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Summary: Kakyoin learns how to deal with Polnareff, and how to go with the flow when travelling.
Note: Set after Emperor/Hanged Man.



"You don't know where Polnareff went?"

Mr Joestar looks up from his comic book. "Kakyoin, I'm sure he'll be fine."

As Mr Joestar resumes reading, Kakyoin tries very hard not to worry about Polnareff's whereabouts. Mr Joestar seems more concerned with persuading the businessman sitting next to him to translate complicated speech bubbles, and Jotaro is either sound asleep or pretending to be sound asleep so he won't have to acknowledge Polnareff's disappearance.

Polnareff's left his tattered duffel in the hotel lobby, next to Mr Joestar, so he probably intends to return, and he probably hasn't decided to run off to Egypt and challenge Dio to a swordfight.

He doesn't like to leave the group when enemies could be all around, but still, as the only responsible member of the group since Avdol's departure, it's up to Kakyoin to make sure Polnareff is still alive. He steps out of the hotel lobby, careful to note their hotel's check-in time (thirty minutes from now) and the hotel's name (Lucky Land Residences). He familiarises himself with the nearby landmarks (small cafe, fried fish stall), as an experienced traveller would do, and walks in a random direction, memorising the sights along the way while hoping for the best.

He finds Polnareff sitting on the curb near a fruit stand. The ground's slightly wet from the rain earlier, but Polnareff doesn't seem to mind. The black spandex of his top shines in the afternoon sun, straining against his muscular frame, and the seams on its single strap look like they're about to give way.

"Oh, Polnareff," Kakyoin says, trying to sound casual and disaffected, like he just ran into Polnareff by complete chance. "It's check-in time soon, you know."

"But not yet, right?" Polnareff remains on the curb, steadfastly refusing to move.

"No, not yet." Kakyoin stands there awkwardly, unsure if he should stay — he's completed his objective, and Polnareff isn't trapped in a toilet or being attacked by enemy stand users, so maybe he should leave.

"Here you go," Polnareff tosses something round and orange to him. "Fruit's good for digestion, you know? I bought too many oranges, anyway."

Kakyoin looks at the fruit (deep red-orange colour, smooth and thin rind), and presses his fingernails against its skin, inhaling its fragrance. "Not bad. This isn't an orange, though, it's actually a kinnow. It's a mandarin variety fairly unique to Pakistan, known for its juicy and rich flavour. You can tell by its thin skin and its flattened shape."

He cuts himself off before he can start lecturing Polnareff on proper kinnow consumption, or how the kinnow was first bred at the Citrus Experiment Station, or how its name stems from the fact that it's a hybrid of the King and Willow Leaf citrus cultivars — even if he spends all his free time reading trivia books and travel guides, imagining that someday he'll visit all the places in question, it's not a guarantee that anyone necessarily wants to hear it. Not even Polnareff.

Polnareff doesn't seem fazed by Kakyoin's impromptu fruit lecture, but simply grins, patting the curb next to him. "Oh, really? Here, have a seat. Eat some fruit."

Kakyoin wouldn't normally sit on the curb, but then again, he wouldn't normally hotwire cars or elbow people in the face, either. These things just seem to happen when he's around Polnareff, these hallmarks of irrationality in what should be a perfectly normal trip.

He eats the kinnow in silence, listening to Polnareff's sounds of appreciation at just how good it is. The residue of the fruit's juice is on his fingers, sweet-sticky, and he's not sure if it would seem undignified to lick it off. Not that Polnareff cares about dignity, but students shouldn't be seen doing impolite things in public. It reflects badly on the school.

Polnareff clears his throat just as Kakyoin's beginning to tally up the number of embarrassingly unstudentlike things he's done on this trip, particularly in Polnareff's presence.

"What is it?"

"Stop thinking so much! Have another orange."

"Kinnow," Kakyoin says, before he can stop himself.

"I knew that." Polnareff spits the seeds out, and pops another slice into his mouth. "I was just...testing you. Say, why's it called that anyway? Do you know?"

Kakyoin surreptitiously licks the citrus juice off his fingers, and tries his best not to smile.

