After my parents passed away, I finally found the true heir to the Sterling family empire scavenging for trash on a street corner. I snatched the moldy bun from his hands. "Idiot, you can’t eat that. It’s dirty." Later, the idiot buried his face in my chest muscles. I grabbed a handful of his hair and gritted my teeth. "Stupid dog, you can't eat that either." 1 I found Liam in a small, run-down town in the South. He was dressed in rags, curled up in a corner, wolfing down a dirty, foul-smelling bun he held with both hands. I approached slowly and crouched beside him. Liam looked up warily, hiding the rotten food behind his back. He bared his teeth at me, fierce and feral. I put on a friendly smile, staring at his sharp, white canines. "Why are you acting like a stray dog?" Liam stared at my perfect smile, stunned for a moment. I took the opportunity to snatch the sour bun from his hand and tossed it aside. "Idiot, you can't eat that stuff. It’s dirty." Liam froze. He looked at his empty hand, then at me, and finally at the bun lying in the dirt. Just as he was about to snarl, I pulled out a soft, white, fresh bun and stuffed it into his mouth. I had been watching Liam all morning. He had rummaged through six dumpsters and fought two stray dogs just for a bite to eat. I had sent someone to buy a whole bag of fresh buns. I came prepared. Liam instantly settled down, holding the bun with both hands and gnawing on it intently. I took the chance to lead him away. From the trash heap to the hotel, it was a twenty-minute drive. Liam ate seven buns. Every time he finished one, he would stare at me with those puppy-dog eyes, looking like he was about to let out a "Woof." I wasn't trying to humiliate him. But Liam really looked like a stray dog. Feeling mischievous, I pulled out another bun and waved it in front of his eyes. "Want it?" Liam stared at the food in my hand and swallowed hard, his eyes lighting up. If he had a tail, it would be wagging right now. I smiled, a bit wickedly. "Call me 'Brother.' If you call me Brother, I’ll give it to you." Liam looked at me, then at the bun. His Adam's apple bobbed. His eyes were practically glowing green with hunger. His mouth moved a couple of times, but he was too anxious to make a sound. I guided him patiently. "Be a good boy. Say 'Brother'." Liam got desperate. A loud sound erupted from his throat: "Woof!" ? What the f*ck! Is he actually a dog? Before I could recover from the shock, Liam lunged, snatched the bun from my hand, and shoved the whole thing into his mouth. Then he quickly scrambled to the other side of the car, putting as much distance between us as possible. He chewed with difficulty, eyes fixed on me in warning. Looking at this six-foot-three man trying to curl himself into a ball of distress, I felt speechless. And a little heartbroken. What kind of life had this guy been living? Feeling a rare pang of pity, seeing him choke on the food, I reached out to pat his back. "No one is taking it from you. Eat slowly." Liam instantly turned vicious. He stared at my hand, a threatening growl vibrating in his throat. As if he would bite my fingers off if I reached any closer. Great. Eight buns, wasted. Being this food-aggressive isn't good. I withdrew my hand, tapping my fingers on my knee, and lowered my eyes with a chuckle. A bit wild. Once I get him cleaned up, I'll need to train him properly. 2 Cleaning him up was another challenge. The smell on Liam wasn't exactly pleasant. And he refused to bathe. Once we got to the hotel, he huddled in the corner of the sofa, staring at me warily, keeping a safe distance. I talked until my mouth was dry, but I couldn't coax him into the bathroom. I couldn't catch him, and I certainly couldn't beat him in a fight. After a two-hour battle of wits, I saw the complimentary candy on the nightstand. I grabbed one, unwrapped it, and quickly stuffed it into Liam's mouth. The puppy didn't have time to bare his teeth before he froze. He stayed stunned for a full thirty seconds. He lowered his head, spit the candy into his palm, tentatively licked it, his eyes lit up, and then popped it back into his mouth. I don't have OCD, but even I couldn't stand his lack of hygiene. I closed my eyes, chanting silently: He's silly, he doesn't know better, teach him slowly, don't despise him. Once I convinced myself, I opened my eyes and used the candy as bait to lure Liam into the bathroom. I discovered that while Liam was cognitively impaired, he had some basic self-care skills. He could brush his teeth and wash his face. Afterward, he even arranged the toiletries neatly and folded the towel into a square. Someone must have taught him that. So, showering shouldn't be a problem. I stripped him naked and threw him into the bathtub. I wanted to ruffle his hair, but it was too dirty, so I pulled my hand back. I'll save that for when he's clean. I peeled another candy and fed it to him, coaxing, "Good boy, wash yourself. If you smell good, Brother will give you more candy." Less than ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened. A dripping wet, stark naked Liam walked out. