This piece is a couple years old and has seen a lot of structural (but not thematic) changes over the years. As an example, it used to be about a tigress.
I want it to hurt, the spider said. Make it hurt.
The wasp raked the spider’s back, chitin nails carving deep furrows his thorax. She ran her tongue along his skin, drew blood with her mandibles. As they kissed, fangs against fangs, she slipped her ovipositor into his still bleeding wounds and laid eggs in them.
Then she flew away.
For years after, long after the wasp had stopped speaking to the spider, he would think of her and an egg would hatch underneath his skin, new pain born from old regrets, and oh God, did it ever hurt.