Chapter 84
Chapter 84
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: Heat Interrogation
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Every time Celia went into heat, it was total chaos. The first time, he snatched the Griffin from that clown General Aaron and started his heat in the vast vacuum of space, then immediately launched into a spring-fever-fueled escape across the landing site. The second time was during the Dark Star Warriors' ambush at the mecha tournament—he got sucked into some nameless wasteland planet amid a hail of gunfire, with nothing but the Emperor's one lonely cucumber for miles around, forcing them into seven days of outdoor rutting under the open sky. The third time was on the crisis-ridden plains of Void Star, where the smoke of battle hadn't fully cleared, two massive snake corpses towered nearby, and the shredded remains of Osroed and the Mandetiras elder were scattered all around...
"Back to the battleship," Heinrich glanced around and suggested. "I'll go check first if everyone's dead up there."
Celia's first thought was actually sympathy. Though he hadn't chosen to become an Omega, it sure wasn't Heinrich's fault, yet now Heinrich had to follow him everywhere for these wild romps... Heat was a romantic vacation for normal mates, but for the Galactic Emperor, it was basically warfare.
Heinrich didn't notice the subtle guilt in Celia's heart. He charged onto the battleship with murderous intent, knife in hand, searched with gusto, then came back down to report: "All dead. Come on up."
The battleship was a mess—any place occupied by Dark Star Warriors was never going to be pleasant, let alone one that Mandetiras had holed up in. Black corpse sludge and armor shards were splattered everywhere in the command hall, the entire bridge reeking of something indescribable. The moment they stepped in, both held their breath. After a moment, Heinrich slowly exhaled: "My fellow disciples sure have shitty hygiene."
Celia gave a wry smile.
They quickened their pace across the bridge and headed straight to the aft living quarters. The vast four-story dorms formed a central atrium around a spiral staircase, dim and shadowy in the gloom. Without a word, they made for the crew quarters where he'd been held before. As he pushed the door open, Celia glanced at the nameplate and noted with interest: "Lieutenant Albert..."
"Don't let him find out. This ship's gotta be decommissioned when we get back." Heinrich flicked on the light, then added as if to cover himself: "After those Dark Star Warriors trashed it, who knows what viruses they left behind."
It wasn't fully dark yet. Celia felt waves of heat surging inside him, but he hadn't hit that full breakdown point. Once inside the room, he spotted the blanket still messily bunched up on the bed just as they'd left it, and his mouth twitched as he turned away, sinking into the armchair by the desk.
Heinrich paced around him twice. "Thirsty? Want me to get you some water?"
"...Yeah."
The Emperor cheerfully went to fetch it. The lieutenant's quarters were spartan, with just a tiny nook between the bedroom and bathroom serving as a galley. Heinrich rummaged through the cabinets and found only two packs of military biscuits and a few chocolate bars, which he hastily pocketed like treasures. He filled a cup with warm water from the purifier and set it in front of Celia. "You need to hydrate more, or you'll pass out soon."
Celia recalled the flood that came with the start of heat, his face stiffening. "Th... thanks."
He sipped slowly. Heinrich perched on the desk edge beside the armchair, eyeing him like a spotlight on a jewel—not missing even the slight bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.
Had Celia's memories fully returned? His attitude didn't seem much changed, but maybe the info overload had him stunned... At least he wasn't lunging to attack or scream—probably because they'd marked each other?
Marking did deepen bonds; experts said it was hormones and pheromones triggering love chemicals in the brain... But the Emperor thought that was bullshit. For someone like Celia, if he really didn't want to rut, he'd chop his Alpha into bits without blinking.
Heinrich's mind raced like a wild horse, soon drifting to that ambiguous look Yunes had given before leaving. Hadn't Osroed said they'd had a thing? But that was centuries ago—maybe it was long over... No, no—how could he let another sleep on his side of the bed? Too bad Osroed cannon-foddered so fast; he could've grilled him properly...
"Why are you staring at me?" Celia set down the cup, frowning.
The Emperor nearly blurted it out, but caught himself.
"...What?"
"Nothing." The Emperor gave a weird smile. "—Your hand looks injured. Come here, I'll fix it."
They both had various bruises and scrapes; Celia's temple had a gash, dried blood crusted on his cheek. Heinrich fetched the medkit from the sickbay, cleaned the wound with a ray sterilizer, then took his hand and meticulously wiped the blood from between his fingers with alcohol swabs.
"Did Osroed hurt you after I left?"
Celia shook his head. "That idiot."
Heinrich chuckled, his warm, rough fingers gently massaging a swollen bruise on Celia's wrist. Then Celia spotted a charred patch on the web of Heinrich's hand. "What happened to you?"
