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Standing at the urinal, Polnareff closed his eyes and readied himself to finally piss in an acceptable bathroom. In his mind, this was pure bliss compared to the other bathrooms he’d been in on the way to Egypt. He was just about to release when he heard footsteps approach and a man stand right beside him. What the fuck? There was etiquette when it came to using the bathroom and this brazen fool was testing his patience. He opened his eyes and glanced over to catch a glimpse of the offender and he recognized the golden hair and a toothpick hanging out of the wry little rascal’s mouth.
He sighed softly and zipped his own pants back up, readying himself for the impending fight.
Goddamnit.
“I should have known this would happen. Why can’t I just piss in peace?” Pol groaned, turning to him.
“Go right ahead darlin’,” Hol Horse smirked and motioned to the urinal. “I’m not stoppin’ you.”
“So you’re not here to fight me?” Pol asked as he tilted his head. Hol Horse shook his head and ran a hand through his own hair, pushing it back.
“To be honest, I didn’t know it was you. You look different,” he pointed out, specifically pointing to his silver shaggy mullet that was usually slicked up to the sky but now hung in soft waves around his face and ears. He’d also been wearing a big t-shirt because his tube top was skin tight and it scratched his bandages and stitches from his fight with Dio. Joseph had thought it would be funny to buy him a t-shirt that said “Who’s your mummy” with a mummy on the front. It was probably a good idea to have more clothes as well because theirs had all but been demolished and were road-worn.
“Well, you look like shit too,” Pol huffed, noticing the bandage that was wrapped all the way around his head where the bullet had grazed his brain. He was lucky to be alive.
“Hey! I didn’t say that. I just meant, y’know, you don’t look like your regular self, partner,” he defended, his hands up to show he was innocent of any shit-talk.
“Why do you talk like that?” Jean asked him and he laughed.
“I could ask you the same,” Hol grinned, giving his quick-witted comeback to the frenchman as he chewed on his toothpick, twirling it around.
“Eh, whatever. What are you doing here anyway?” Pol asked and decided against his better judgement to go ahead and relieve himself at the urinal. “Did Dio finally break up with you?”
Hol blushed and looked down.
“It was never like that, Polnareff. You did the same thing. We were just tryin’ to survive,” Horse sighed. Pol looked over to him with disdain.
“No, we’re not the same. You partnered with a vile monster and then you ran away when your luck ran out. I haven’t forgotten that you held a gun to my back,” Pol practically growled.
“You held a blade to my throat—anyway, Dio is dead. I tried to shoot ‘im but the bastard was too quick. I was gonna take him out. Scout’s honor. He caught me, wanted me to take you all out and I tried to finish you all off again. Thus the gun to your back. Shot my fuckin’ self in the head. Not on purpose of course. It was that little shit Boingo’s fault,” Hol explained as they both pissed like nothing was the matter.
“I’m here because I fought Dio, like an honorable fighter,” Jean quipped.
“Look, we’re not gettin’ anywhere with the quarreling. If I buy you a drink, can we call this shit even and bury it?” he asked. “I’m getting discharged out of the hospital.. and I assume you are too, judged on the fact that you’re holdin’ all your belongings in that sack,” Horse offered, finishing up before he zipped back up and washed his hands.
Pol didn’t say anything for a moment and followed behind him after he’d finished and put it away, washing his hands too before he finally spoke up.
“I don’t know if I’d call that even,” Pol replied and followed him out of the hospital, ducking into a pub nearby. He hoped they were serving some food because he was dying of starvation.
*******************
They were digging into some local Egyptian cuisine and some beer, Pol all but moaning from the taste of the freshly cooked meat. Hol had ended up piping up and asking him why he’d had such a stick up his ass about Geil, finding out quickly by the way Pol white-knuckled the fork that it was deeper than a small warrior’s grudge.
“To be fair, I didn’t know any of that about him. I got paired with him because of our Stands, but we didn’t really talk. Look, I respect women: I would never work with someone who did somethin’ horrendous like that if I knew.”
Lighting a cigarette up, he closed his eyes and took a deep inhale.
“They wouldn’t let me have these at the hospital. Damn near died without one,” Hol added after he’d slowly let the smoke trickle into the air of the pub.
Jean seemed to relax a bit once he heard that Hol had no idea of Geil’s past crimes. Hol Horse was the asshole that ‘killed’ Avdol, but he hadn’t even really managed to do that. He was just a for-hire mercenary and he wasn’t that great at attacking. He sure talked a big game, but he’d never succeeded in taking the group out. In the technical sense, Pol was a murderer too even though they waited to be attacked first before they killed anyone.
“Do you wanna head on down to the hotel down the road? We could talk more there and get our bearings before we catch a flight back home. I don’t mind sharin’ if you don’t,” Hol brought up, trying to make up for being such a sack of shit when they were fighting each other. It was just serving to make Pol nervous, but he decided he would go and find out what Hol’s angle was.
