Chapter 39
Even a powerful nation like Celt doesn't need rest. The military is busy, and there are countless meetings piling up within the empire. Because of the different star systems, many unexpected events don't happen during the day but suddenly occur in the early morning.
Lieutenant Dick and Celt could take turns, but Celt had almost no right to a real rest.
They usually need to work until 10 p.m. and wake up at 5 a.m., with the nighttime hours spent on the male insects.
Intercourse with a male insect allows the absorption of pheromones, thus regulating the madness/violence of the spirit.
But unlike other males, Hill has difficulty getting a normal response to stimulation.
It usually takes one to two hours of stimulation and gentle experimentation, along with 3S's highly compatible pheromones, to elicit a response from him.
Even if there is a reaction, it is difficult to obtain pheromones. Continuous stimulation is required, and various methods are used. It takes a long time before pheromones can be released intermittently.
By the time Celtic finished cleaning up Hill's tracks, it was often already time for him to work.
Many insects describe Marshal Celt as a wind-up machine, suspecting that he secretly underwent insect body modification, giving him boundless energy and never tiring.
But since life exists, it needs rest.
He dreamt of being in an underground city, in a dimly lit, narrow carriage descending floor by floor. The female insects stared at the little male insects following behind him with eyes that seemed to drip with saliva; their eyes, belonging to wild beasts, were fierce and hungry.
Female insects are essentially wild beasts, acquiring resources and territory through plunder at the national level, and seizing male insects through plunder and ferocity within their internal society.
Even if one pretends to be polite and refined, it's still the same.
Celtic suddenly opened his eyes; his cold, gray pupils were clear, only a fading afterimage remained.
It was a garden bursting with flowers, dewdrops falling gently. A young female insect stood before a cluster of male insects, who smiled and kissed the back of his hand. Then, she moved upwards, taking advantage of the situation, gradually peeling away the male insect's soft, thin robe...
The veins on Celtic's forehead throbbed, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he quickly lowered his eyes, while the little male insect in his arms writhed restlessly.
Discomfort made him curl up, his knees bent, his long hair disheveled, and his pale collarbone, visible through his askew collar, was much more defined than it had been six months ago, telling a story of his thinness.
Tonight, instead of helping the poor male insect, he chose to take a long-awaited rest.
Hilgard suffers from a secret illness that prevents him from receiving excessive attention from medical bugs, and he also forbids any health monitoring or surveillance systems from appearing in his bedroom.
Therefore, no insect knew that Prince Sirius's fiancé, Marshal Celt, slept next to Sirius's brother every night.
Celt's gaze continued downwards, and he noticed that, without him noticing, his hand was wrapped around the male insect's leg bone, the pale calf and bronze hand bone clearly distinct.
Celtic's eyes were deep and dark. After a moment, he moved his gaze upwards from the pale leg bone and parted the thin nightgown.
The male insect's private parts were already reacting, displaying a color different from its pale skin. Celt knew that this did not mean that Hilgard wanted the female insect to serve him, but simply that he was unable to expel.
Yes, Hilgard suffers from a condition that makes it difficult to eliminate waste.
The cause of this illness should be traced back to about six months ago...
Celtic wrapped his arms around Hill's waist, his burning hands covering the source of the pain.
The female insect's hand was originally very warm, but compared to the temperature somewhere else at that moment, it was even considered cold.
The important part is, of course, that no one dares to touch. Just a touch is enough to make the little male tremble, its lips slightly parted, and it exhales some hot breath.
If you feel this bad after just one night without care, then how have you been spending the past six months?
Just thinking about this made a fire of anger surge up and burn in his heart. Marshal Celtic was known for his coldness and ruthlessness, and such vivid emotions were unfamiliar to him in the past few decades, yet they appeared so frequently in just a few days.
In this state of mind, one might unconsciously strike a little too hard.
This amount of force was barely perceptible; even a different male insect would find it more stimulating and enjoy it more. But for Hill, even the slightest bit of force was unacceptable.
He's being far too sensual right now.
"Hmm..."
In his sleep, the little male insect tensed his waist even more, his whole body trembled slightly, and a few physiological tears seeped from the corners of his tightly closed eyes. He subconsciously bit his lip, as if he could not bear this torment.
Celtic frowned, and without thinking, he lowered his head, letting Hill bite him before Hill could bite down on him.
The male insect is weak; it only emits wisps of moisture, carrying the rich fragrance of Sophie Rosa, which captivates the insect.
Even in its sleep, it seemed unwilling to bite the female insect, only giving it a light bite.
Celt closed his eyes, and for a moment he almost wanted to kneel down and finish the rest, hoping only that the male insect could be freed.
Then what?
Will this allow him to have enough energy to complete his date with Albert?
Celtic opened his eyes coldly.
The male insect had slowly straightened its back, but the temperature suddenly dropped.
Hill had a nightmare, something he hadn't experienced in a long time.
In his dream, he was sleeping in a shallow lake, half of his body submerged in the water and the other half above. The water temperature fluctuated between icy cold and scorching hot, repeatedly tempting him to sink into the water but leaving him unable to do so.
Just as the water was about to boil, the heat suddenly receded like a receding tide.
