“Just a little further now—we’ll reach the Akansia River soon.”
The air had definitely cooled. The chill hinted that the river was close by. The honeybee’s once-smooth skin was now dry and rough, his eyes shadowed with fatigue—but all of that only made him more restless. He just couldn’t let go of the hope that there might be survivors.
So foolish, and so pitiful. It made Hurel want to pull him into his arms and hold him tight.
Instead of simply thinking it, he moved to act on it—striding up behind the bee to wrap him up—but suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“…What did you just say, Bee-Bee?”
“Huh? I said Gen went out to collect some morning dew…”
Blaine had kindly repeated what he’d just said earlier, but when he turned around to face the spider, he nearly screamed. This wasn’t the familiar Hurel. The gentle, snowy spider he knew was gone, replaced by something entirely different—pitch black, ominous smoke curling off of him, spines bristling all over his body.
“Haha, Bee-Bee. You’re seriously trying to drive me insane, aren’t you?”
“Gasp—Hurel… What, what’s with you…?”
“AhaHA!”
A short, hollow laugh burst out as a rough hand yanked Blaine forward by the shoulder. With the force of being thrown, he tumbled into the underbrush, staring up in dazed disbelief at the spider now looming over him.
“Hurel…?”
“Ha. That’s it.”
“What are you talking abou—”
His breath caught in his throat. The spider’s darkened eyes, stripped of their usual gleam, stared down at him with a glacial chill. Blaine tried to crawl away, shaking, but he was already pinned down. There was no chance of escape.
And worse—the air around Hurel seemed to pulse with malice, growing thicker by the second. His clenched teeth ground together hard enough to screech. Then, twitching at the corner of his mouth, he pulled up a cold, jagged smile.
“So the bastard we met a few days ago was ‘Gen’—and I’m ‘Hurel,’ huh?”
“Wh-what…?”
“Is there some kind of prize for trying to screw me over?”
Did he trigger something again? The way Hurel flared up—he was like a firecracker: one second smiling innocently, the next exploding without warning. His face had the glow of someone who’d grown up loved, pampered. But what kind of whirlwind childhood had twisted him this badly? How could someone so adored be so starved for love?
“Or what—is it because I haven’t fucked you in a few days? Your body’s needy, so now you’re wagging your tail for just anyone, huh?”
Unbelievable.
Who was wagging their tail? Bees didn’t even have tails! It was maddeningly unfair, but the fear coursing through him kept Blaine from speaking up. Was all of this seriously… because he’d called him ‘Hurel’?
No. No way. That couldn’t be it. That couldn’t possibly be the reason he was acting like this.
He didn’t want to believe it—but the pain in his arm made it hard to argue otherwise. Hurel was a brute with stupid strength and no sense of restraint, always causing collateral damage.
Sure, he was sensitive and barked like a rabid chihuahua sometimes, but at his core, Hurel was kind. Blaine knew he’d never intentionally want to hurt him… But at this rate, his arm really might break. If he resisted too much, he’d only get more hurt.
Think. Think!
If he wanted to avoid further pain, he had to use his brain. They always said brains could save the body.
“So… how about… Hani?”
“…What?”
Hurel blinked, not understanding what he’d just heard. His face flushed—redder than a beet, practically purple. Like a burning sweet potato.
Blaine, now a smoldering honeybee himself, could barely squeak out the explanation.
“I-I mean… there wasn’t really a good nickname for ‘Hurel,’ so I was trying to figure out something, and…”
“….”
“Y-you know, your name starts with ‘H’ and your species is a tarantula, hwa-ni… so…”
The bee faltered, visibly torn between continuing and keeping his mouth shut. Fidgeting fingers, biting his lip, legs trembling—eventually, Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and just blurted it out.
“And! ‘Hani’ means honey, too!”
He couldn’t even bring himself to open his eyes. This big, muscular bee trembled like a leaf. God, he’d said it. He’d done it now. Maybe Hurel would laugh. Or maybe he’d get pissed, say it was the stupidest nickname he’d ever heard. What if he cried?
Please don’t cry. Please anything but that.
“Hani? Honey?”
“T-that’s, I mean—! You wouldn’t know, but for us bees, honey is, like, um, sacred? Or love? Or…”
He might as well have dug his own grave.