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs, tight glutes. His proportions were shockingly perfect. My eye twitched. I took a deep breath, mentally reciting "lust is emptiness" three times before walking over to inspect the results. He was cleaner, but definitely not scrubbed properly. He hadn't even used shampoo. I overestimated him. He probably only knew the basics like washing his face. I herded him back into the bathroom, pressed him into the tub, and resigned myself to washing him. Liam watched curiously as I scrubbed him, surprisingly obedient. The more I washed, the more jealous I got. How does a guy living on the streets maintain this much muscle definition? I ran my hand over his stomach. He had two more abs than I did. No wonder he eats so much. All my time in the gym feels like a waste. As I was scrubbing, that part of Liam that shouldn't be standing up suddenly and shakily raised its head. I stared at the beast in shock. "You..." How do you get hard just taking a shower? Liam blinked his innocent puppy eyes at me and swallowed. Forget it. Can't argue with a fool. I gave the thing a light slap and greeted it. "Alright, I know you're happy to see your brother. Stand down." I looked up at Liam teasingly. "You tell it to kneel and behave." Liam grunted when I slapped it, his eyes lighting up. He stared at my hand. After a moment, he suddenly grabbed my hand and pressed it against his lower abdomen, his voice hoarse. "Hit it." "More." "Hit." My whole body went numb. What the hell? Did hitting it make him feel good? Liam whined impatiently, his breath hot. "Hurts. Hot." "Hit it." It was over. My hand was no longer pure. Expressionless, I pulled my hand away and turned on the cold water, drenching Liam. "Cool the f*ck down!" Liam wilted under the cold spray. "Woof..." 3 That night, Liam refused to sleep in the bed. He curled up on the floor beside it. He slept soundly, but I couldn't sleep. I stood on the balcony smoking. Before I found Liam, I didn't expect him to be like this. Liam wasn't born this way. He went missing at age five. Our parents looked for him their entire lives. Even after they adopted me, they never gave up searching for Liam. After Mom died of grief and Dad followed soon after, I spent four years looking for him alone. Mom said Liam was smart from a young age. He spoke early, loved picture books, and learned everything instantly. The current Liam only knew how to bark and bite. He acted like a wild animal. I didn't know what Liam had been through, but earlier, I had touched every scar on his body. Old wounds, new scars. He must have suffered a lot. I exhaled a cloud of smoke, my chest feeling tight. Growing up alone, confused and impaired like that... how hard must it have been? I turned my head and suddenly met a pair of bright, wide eyes. "Holy sh*t!" My scalp tingled, and the hair on my arms stood up. Liam had woken up at some point and was standing silently behind me. I clutched my chest, pointing at him while cursing, "Are you a ghost?! You walk without making a sound!" Liam didn't listen to a word I said. He stared at the cigarette between my fingers, his gaze incredibly clear. Then, with lightning speed, he leaned in and snatched the burning cigarette from my hand with his mouth. I stood there dumbfounded. When I reacted, I frantically tried to pry his mouth open. "That’s a damn cigarette! You can't eat that! Spit it out!" Liam frowned from the heat but refused to let go. I forced his jaw open, threw the cigarette away, and stuck my fingers into his mouth. "Where did it burn? Does it hurt?" Liam opened his mouth obediently, wrapped his tongue around my finger, and licked. He tasted it, then licked again. Probably deciding it tasted good, he grabbed my hand and took a big lick of my palm. Saliva covered my hand. I shivered, the sensation tickling from my palm down to my bones. I pulled out my wet hand and slapped the back of Liam's head. "Are you a dog? Licking everything! Isn't it dirty?!" Still angry, I slapped him again lightly. "If you eat random things again, I'll beat you." Liam tilted his head. "Woof!" "..." Great. After all that, he only understood the word "dog." 4 The next morning, full and bored, Liam started scratching at the door. First pounding, then kicking. Like a damn husky. Unable to tolerate it, I dragged him back and put on a TV show for him on the tablet. Liam settled down. Leaning against the bed, holding the tablet, he watched without blinking. I sat in the chair, catching up on the backlog of work online. Exhausted, I fell asleep waiting for an email. I slept restlessly, vaguely feeling an itch and pain on my chest. I opened my eyes groggily and looked into the mirror opposite me. The handsome man in the executive chair had his bathrobe open, and a large, fuzzy head was buried in his chest. The handsome man was me; the large head belonged to Liam, who was kneeling between my legs. Before I could recover from the shock of this erotic scene, a sudden pain in my chest made me gasp. I grabbed Liam's hair and pulled him back. "Sucking is one thing, but you're biting?!" I looked down. It was swollen! How long had he been eating?! Liam's lips were glossy. He looked at me and said, "Candy." He stared at my chest aggrievedly, reaching out to flick it gently. "Not candy." I froze. I realized what he meant. He wasn't saying "Not candy"; he meant "Not sweet." Because before yesterday, he hadn't eaten sweets, so he didn't know the taste called "sweet." I told him the gummy bears were "candy," so "candy" meant sweet. "Not candy" meant "not sweet." I looked at the poor little thing on my chest that Liam had tortured. Pink, soft. It did look a lot like the strawberry gummy I gave him yesterday. Now that it was swollen and shiny from his gnawing, it looked even more like one. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. "That’s not damn candy! How could that be sweet?!"
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