-----


The best way to keep track of Polnareff's whereabouts is to share a room with him.

Even if this violates Kakyoin's rule of rooming together with Jotaro and talking about student issues while polishing the buttons on their uniforms, it's a necessary sacrifice.

Kakyoin flops onto his bed, holding his magazine up in the air. This month's issue of Travel + Leisure has a feature on French food where the author assumes the reader knows every French dessert imaginable. Crepes, custard tarts and chocolate mousse are fairly easy to decipher, but half of the rest are incomprehensible without context. After staring at the article for a while, he looks over at Polnareff, who's packing and repacking the contents of his bag while looking severely bored.

"Polnareff. What's a café liégeois?"

"Oh, Kakyoin! Interested in the gorgeous, splendid cuisine of France, I see!"

Polnareff is perfectly happy to explain café liégeois (sweetened coffee and coffee ice-cream with chantilly cream), bichon au citron (sugary puff pastry with lemon cream), and bugnes (deep fried ribbons of dough with powdered sugar). All his explanations are mixed with anecdotes about his trips around France and the people he met along the way, and he's just so candid about it that Kakyoin finds himself drawn into the conversational rhythm, offering anecdotes about his parents' travels in Asia and Africa. He doesn't have many anecdotes of his own besides that disastrous family trip to Egypt, and things he's gleaned from documentaries.

As much as he tries to censor his tendency to provide trivia about countries he hasn't even been to, some of it slips out anyway, and Polnareff's nice enough not to call him out on being a fraud. In fact, Polnareff doesn't seem to mind, talking excitedly like Kakyoin's trivia is the most interesting thing he's ever heard.

The conversation trails off after a while, as the exhaustion of the day catches up with both of them. The ceiling fan turns overhead, a low, steady whir, and Kakyoin still needs to shower and change into his pyjamas, but despite himself, he can feel his eyes closing. He'll just take a brief nap — surely Polnareff can't get into too much trouble in the meantime.

He wakes up with a jolt.

Polnareff's shirtless in front of the full-length mirror, neck craned behind him like Mr Joestar checking his birthmark, contorting himself into odd positions. His well-developed back muscles are straining, flexing against each other, and unlike his usual dramatic poses, this time it looks like he's writhing in agony.

Silver Chariot is positioned behind Polnareff, the tip of its blade positioned inches away from his spine, ready to skewer him.

An enemy stand has taken control of Polnareff. Or a hidden flesh bud, digging its tendrils into Polnareff's brain, taking advantage of Kakyoin's complacency to strike against both of them. Polnareff is going to die, and it's entirely due to Kakyoin's negligence.

Just as Silver Chariot's arm looks like it's about to thrust into Polnareff's back, Kakyoin summons his stand. Hierophant Green wraps its tendrils around Silver Chariot, around Polnareff, and Kakyoin gets ready to fight an unseen enemy.

"Huh? What are you doing, Kakyoin?"

"No," Kakyoin says, "What are you doing, Polnareff?"

"Ah, well...I got a lot of mosquito bites today, and I just couldn't reach one of them, so..."

"You could have asked me!" Kakyoin can't tell if he's irritated at Polnareff's idiocy, or his stubborn refusal to ask for help, but an unfamiliar feeling's stirring in his chest, something that makes Hierophant Green's tendrils tighten around Polnareff.

"Honestly, don't worry! It's not that big an issue," Polnareff says.

Kakyoin decides to skip the part where he convinces Polnareff that stabbing himself with his own stand would definitely be a big issue, and instead hauls Polnareff onto the bed with the aid of Hierophant Green. Polnareff makes perfunctory complaints about how Kakyoin's being too fussy, but he still refrains from struggling against the coils, and releases his stand when Kakyoin asks him to. Kakyoin's tempted to hold him down, keep him there where he can't be harmed, but instead, he releases Hierophant's grip.

"Where's the itch?" Kakyoin pulls out a tube of antibiotic cream and scrutinises Polnareff's back, and realises the question was pointless. Polnareff's upper back and shoulders are a mass of irregular red swollen marks, and some of them are oozing clear fluid.

