Chapter 7

Dean's skin radiated a strong and overpowering musky scent.

Corbyn gently nuzzled his face against Dean's chest as he felt the latter continuously thrusting heatedly into him.

Dean's body was just as equally mesmerizing as his looks. Corbyn knew that he'd fallen for Dean, hook, line, and sinker. He was just about to let himself drown in the moment when his mother's words suddenly came back to haunt his mind.

"Men are nothing but dogs."

The lamp was the only source of light in the room, casting both Dean's and Corbyn's shadows onto the white walls behind them.

Didn't their shadows look exactly like dogs now?

Corbyn couldn't help chuckling to himself. To him, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Dean was always impeccably dressed without a hair out of place in his daily life. He would even button up his shirt all the way to the top, letting his white collar suffocate and hide his sexy neck. With Dean's usual stoic face and glassy eyes, everything just made him look like an emotionless robot.

It was only when he made love with Corbyn that Dean truly felt like a person who was alive. Brutal, primal, and animalistic, even.

Still, Corbyn wouldn't have it any other way. He would willingly embrace his primal instincts alongside Dean.

However, things would change drastically as soon as Dean put his pants back on. He would go back to his usual robotic self.

Corbyn felt like he was in a trance as he stared at Dean. Anxiety was creeping into his heart.

Dean got out of the shower and put on some fresh clothes before returning to Corbyn's side. His body smelled of the hotel's body wash.

Corbyn's heart sank, his face reflecting his mood.

Dean pulled up the covers for him. He asked, "Are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere?"

It was extremely rare to hear Dean speaking so gently and concernedly to Corbyn like this.

Corbyn shook his head. He knew that he only had to play his part of looking as pitiful as he could to earn this sliver of warmth from Dean. In fact, Corbyn was so used to putting on a show like this that it just came naturally to him.

He let out a huge sigh. This wasn't an act, however, as Corbyn was feeling stressed out and helpless about his situation.

"My supervisor wants me to report back at work tomorrow," he started.

That wasn't an outright lie. Veronica was indeed his supervisor at the company.

However, Dean didn't seem to understand why Corbyn felt troubled about this. He thought about it for a while and asked, "Do you want me to buy you a plane ticket home?"

Corbyn felt his frustration piling up. So, Dean couldn't wait to send him home right after fucking the living daylights out of him just a while ago?

In truth, Dean just thought that Corbyn was feeling troubled because he thought he wouldn't be able to purchase his flight ticket home in time.

Dean fetched his phone and found someone he knew who often dealt with rushed flight ticket purchases like these. He then texted him, asking if he could help Corbyn with his flight ticket issue.

Corbyn fell silent for a long while before asking, "Are you not going to miss me?"

"I'm not," Dean answered. "Work's more important."

Corbyn's frustrations multiplied. Just as he thought, Dean would never miss him or even think about him because work was always more important.

Damn it.

Corbyn was angry, but he knew that there was no way he could harbor any hope that Dean would realize he was mad or try to coax him. So, Corbyn threw the covers over his head and started sulking under the blankets, trying to swallow his frustrations alone.

A short while later, Dean tugged at the blankets, exposing Corbyn's face. Corbyn had been close to suffocating under the covers, but now that Dean had pulled them down, cold, fresh air rushed in at once, clearing his mind instantly.

He looked up at Dean and blinked softly. "Yeah?"

Corbyn secretly hoped that Dean was doing this because he wanted to apologize and make Corbyn feel better.

However, Corbyn's hopes were dashed at once.

Dean said, "I've bought your flight ticket home. It's at 2:00 pm tomorrow."

Corbyn was even more frustrated now. However, he couldn't possibly voice it out to Dean, so he suppressed his thoughts and kept quiet.

Moments later, Corbyn asked, "Does that only leave you and Anson here?"

Dean nodded.

Now, Corbyn was beyond mad.

Since Corbyn wasn't feeling happy about things, he woke up considerably early the next morning. However, by the time he got up, Dean was already done washing up.

Corbyn composed his thoughts and sat up in bed. "Anson brings you breakfast every morning, right? Can you ask him to bring me some too?"

Dean nodded and sent the request to Anson in a text.

Although Anson was Dean's assistant, he never truly fulfilled his role since he was treated like royalty at the company. The only reason Anson woke up super early every morning was that he wanted to impress and woo Dean.

Anson felt his phone vibrating in his pocket when he was still waiting for the takeaway food. He was delighted to see that it was a text message from his crush. However, as soon as he read the message Dean sent, Anson frowned deeply and burst out in anger.

"Who the fuck does that Corbyn think he is? How dare he make me buy him breakfast too?"

Anson rejected Dean's request at once.

Dean didn't think much about Anson's rejection. After all, it wasn't in Anson's job scope to buy Corbyn breakfast. Dean should have been the one to do it instead.

He glanced at his watch and saw that he still had some time. So, he asked Corbyn, "What would you like to eat? I'll go and buy it for you."

Corbyn just shrugged and said, "A croissant from Café Monte will do."

Dean went out to get Corbyn's croissant after that.

A short while later, the hotel doorbell rang. Corbyn answered the door and saw that it was Anson.

