Two Eyes Cenote tiburon

Mature Content Warning

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: horrible horrible man stuff, read at your own risk bc it's vile
juarez liked his women writhing on the floor. soto, well… he liked his women willing. there were times his hands traveled over their soft flesh as if mapping out a new world. he marveled at the grace of their bodies, likening their feminine curves to the gently rolling hills of his home. between their parting legs grew a garden ripe with indelible fruit. making love to them was an exquisite dance; safety and security the rhythm of their tango. soto enjoyed the fertile paradise their bodies readily prepared for him. 

but men's bodies were hardened hellscapes. graveyards of crumbling trees and dried thorns. their fields produced a hateful crop, their seed tasted of ash and poison. soto enjoyed this dance, too.

they writhed on the prison floor, sharp ends and bludgeoning teeth set to one another. khusobek aimed to maim, and he did so expertly -- a hard cuff here, a rip of flesh there. soto's neck and face bled profusely. as khusobek’s teeth rend his ear, a lacework of crimson splattered against soto’s cheek. 

oh, it fucking hurts -- but soto is alive with thrilling passion. pain. the smell of blood, the taste of salt and iron. the hard scuff of grit and dirt. teeth violating him. the burn of claws scraping his chest. there is something deeply wrong with him, because he basks in every counterstroke. 

khusobek might notice too late that where he mangled, soto sought to only disarm. his blows are just as hard, but their gritty power is premeditated. first, he kicks at khusobek's gut to wind him. he pulls him close, the hot press of fevered body igniting his skin. he brings sharp elbow to solar plexus, and when khusobek cuts his eye, soto's teeth aim for the bounding pulse beneath his jugular. submit to me, he urges between shuddering breaths fed by a cocktail of reprehensible pain and pleasure.

disarm. subdue. defile. against khusobek's bucking body rises the slender spear of soto's truest weapon -- waiting for the perfect moment to plunge into soft pockets of unwilling flesh. and the pain -- the glorious, electrifying pain -- throbs deep in soto's aching pelvis as he presses his pining flesh hard against his captor's body.

constricting himself around khusobek, pulling himself so close that the blows are softened by his tightening grip, soto knows the crocodile is where he belongs; where he might make a meal of his whetted appetite.

his breath hitches in ragged excitement as he begins to explore the charred landscape of the crocodile's ardent body. khusobek did not know when he placed soto there that this was his home soil, his native ground -- soto had spent his life among denizens of the dirt, and an eye paid for entry seemed as sweet a deal as any.

any moment know he knows the guards will burst in to save their fallen captain -- and he will pay dearly for the harm meted upon his captor. but he knows this, too: he will die shortly, so the memory of this moment will be sweet up until his execution. 

but to khusobek, this moment would last the rest of his lifetime. he would chase the one thing that soto ensured would be forever stolen from him — the extinguished star of his manhood.