I Hate That Jerk of a Spouse - Chapter 11

Mixed Signals – “Any More? I’m Still Hungry”

The warm, golden light illuminated Leslie’s features. His clear, translucent golden eyes were filled with shimmering specks of light, focused intently on the skewers on the grill.

He had never eaten such rough, charcoal-grilled meat before. The first time he did was during a field exercise with the First Legion, where Casper had grilled it for him personally.

Back then, Leslie had taken the charred meat with a hint of disdain, intending to give Casper some face, and gingerly took a bite.

One bite was all it took to be amazed.

Leslie stared at the unappealing meat in his hand with wide eyes, a flash of pleasant surprise dancing in his clear pupils. He finished the entire skewer with elegant, precise movements and then sat there, reserved, waiting for the next one Casper was grilling.

He watched eagerly as Casper sprinkled on the seasoning and lifted it from the heat. Just as Casper moved it toward him and Leslie reached out to take it, he watched in shock as Casper made a quick turn and popped the skewer into his own mouth.

Leslie: “?!”

Ah! His skewer!

Catching a glimpse of Leslie’s stiff face and look of pure disbelief from the corner of his eye, Casper finished the meat in two bites, feeling quite pleased with himself. He clapped his hands and, looking at the wide-eyed Leslie, said calmly:

“If Your Highness wants to eat, you can grill it yourself, or just go to the logistics bugs and grab one once they are done.”

Pushing a plate of raw ingredients toward Leslie, Casper teased: “Those recruits will not be polite when it comes to food. I am afraid Your Highness will not be able to snatch any, so why not do it yourself? That way, you will have plenty to eat.”

Leslie was livid.

He glared at Casper and stood up without hesitation to find the logistics team.

Since male insects were extremely rare in the military, the group of recruits was so flustered and excited that they actually did not scramble like hungry tigers; instead, they lined up obediently.

Leslie successfully received his share, feeling deeply that Casper had looked down on him, as his intimidation tactics were no different from scaring a larva.

He grabbed a handful of skewers, shook them triumphantly in front of Casper, and took a blissful bite.

After just one bite, he nearly spat it out.

He chewed it with great difficulty and swallowed quickly. The taste was so bad that it made one unwilling to endure it for even two more seconds.

Wow! How could it be so disgusting? How could the same ingredients taste so vastly different?

Leslie swallowed the miserable piece of meat with a distorted expression and stretched his arm out, keeping the remaining skewers as far away as possible.

It was too awful. He would not touch them again, even if he were to starve to death.

Casper had anticipated this. He knew perfectly well what the logistics bugs’ cooking skills were like. It was only because Leslie’s usual meals were prepared by mechanical bugs and consisted mostly of fruits and vegetables that Casper did not worry about the Second Prince starving to death in the First Legion.

Casper leisurely grilled a handful of skewers in his hand, all of which were carefully selected, tender cuts suitable for male insects. He had tried grilling one for Leslie to taste just a moment ago, and the effect had been excellent.

Under the charcoal heat, the scent of spices became increasingly appetizing. Leslie looked at the skewers nearing completion in Casper’s hand, then looked with disdain at the ones in his own, lowering his head to struggle internally.

The male curled up on the stool looked tiny and particularly endearing.

On the first day of enlistment, Leslie had taught Casper a lesson. He knew very well how stubborn the Prince was; he was the type who would rather starve than lower his head.

Besides, the Prince, who had been tired all day and was still hungry, looked too pitiful. Casper could not bear to push him further.

Thus, Leslie received a large handful of fresh skewers offered to him.

He looked up, confused, lips pressed together, his stomach stirring at the tempting aroma.

“A trade. I am too lazy to snatch food from the recruits, so give me the handful you have there.”

Without waiting for a response, Casper snatched the discarded skewers from Leslie’s hand and forced his own handful into the Prince’s.

Leslie stared blankly as Casper finished a skewer in two bites without changing his expression, then pushed over a small box of sliced fruits.

“Finish eating soon, Your Highness. I will be off.”

Watching Casper walk into the tent and disappear from view, Leslie finally looked down and took a bite.

Mmm, it is familiar and delicious.

A strange, complex feeling intensified with every bite he swallowed.

Although Casper often did jerky things, he is, well, actually quite a good bug.

Leslie chewed on a piece of fruit, his face flushed from the heat of the fire.

Now, with no logistics bugs and no urgent military affairs, they sat quietly together by the same charcoal fire, listening to the crackling sound of the wood.

To Casper, Leslie was just focusing on the meat on the grill, but in reality, the male’s powerful mental energy was more than enough for Leslie to perceive every move Casper made.

Whether it was the subtle shift of his eyes as he stole glances, or the nearly invisible upward curve of his lips.

Mental energy is sharper than eyes.

Casper could deceive his own eyes, but he could not go against his heart.

And Leslie could notice every move that came from the heart.

Military soldiers are always prone to stubbornness, following rules, trapping themselves in cages, and preventing others from opening the door.

Just like how Lifya clearly hated Casper and fought him every time they met, yet when faced with Leslie’s inquiries, she would still choose to state the facts.

