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Ambrose hadn't known how to immediately respond when Kakyoin's question graced his ears. 'Are you two together — or is he just...?'

It isn't that there hasn't been time to ask; their affair has been short and swift to develop, but between the heart-quickening flirting and the easily-escalating kisses, the intent for commitment has never been addressed. Ambrose couldn't begin to guess what this is fated to become, and the idea that he hadn't become so desperately entrenched in the desire for something concrete in these past few nights was startling to realize. Perhaps it's been the blindness that comes with the sheer, unmoored happiness it brought him — and perhaps it was due to the environment they were all sharing. With such a tireless focus on their ominous target, there was so little room to think of anything else until the nights could finally fall for them, where even rest wasn't always assured.

And when found, has been grasped for without more thought than necessary.

'I...don't know. You might have to ask him.' Ambrose could fall for Polnareff with ease, if they could be given more time and space to take things at a different pace — as it is, he can't know if it couldn't truly work, if a man (a vampire, at that) is something he would truly want for the long haul. It might even be misleading to suggest that Ambrose hasn't been more guarded since they began, open to the pleasure in both company and in bed, but careful to let his heart move in large leaps.

'Shame that I can't ask you.'

Ambrose would have questioned that, had he the time. The irony is, despite the astounding trajectory Polnareff has allowed this to careen into, Ambrose isn't sure that it fully answers Kakyoin's question; he's never even been in such a situation like this, not in life or in the life that has come after. Ambrose isn't fully decided that he is anyone's to 'share' but himself, but he wouldn't dream of tarnishing Polnareff's heart a the selfish sort of desire was in bloom. Right now, seated between the two of them, hands pressed on Kakyoin while Polnareff's are on himself, he still isn't sure what is established...

Except, that isn't entirely true. Some things are certain.

"Yes," is all Ambrose can answer with, when Polnareff confirms his stance. He can't know or say why their silver-haired friend has supplied this opportunity for them, for Kakyoin, but Ambrose doesn't not share the openness to it. It's a cooperation on all sides.

And shared desire.

"Please trust me." And Polnareff, perhaps, but it isn't necessarily Polnareff's choice to make. Ambrose isn't his to give to anyone — Ambrose owns himself. He has time, all of it in the world if he plays his cards well, but neither of these other men will have as much freedom in that as he has.

This...is a blessing of cooperation and mutual interest. This is as astounding and fleeting as a cosmological event — not impossible to occur, only rare and but for a night at a time.

And having them both, both for their interest, their affection, their time, and their attention — is more than he could have anticipated.

"And Jean-Pierre." Ambrose is pleased time think that these two traveling companions are coming together in this way, one extending this offer to the younger. Considering what Kakyoin had come to talk to him about, what they discussed together, it's heartening that Polnareff is selfless enough to create this environment for all of their individual gains. Polnareff is a good person, under the crackling vibrato, and Kakyoin has seen more of that than Ambrose has.

Ambrose leans in to kiss Kakyoin again, on the edge of his jaw now; there is little temperature to his mouth as he plants kisses against the thinly-veiled bone, down the side of his throat...following the alluring beckoning of his pulse. He hasn't any intentions — not to say there is no awareness and, therefore, no desire for what lies there in this thrumming carotid — except you lift one of these jeweled hands to politely pluck at the tightly-fastened button of his uniform collar. His approach is slow, gentle...but not shy, as he pinches one button free just below where his mouth draws admiringly against warm skin.

Polnareff is maybe a little too eager to direct things, to assume agreement out of others — but taking away Ambrose's agency is not his goal. And hearing Ambrose confirm that he's interested, to say please trust me to the other man in the room, thrums through Polnareff with a pleasant rush. It isn't directed at him, but he feels the flickering of that already-established trust, the easy and eager way he's always thrown himself at what he thinks he's safe with.

(He's less aware of his own faults, can't know them until they'll be pointed out to him later; for now, he's learning to work as a team and not just an optimistic but iron-willed loner who acts friendly until pushed.)

But right now he gets to watch Ambrose shower kisses on Kakyoin, the sort that suggest fondness even though they've just barely met. "You two get along even better than I thought you would," and perhaps there's a hint of jealousy in his tone, because Kakyoin's eyes squint open for a moment and he raises a brow at him, pointed.

"If you're feeling left out, perhaps you shouldn't just sit and watch." Bold words. Kakyoin's chest is moving fast enough that he's either anxious, aroused, or both. Polnareff wonders if he's ever as confident as he makes himself sound.

