Chapter 44
Hill staggered and steadied himself, reaching out to pry Celt's hand off his waist. The female insect's hand bulged with veins, like the chains of a sturdy iron cage. The heat from the touch made the male insect want to retreat, but he was instead gripped tightly in the female's palm.
Hill resisted the surging pheromones, her eyelashes trembling violently, struggling to speak: "Whether Albert is good or not, only I know."
If Hill hadn't been monitoring his every move since boarding the ship, Celtic would probably have lost control because of those words, though he's not much better now.
A burning hot palm covered the male insect's abdomen, pressing down slightly. Celt's voice, a mixture of heat and deep tone, asked, "Is this the right one?"
“…” Hill let out a low moan. His unspeakable illness made him tremble and bend over. He tried to stop Celt’s hand, but Celt grabbed it and pressed it against his abdomen.
The male insect is thin and delicate, with a slight bulge beneath its soft silk robe. Even touching it through the robe makes its teeth chatter slightly.
Celt's bony wings suddenly unfolded, and she steadily lifted the male insect, landing on a tall, flat treetop with calm river water beneath her feet.
The menacing, pitch-black bony wings shielded him from the cold night winds, and Hill's hand, pressed against the female insect's burning chest, could only create a short distance, barely enough for him to breathe.
Celt's features were sharp and assertive as he pressed closer, his highly aggressive pheromones overwhelming the surroundings and completely enveloping the male insect.
"You didn't even have a drop of water the entire dinner. Is this how Albert takes good care of you?"
Yes, Sylvia has symptoms of difficulty in eliminating waste and doesn't even dare to drink much water. He is unwilling to use instruments, as the cold instruments make him hate his own body.
Hill's breathing quickened slightly at Celtic's words, but his pale lips slowly parted: "The Marshal didn't attend the entire banquet, yet he knew whether I drank water or not. What? Was he watching my every move on the monitor?"
Celt did not refute. Hill lay on the tree trunk, her long silver hair cascading in the wind. Her slender hand moved from the female insect's chest up to Celt's cheek, as if gently cupping it.
The male insect's fingers seemed to burn wherever they touched, and even the usually composed female insect, like a Celtic, couldn't help but feel her breath catch in her throat, and a faint crimson glow appeared around her pupils.
“The female insect with a marriage contract isn’t eyeing her future male lord, but instead keeps looking at the male lord’s younger brother.” Hill smiled faintly.
"I approached the Marshal with ulterior motives back then, so what is the Marshal doing now?"
The fingertips of a sick male insect are always cold, which attracts other insects to linger.
The next moment, the hand suddenly slapped down.
With a crisp sound, Hill slapped Celt across the face.
That faint smile vanished quickly, leaving only a cold sneer. He said, word by word, "Is it self-degradation?"
With the speed of a 3S-class female insect, dodging this slap would have been effortless, but Celt didn't dodge; it seemed that the word "dodge" was simply not in his insect life creed.
Whether it's a raging wind or a torrential rain, he always faces it head-on.
Hill didn't think he could actually hit Marshal Celtic in the face. When the slap actually landed, he was stunned for a moment. The world seemed to stand still at that moment, and even breathing was silent.
Forces are reciprocal, and Hill's palm began to burn with a stinging pain, like being pricked by thorns.
Celt's attitude in charge of the military has always been tough. His leniency towards male insects can only be described as slight humility. In reality, he is extremely proud and arrogant. He fought his way up from a commoner to the position of marshal. His methods for dealing with insects that challenge his authority have always made them tremble with fear.
Hill had been in love with him for five years. No insect knew his ambition better than Hill, and he had even used everything he had to prove this female insect's ambition.
Hill's hands clenched in pain and unease, his fingertips digging deeper into his palms.
He was pinned against the tree trunk and stared at Celtic, but his slap couldn't even budge Celtic in the slightest.
It seemed like only a moment, yet also like an eternity. Celt suddenly bent down, grabbed Hill's wrist, and pinned it against the tree trunk behind him. He forcefully pried Hill's hand open, forcibly inserted his own fingers into the gaps between the male insect's fingers, and wrapped the male insect's hand, interlocking their fingers.
