When he touched the honeybee’s bulging weak spot, the inner wall that met his fingertip was scorching hot—whether from fatigue or because the venom hadn’t fully drained yet. After a brief moment of hesitation, the spider carefully withdrew his finger.
“Ah, ugh… no, don’t… why…”
“I figured we might be able to move on with just your chest now. You can manage that, can’t you, Bee-Bee?”
“Don’t take it out… mmph…”
Blaine had been about to beg him not to pull out the finger that was unknowingly still teasing his hole, but he shut his mouth. It seemed the last sliver of reason he had left had stopped him. Every time he did this, Hurel would scold him for being cheeky, but in truth, the way Blaine desperately clung to his senses was so damn adorable he could hardly stand it. Not that he’d ever admit it—he’d probably get mad if he did.
“Hing!”
As soon as Hurel moved his hand and pinched Blaine’s firm nipple, the bee let out a high-pitched, cutesy whimper full of charm. Seriously, he was getting way too good at coaxing him—Hurel could barely keep himself together. Damned little seducer.
“Who told you that you were done with your chest? Keep playing with it.”
“Ah, mm, it’s too… too much… huuuhng.”
“You’re loving it, though. Don’t pout.”
Even after being worked over so thoroughly by the spider, Blaine’s chest still managed to deliver sweet pleasure, despite his clumsy fumbling. And then there were Hurel’s fingers, skillfully gliding over the skin, teasing around the areola, then suddenly pinching the sensitive nipple with sharp precision, scraping over the tender top with merciless strokes—it was exquisite. Waves of pleasure built up and stacked upon each other, inflating the sensation until it felt like he might be completely swept away.
Hurel chuckled, recalling how those small, flat, ruddy nipples had once looked. Blaine’s chest had always been perfect—flawless in every way. This was just a little more to his liking, that’s all. The once-swollen nipples, red as if bitten by an insect, had now transformed into something breathtakingly pretty as the venom subsided—plump and luscious like cherry jelly crushed under a finger.
But that wasn’t what made them truly adorable.
At the slightest arousal, they perked up even faster than the thing between his legs, standing tall with defiant eagerness. Just a light graze of a fingernail and Blaine would be in tears, overwhelmed with pleasure. How could something be this cute?
“I-I like it…”
“Mm, this. You’re happy to have such lewd, bouncy nipples, right? Aren’t you?”
“Hik… I… I love it… Hani… huuuh!”
“Say more. Just like that.”
“Hani… hnn, Haniii…!”
“Hani, Hani, I love you”—that was all the bee could moan as his pale blue eyes shot wide open, and his head suddenly snapped back in an arc. His eyelids fluttered with tiny spasms, and his whole body went stiff, like a frozen branch.
Hurel swiped a finger through the fluid that had splashed across Blaine’s cheek, popped it into his mouth, and sucked thoughtfully, his brow furrowing for a moment before swallowing. Blaine’s semen usually had a rich texture with a subtle sweetness, typical of a honeybee—but now, a bitterness spread across Hurel’s tongue. The scorpion’s venom must not have completely left his system yet.
Cradling Blaine’s utterly exhausted, panting upper body, Hurel fed him something like bitter tea and carefully tucked the blankets around him, checking gently if anything still hurt. Then, with a warm smile, he stroked Blaine’s face.
“Go to sleep now. Come on.”
Treating him like a kid. Blaine grumbled inwardly, but he didn’t mind. No, honestly—it made him feel like he was floating. It felt like he was loved.
The life of a worker bee is one of caretaking. A life where selfish, useless pleasure doesn’t exist—filled instead with devotion and sacrifice. From the moment they wake to the moment they sleep, they care for larvae, the Queen, and the drones—gathering honey for their sake. And once their bodies wear down from endless work, they quietly leave the hive and die alone, so as not to burden it. It wasn’t something sad; it was simply how it was.
A life where the collective always comes before the individual. More natural than breathing. Had anyone ever truly cherished him above all else? Ever told him he was beautiful—more than anything?
“It’s hard, isn’t it? Rest well and get better soon. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”
He’d only ever been scolded for being a nuisance when he was sick—never heard such warm words. Tears welled up, and his nose stung.
“H-hold… my hand.”
At the tearful plea, Hurel didn’t mock him. Instead, he gave a soft smile and firmly laced their fingers together, holding his hand tight.