After his moment of surprise passes, he reaches forward with a small laugh. Ambrose continues working at the buttons of Kakyoin's stuffy school uniform as Polnareff kisses down the back of Ambrose's neck. He has to brush his hair out of the way; it's soft enough to seem surreal.

On impulse, he reaches over to card fingers through Kakyoin's hair next, and finds it just as soft, the texture a little finer.

"Do you need more help getting your shirt off?"

Kakyoin muffles his chuckle as he leans forward, tentative, and kisses Ambrose on the mouth.

"Temper, now — the lot of you," Ambrose purrs with a smile, angling his tone to suggest it would be a gentle warning...but softened enough by the bend of his lips to assure there is no heat behind it. Ambrose knows how they mix, or how they sometimes don't always, and that is all well and fine; he thinks, with a mischievous amusement, that it's good that they're starting out with him in the middle of these two.

His mouth finds Kakyoin's — the warmth is surprising, in fact it never isn't, even with Polnareff; there is a vibrancy to their mouths, pulsing almost imperceptibly with their hearts, enough to tempt the vampire to pinch his teeth into his own lip to keep from delightfully puncturing the other's. Ambrose flies blind as he sinks into the kiss, feeling a mouth at the back of his neck, while his hand heroically releases Kakyoin from the hold of these many fastenings. His knuckles graze over skin finally, soft but firm while laid over a sternum. It's nearly dizzying, being caught between two waves of sensation like this; Ambrose kisses with an awakening hunger until the lips on his neck trail just onto the threshold of his neck and back, where he gasps softly before loosening the pent-up energy in his chest with a chuckle.

"I suppose that suggests we're both Jean-Pierre's type, if we're so agreeable." Ambrose glances over Kakyoin's face, seeing a summery hue glow almost invisibly through his cheeks...and spots the certain transference of color onto his lips, more than the petal-colored bruising of blood pooling at a freshly-kisssed mouth. If he looks, he will find it at the side of the other man's throat, as well.

But where Ambrose's attention truly trails is down the narrow path down Kakyoin's front, now that the last button of his uniform is undone — and with the vaguest ministrations, that space opens further for him to expose ribs, navel, flanks, shoulders.

Polnareff isn't wrong; Kakyoin is always so chastely dressed, removing these heavy layers alone feels thrilling.

"Of course you're both my types. ...Apparently." Polnareff shrugs and Kakyoin lets out a huff; he looks amused and annoyed all at once, a familiar expression. Briefly, Polnareff wonders how long Kakyoin's known he liked guys - not as long as he's had a Stand, sure. But...how long was he keeping two big secrets for? How lonely was that?

As someone else who's had his Stand since birth, some sort of fragment of Fate aligned with his will that he'd nurtured all alone until DIO, Polnareff can hardly imagining having a second, far more dangerous secret.

...Maybe he can cut Kakyoin some more slack, sometimes. (Nevermind that it's always Kakyoin yelling at him, anyway...)

Polnareff has no way of knowing that Ambrose shares his sentiment about seeing Kakyoin so slowly undressed; Polnareff's shared a room overnight with this guy, and he hasn't seen further than maybe a thumb's width past his collarbone. Watching Ambrose untuck his shirt, slow and attentive, is...sexy. And tender. Maybe those two intersect more than Polnareff really realized. A wave of something - fondness, arousal, the urge to do - hits him and he pulls away so that he can join Ambrose in more directly touching Kakyoin.

It pulls Kakyoin's attention, once he's finally away from Ambrose's mouth, as Ambrose watches down his torso. Polnareff leans in and Kakyoin's eyes widen before he very visibly relaxes, shoulders lowering even though he keeps his eyes open when they first kiss.

Polnareff's eyes close, because he's already made his decision, and now the trust comes naturally. Kakyoin is just slightly softer than Ambrose, wider with muscle in his shoulder that Polnareff touches and just a bit more pliant in his thin lips. Polnareff tugs the sleeve down past Kakyoin's left shoulder and Kakyoin shivers, and Polnareff makes a noise that's half-laugh, half-gasp.

"Don't you--"

"I'm not laughing at you!" Polnareff insists easily, glancing at Ambrose to back him up. "I just like sensitive people."

Kakyoin goes tch under his breath and cups a hand against his cheek, even though he turns to look at Ambrose instead. "Were you going to keep undressing me, Ambrose-san?"

Ambrose loves to hear the banter, can sit at a table with any number of this group of them all night, just listening to their conversational rhythms, the highs and the dips, the stern seriousness and the breaks of tension where one shines a beacon of light into the moment (Polnareff, if it isn't mister Joestar, more often than not.)

