moans away but it's hard. He wants to lean against Leo's small body, hold him into his arms and sniff his neck and moan to his heart's content. He wants to hold onto him like a lifeline and he wants to know that Leo will support him and hold him up, but instead he hunches over himself trying to keep his pleasure in while Leo palms his dick and brings him off.
Leo flicks his wrist and Neymar can't keep a moan in, loud in the bathroom and then he's gasping for air, his breath hitching high.
“I'm going to--”
He opens his eyes, peeking at Leo's face and he's surprised to find Leo watching him. Leo stares at his face intently and Neymar can't help moaning under the force of his stare. And it's shameful, it's dirty to be moaning open-mouthed while looking straight into Leo's eyes. He feels slutty and depraved and it brings him over the edge.
He shuts his eyes when he comes, gasping loudly while Leo milks it all out of him. He feels it happen again – the cum dribbling down, trailing down his thigh. It's wet, sticky and dirty. He's dizzy and out of breath, head heavy because he wasn't made to cum twice in such a short span, and when he opens his eyes, Leo is following with his eyes the new rivulets on his trembling thigh. A lazy smile forms at the corner of Leo's lips, and there's something in his eyes, like wonder and satisfaction.
He slowly lets go of his cock, the leg of his shorts sliding back down to cover his thigh and the white fluid running down sinuously on his brown skin. Neymar sways, his legs too shaky to hold him up now that Leo isn't touching him anymore, and Leo's hand shoots out to steady him.
“Ok?” he asks, his hand firm on his hips while Neymar clings onto his shoulder.
Leo's face is slowly setting back into his usual features, nice, benevolent, and reserved as he smiles at Neymar. It's a soft smile, it's a Leo smile, the kind of smile he gives Neymar when he indulges him. There's an uncanny tiredness taking over his limbs and Neymar wants nothing more than to take a nap.
“Do you need a ride?” Leo asks, his voice his usual soft mumble.
Neymar nods silently, holding onto Leo's biceps. He feels dirty.
“Shouldn't you--” he glances at Leo's dirty hand, hanging by his sides, and that's when he sees the bulge in Leo's pants. “Oh, do you need me to--” he feels too tired to do much of anything but Leo is hard and that surely is enough of a motivation.
“No don't worry.” Leo slowly pushes him away and Neymar immediately grips the sink again not to fall.
“Maybe you should-- clean up,” Leo says, glancing pointedly down at his leg.
“Uh, yeah,” Neymar mumbles, but he's rooted in place, because there's a very big bulge in Leo's pants and it's all he ever wanted. It looks huge, and Leo said not to but Neymar doesn't understand why he should be kept from it when it's clearly meant for him. He might not have enough strength to jerk him off or suck his dick, but it requires no efforts on his part for Leo to fuck his mouth.
“Wait.” Leo enters a stall to get toilet papers, that he then humidifies with water. “Let me,” he says.
Neymar is lost in his thoughts and he startles when Leo squats down and presses the wet paper on his skin. He cleans his leg off the cum, stopping its run on his calf and wiping up until his hand slips under his shorts. He follows the dirty trails back to their sources, and Neymar whimpers when he feels the cold moistness on his spent dick. Leo is careful but Neymar came one too many time and he's over-sensitive, and the simple brush of toilet paper on his cock is enough to make him tremble harder.
Leo is thorough, cleaning his balls, wiping several time along his shaft despite Neymar's quiet whimpers. He looks down at him, his mop of soft black hair and his dark eyes and his ears that are maybe a bit too big for him and he can still see his jeans tenting and--
“You're sure you don't want help with that?” he asks, more desperately than he intended.
Leo looks up at him. “I doubt you'd be able to do anything right now.”
“I can,” Neymar insists.
Leo smiles indulgently, like he'd smile to a child that insists on being wrong. He stands up, and they're just inches apart, and there are dimples on Leo's face that Neymar wants to kiss. Leo holds his face and presses their lips together, and it's soft, so soft, so different from their previous depravity, and Neymar can't believe it's actually happening. He melts under this chaste kiss, and he feels naked and vulnerable all over again.
Leo draws his head back, falling back on the sole of his feet to look up at him.
“Later,” he says, trying to appease him, but it's not enough now and Neymar needs more.
He pleads. “When you win the Ballon d'Or, let me--.”
“Later,” Leo repeats, and it sounds like a promise.
(at least Neymar hopes it's a promise)