Since getting his own stand, Diego’s senses sure were sharper.
He wasn’t sure how much he actually liked this.
On one hand, his strategies were enhanced beyond belief. He was a force to be reckoned with on the course…of course, there were some strange hiccups.
Like, he, like most everyone else on the race thought Hot Pants wasn’t really hiding anything. He seemed to look…fairly similar to everyone else in the race. A little shorter and leaner, but these were ideal traits for a jockey to possess—the lighter a jockey the more freely a horse could run, and this just seemed like common sense to him, honestly.
One day on the course, though, he could’ve sworn he smelled blood. at first he was wondering if a pandemonium had broken out behind him—things would definitely get bloody when stand users fought, and he’d need to be prepared in that case, but it was only one person. An injury maybe? The smell was close, whoever this person was that was injured was keeping up an incredibly close pace and didn’t seem to be slowing down. Maybe he’d just veer off and try to pick them off while they’re behind, if they’re weakened he’d likely be able to eliminate some competition…good, good, very good.
And so he steered himself off the course most of the competitors were on, into a wooded clearing—this would do, surely; someone would wonder why Race Star Diego Brando (TM) was veering off course and follow. And if it was the right person, he’d start elaborately planning their downfall. simple enough.
Sure enough, there was a muted clopping that would suggest hooves onto dirt, someone actually followed….
and the smell of blood was suddenly very much there in Diego’s nose again. SCORE. He took to quickly hiding himself and silver bullet, watching for who it could possibly be…
He could feel his skin crusting as he waited. Damn, that smell. The instincts from his dinosaur side were getting the best of him. He swore he felt his stomach lurch in the familiar ache of hunger pains….
He saw a red uniform, and a familiar fuzzy hat. Hot Pants?
He seemed okay though, Diego didn’t see any wounds…. He tried to get closer, not even thinking to use his stand to make a scout…his stomach ached and concentration was growing thin—branches snapped under him as he fell.
Hot Pants turned around from atop Gets Up, not moving for a few moments. The horse snorted. They got off their horse, moving toward Diego.
The smell grew stronger, he let out a very reptilian hiss. Hot Pants seemed to be clutching something hidden from Deigo’s view.
"What’s going on?" Hot Pants demanded, staring Diego dead in the eyes with a look that could easily kill a man.
"Why would I, Dio, tel—" he sighed, his tone lowering. "I was….looking for a shortcut."
"You were already in first though?"
"Time bonuses, Hot Pants!” A pause. “I smell blood. Are you injured?”
Hot Pants seemed particularly offended by this statement, and started darting their eyes around in a panic. “Excuse me?”
“I smell blood. What’s going on? I thought someone was injured back there—”
“How can you smell blood from that far away?”
“Does it matter?”
“Actually, yes, it probably does!”
“Why was I smelling blood though? Where’s the injury, Hot Pants?” He got up, getting dangerously close to the other jockey’s face. He could almost smell the sweat, and their breathing suddenly took to getting jagged. “Where…is it.”
“This is a regular occurrence.” Well that explained a lot.
An audible growl came from his guts. Hot Pants’ face compressed into a mountain range, frowning. Eventually, Hot pants sat down, wrestling something out on a belt. “See.”
Diego hissed again, his skin crusting more. He grabbed at his own face, the claws already out and aggravating the wounds that started up when his mouth started widening with the transformation…Hot pants just stared, blinking—something told her she should probably ready Cream Starter but she was starting to think he was trying to lure someone out…if that was the case, Diego was likely more dangerous than anticipated and trying to aggravate the situation would be worse.
She flung the belt at his face. “Just…..take it? Will that do anything?”
He looked at the thing now sitting in his lap. Normally he probably would’ve been disgusted with a feminine hygiene product sullied and in his lap but….he hesitantly picked it up, chewing on the dirtied region, trying to wring the blood out.
This was nasty. She sighed, eventually yanking the cloth from his maw.
“That’s…actually probably gross and dried by now. Do you just uh. Want something fresher.”
Diego’s cheeks were really warm. “But we’re not married!”
Hot Pants rolled her eyes. “I’m supposed to be married to Jesus.”
Diego’s lips turned upward, brows furrowing.
“Relax, you seem troubled, the flow’s annoying. We’re just doing each other a favor. Doesn’t count for anything.”
Diego’s ego was in shambles, but with a bob of his adam’s apple he swallowed his pride and went for the Pants’ Pants. The smell was entirely too strong, but he couldn’t just go turning to a dinosaur and potentially ripping her to shreds from the insides. Nobody needed that, he could easily run the risk of having another were-dinosaur running around….
Besides he couldn’t get in there properly with the enlarged face anyway. He let his tongue roll out and go in there and get covered in the fluid. It was so slimy…..
It tasted satisfying enough though, so he kept it up. He could hear a few occasional grunts and huffing from Hot Pants, but other than that not much complaining. After the first few licks he was getting used to the vaginal contours, and the taste of the blood, and started getting a little more wild with the licking. He could feel the flesh around him twitching. Didn’t stop him; he kept going anyway. He could hear some grunts that sounded almost as if her voice was cracking. He was still just hungry.
He kept going, until he got greeted by a influx of goopy salty mess that definitely what he wasn’t here for, he jerked out, is face marbled with the somewhat bloody goop. He looked at Hot Pants briefly, before turning away and trying to wipe his face on the interior of the collar of his shirt.
Meanwhile she grabbed for her belt, putting it back where it came from and hastily reassembling the removed clothing. Her face was really red, too, her breathing jagged yet…that actually felt kind of nice? It sure was weird though. Well, she’s seen weirder already?
A loud cough. “We’re not speaking of this again,” Diego muttered.
Hot Pants shook her head. “Of course not. …..Thank you, Dio.”
She gave him a hearty pat on the back, getting back up on her horse.