He can hear the shifts in heart rates when words are perceived, and when their own reactions are weighed. Kakyoin is surprised by the kiss, but the change isn't too intense; the softening of his arms and core tells Ambrose as much while he works around him, and the shiver that sends the hairs on his skin standing is enough to pull the vampire in to plant a soothing kiss on one bared shoulder.

The playful ire has his painted lips bending with great amusement, plenty enough to have Ambrose pause and glance to watch the exchange with true fondness. When Kakyoin addresses him, so softly and politely as is so very custom to him, Ambrose is gently pulling the sleeves of his uniform down his arms to look at his wrists. "I certainly can, darling."

Though he realizes he isn't going at the same clip as Polnareff when he undressed for himself, and Ambrose sits up to look at Kakyoin. "My lack of urgency is no indicator of my hunger," Ambrose softly explains, curling in closer again, lips moments away from each other before he adds: "I hate to rush." And doesn't Polnareff know...it's a statement dense with layers of meanings.

In order to get Kakyoin fully unveiled...positions will have to be changed. Ambrose leans in a little more heavily, leaning his front against the younger man, not to loom, but to suggest...and to kiss him again. He tilts into Kakyoin, coaxing him to lay back on the bed; at this rate, Ambrose will be the most dressed out of the three, but given what he's wearing, that might not be a terrible thing — and Ambrose hardly minds donning his artful garments during sex.

He knows Polnareff enjoys it in particular, during this intimate sort of activity... There is a curiosity to learn if Kakyoin will feel similarly. When he tilts over him to lay him down, Ambrose's spine twists and the pull drags his skirt up his legs where the fabric is intentionally split, draping gratuitously down the back of his thigh. As someone who spends his time on display and being watched for what he does...Ambrose realizes he has an audience behind him, taking in everything he does, and everything he does with Kakyoin — it's an odd, but thrilling realization, foreign and intriguing, if not as tantalizing as a caress against his skin.

Kakyoin didn't think that he'd get to have sex before he died. He hadn't really been as upset about that as he'd been about everything else about realizing who - what - he'd always been. What no one would ever get to see in him, or understand. The little broken shards he kept facing inwards where no one got to see them.

But then that got turned on its head by DIO, and then by his new group of sort-of-friends, and then by a man he'd literally just met even more recently than the rest. Ambrose is so bold against the social norms that at first, Kakyoin was afraid to approach him. Not because he didn't understand...but because he was afraid of what other people might think if they realized he did.

When he'd finally given it a chance and approached, spurred on by his brief talk with Polnareff, he'd been pleasantly but dizzyingly shocked.

Right now, Kakyoin's heart is beating fast enough against his ribs he's almost surprised it doesn't fly away. But the sensation of anxiety now is different than it's ever felt before. The two men with him, for very different reasons and in different ways, aren't leering at his weakness like birds of prey waiting to swoop. Ambrose is soft and cushions those parts of him, and Polnareff is a warm glow that keeps Kakyoin's nerves from freezing back over.

When they're both so engaging, so alive, how can he force himself to pretend he doesn't so desperately want connection with them?

Being stripped isn't just physical. Kakyoin isn't foolish enough to ignore that. And as he feels Ambrose press on his chest and only gradually realizes what he's implying, as he leans back until the bed sheets are what envelopes him from behind, he feels the vibrating shock of it hitting him. Too-tight. "S-sorry, just--" He's sitting up and now he feels his cheeks growing warmer. Polnareff says something ('Hey, it's fine, just take it easy--') but Kakyoin only spares him a moment's glance (he isn't angry, just confused, and there's an undeniable kindness in his eyes) before he looks at Ambrose.

As soon as he can sit up again, he feels like he can breathe. "I'd...like to do this part myself, I think." For them. For himself. He's reaching for the buckle of his belt, and then as he goes, he realizes that he wouldn't mind... "If we could lay on our sides...? Ambrose-san. Polnareff-san."

Polnareff's expressive face is watching him raptly, even while he's got fingers twining through Ambrose's hair and one hand out of view but almost certainly near the other man's clothed ass. "Yeah. Honestly it's probably more comfortable than whatever the fuck kind of stack we were about to end up in right now."

Kakyoin's smile is small and less sure than he'd like it, but it isn't forced. When he leans in against Ambrose's mouth again, he says softly enough for just them, "It's not a lack of trust for you...or your hunger. Just my own."