"Electromagnetic burn. It's fine."
Celia grabbed Heinrich's palm in turn, took the healer, and carefully scanned the blackened skin with the ray.
They sat facing each other under the light—Celia in the wide armchair, Heinrich on the desk edge before him, heads bowed as they tended each other's wounds. Sweet Omega pheromones drifted softly around them, like a gentle hand caressing with ambiguous promise, unhurried and restrained.
After a quiet moment, Celia spoke: "Earlier, with Yunes—"
Heinrich shushed him: "Hush, don't say it—even if you told me now, it might not be the truth. Better I verify it myself; saves you the trouble of spinning tales."
So straightforward?
Celia glanced at his expression—purely natural—and quelled his doubts. "If you think that way, fine..."
Heinrich smiled faintly, wrapping gauze around his hand and biting off the end with his teeth.
Celia volunteering an explanation? Fifty years as Emperor hadn't dulled Heinrich enough for that. This was a man with bottomless schemes; even his loyal mecha Phoenix, who'd served a century, didn't know his final plans. He'd spill now?
There was a term—love-hate. They'd done the hate; love was temporary, rivalry eternal. For a military genius like Celia, born for conquest, you either crushed him or submitted. Befriending him? Might as well hang yourself.
"How's it feel, memories back?" Heinrich paused, then switched topics.
Celia casually rolled his neck. "No big difference... My history's common knowledge across the galaxy, right? Just went from spectator to actor. Not that profound."
Heinrich teased: "I remember you calling 'that unlucky bastard, Alliance Marshal'—"
"Yeah," Celia laughed. "Back at the academy, I thought the Alliance Marshal had it rough—dead fifty years and still dragged out for political shows every decade. Truly couldn't rest in peace. And now? Still cursed, on track to shatter bad-luck records for the next five centuries... You know that new AG Games fighter MMO?"
Heinrich blinked. "What MMO?"
"Players pick classes on a virtual arena, each getting a unique ancient Earth weapon. Big at the academy—kids summed it up as..." Celia's smile deepened. "'Spearmen have E-rank luck since ancient times.'"
The Emperor: "..."
Marshal and Emperor both burst out laughing.
"You want me to hand over the Spear of Nirvana?" Heinrich asked amid chuckles.
"Hush—don't say it; even now it might not be true. Save the spin for later." Celia mimicked him, finger to lips. "—Better I take it myself someday..."
His tone was light, expression natural, but Heinrich's smile faded slightly.
Could Celia really take the Spear of Nirvana and Phoenix? Unknown. But one thing was sure: when he'd asked, Heinrich had felt a flicker of temptation—
Just give it back—the Spear and the mecha Phoenix...
You know he wants it bad. Mouth says distrust, but hand it over and he'd be thrilled, right?...
That instant hesitation dazed the Emperor; he shook it off, clamping down on the weakness.
Celia wasn't one to soften if you wrecked yourself. Their coexistence wasn't tolerance—it was deadlock, outcome pending. Hand him Phoenix, and politics would tilt subtly; he'd dismantle Griffin as a testbed for 3S tech...
Heinrich fell silent, then blurted: "It wasn't just political theater—"
He paused, struggling for words, finally saying: "Not a show for anyone. Many top brass came from the Alliance; they wanted you alive—even if defeated, surrendered—so we could make you State Advisor. Lead us forward on so much... But you died. No one could accept it. Their memorials were all sincere."
"'All' sincere?" Celia arched a brow.
Under that teasing gaze, Heinrich hesitated. "Maybe some wanted closure too," he admitted. "Everyone needs peace of mind."
Celia snorted, stood to stow the medkit, and fetched another water.
Heinrich followed to the nook, where Celia stood at the dim edge, tilting his head back to drink. Light and shadow split his profile diagonally—left half bathed in bedroom lamplight, right lost in deep darkness, like his ancient, buried past.
Arms crossed against the wall, Heinrich heard: "What are you looking at?"
The Emperor tilted his head; Celia was wiping his lips—the droplet gleaming faintly in the gloom, gone with a swipe.
"You." Heinrich swallowed. "Wondering what you'll do now. Gene surgery for gender swap? Die again and transfer to an Alpha body? Omega's tough for running Alliance military—"
"No, no—I hated being Alpha." Celia said. "After Venus Fortress, they modded me into one; took ages to resist Omega heat urges. Honestly, Alpha male thinking doesn't suit me. If possible, back to Beta."
The Emperor shot back: "Before that, can you give me a kid first?"
Celia set down the cup, patted his shoulder.
