The Billionaire's Feral Brother Chapter 2

Washing him clean was a challenge in itself.

Silas smelled... indescribable.

And he refused to bathe.

Once we got to the hotel suite, he huddled at the foot of the sofa, staring at me warily, maintaining a safe distance.

I spent an hour trying to talk him into the bathroom. No luck.

I couldn't catch him, and I couldn't beat him in a fight.

After two hours of battling wits with Silas, I saw the mints on the nightstand.

I grabbed one, unwrapped it, and quickly stuffed it into Silas's mouth.

The puppy didn't even have time to bare his teeth. He froze for a full thirty seconds.

He spit the candy into his palm, licked it tentatively, his eyes lit up, and he popped it back in.

Even though I'm not a germaphobe, his lack of hygiene was testing me.

I closed my eyes, chanting internally: He's simple, he doesn't know better, don't be disgusted.

Once I convinced myself, I opened my eyes and used the candy to lure Silas into the bathroom.

Turns out, even though Silas is simple, he remembers some basics.

He could brush his teeth and wash his face. He even lined up the toothbrush and folded the towel neatly when he was done.

Someone must have taught him that.

So bathing shouldn't be an issue.

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.

Save it for later.

I unwrapped another candy and fed it to him. "Good boy, wash yourself. If you smell nice, brother will give you more candy."

Less than ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened. Silas walked out, soaking wet and stark naked.

Broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs. His proportions were insanely good.

My eye twitched. I took a deep breath, chanting "lust is emptiness" three times before walking over to inspect the results.

He was whiter, sure, but definitely not clean. He hadn't even used shampoo.

Overestimated him.

I guess he only retained the very basics like face washing.

I marched him back into the bathroom, pushed him into the tub, and resigned myself to washing him.

Silas watched curiously as I scrubbed him down, surprisingly obedient.

The more I scrubbed, the more jealous I got. How does a homeless guy have this much muscle definition?

I ran my hands over his abs. He had two more packs than I did.

No wonder he can eat so much.

My gym membership is a scam.

As I was washing him, a certain part of Silas that should have stayed down suddenly perked up, trembling.

I stared at the offender in shock. "You..."

How does a bath lead to this...

Silas blinked his puppy eyes at me innocently and swallowed.

Fine, don't argue with a fool.

I slapped the thing lightly. "Alright, I know you're happy to see your brother, now stand down."

I looked up, teasing Silas. "Tell it to calm down."

Silas grunted at my slap, his eyes lighting up.

He stared at my hand.

After a moment, he grabbed my hand and pressed it against his lower abdomen, his voice hoarse. "Hit."

"More."

"Hit."

I was paralyzed.

What the hell?

Did he enjoy getting hit?

Silas whined impatiently, his breath hot. "Hurt. Hot."

"Hit it."

It's over. My hands are tainted.

I pulled my hand back, expressionless, and turned on the cold water, drenching Silas until he shivered.

"Cool the f*ck down!"

Silas wilted under the spray. "Woo..."