********************
“‘Who’s your mummy’, huh?” Horse chuckled at his shirt when they got checked into the hotel room as he unlaced his boots and unsnapped his pants from the bottom of them so he could kick them off.
“Mr. Joestar thought it was hilarious. I don’t know if they all conspired to do it to me as a group or not,” Polnareff chuckled to himself and lifted it up a little to take a look at his wounds that had been stitched up. At first he just lifted it up enough to see his lower abdomen, tracing a fingertip along one of the longer wounds and wincing before he just ended up stripping the shirt off.
Hol’s cigarette fell from his lips when he saw Pol’s body like that. Jesus Christ, he was ripped. His pecs—he’d never seen a man have such delicious looking pecs.
“Fuck,” he cursed when he burned his fingertips trying to catch the cigarette.
Looking up from his examination, Pol looked clueless. He was used to changing in front of others and he certainly wasn’t shy.
“Hm?” he asked.
“Oh, uh, nothin’,” he hummed, then coughed because he’d been so taken-aback that he’d forgotten to let the smoke out. “So you thought I was Dio’s boyfriend? I’m sure he had plenty of other playthings. Probably a million women linin’ up to get their blood drained by him, even if it meant dying a horrible death. He didn’t give a shit about any of ‘em,” he shook his head.
“Well, you certainly were loyal to him, at least that’s the way it looked to me,” Jean hummed and closed one of the dresser drawers after he’d folded the shirt up and Hol bit his bottom lip, remembering the time when Polnareff had pushed him against that wall and trapped him. He blushed a little.
“Forgive me for bein’ so forward, but uh-which way are you swingin’ frenchman? You and Avdol seemed pretty cozy, well, at least after you stopped fighting with him,” he chuckled. “Lover’s quarrel, I suppose.”
Pol blushed furiously and stammered, his heart pounding at the question and then the insinuation that he had something with Avdol. Even if he wished that he had, Avdol didn’t reciprocate the feelings at the time.
“I, well, a bit of both, I feel. Why does that matter? Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Maybe not, but you can’t fault a cowboy for being curious,” Hol chuckled and winked at him. “The way you pinned me up against that wall made me think that you might know a thing or two,” Horse mumbled after he’d taken another drag of his cig.
Pol’s jaw had dropped, his eyes widening. At the time, he hadn’t meant it in any sort of way. He was just apprehending him. Now that he contemplated on it, he realized the connotations when he’d leaned in and held his hands behind his back.
“Fancy a little fun before you head back off to France to frolic with the french ladies and gentlemen?” Horse went ahead and confidently asked. Worst case scenario was that Pol left the hotel or just turned him down.
Neither of them had any action for probably a month at least. They were so busy fighting and they’d not had a chance to unwind and have fun. The hotel room was nice and clean and had a clean bathroom— and that was good enough for Pol.
“C’mon. I won’t tell your posse on you,” he winked at Pol, trying to entice him. “I gotta warn you though, I ain’t takin’. That’s not my thing. I ain’t above a bj though.”
Jean was still shocked, realizing that Horse was serious. A one night stand with a once-enemy was a bit risky, but also quite exciting. Biting his bottom lip and crossing his arms, he gave it a few seconds of consideration before he nodded.
“Fine, what the hell,” Pol huffed and gave a shrug, trying not to seem too excited. In a way, he still felt like he was above the gunslinging weasel. No one would find out—it was just something they both needed.
Hol stood up from the chair he’d been sitting in, sauntering over to Pol before he took a drag off his cigarette and leaned in to press his lips against the other’s. He let his breath go and Pol took in the smoke as well as his tongue, closing his own eyes. His hands went to Hol’s cheeks and he caressed his cheekbone, embarrassingly gentle for someone who he was just considering to be a one night stand. He could already feel himself getting hard in his pants and he assumed that Horse was feeling the same way. Horse’s hands had come to rest on Pol’s waist, surprised by the ratio of his chest to torso. He was built like a Greek god and he wondered what kind of workout regimen he was on to achieve something like that, though he was more entranced by how warm he felt. A warm body against his own was something he’d been craving, especially in those cold lonely nights in the desert. Hol was quick to yank Pol closer by his high-waisted white pants, fiddling with the zipper and the buttons before he managed to slide them down and off. Polnareff returned the favor by unbuttoning Horse’s shirt and pushing it down off of his shoulders. He had plenty of scars littering his body too, from stab wounds to bullet wounds. Pol traced over one of the holes and Horse chuckled softly.
“Surprised to find bullet holes in someone who has a gun for a Stand?” he teased and Jean grinned.
“Un peu,” he hummed, holding up his index and thumb finger to indicate ‘a little bit’.
Hol was quick to shut him up with another kiss, swaying them from the force in which he launched himself back into it, pushing the muscular man back onto the bed.
“This your plan? Seduce me and shoot me?” Pol asked playfully, though he was also feeling out the situation.