He’d just wanted to console the poor spider suffering from his chronic love-deprivation—and instead, he’d exposed his awful naming sense. Blaine braced for impact, especially as Hurel loomed closer like he might headbutt him.
Smack—
“…?”
But instead of a spider snapped into unhinged madness, the one in front of him had reverted to his usual self—gentle, radiant. With a smile like sunlight breaking over summer leaves, Hurel threw himself into Blaine’s arms, nuzzling his plush cheek against him.
Relief washed over the bee like he’d just been yanked from the edge of a cliff.
“…I like it.”
The voice was soft, featherlight—almost shy. Blaine forgot all about what had just happened and smiled stupidly back.
“But I still need to punish you.”
“…Huh?”
“You broke your promise. You have to pay for that.”
Hurel’s spring-bright smile was dazzling—but behind it, something black shimmered. A dark haze curled from his back like heat rising from coals. Blaine flinched, his instincts screaming at him to run, his body shivering as he unconsciously stepped back.
But the spider’s arm looped around his waist—trap sprung. He wasn’t going anywhere.
***
“Hnng… Hurel—n-no, Hani—I’m sorry! Hic…”
Sniffling, the honeybee rubbed his wet eyes with clenched fists, choking out a teary plea. All this over a nickname!? Just because he hadn’t used a silly pet name?
How could anyone be this insane?
Hurel had already ripped his clothes off without blinking, and now his mouth was latched onto Blaine’s flushed chest, his pinkish-brown areolas swollen red and visibly engorged. No matter how much Blaine shoved or slapped at him, Hurel wouldn’t budge.
At first, Blaine resisted. But eventually, his strength gave out, and all he could do was sob as the spider held him in place.
And that still wasn’t enough for Hurel.
He spread the bee’s legs, pressed between them, and assaulted the sensitive spot below with the same relentless sucking—until Blaine finally choked out a tearful, desperate apology. His tiny sobs scraped painfully against his throat as he wriggled in Hurel’s lap. He didn’t want to be held like a baby, cradled in the spider’s arms, but after all that cruel attention, his lower body was so swollen and sore, he couldn’t sit on the ground without crying.
“H-Hani… I want my clothes. Give me back my clothes.”
It was bad enough being carried like this, arms under his back and knees—but worse, he was completely naked. If General or anyone else saw him like this, he wouldn’t survive the humiliation.
“Just… stay like this a little longer.”
“What if someone sees—!”
“Tired?”
“Of course I am! What kind of question is that?!”
Hurel giggled softly, then placed a gentle kiss at the corner of Blaine’s red, puffy eyes. The bee, glaring and pouting, lost all words the moment he saw that radiant expression—like flower petals drifting on the breeze.
Hurel, misreading the dazed look, grinned and leaned down, biting Blaine’s swollen bottom lip hard before letting go.
“Good. Looks like you’ll sleep well tonight.”
“You—wait, what?”
Tonight? Sleep well?
Blaine, squirming in embarrassment from being nestled like a baby in someone twice his size, blinked rapidly. Then it hit him. Like a thunderclap in his brain.
W-wait…
Could it be? Did Hurel notice how sleep-deprived he’d been lately—how he couldn’t rest properly with all the work from the hive, how exhaustion was messing with their travel schedule?
And now… he’d physically worn him out so that he’d finally pass out from exhaustion?
Really?!
Eyes wide in shock, Blaine stared at him. Hurel, seeing the bee’s epiphany, gave him a soft, loving smile. Blaine’s brows drooped.
He’d blamed him. Complained. Snapped. And here Hurel was… thinking of him this entire time.
The guilt hit hard. The shame cut deeper.
Warmth pooled in his chest as Hurel gently examined his naked body, checking for injuries, making sure he was okay. That tenderness—the way he held him so protectively—it all hit Blaine at once.
“Ah… ngh…”
The poor honeybee’s rational mind shut down under the weight of guilt and gratitude. So when Hurel’s hands moved again—fondling, pressing all the places that were still flushed and swollen—he couldn’t muster the strength to resist.
And eventually, just as Hurel had planned, Blaine passed out—fast asleep, limp in his arms, too exhausted to notice a thing.