"These could get infected if untreated," Kakyoin says, trying not to think about the myriad of mosquito-borne illnesses which Polnareff might already have (malaria, dengue, yellow fever, perhaps even chikungunya). "Stay still."

"Oh, sure," Polnareff says, relaxing against the bed like he's about to get a massage. "Go ahead, then."

Kakyoin starts applying the cream, systematically dotting each individual bitemark before giving up and slathering it over the affected areas. The asymmetrical strap of Polnareff's top has protected part of his left shoulder, left it smooth and unblemished, and Kakyoin runs his thumb down the clear patch of skin.

Polnareff shudders against the bed, making a tiny involuntary sound, and Kakyoin does it again, only to be met with a little moan. No wonder Polnareff keeps that area covered up. It's a vulnerability anyone could take advantage of, if they just touched Polnareff's bare skin, just noticed the slight give in his muscles when they did, just stood back to watch all that residual tension uncoiling and melting away. He traces a little circle around the sensitive spot — it seems logical to familiarise yourself with notable landmarks — then jerks his hand back when he realises what he's doing.

"What's wrong?" Polnareff twists around to peer up at Kakyoin, and Hierophant steadies Polnareff, preventing him from rolling on his back and smearing the mattress with antibiotic cream. "Is everything okay?"

Polnareff's peering up at Kakyoin's face earnestly, and Kakyoin feels uncomfortable in his school uniform for the first time in years — the high collar constricts his throat when he swallows guiltily, the backs of the buttons dig into his bare skin when he tries to fake a casual shrug.

"Everything's fine," Kakyoin says, getting back to his task. "Don't worry about it."

-----


Polnareff is in the bathroom. Kakyoin knows this because he's been listening to Polnareff's surprisingly tuneful singing for the past two hours, which has coincidentally drowned out his knocking on the door for the past thirty minutes.

Kakyoin leans against the locked bathroom door in quiet desperation. The fan in the room is broken, and there's no air-conditioning. His hair feels like it's plastered to his face and the back of his neck, and the perspiration trickling down and soaking into the wool of his uniform isn't exactly helping his mood.

Kakyoin goes through his travel facts to calm himself down. The main ingredients of molokheyyah are jute leaves, garlic, and coriander. Kahwah is traditionally prepared in a samovar, with live coals. He feels like he's trapped in a samovar, with live coals. Karkade is commonly brewed by placing hibiscus flowers in cold water, which helps with lowering blood pressure. He fantasises about being a hibiscus flower for one brief moment, luxuriating in a glass of icy cold water, but icy cold water isn't going to happen unless —

Hierophant Green's tendrils make quick work of the lock, pushing the pins up into the housing so he can finally turn the knob and open the door.

Kakyoin's met with a blast of steam.

"Oh, Kakyoin! Don't shock me like that! I almost thought you were an enemy!"

Kakyoin can't be bothered to reply as he tears his uniform off, disregarding the popping sound that the buttons make — he can sew them on again later, he can even make Polnareff sew them on again later for all he cares right now. That absolute idiot has had the temerity to stay in the shower for two hours straight, deliberately taking a hot shower when Kakyoin was outside boiling. He reaches into the shower, turning the dial from warm gentle massage to jackhammer freezing, and shoves Polnareff aside so he can finally, finally cool down.

After a few seconds of being blasted by the ice-cold water, Kakyoin feels coherent enough to hold up his end of the conversation.

"I'm sorry," Kakyoin says, turning the shower's pressure down, making it a cool mist instead of a deluge. Needle-fine droplets of water spray onto him. "It was very hot in the room. I had to cool down."

Polnareff stands behind him, looking slightly sheepish as he hands Kakyoin the shampoo. "It's all right, it was totally my fault...I got carried away, anyway."

"That's fine," Kakyoin says magnanimously, lathering up his hair as he tries not to consider the fact that they are both naked in a shower cubicle which isn't quite big enough for the both of them. "But why were you taking so long?"

"You know, that thing you were telling us a few days ago, about how coconut oil's supposed to be good for your hair and skin? I tried it on my hair at first, and it worked so well that...like I said, I got carried away."