The clip of Kakyoin's pulse could have Ambrose salivating, the force of its fervor an all-encompassing desire that a vampire could rarely refuse themselves — but Ambrose has enough of his wits in tact, between the climbing anxiety of the heart before him and being pressed in the midst of two fine men, to suddenly pause for it. Maybe he reads Kakyoin himself, enough to anticipate the pause, or maybe it's simply the shattering point of his resolve that can be traced in his pulse.

Whatever it is, Ambrose is still and attentive when Kakyoin stops to sit up again. He isn't fleeing, which is fortunate; when he sees the pang of something alarmed in the younger one's face, his mind returns to the conversation they had been holding before Polnareff's pleasant invasion. This convergence isn't a test — Kakyoin knows what he feels, but that alone isn't enough to prepare someone for engaging in something painfully delicate, in a woefully literal way. Ambrose knows that well enough himself.

He thinks that Polnareff must not know, and knows from there that it isn't his own place to change that. At a concerned loss, Ambrose waits while Kakyoin balances himself, setting his parameters...for continuing forward.

"It's all right," Ambrose murmurs, bolstering Kakyoin with a hand on his bare shoulder, not caressing or stimulating, only holding him while they sit. He sees the sharpness of his nerves and recognizes them, knows the brand of fear they're relative to. He can't know what Kakyoin hasn't told him, but more than see the anxiety...Ambrose sees the bravery and keenness to continue, and it's far more vibrant than anything else. Fear is a response, but that bravery is a piece of the younger man's entire identity.

He would kiss Kakyoin again, but instead Ambrose tilts in again, bending his back in a round arc instead of leaning in from the waist, bowing to plant a kiss on Kakyoin's shoulder while he begins to unbuckle his belt. "Take all of the time you need. We're here with you."

Ambrose feels Polnareff lay down behind him on the bed, his hand holding onto the side of his hip, not pulling with intention but strictly gravity. It's still enough to lure Ambrose back, to glide slowly down while he too drags his own hand down Kakyoin's bare arm. "Besides, I've been instructing Jean-Pierre in the virtues of patience." Not that Ambrose is a natural lewd tease, but skilled in double meanings of any genre, certainly. Ambrose's smile is kind...and rather amused as he settles down in the bed, his backside nestled comfortably against the man-in-question's front.

Kakyoin definitely didn't foresee, even in the most self-indulgent and guilty fantasies conducted in furtive showers and late nights throughout his life, being with two men at once. But now he sees Ambrose lay himself down, a person both masculine and feminine and softly, gently kind. Behind Ambrose's smooth shoulder accented with a sea foam green dress is Polnareff's mountain of a shoulder and arm, easily visible even while he lays behind the other.

Both are willing. Both are so at-ease like this too, and for different reasons. Polnareff doesn't see the risk for what it is, has no idea what Kakyoin's fears are really like. And Ambrose...Kakyoin has known him an even shorter amount of time, but he seems like a man who has simply made peace with that lingering fear, who's embraced himself in the absence of anyone else to do it for him.

Kakyoin unclasps his belt and pulls it out, trousers unzippered shortly after. Thank god he already took his shoes off when he arrived in someone else's hotel room, or this would only be more awkward.

"Patience is okay, I guess." Polnareff says into the back of Ambrose's shoulder. Watching the happy, cat-like way he stretches into the space between them and rolls his hips lazily against Ambrose sends a thrill through Kakyoin's stomach, just as much as Ambrose's softer and pointed words did. "Still like what comes after the patience best, though." Said like a joke, like he's actually in on it this time and knows he's being ridiculous, and Kakyoin scoffs a laugh despite himself as he frees himself of his dress trousers.

Laying back down is natural, and then Kakyoin is the one facing the others, who are both facing him. Spooning each other. Not being the center of attention feels immediately better, and it's easier to breath as Kakyoin lays on his side to reach forward and touch Ambrose's hair.

Polnareff reaches over and interlinks their fingers instead, and it's so unexpectedly tender that Kakyoin's breath catches. "You look more relaxed." Which would usually be the kind of pointed observation that would make Kakyoin tense back up, but after a moment of surprise he makes the conscious effort to accept it for what it is. Apparently...Polnareff actually likes him like this.

"I'm not sure how I ended up with the two of you." Kakyoin sighs, and he presses closer to kiss Ambrose again, an act that's so soothing he can hardly believe this is the first day he's ever done it. "But I think I've discovered the only way to make Polnareff bearable is to ensure I'm not alone with him."

Kakyoin chuckles against Ambrose's mouth as Polnareff sputters with false offense behind him.

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