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Hol Horse is a lover of women. He has girlfriends in every corner of the world. Doria in Greece, who has long flowing hair softer than anything else he can think of. Lorena in England, who always makes him sleep in her father's barn but always comes out to keep him warm. Huan in China, with her small hands and pristine eye liner. Marissa in Spain, who is almost as strong as he is and definitely looks better in his shirts. And a few more besides!
None of them look quite as good in lipstick as Lord Dio. He doesn't like that. Dio isn't a woman, so it shouldn't draw Hol Horse's gaze every time he licks his perfectly-painted lips. He shouldn't be noticing Dio's trim waist and thick thighs. It shouldn't make him sweat when Dio invites him up to the main bedroom. Dio probably just wants to talk about their next plans, he thinks. The Joestars are still on the loose and they have to come up with a plan to kill them. (Although at this point Hol Horse is starting to wonder if it's possible, another thing he has to be careful not to mention around Lord Dio.)
He's partway through mentally organizing the other people in the mansion by who he'd most want to work with (and pointedly not looking at Dio's ass, which was of course neither tempting nor necessary), when he realized they had arrived in the room.
"Y'know, I wouldn't mind working with that Mariah girl, she always seemed like-"
"Hush," Dio cuts him off, and steps towards him. "We aren't here to talk about that." Dio is a bit more in his personal space now than he's strictly comfortable with. He takes a small step back. He does not look at Dio's lips.
"What are we here to talk about, boss?" he asks, growing nervous. He tries not to consider the idea that Dio has invited him up here to partake in something.. illicit.
Dio's lip curls in distaste for the word boss, and Hol Horse rushes to correct himself. "I mean, Lord Dio, my most humble apologies. I meant no disrespect." Being around Dio always gives him the unsettling impression that he could be killed on a whim at any moment. Perhaps more frightening than that is that he's grown to anticipate it. There's something messed up about that, for sure.
Dio eyes him up, making a show of considering whether his apology is acceptable. Hol Horse gulps.
"We aren't here to talk at all, Hol Horse." Dio replies, and steps back into his personal space. Dio places a hand on his shoulder, runs it up along his neck, curls clawed fingers into his hair. He shivers. He would almost consider it erotic, except that Dio isn't a woman, and Hol Horse loves women.
Dio pulls his head to the side and bites into his neck. His knees go weak for a split second. He can feel the blood being drained, and he can feel Dio's breath against his neck.
"O-Oh," he says. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. "You were hungry. Alright. You could warn a guy first, y'know? Like not that I'd tell you what to do, just that I wasn't expecting that,"
Dio's hand that isn't curled in his hair rests on his lower back. They're really close now. Really close, like intimately close. Hol Horse is normally only this close to his girlfriends. He does not quite know what to make of this situation. The stickiness of Dio's lipstick merges with the stickiness of his blood, and his vision is going blurred around the edges, and he wonders if his shirt will be stained.
He wonders if he'll die like this.
Dio licks the blood from his neck. He makes a sound that he's not quite willing to own up to. Dio smirks.
"Did you enjoy that, Hol Horse?"
He only pauses a bit before replying. "I- That I did, Lord Dio." He isn't sure he should be admitting that, but he doesn't like to think what Dio would do if he answered otherwise. That's the only reason, of course.
Dio's hand slides further down to cup his ass. He goes still. Dio pulls him a bit closer, until their hips almost line up, and he can feel something against his stomach and holy shit, this is going exactly where he thought it was. He leans away a bit.
"Why are you leaning away from me, Hol Horse?" Dio keeps saying his name and it Does Things to him that it shouldn't be doing, just like Dio's hand still lightly tugging on his hair and Dio's now-smudged lipstick.
"You're a bit close, is all," he replies. He's sweating. He doesn't meet Dio's gaze.
"Oh, but we're about to get much closer," Dio almost purrs.
And then Hol Horse is on the bed, and he doesn't remember getting there. Dio licks against the new holes in his neck and he bites his lip to keep down sounds that he shouldn't be making, this shouldn't be getting to him. Because he likes girls.
Dio's hips roll against his and his jerk up in reply. Dio humms against his neck. "Eager, aren't we?" He doesn't have anything to reply to that.
Except, wait a minute, he does. "You must have the wrong idea, Lord Dio," he says, not looking at Dio. Trying not to think about the variety of ways he could be killed right now. "You see, I like women. I have girlfriends all over the world,"
"And you still stare at my lips every time you see me," Dio says, and reaches up to turn his face so he can't avoid it any more. Dio's expression is amused and predatory and a bit exasperated. It's a bit much to handle. "Not that I can blame you."