The heat from the female insect burned Hill's cold palm, but it also stopped him from continuing his self-harming actions.
Darkness enveloped him, and a flood of information about female insects surged forth. Hill tried to bite, but his teeth were forcefully pried open. Celt's movements were extremely fierce, his tongue lolling out to a great depth, as if he wanted to swallow the entire insect whole. His mouth, unable to close, caused saliva to slide down his Adam's apple as he swallowed.
The voices of resistance were completely swallowed up, and high-grade pheromones rushed into his body through his mouth, quickly making his eyes misty with moisture.
One hand held Hill's hand down, while the other wrapped around his waist. The soft fabric, unable to offer any resistance, tore and fell into the flowing water beneath the tree.
The female insect's scalding body temperature pressed against Mingan's body, where all was silent, yet remained cool as jade despite the stimulation of pheromones.
Hill didn't drink much water, so he only felt a little sore and bloated, and didn't experience the false bloating that occurs when one reaches the extreme and loses control.
The female insect left just before Hill was about to suffocate. When it was over, Hill couldn't even breathe and needed Celt to feed him mouthful by mouthful to help him breathe.
The male insect's pale lips finally gained a touch of vibrant color, its mouth slightly open, its eyes glazed over.
Hill breathed heavily, and delicate kisses fell like stars.
Perhaps due to the intense struggle, or perhaps due to the long night wind, the leaves on the treetops rustled down, and one of them landed right on the male insect's hair.
The leaves of the trees on Akeron are also extraordinary; their color is a mix of gold and red, which, when contrasted against the snow-white skin of the male insects, creates a unique and stunning effect.
Hill was still breathing softly, and Celt brushed the leaf aside with his thumb, his voice unusually hoarse: "A golden rain like this also fell on Nuka."
On a lake on the planet Nuka, in the midst of autumn, grows a type of linear leaf that is as dazzling as flowing gold, falling softly at dusk.
The young male insect, held in the arms of the female insect, unexpectedly passed through the golden rain.
Years later, by a twist of fate, the male insect's engagement ceremony nearly mirrored this scene in the life of his future female mate.
Hill slowly regained his senses, gazing silently at the dark sky, as if in doubt: "Is that so?"
She then slowly curled the corners of her lips into a smile: "I don't remember."
He will not remember the past; he will only remember the present, and Albert who showered him with this golden rain.
The female insect's pheromones surged instantly, almost reaching the critical value for the greening stage, and Celt remained silent.
The kisses traveled down the neck, past the fair collarbone, the rising and falling heart, and finally to the slightly sore lower abdomen.
Beneath the thin layer of flesh and blood was something too intimate; the kiss seemed to warm the pent-up fluid inside and then slowly release it.
The male insect struggled in vain and had no choice but to bend his knees to try to separate the female insect. His hot palm directly separated them and pressed them to both sides.
Hill frowned impatiently: "Get out of here—"
Celtic, of course, did not listen to him. He continued downwards and finally warmed up the soft, cool part.
The male insect shuddered uncontrollably.
The cold body was warmed by the heat, like entering a hot spring, surrounded by comforting embrace. Hill wanted to push it away, but her hands had already lost their strength.
He still didn't react in the important areas and needed more stimulation, but he was warmer at least. Celt continued to soothe him with his insect claws, making room for him to speak.
"Did Albert serve you like this with other insects?" His voice was terribly hoarse, containing an indescribable chill.
It seemed that as soon as he uttered a name, Celtic would go and tear the entire list to shreds.
Hill lowered his head, breathing heavily. The male insect was incomparably beautiful in this state, its misty, translucent eyes reflecting a faint, cold light.
“Of course not Albert,” Hill said, catching his breath and looking directly into Celtic’s cold eyes, “because I respect him.”
"He certainly can't be compared to a female insect that's just grabbed and used... um..."
Hill made intermittent sounds, somewhat dazed by the sudden movement, but the smile on his lips gradually widened.
After a while, he slowly caught his breath. He was completely enveloped in Celt's embrace, and tears of primal urges welled up in his eyes from the comfort. He seemed to remember something and slowly began to speak.