“You know I wouldn’t be able to do that without a bit of braggin’. You give me too much credit,” he grinned, putting his cigarette on the ashtray before he fumbled with his own belt, his layers of pants and belt falling to a pile by his feet.
Pol was left in his heart boxer briefs and Hol couldn’t help but laugh at that too, shaking his head.
“I gotta hand it to you, you’ll stick to a theme if nothin’ else,” Hol hummed and grabbed some lube out of his bag, pulling off his own underwear.
Pol eagerly pulled him into his arms once Hol climbed over him, caressing through his long golden hair and giving it a playful twirl, pulling him in for another kiss.
“You’re makin’ me feel real special, Jean Pierre. You don’t need me in your life though. Trust me, you don’t want me.”
Ignoring him, Pol kissed him hungrily, Hol’s legs straddling him like he was riding a horse. It was quite ironic.
“One step at a time, cowboy. I’ve heard about your type. You’ll leave me with a smile and you won’t think twice,” Polnareff purred against his lips.
“I don’t love. I fuck, and I get on with my life.”
“Then show me-“ Pol egged him on, smirking up at him.
“Why is your Stand a sword anyway?” Hol asked as he lubed his fingers up, pushing Pol’s massive muscular thighs aside so he could start prepping him.
“It’s a rapier. A fencing sword, dumbass,” Jean retorted. “Why is yours a gun? American-“
He said it like it was in an insult, groaning softly as Horse pushed against him, gaining access.
“Texan to be precise. Everything’s bigger in Texas,” he chuckled lowly, watching Pol slowly coming undone beneath him. That wasn’t anything yet and Pol was already a mess. Leaning in, Hol Horse smirked and brought his lips to his ear. “It’s kind of nice to see you relax for once. You’re always so tense.”
He punctuated that last word with a gentle curl of his fingertips.
“Mmm— and I wonder why that is, Hol? Could it be that we’ve had to watch our backs for the last month because of you and Dio’s goons?” Pol hummed back.
“Shhh, just relax princess. I’ll take care of ya,” he chuckled lowly and lubed up his length, pushing into him slowly at first.
“Merde-“ Pol swore, his fingers gripping the sheets of the bed. His wounds were still sore but he was adjusting well as he breathed.
“Easy there, sweetheart,” Horse encouraged. “You’re doin’ so well.”
Pol blushed, not used to being such a pillow princess. It was nice to be taken care of like that, but he was still getting used to the idea of his enemy fucking him.
He slowly started to rock against him, not interested in anything too crazy, just wanting to satiate the two of them. Hol kept his eyes on Pol’s eyes, though they were quick to drift down to Jean’s pecs. He did want to touch him there but he was a bit nervous to.
“Christ— your tits-“ Horse groaned and Pol looked completely taken aback, though he didn’t look offended. “They’re so— they look so cozy.”
Pol chuckled softly to himself and grabbed one of Horse’s hands to allow him to feel him up.
“For such an arrogant connard, you’re so shy when it comes to me. Do I make you nervous?”
Horse was still going at a slow rhythm as they talked, letting the pleasure lead him. He gently felt of Pol’s muscles, tracing them with admiration. Was fencing a good sport to get ripped with? He’d have to think more on that later. For the moment, he was focused on the french man’s breathing and the rippling of his muscles as they moved. At that distance, he could even see the soft freckles that lined his shoulders and cheeks. He’d never had the chance to get so close to him than he did now and he still couldn’t believe that he was getting to lay with someone who would have been the last person on Earth to accept such a proposition.
“Shyeeet-“ he groaned, feeling a particularly good thrust that brought his mind back to reality. “Naw, don’t flatter yourself, Frenchy. Just never seen anything like this.”
Jean rolled his eyes and moved with Hol, his thighs clenching around him to keep him close. They were both aching for release. Pol wrapped his arm up around Horse’s neck and brought him down for a kiss, their lips meeting and chasing each other while they rocked slowly. Hol got faster, his hips bucking desperately against him the longer it went on.
“Just like that… yeah—“ Horse grunted against his lips, hitting his climax shortly after. Hol pulled out and started to stroke Jean, wanting to give him the release he needed too. He had Pol whimpering before he came, painting his own torso in his cum.
The two of them rested like that for a moment before Horse got up to grab a towel, bringing it back and a cigarette with a lighter. Laying back down, he cleaned them both up and lit his cigarette, offering Pol the first drag. Pol accepted and put it between his lips, taking a deep breath. Neither spoke for a moment, Hol shifting so he could lay his head on Pol’s pecs. Turning to look up at Polnareff, he smirked.
“So, wouldn’t you agree that the gun is mightier than the sword?” Hol asked playfully.
“Va te faire foutre— Ta gueule!” Pol huffed at him and he just laughed.
“I don’t understand what your words mean, but I SURE do understand your tone,” Hol grinned, stealing the cigarette away and taking a deep drag of it.