"I'm surprised you remembered that."

"Of course I did," Polnareff says. "That's why I bought a big bottle! Thanks for the tip, by the way — my skin really appreciated it!"

"You're...welcome." Kakyoin rinses his hair off, hoping he can maintain his composure long enough to apply soap to his body. Polnareff's body is glistening with coconut oil, and stray droplets of water are beading up on his skin. Students don't touch other people without their permission. It's utterly inappropriate.

"Want to feel?" Polnareff grins, and gestures to his body. "My skin's really soft now."

"Absolutely not," but his cock is betraying him, hardening at the sight of Polnareff running his hands up and down his muscled body, and he hopes Polnareff is too dense to catch on.

"Ohhh, Kakyoin, what's this? Are you afraid to admit how much you desire a true man's body?" Despite the limited space in the shower, Polnareff tries his best to strike a pose.

Kakyoin thinks about all the times he cautioned Polnareff not to rush into danger, to think two steps ahead, not to be goaded by the enemy.

But, fuck, if that route means meekly standing in a shower with a hard-on while simultaneously getting insulted by Polnareff, caution can go to hell.

Kakyoin lunges forward and mashes his lips against Polnareff's, and then promptly realises he has no idea what to do, as his travel guides never covered this particular situation. Polnareff seems to be more knowledgeable in this department, and the tip of his tongue moves skilfully against Kakyoin's lips, parting them so he can deepen the kiss. He ruffles Kakyoin's hair, messing it up beyond belief, and it seems like the most natural thing for Kakyoin to vengefully grind his cock against Polnareff's muscular leg and attempt to bite his lower lip. Polnareff's legs part and his cock slides against the smooth skin, the spray of the shower and the residual oil making it almost frictionless, and Kakyoin's initial annoyance vanishes once he's lost in the sensation. He moans into Polnareff's mouth because it feels so good to rut between his thighs, and he feels like he could do this forever, just stringing out the gap between desire and release.

Polnareff breaks away from the kiss, and his hands move up to hold Kakyoin still, pushing him away from him.

"Save it for the main event," Polnareff says, his face flushed, his lips cherry-red from the biting kiss, and slaps the bottle of coconut oil into Kakyoin's hand.

Kakyoin looks at it in utter bewilderment. The moment stretches out, and it seems almost like an abdication of his responsibility to admit it, but there's no other choice.

"I haven't done this before," he says. "What should I be doing?"

"It's all right, it's all right," and Polnareff takes the bottle from him, unscrews the cap, pours a generous amount out into Kakyoin's hand. "Part of travelling is admitting how much you don't know about the world!"

Kakyoin looks down at the pool of oil in his hands, and Polnareff clearly chose a good brand — the coconut fragrance is almost overpowering. It would probably taste good if used in a Kerala-style thoran (finely chopped vegetables, mustard seeds, turmeric), but that's not the task at hand.

"Well. What are the basics?"

"Ahh," Polnareff pauses for a moment, deep in thought, "For me, I like it hard and fast, but I think we should go a bit slow, since it's your first time."

He spreads his legs open, and braces himself against the tiled wall. "Just rub your fingers together, make sure they're all slippery, and then stick one right in! Can't go too wrong with that!"

"Please explain the whole process." Kakyoin rubs his fingers together, making sure they're completely coated with the oil. "Especially what comes after this step."

"Hey, if a tour guide just told you everything at the beginning of the trip, he'd be out of a job! You have to explain as you're seeing the sights!"

Kakyoin slowly works his finger into the puckered hole, anointing it with generous amounts of oil, and Polnareff shudders, pushing back against it.

"Tres bien, you're a natural at this — you could go for two now, if you want, but spending a bit more time on just the one isn't bad either..."

Kakyoin withdraws his finger, teasing Polnareff's tight hole a little, circling around the edges, exploring the area between his ass-cheeks, before adding another finger and stabbing back in. Polnareff's grip on the wall is getting a bit shakier, his palms are sliding downwards, so Kakyoin must be on the right track.

