Two Eyes Cenote cuento

soto would always be hungry. it was what drove him, and in the end, it would be what ruins him.

he can sense the spiderling as she examines every part of him -- some might find such clinical inspection unnerving, but soto smiles and gives her all of him. it is the nature of his kind to be full of machismo and gravitas.

he shows her his flank, the muscling of his haunches. the groomed area of his nape. his scar-littered face, his mottled paws -- and finally, he shows her what he believes to be the showstopper: the malevolent virility curled thick and lazy beneath the hard tuck of his belly. eat it up, he thinks -- she might not like all of him.

and then she asks him a question that he has wondered all along. he does not understand her words, but the arch of her brow and the puff of her pout communicate a question, a vexation that cannot be solved.

feeding a man is the first step to owning his devotion. soto leans forward. ayudame. a statement that conveys help me, and i will repay you ten-fold.