Weaver's Web

He waited for the male to loosen his grip and dropped onto his stomach, his legs still parted and his tail still raised and cocked to the side underneath Shiloh. His hips felt sore and his limbs ached from having to support the massive male, the scruff of his neck felt sticky and damp although whether it was saliva or his own blood was a mystery. His marbled eyes cautioned a glance up at the male before he looked away, embarrassed, his heart a maelstrom of emotion. He felt a strong sense of guilt for betraying his god Yosep and copulating without the intention of bearing pups,  along with an almost  coquettish shame of having enjoyed it as much as he had. More than anything he felt light as a feather, as if he were a piece of driftwood washed ashore by a violent storm, a remarkably pleasant feeling awash a lifetime of feeling particularly miserable.

Spider half turned on his side, and looked up at the male again but this time watching and waiting for a response, waiting for him to say something or do something. Apparently he was his now, and indeed certainly smelled like his property, but what that meant exactly was lost on him. Would they go somewhere together? Or would he simply drop by whenever he felt bothered enough to do so? He waited for an answer to a question he hadn’t asked, settling on the notion that he would comply with anything the other male said or did, as long as it meant they could do that again.

Spider speaking