"A-ah, that's good, try scissoring your fingers now, you can't go too wrong with that," and one gentle vertical motion from both of Kakyoin's fingers causes Polnareff to gasp, so he tries it again, moving his fingers a little more each time, eliciting the most interesting sounds from Polnareff.

"What comes next," Kakyoin murmurs, using his free hand to toy with Polnareff's broad pectorals, running his left thumb over hardened nipples. "Where are we headed now?"

"Usually people go for a third finger, but sometimes they just thrust right in," and Polnareff's sounding a bit breathless already. "My ass can take it if you thrust in now, it'll just be like taking a reverse shit, but if you want to go for a third..."

Kakyoin thrusts his fingers a little harder, scissors them laterally as well as vertically, just to punish Polnareff for his horrible scatological analogies. It seems to be working, but Polnareff's grip on the wall of the shower seems to be getting even less steady with every thrust. Kakyoin removes his fingers, and summons Hierophant to help — it works best in enclosed spaces, after all. A few of Hierophant's tendrils help to keep Polnareff where he's meant to be, pressed against the wall, legs spread and ready for Kakyoin. It seems like he's trying to say something, so Kakyoin leans in a little closer.

"Bite me, I like it hard — ear, neck, fuck, anything, leave a mark —"

Kakyoin bites down on Polnareff's earlobe, and Polnareff spits out curses, his head tipping backwards, his ass thrusting against Kakyoin's hard cock, the edge of his broken-heart earring hitting Kakyoin's cheek. He supposes Polnareff can be forgiven for that, particularly when he's giving Kakyoin a guided tour on how to tear him apart, piece by piece.

"Just fuck me, I can take it, Kakyoin, dammit, go faster..."

He's making little involuntary noises, almost writhing against Hierophant's bonds, and Kakyoin can't resist such an invitation. Hierophant's tendrils aid his hands, spreading Polnareff's supple ass further open, and he presses into the ready hole. It's tight, practically constricting around him, and Polnareff rocks himself upwards, trying to fuck himself on Kakyoin's cock. That won't do, he's too eager. It seems almost natural to pull out and stop Polnareff from rushing with a harsh slap against his ass, which just makes Polnareff shove his hips back against him, and now he doesn't need Polnareff to tell him what he likes, what he doesn't, what he should do or what he shouldn't, when he can feel it as clear as day.

He steps back, spanks Polnareff again, and as the aftershocks of the percussive hit reverberate through Polnareff's body, he tightens Hierophant's hold on Polnareff's limbs, grabs a handful of his ass and thrusts straight in, hard and fast.

Polnareff can't catch his breath, and every time he seems like he's about to say something, to guide Kakyoin along, Kakyoin switches up the rhythm so he's too distracted to even think, till the only sounds coming from his throat are stuttered involuntary moans. Polnareff's moving his hips back with every thrust, his thighs spread out wide and greedy, taking what Kakyoin has to give him.

"Can you come from this?" Kakyoin asks, keeping up the punishing pace, holding Polnareff still, gripping Polnareff's shoulders tight as he fucks into him.

"Shit, I can't when it's just my ass, at least touch my cock," Polnareff says through gritted teeth. "If only we weren't in this shower, Chariot could — ah, oh god, do that again..."

Kakyoin seems to have hit the sweet spot inside Polnareff, the spot that short-circuits him, makes him loose and languid instead of rash and impulsive, obeying Kakyoin's brutal rhythm instead of trying to control it. Polnareff's shifting against the wall with every gasp, and Hierophant has to support most of his weight because he's no longer able to stand upright properly. It's so tempting to keep him like this, lost in a haze of desire, all his thoughts focused on coming, but it would be even better if he could see Polnareff's face instead of having to guess his reactions. Polnareff's clearly hard and ready by the way that he rubs his cock against the tile, the way he thrusts his hips forward and back, trying to get enough friction, and that's when Kakyoin pulls out and turns both of them around so Polnareff's under the shower, the wet spray hitting him.

"The fuck," Polnareff sputters, "What the hell?"