Corbyn chuckled coldly and said, "Oh, you must be the breakfast boy."

Anson felt taunted. He held back his temper and asked, "Where's Mr. Hoffman?"

Corbyn burst out laughing. "He went out to buy me breakfast because you refused to do it."

Anson felt extremely jealous at how much Dean seemed to be doting on Corbyn. The more he thought about it, the angrier he felt.

He'd woken up early in the morning to buy Dean breakfast. How could Corbyn also make Dean wake up early in the morning to buy him breakfast?

Why did Corbyn think he was worthy of Dean's affection like this? Was it because of his slutty, bitchy ways?

Corbyn continued adding fuel to the fire. He said, "Deanie dotes on me a lot. We're in a very stable relationship, after all. Of course, I can't deny that Deanie is very charismatic, which would explain why even the flies are shamelessly chasing after him.

"But then again, Dean is very loyal. He'd never dream of looking at anyone else if they weren't me."

Corbyn's words felt like a huge slap to Anson's face. His cheeks burned red with anger and embarrassment as he gritted his teeth and said, "Who are you calling shameless flies? You're the most shameless one of all!

"You're a nobody, yet you keep hanging on to Mr. Hoffman like an annoying fly! If it weren't for him, would you even be able to stay in a five-star hotel suite like this? Or afford the pajamas you're wearing?"

Anson could tell at a glance that Corbyn was wearing a pair of silk pajamas from Louis Vuitton's latest collection. Each pair cost at least 20 thousand dollars, which was far more than any average preschool Yinglish teacher could ever afford.

Corbyn had to have used Dean's money for it!

Corbyn nearly burst out laughing when he heard Anson's accusations. However, his gaze suddenly flickered toward the hallway. Then, he put on an extremely pitiful face and said in a nasal, crying tone, "W-Why would you say things like that?"

"You can't say such nasty things to me just because you like Deanie," he added with a sniffle, making a show to wipe the tears from the corner of his eyes.

But, however much he tried to cry, his eyes stayed dry like the desert. Nonetheless, Corbyn continued rubbing at his eyes until they turned red, making him look pitiful.

Anson got madder when he saw how much Corbyn was still trying to use the pity card on him. However, before he could say a thing, Anson heard hurried footsteps from behind him.

He turned and saw Dean hurrying toward him with Corbyn's breakfast in hand. Dean's cold eyes bore deeply into Anson, making him cower back in fear. "Mr. Hoffman…"

"Leave," Dean said icily. "You're not welcome here."

Anson felt his chest tighten. His eyes turned red at once. "I—"

Dean couldn't care less about him and entered the room, shutting the door in Anson's face so he wouldn't have to hear him.

Corbyn was still putting on his pitiful act. He said, "I see now. Your assistant likes you, so he's treating me with contempt."

"I understand now. I'll deal with this matter myself," Dean said, placing Corbyn's breakfast on the table. "Eat it while it's still warm."

Corbyn felt relieved only after what Dean said. If Dean said he would handle it, it meant he would also handle it really well.

Although Dean's straightforwardness was scary and infuriating at times, his no-nonsense attitude was still a handy weapon when needed.

Corbyn looked at Dean with a conflicted expression. "But Anson is David's son. Are you sure you can be firm with him?"

Dean asked, "How are those two things related?"

Corbyn just smiled in return. He didn't know how to reply to Dean.

Thinking from a rational point of view, it wouldn't be wise for Dean to reject Anson's advances outright. However, Corbyn couldn't stand the fact that Anson would be sticking close to Dean all day and night while on this business trip together. That was why he used such a dirty trick on him.

Corbyn replied softly, "But… Will you really reject him?"

He suddenly thought of something from the past and added rather bitterly, "Like how you downright rejected me in the past?"

Getting rejected by Dean in the past was something Corbyn still couldn't get over. Corbyn was prideful, and he'd never felt so defeated before.

"When have I ever rejected you?" Dean asked, puzzled.

Corbyn replied rather frustratedly as he tried to jog Dean's memory. "That time when you asked me if I was pursuing you. I said I was, then you told me to focus on my studies instead and stop wasting my time on you…"

Wasn't that a rejection in itself?

Dean replied, "But I only asked you to focus on your studies. I didn't reject you."

Corbyn was confused. "Huh? R-Really?"

He thought about it carefully. Somehow… What Dean just said made sense.

According to Dean's personality, he would have directly told Corbyn he was rejecting him if that was his intention from the start. Dean wouldn't have mentioned Corbyn's studies in a roundabout manner like that.

Back then, Dean had said, "Focus on your studies. Don't waste your time pursuing me."

To Corbyn, he thought Dean had meant, "Stop pursuing me because you'll never get me. If you've got the time to waste on chasing after me, you might as well read an extra book or two instead."

However, Dean had simply meant, "Alright, you've got me. You don't have to waste your time chasing after me anymore. You should focus on your studies now."

Corbyn's face fell. It felt as if realization had only dawned on him then and there.

Had Dean never rejected him in the first place?

So, had all the effort Corbyn put into chasing Dean after that been for naught because Dean had already been his since then?

Corbyn fell into a daze. Suddenly, he felt like a foolish dog that had been stupidly chasing after its own tail for years.