"I'd shelve that idea," he said regretfully. "Better shower, get in bed, focus on waiting for full heat... Should be hours away. We can treat it like a healthy vacation this time."
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Celia's hunch proved right; heat hit right on schedule hours later.
At dawn, they both jolted awake in a blaze of heat. Heinrich's eyes snapped open; he grabbed Celia's wrist. "How you holding up?"
Celia sat flushed against the headboard, one hand pressing his temple hard, sweat-soaked dark hair at his temples, sleep shirt unbuttoned haphazardly at the top, collarbone heaving with his chest. The air reeked of cloying, seductive Omega pheromones. The Emperor loomed like a heavy-pressure wolf, murmuring in his ear: "Want some water?"
The hot breath made Celia shudder. "N-no... no need..."
"Food for energy?"
Celia shook his head through gritted teeth, lest a moan escape.
Heinrich snatched the chocolates he'd stashed, popped one in his mouth, and fed it mouth-to-mouth. Ever the eager student in "How to Be a Better Alpha," he'd learned from the last time on Frostwild Plains: first hours of heat, no energy for food—had to stock up now.
"...Ah... ah..." The kiss rippled desire across his hypersensitive body like a stone in a pond. Celia struggled to swallow the chocolate whole; Heinrich pulled back smugly, a thin saliva thread linking their lips.
"You want me?"
Celia panted raggedly, reaching to wipe his mouth—Heinrich caught the hand, twisting it gently behind him. "What do you say at a time like this?"
"..." Celia turned away, embarrassment and amusement mixing on his flushed face and quivering lips, making him irresistibly alluring. "Y-yes... please..."
Heinrich reflexively wanted to barb him, savor that humiliated-yet-sexy look, but his raven-wing lashes fluttering snuffed all words. A rare tenderness welled up. He pressed Celia into the corner of bed and wall, unbuttoning him eye-to-eye, murmuring: "How bad do you want it, hm?"
Celia stared blankly as buttons came undone, lust fogging his brain—he could barely parse the words. After ages, he got it but couldn't respond, weakly tugging Heinrich's shirt instead: "You... hurry..."
That sound obliterated Heinrich's restraint. He yanked off his own shirt, tossing it aside; his cock sprang free, eager. Straddling Celia's hips loosely, he proudly displayed it—ignoring Celia's hazy vision—and pointed at the veiny, swollen shaft: "Well? Seen bigger?"
Normally, it'd earn a smack and a quip: "Too big down there, not enough up top?"
But now Celia's mind was blank, staring innocently agape, lips parted wetly, stunned.
Heinrich grinned wickedly, bending one knee to splay Celia's thighs wide, then trailed fingers down lean waist and V-line, reveling in the body's desperate quivers—till they sank into the perineum, slick flooding his thighs, hole clenching hungrily.
"So wet already... Want me inside? Hm?"
Celia gasped sharply at the touch, choking back sobs: "Don't... don't yap—get in... now..."
"What in? Want what of mine inside?"
Celia shook his head wordlessly—then yelped in breakdown as a rough knuckle breached him: "S-slow—ah!"
He clutched Heinrich's solid shoulder, veins bulging—then spasmed limp as the finger probed deeper. The ripe hole offered no resistance, slurping it in with wet sounds, walls clamping greedily. "W-wait... hold on..."
Heat-opened body needed no real prep, but Heinrich tormented anyway—teasing, drawing out moans near collapse. The sight would stir granite; Heinrich's breath grew ragged, blood surging south.
He wanted to slam in, pound and ravage this gorgeous body till it begged, bedridden, legs unsealable post-heat...
"Fuck—" Heinrich yanked his finger free; Celia's hips bucked reflexively.
But Heinrich pinned them. "Want it? Want me to fuck you?"
He ground his iron-hard cock at the entrance, pre-cum soaking the tip—thrusting shallow, in then out. It drove empty, frantic Celia mad; he arched against the pillow, forcing through clenched teeth: "What... do you... want..."
Heinrich's eyes bloodshot, he panted a laugh:
"Nothing—just one question. What did that note to Yunes mean?"
Celia's head buzzed; comprehension dawned slowly—his face changed.
Heinrich savored the shift—they'd known each other a century; rare sight. Satisfaction blunted his ache. He gripped Celia's sweaty face, smirking: "Well? Spill?"
"..." Celia bit down hard, flashing to Heinrich's earlier "I'll verify myself"... So this was his plan!
Now, no lies possible—body and mind fixated on being filled, fucked senseless; no room for fabrications!
"Spit it out—what'd the note mean? Some deal?" Heinrich nudged half an inch in, withdrew, eyes blazing: "Tell me, darling—confess and I'll make you feel good."