It was true—Hurel had risen from his seat wearing the exact kind of dark, predatory expression that usually preceded him pouncing on his prey. Of course, he had no idea he was doing it. Blaine, startled, looked up sharply with a little pop sound.
“Um, Hurel, hey… I’m really sorry, but… could I borrow some clothes?”
“You want to borrow clothes.”
“Yeah. I know it’s a huge ask, but I really can’t go out like this…”
So if he didn’t give him any clothes, he wouldn’t be able to leave. Hurel grinned faintly, his eyes slowly raking over Blaine’s exposed body like a tongue licking over bare skin. Blaine must have sensed the lust behind that gaze instinctively, even if he couldn’t rationally recognize it—because he flushed slightly and tried to shrink in on himself. If he kept looking so damn tempting, the plan would fall apart. Hurel was, in this moment, genuinely impressed with his own self-control.
“I’ll make you something. Just stay one more day.”
“Huh? No, I mean—”
“I was already feeling a bit down about you leaving today. If you wait just one more day, I’ll make you a beautiful outfit. Okay? Besides, the weather’s gloomy today anyway.”
Blaine opened his mouth to argue further, but when Hurel added “Think of it as a gift for your journey. Who knows when you’ll be back, Blaine,” and made that pitiful face, he shut his mouth. Why was he making that sad-puppy expression again? It stabbed right into his chest. The way his pretty eyebrows drooped—he looked so heartbreakingly pitiful.
Which was how Blaine ended up in this situation.
Having cooked a proper dinner to show off his gratitude, Blaine now found himself watching as Hurel elegantly sipped tea while sliding over a plate of top-grade sweets and freshly baked pastries in return. Hurel watched lazily as the usually brisk-chewing honeybee puffed his cheeks out and bobbed his head rapidly, full of childlike joy.
When Blaine stabbed the final piece of dessert with his fork, his eyes shimmered with obvious regret. He popped it into his mouth with an unreadable expression—somewhere between happiness and sadness—and swallowed it down, which only made Hurel grin wider, unable to hold back the laughter bubbling at his lips. His fingers toyed with something in his pocket. The time had come.
“If you enjoyed the food, I think it’s time to take some measurements, Blaine.”
“Huh? Measurements…?”
Measurements? What was that supposed to mean? Blaine looked confused—until he spotted the tiny item in Hurel’s hand and realized it was a measuring tape. Oh. That kind of measurements.
His confusion turned to visible panic. The chair scraped loudly across the floor as he awkwardly scooted back.
“Wh-Why? What about the clothes you made before? Ah, y-yeah! You didn’t even take my measurements back then!”
“Back then, I didn’t know you’d cheekily run off on a ‘trip’ like that. These are going to be outdoor clothes, right? They need a bit more attention.”
“R-Really, you don’t have to go that far…”
“But I want to. I want to make you something special, something amazing, just for you, Blaine.”
How could he say no to that?
Hurel looked utterly forlorn, like an abandoned child. It made Blaine want to drop everything just to comfort him. That heartbreakingly beautiful face—he’d do anything for it.
So here he was, half-dazed, suddenly realizing he’d been pushed back all the way onto the bed. He wasn’t lying down or leaning, just sort of frozen, awkwardly upright. With a jolt of panic, he reached out to push Hurel’s approaching shoulders away—but the man might as well have been a stone statue. He didn’t budge.
“Blaine…”
God, he really hated this. Not Hurel. Not really. He hated that he couldn’t bring himself to shove this beautiful thing away. He hated how helpless he felt.
Because the truth was…
He’d gotten fat.
“Hurel, I-I really think it’s okay. You could just wing it, y’know? Even if you just made a sack with holes for my head and limbs, that’s fine too…”
“How could you say that? Ignoring my heartfelt desire to make you the best possible gift?! That’s just cruel!”
Those silver eyes, brimming again with tears—it made Blaine feel like the world’s biggest asshole. He flailed, trying to calm him down, gently cupping Hurel’s soft cheeks.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant…”
“Okay then! Arms up!”
…
…What just happened?
Blaine stared blankly as Hurel advanced with a shining smile, measuring tape in hand, glowing like a dew-covered flower in bloom. How did we end up here again?