Even if Kakyoin's inexperienced at this whole thing, he's pretty sure that part of a good holiday is taking time to explore your personal interests, like how Hierophant can unravel and wrap perfectly around Polnareff's cock, how the water lets its coiled tendrils slide slickly up and down, how he can untwist bits of his stand so he can toy with Polnareff's balls while simultaneously fucking his ass, a steady in-out motion, and he doesn't have to touch Polnareff in order to possess every single part of him.

Polnareff's complaints have died down now, and he's making little sounds as he bears witness to Hierophant's prowess in tight confines. Kakyoin can't help himself, he reaches down and curls his hand around his hard cock, jerking it to every tiny gasp that Polnareff makes, every small shift in his body as he strains against his bonds, keeping up a steady rhythm.

Polnareff's moans gradually turn into one long needy drawn-out whine, and yes, this is a lot better, even with the loss of that tight heat around his cock, this way he can see the sights, take in the way that Polnareff's cheeks are flushed pink, how the droplets of water bead on his long silver eyelashes, how his hips jerk forward into Hierophant's tendrils, how his blue eyes widen as Hierophant delves deeper into him. Polnareff's too overstimulated, unable to rebel against the pace Kakyoin's setting, only capable of pleading for more, and it won't be long now, for both of them. Hierophant twists inside Polnareff, lashing its tentacles inside him, and Polnareff cries out for more, tells Kakyoin how good it is, anything to get him to continue, and the thought is so incredibly arousing that he lunges forward and bites the sensitive area of Polnareff's left shoulder, releasing Hierophant so he can wrap his arms around Polnareff, actually feel him shake apart in his grip as he comes.

Polnareff's completely fucked-out, knees weak, and when Kakyoin releases his hold on him, he slides down, back against the wall, trembling with the aftershocks of what Kakyoin presumes is one of the best orgasms he's ever had. The gentle spray from the shower drips down the line of his throat, collects in the hollow of his neck, and his breath hitches as he struggles to recover. Before he can do that, Kakyoin's hand on his cock speeds up, stroke after steady stroke, and his breath is coming faster too, just looking at Polnareff and knowing he was the one responsible for completely wrecking the man, making him beg for more, beg for him. He's so close now, his tight self-control has its limits when faced with Polnareff, he can't control it any longer — Polnareff's lidded eyes open, looking straight at him — and as much as he tries to avoid the inevitable, his cock jerks, his release spurts out, and his come splashes all over Polnareff's face.

It's Kakyoin's turn to lean against the wall this time — constant use of Hierophant has taken a lot out of him — and he slowly finds himself sliding downwards to Polnareff's level. The shower's tiled floor is big enough for both of them, if Kakyoin bends his legs. The water sprays over both of them, and Kakyoin tries not to feel too insulted that Polnareff's currently tilting his head back, trying to get the best angle to wash Kakyoin's release off without actually bothering with things like "standing up" or "adjusting the shower".

"Hey, Kakyoin," and Polnareff is definitely back to normal now, "Good job! You did really well with my guidance!"

"I did most of the work after the beginning," Kakyoin says, his inner pedant resurfacing.

"Huh? What did you say? I can't hear you," and Polnareff puts a hand to his ear, feigning deafness, that asshole, and Kakyoin would switch the shower to its pummelling massage function, except that requires getting up. "By the way, have you ever used coconut oil on yourself?"

Kakyoin glances over, and catches a glimpse of the reddened bite on Polnareff's shoulder, deep impressions of teeth on his flesh. Polnareff's massaging it as he talks, acting casual but pressing the pads of his fingers against it, waiting for Kakyoin to reply.

"No," Kakyoin says. "I'm open to the possibility. By the way, how much space does Silver Chariot need?"

"At least a double bed," and Polnareff grins. "How about tomorrow? Or the day after?"

He nods, and despite his attempts to stay calm, he feels his heart beating faster. It's the same feeling as when he first looked at the map of their land route, the snaking path unfurling before his eyes. The feeling of an impending adventure.

"Tomorrow's fine," Kakyoin says. "I'll be prepared."

"I know you will," Polnareff says, and winks.

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August 2014

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