"Six months ago... because the search for a female insect failed... ha..."
"We've tried many female insects... Luckily, the male female prepared plenty..."
"The tanning period is so long...it's usually only half a month..."
"But... something went wrong. The female father told them to come one by one, and whoever served them best would get... um..."
"So many... I can't remember..." he murmured to himself, as if recalling that time, and tears welled up in his eyes as he looked down at the corners of his slightly upturned mouth.
“Ugh…” Hill’s stomach churned with pain. He looked into Celt’s eyes, those eyes that seemed to never have any emotion, and he actually felt a real pain in them.
How incredible! Just because of a few words, how could the aloof, cold and ruthless Marshal Celtic be defeated by such a few words?
The unreal feeling made him want to reach out and touch those eyes to prove that this wasn't a dream born of hatred.
Just as he reached out his hand, a piercing sound suddenly rang out in the night sky. It was Albert flying overhead, the black serrated edge of his hindwing extremely conspicuous.
The male insect's icy fingers touched those cold eyes. His beautiful, cold fingertips even poked into Celt's eyes. They were hot, burning, and moist. If he had gone any further, he would have blinded those eyes. Yet Celt did not back down or flinch. This was Marshal Celt.
For a moment, Hill felt a painful pleasure.
Hill's pale lips parted, each word like a bloody knife stabbing into the female insect's heart: "I didn't bring them because I didn't want to hurt my fiancé. After all, I'm much more moral than you."
Now that her fiancé has arrived, it's time to leave Celtic and call out to her fiancé, Albert.
"Ah..."
The remaining sound was suddenly drowned out by his throat as a burning hand covered his mouth and nose, rendering him completely unable to speak.
He was enveloped in scalding heat again, this time even deeper, and he almost felt like he was being swallowed whole, tightly wrapped to the point of suffocation.
Suddenly, a few leaves fell from the top of the huge, lush tree and drifted gently to the male insect's body.
A female insect with black and white serrated wings landed hesitantly on the spot; she seemed to have just heard a sound.
Is His Highness Hilgard here? Why did Marshal Celtic kidnap His Highness?
Because of the infighting war between the Queen Insects, the Second Prince, the future Queen, persecuted Prince Hilgard.
No, that's foolish and unreasonable.
Albert hesitated.
With his mouth covered, his senses were amplified to an extreme degree. The only sounds he could hear were the pheromones of gunpowder. His exhaled breath condensed into water vapor in Celt's palm, and the pheromones inside seeped into his lips, making them moist. The thick cocoon of the female insect rubbed against him.
The sound of the gurgling water beneath him, the flapping of Albert's bony wings on the treetops, and even the sound of the night wind blowing through the treetops and his long hair, all echoed in his ears with a terrifying clarity.
The hand that had slapped Celt was still throbbing, but the female insect's first instinct was to prevent him from hurting her and interlock her fingers with his, rather than caring about her own dignity and ambition.
In this tug-of-war concerning true feelings, he finally managed to slowly turn the tide a little.
"Marshal Celt? I am Albert," the female insect on the treetop suddenly spoke.
silence.
A long silence followed, without a sound.
Albert frowned: "It seems he really isn't here. We can't waste any more time."
Eric followed closely behind; if he was delayed even a minute, he risked falling behind the other insects.
Albert finally flapped his wings and flew away.
The handsome male insect leaned against the tree trunk, its back taut, its abdomen slightly raised. The repeated breathing made it almost dizzy, and finally the hand covering its lips was removed.
The sound of pattering water fell from mid-air, landing somewhat awkwardly in the babbling river. Its color was darker than the water itself, gradually merging with the wide river water as it flowed into the distance.
What could possibly make a female insect bow down and kneel in submission? Was it a burning, sincere heart?
No, it's just that any S-rank insect will do, regardless of whether it's Sirius or Hilgard. He's really too stupid to only realize this now.
A line of physiological tears slowly rolled down her cheek.
The male insect's lips were crimson, and its voice was broken: "They all serve you better than you, better than you..."
Author's Note:
I was so busy today, I won't have any tonight! [starry-eyed]
Wait a minute, Hill is just kidding, please don't take it seriously [starry-eyed]
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