***
Across species, all living creatures share one fatal flaw: the inability to see what’s right in front of them.
It was true.
They focus on the trees and miss the forest. They think they’re in control, when really they’re not. Case in point: the two of them, now tangled together on a bed wide enough to hold three or four grown men.
“Blaine, cup your chest with your hands and push it together.”
“…What?”
Mouth agape, Blaine stammered like a bleating goat. What did you just say? While the bee’s pupils quivered like rippling waves, the spider remained cool and composed.
“That’s the proper position for measuring chest width. You have to do it like that to get an accurate number.”
“I… I still think this is weird…”
“Blaine. You do realize you’ve been wasting time with your ridiculous excuses, right?”
The cold, sharp edge to Hurel’s voice was completely unlike his usual tone. Blaine flinched. They always said the nicest ones were scariest when mad—and apparently, that was true.
Still, he just couldn’t accept this. He tried to protest again, but Hurel’s icy glare silenced him. He was left no choice but to obey, swallowing his pride like bitter medicine.
This can’t be right… This isn’t how measuring works…
“Like… this?”
“Put more pressure. Push it in. That’s it.”
His chest didn’t rise like a woman’s, but it was still wide and thick with muscle—enough that even Blaine’s large, rough hands could cup and press the meat together. Palms flat from armpit to pec, the pressure made the soft mass rise and deepen into a visible valley.
“There we go. See? Now I can measure—quickly—so…”
“A-Alright.”
His face was so red he looked ready to explode. Like a tomato turned into a bee.
Hurel, who’d momentarily been frozen while staring, shook himself out of it. His mind had wandered—specifically, to the thought of covering that chest in cum and licking it clean. With a sigh, he adjusted his grip on the tape and stepped closer.
“…Ugh.”
He felt utterly ridiculous for ever worrying about being fat. That wasn’t the problem here. No, the real problem was Hurel’s silky white hair brushing his chin, the intoxicating smell of trees surrounding him, the gentle fingers grazing his skin like a lover’s touch.
Unexpectedly, it wasn’t just Blaine who was struggling.
Hurel had started this with entirely different intentions—none of which included taking actual measurements. But now that he was running the tape along Blaine’s thick limbs, he was starting to enjoy himself far too much.
Especially when he had to force the bee’s thighs apart and slide the tape between them… he couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp.
These could be someone’s whole damn head…
“Ugh, are we finally done?”
Luckily, that frustrated, shame-laced groan snapped Hurel back to his original objective. Carefully coiling the measuring tape, he looked up at Blaine with a sweet, wicked smile.
“Almost. There’s just one last, very important measurement left.”
The relief on Blaine’s face was so sincere it was almost tragic. He really thought it was over.
Hurel bit back a laugh, fighting the urge to cackle like a villain. Instead, he smiled just a little wider.
“Raise your arms all the way up.”
“Like this?”
Now convinced they were nearly done, Blaine cheerfully lifted both arms skyward like a child shouting ta-da! And that’s when it happened.
Whoosh—!
“W-WHAAA?! What—what the hell are you doing—?!”
“Measuring. Hold still. If you squirm, it’ll take longer.”
“Wh-why there—?!”
The smooth tip of the measuring tape landed squarely on a soft, peach-tinted pink nub of skin, perfectly rounded and delicately flushed. Blaine practically levitated off the bed in shock, hovering ten inches above the mattress.
But he was too stunned to form coherent sentences, spilling out only broken nonsense. Not that it would’ve helped—nothing could stop Hurel now.
With a calm, utterly shameless expression, the spider pressed the tape against Blaine’s left areola, measuring its diameter with methodical ease. Then, with equal precision, he moved to the right.
“Wait—Hurel! What the hell are you doing?! This is—this is too much—!”
“Too much? In what way? You really think I’d joke around at a time like this?”
The deadpan seriousness of his tone was almost insulting. He didn’t even sound defensive—just calmly certain that he was in the right.
“Ugh—hey!”
Two fingers pinched and twisted his left nipple. Then a hand stroked gently across the chest, circling the areola with his nails, brushing it like he was painting. Palming, teasing, lightly grazing—
“This isn’t measuring! This is just—this is messing with me!”
“I’m trying to measure, but the bumps won’t come out. Guess they’re shy. Just like their owner.”