Leslie had not seen many military soldiers, but this trait was fully manifested in all of them.

It was a common affliction that was difficult to cure.

Like the day he invited Casper to be his guide; he had clearly felt Casper clench his fists and his heart rate accelerate at that moment, yet he was still rejected.

[Such a stubborn blockhead.]

Leslie stared unblinkingly at the sizzling meat on the grill, evaluating him silently in his heart.

He could feel Casper’s kindness toward him, an unprecedented preferential treatment, and care disguised by a rough exterior.

No other male insect had ever received such treatment from Casper.

He naturally assumed this special treatment would continue until the day he was discharged, only for his joyful confession to be met with a cold rejection.

Once they no longer shared a superior-subordinate relationship, Casper would have no reason to be good to him.

He upheld his status and refused to cross the line.

Clad in a suit of armor made of status, it was a double-edged sword.

And what Leslie wanted to do was to force him to take off that armor and personally pull out the thorns embedded in his flesh.

Even if it would be painful.

But that was fine; he would endure it with Casper.

Only when the rotten flesh is carved away will the wound truly begin to heal.

This time, it was not a camping trip, and there were no restrictions on portions or time like in the military. Casper patiently cut the large pieces of meat into sizes suitable for a male insect and placed them neatly on an exquisite porcelain plate.

Some root vegetables, which were slow to cook, were still on the grill. Casper handed the plate to Leslie to let him eat first, so he would not go hungry.

But Leslie did not take it.

The Prince, dressed in a lace shirt and embroidered trousers, rested his chin on his hands. His eyes, as he looked over, were gentle and calm, and he spoke naturally: “You feed me.”

Casper’s hand, which was carving flowers into the vegetables, froze.

He instinctively felt that this was against the rules.

They did not have such an intimate relationship; this was overstepping.

But the image of him feeding Leslie spoonful by spoonful yesterday flashed into his mind, forcefully blocking his next words.

Casper finally realized the shift in their status.

Right. Now, Leslie is my male master. There are countless ways to serve a male master, so why would feeding him not count?

The porcelain plate Casper held turned and landed on the small table. Casper picked up a small silver fork with one hand, his gaze fixed on the vegetables on the grill, and fed a piece of meat to Leslie’s mouth.

Leslie could not help but laugh at Casper’s serious expression.

He was so stiff and upright that he actually looked strangely comical.

He bit down on the silver fork, taking the meat off the tip. Leslie did not let go immediately; his teeth remained firmly clamped onto the fork.

Casper tried to pull the fork away, but after feeling the resistance, he froze, afraid to move.

The military soldier in front of him remained calm, his knife skills steady and beautiful, showing no sign of tension at all.

That is, if he had not been staring without blinking the entire time.

When the male’s soft hand grasped his, Casper was finally forced to turn his head.

The first thing he saw was the male’s open mouth as he released the fork, the bright red, soft tip of his tongue lightly brushing against his lips, leaving behind a glistening sheen.

In an instant, Casper’s breath hitched, his lower abdomen tightening unconsciously, his muscles hardening from their relaxed state.

Leslie looked at him with a smile, ripples of light washing through his golden eyes. “Any more? I am still hungry.”

The Prince, not yet fully grown, still retained a youthful physique; once seated and leaning forward, he appeared even smaller. His face, still holding a hint of boyish tenderness, looked up directly into Casper’s eyes. His act of demanding food so righteously did not look pathetic at all, but instead, unexpectedly cute.

Casper continued to feed him, his composure absolute. His gaze was fixed on the grill, but his peripheral vision could not help but drift toward the Prince, who was unconsciously luring him in.

In the past, when Leslie participated in group activities, he would always unconsciously make the participating soldiers feel their hearts racing. Whether they were recruits or instructors, he would glare them all back.

Looking at the male’s innocently clear eyes, Casper felt irritated, but helpless. He could only secretly double the training for those guys who were not focusing.

[It is because their training load is not high enough that they have so much surplus energy to let their hearts wander.]

The cold and ruthless Instructor Casper would lead his male to the dormitory when the time came; once the soundproofing was on, the wailing and screaming outside had nothing to do with them.

But now, the one whose heartbeat was out of order was not some wide-eyed recruit, nor was it another energetic instructor; it was himself.

Casper could not control his gaze, nor could he control his heartbeat.

And all this disorder and chaos could not be hidden from Leslie’s outward-flowing mental power.

After eating another piece of meat that Casper had fed him while pretending to be calm, Leslie picked up the remaining silver fork and also skewered a piece to feed to Casper.

“Ah!”

Inside the Prince’s open mouth was a warm softness; whether it was the pheromones gleaming with luster or the soft tongue unconsciously curling, it was extremely tempting and could easily trigger desire.

Casper suddenly felt his mouth and throat go incredibly dry. His stomach began to churn uneasily, screaming with hunger.

But what he was feeling was not just appetite.

Thirst and an overflow of emotion occurred simultaneously, instantly plunging Casper into a living hell.

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