And then he blinks and his pants are halfway down his thighs, and Dio is holding his dick. Stroking it, rather, and of course his hips buck up at that, who wouldn't.
"Do you think about my lips around your pathetic dick?" Dio asks, and he really objects to that phrasing, because it's Not pathetic. But he can't really bring himself to reply, because regardless of whether he'd thought about it before, he sure is thinking about it now. He doesn't realize he'd made a sound until Dio laughs at him.
"I could indulge you if you beg for it," Dio says, and this time he does realize he's moaning at the thought of it. He wants to keep his pride as a man and say nothing. He wants to reject Dio outright, or better, rewind time and not be in this situation.
But neither keeping his pride nor resisting temptation are things he is good at. "Please, Lord Dio," he musters, averting his eyes again. Not that refusing to look at Dio does anything to distance him from the situation.
"Please what?" Dio's hand on his cock gets torturously slow.
"Please suck my cock, I'll do anything," he whines.
"Anything, huh," Dio repeats. Dio lets go of his dick and slides down his body. He can't bring himself to look away now.
The sight of his cock entering Dio's mouth is almost as good as the sensation. He makes an extraordinary effort to keep still, trembling and fisting his sheets in the bedding. Dio's lips, still smudged with his blood and the remnants of Dio's lipstick, slide down his cock. He groans loudly.
Dio is surprisingly good at this. He had kind of thought it would be the sort of skill that would be beneath Dio, but now that it's happening he is pretty sure he has never been more thoroughly under Dio's thumb than in this moment. Dio stares at him like he's embarassing himself, and he's pretty sure he is, cursing and shaking and turning red in the face.
And then Dio's tongue Does Something, which Hol Horse is pretty sure none of his many girlfriends have ever done, and he can't stop himself from putting his hands in Dio's hair in a blank-minded attempt to keep Dio there.
It takes less than a second for Dio to pin his hands back down to the bed. It takes Hol Horse a few seconds to realize that he's ruined it, and he'll probably never experience something that good again. He's so close he could cry. Dio looks down at him, patronizing and disappointed.
"You were doing so well," Dio says. Hol Horse's face burns. Not living up to Dio's expectations is always a weird kind of awful, but it's ten times worse in such an intimate context.
He opens his mouth to apologize, but Dio doesn't let him.
"It's my turn, now," Dio says. Hol horse barely has time to register his words before Dio's cock is resting against his mouth. It's heavy. It's perhaps alarmingly big. If Hol Horse wasn't feeling pathetic before, he certainly is now. "Open up."
He opens his mouth, and curls his tongue around the head. It's not exactly something he enjoys, but it's not like he's never done this before, either. Dio pushes forward, and Dio's cock fills his mouth. He's very careful to mind his teeth.
Dio is straddling his chest. His arms are pinned under Dio's knees. The position alone is enough to restrict his breathing, and having his mouth full certainly doesn't help. His mind feels thick and heavy, from his arousal or the blood loss he's not quite sure. Both, probably.
Dio's cock presses against the back of his mouth. The angle isn't quite right to swallow. He's disappointed for a split second before remembering that this isn't something he enjoys doing. His hips canting upwards against empty air say otherwise.
It doesn't take long for Dio to grow tires of his sluggish efforts. Dio's hands fist in his hair, and he moans at the sharp feeling. He's pulled up until his neck is straining. Dio thrusts shallowly into his mouth a few times before pushing into his throat.
He's not ready for it. His chest spasms for air, he thinks he might retch. Prays desperately that he doesn't. Dio moans openly above him.
Dio thrusts into him with abandon, uses him with no regard for his ability to breath or lack thereof. It takes him a frighteningly long time to get used to the rhythm and start pulling in breaths when he can. His throat feels raw, his scalp hurts, his eyes sting with tears. He's still desperately hard.
Dio comes down his throat with a yell. Dio lets go of his hair, and Dio's dick slides out of his mouth. He coughs weakly between panting for air. Dio watches him for a moment, impassive, before tucking Dio's cock away.
As soon as Dio's weight shifts off his arms, he starts jerking off. Dio leaves. He feels pathetic and desperate and used, and it takes him less than a minute to come messily across his own stomach.
It takes a few minutes for his breathing to slow again, while his sweat cools. He thinks it will be a while before he's able to face his girlfriends again.