Blaine had been unusually well-developed since childhood. Every time he showed a little clinginess, he’d get scolded far more harshly than other bees. “A brave worker bee who’s going to protect the hive can’t whine like that”—that logic had always made sense. But when people added, “Look how huge you are. Don’t be such a baby,” it left deep scars. Sure, as an adult now, he could chalk it up to childish immaturity, but still.
Now here he was, acting all pathetic and whiny—but instead of mocking him, the spider gazed at him with overflowing affection, stroking his cheek with such warmth that the tears spilled over. And Hurel didn’t make a fuss—didn’t ask why or what was wrong—just quietly wiped them away.
So Blaine, clinging tightly to that soft, warm hand, rubbed his body against Hurel’s and whimpered all sorts of childish nonsense until he finally drifted off to sleep.
***
Wearing a crisp white lab coat, the owner of the house—a sage known far beyond this tropical forest—was fiddling with a few clear glass vials using his long, graceful fingers when he sensed someone behind him and sighed. As always, the one who broke the peace of his lab by barging in without knocking—who the hell taught him that—was a spider reeking of honey.
“You twisted bastard. What, you felt like screwing a half-dead patient?”
“What do you take me for? I was just showing affection.”
I take you for you. Cold and sharp, Shane didn’t even glance at him, staying focused on mixing reagents.
“The venom’s still not fully out. What’s going on?”
“Why didn’t you get stung yourself, huh? That delicate little honeybee had a shit-ton of scorpion venom pumped into him—it’s a miracle he survived.”
Do you know how hard I worked to save that bee? Instead of praising me, you act like I owe you. Shaking his head in disbelief, Shane finally clanked the vial down and turned his gaze toward him.
“At least the venom’s source is still alive. Nothing works better than grinding up the bastard who injected the poison—while they’re still alive.”
“You’re such a scammer. Grinding them alive is purely your kink.”
“Kinks matter. I need motivation to make good medicine.”
Scoffing at his colleague’s bullshit, Hurel casually brushed off the pile of random junk from a chair that had long since forgotten its original purpose and elegantly perched on it. Shane scowled like he’d just bitten into a sour bug.
“When are you leaving? I’m this close to completely losing it.”
“You think I enjoy looking at your ugly mug?”
Shane clicked his tongue at the shameless comeback, then leaned back on the opposite table and crossed his legs. Maybe he should overdose the bee just enough to get him moving. Anything to make them leave sooner.
“Once the bee’s better, you’re gone. You don’t need that special medicine anymore, do you?”
“Why wouldn’t I? Hand it over.”
Shane raised an eyebrow, as if confused.
“…Didn’t you patch things up with the bee?”
“We never had a problem to begin with.”
“The crap you pulled, and now you’re saying you still need the drug?”
After putting on a world-class romance show for the whole damn forest, and he still had trust issues? Why the hell was he still clinging to that potion?
“Didn’t the bee bawl his eyes out, saying you better never lie to him again or whatever…?”
“Not saying something isn’t the same as lying, is it?”
Without even a hint of a sneer, Hurel asked with a genuinely innocent expression, and Shane went stone-cold silent, his eyes turning icy. Then, with a dry voice, he stood up from the table and muttered.
“Take it and get lost.”
Hurel caught the thing Shane tossed—a pendant-like object—and smiled when he checked what it was. A tiny crystal vial, the size of a child’s pinky, filled with a glowing amber liquid, tied with a slender leather cord.
“Doesn’t matter if you dump it straight into his mouth, mix it in food, or pour it in his ear while he’s sleeping. As long as it gets inside his body.”
“It’ll work, right?”
“Assuming you handled the Queen properly.”
My potions work. I guarantee it. Glancing at the confident gray spider, Hurel turned back to the bottle in his hand and smiled leisurely.
The smile was so dazzling it could hypnotize any creature—but it gave Shane the chills. He shook his head.
“As payment, leave me a few outfits. Your personality’s garbage, but I’ll give you this—you’ve got a good eye for tailoring.”
“Between us, you’re asking for payment?”
“You’ve picked up some bad habits playing with that bee, you know?”
What’s with the cutesy act? Shane grimaced at Hurel’s pouting red lips.
“Anyway, it’s General’s clothes—they’re hideous. I want some new ones tailored to my taste.”
“Ah, if that’s all.”
Now that he was about to ditch that annoying tagalong in this hellhole—what could be better? Grinning from ear to ear, Hurel was in the best mood possible.