Hill suddenly opened his eyes, feeling a long-lost tightness and pain beneath him. He breathed heavily, staring at the pale ceiling.
The faint smell of gunpowder lingered around him, just like every morning before. He had come again, but never continued.
Did you choose to give up? Or could you no longer tolerate it?
Hill stared coldly at the ceiling.
For Albert, every day is a good start. Yesterday, His Highness Hilgard did not reject his verbal advances, so could he add some other contact today?
For example, you could offer His Highness some afternoon tea. No, His Highness will take a nap in the afternoon; it's more appropriate to have some dessert during the morning conversation.
"This is afternoon tea I prepared for Your Highness, a specialty from the Federation. It seems a bit chilly on the Imperial starship, so I made hot drinks. I hope Your Highness will enjoy them."
Albert is very skillful; the afternoon tea looked and smelled very good, but...
“His Highness isn’t feeling well lately…” Bright tried to smooth things over. He had just praised Hill yesterday, saying she seemed to be in better shape, but today she seemed completely out of sorts.
The morning was delayed for a long time. Hill didn't allow other insects to enter, but judging from his expression, the problem wasn't solved.
"It doesn't matter."
Hilgard interrupted Bright, a faint smile slowly spreading across his face, and reached out to pick up the drink.
The warm temperature spread to the cold fingertips. It wasn't actually that hot, but it was still a bit stimulating for the male insect, whose body was in a state of high sensitivity at that moment.
The male insect lowered its head and took a sip with dignified composure, then looked up at the frowning Albert: "Your Highness, if I do not do well, you don't have to force yourself. Next time, I will ask Your Highness in advance."
I will no longer do things that I intend to surprise, only to find that His Highness doesn't like them.
"No, I like it very much."
As if to prove this point, he took another big gulp. The rich chocolate flavor was too sweet, which was a flavor that male insects would like, but at this moment it left him with more torment.
“It is my honor that Your Highness likes it.” Albert was slightly relieved, but a faint doubt arose in his heart. He remembered not to do the same thing again to evoke this bad memory.
"Your Highness has medication to take today and cannot have lunch with His Excellency Albert. Please forgive him," Bright said, gesturing for him to leave.
Albert, not understanding why, assumed that the dessert he made didn't suit the male insect's taste, but wisely didn't press the matter further.
It's just dessert. If it doesn't work this time, we can do it next time. Leaving a bad impression on His Highness would be a real loss.
Hill was pale and nodded slightly. After Albert left, he bent down slightly, his palms already damp.
His posture was strange, his waist slightly bent, as if he was overwhelmed. Albert had already been asked to leave and could not see him, but Celt, who was always standing in a hidden place on high, could see him.
"What happened to Hill—"
A bead of clear sweat trickled down Hill's forehead. His hand was held by Bright, and he didn't even dare to make a sound, as the vibration from speaking would make him feel uncomfortable.
It's so bloated...it's really uncomfortable...
"Go get the tools." He lowered his head and stared coldly at the ground, his long hair falling down to cover his face. No insect could see his expression at this moment. Unlike the intense reaction of his voice, his voice was weak and calm.
Celtic was unwilling to kneel before him and lay bare everything to offer him relief, but he could still find temporary relief through tools.
He silently murmured the name, his hands tightening inch by inch.
At this moment, the owner of this name sits in a secluded spot overlooking the garden, coldly observing everything.
I was already feeling unwell. I wasn't served last night, and I didn't have time to do these things this morning. In other words, I've been in a certain state since this morning.
Since she was even willing to drink beverages for fear of disappointing Albert.
In the dark, enclosed space, Celtic slowly lit a cigarette. The crimson dot was a flame in the endless darkness, burning with a flame called jealousy.
envy.
He can actually be jealous.
Sirius, with women on either side of him, had never felt this way before. When did this emotion, which shouldn't exist, begin?
From the moment Albert appeared? No, we have to go back further, to that stormy night when he didn't want other insects to see his disheveled clothes?
No, it's not.
His cold gaze suddenly shifted to a certain female, Eric, lingering outside the garden.
Yes, the first time it appeared was on an expeditionary force warship. When the male insect was waiting for him below the warship, revealing a glimpse of his fair waist, Eric, the female insect, fell in love with him at first sight in an almost laughable way, and stubbornly waited for him at the foot of the warship building.
He felt an unprecedented emotion, one of jealousy.
The smoke had burned to its last embers, and the last bit of smoke slowly fell, burning the female insect's palm. This pain was nothing unusual for the female insect; she had suffered even more severe injuries before.
This time, not a single male insect foolishly reached out its hand to catch the ashes and spare him the slightest pain.
Hill, Hillgard.
This name has gone through many twists and turns.
In the garden, Bright leaned down and asked hesitantly, "Hill, why don't we let Albert give it a try?"
Premarital sex is generally supported among the Zerg.
The tall female insect suddenly stood up.
Author's Note:
This is so subtle, they're clearly planning a big, intense mess [Clown]. They've only lightly tormented Baby Hill, and the Marshal will arrive in the next chapter, starting the torture of him. Any typos are unavoidable [Clown].
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