Chapter 5

A splitting headache slammed into Ezra’s consciousness as a shaft of morning sunlight forced its way through his eyelids. He groaned softly, attempting to move his body. However, a sharp, excruciating ache flared from his waist down to his very nerve endings, instantly reminding him of the hellish yet intoxicating night he had just surrendered to.

He turned to his side. That side of the king-sized bed was already empty, leaving behind nothing but a tangled mess of dark gray sheets.

Before Ezra could even sit up, the sound of splashing water echoed from behind the frosted glass door of the master bathroom. The door suddenly swung open, revealing Darren Wijaya, wrapped only in a white towel around his waist. His wet hair was disheveled, and droplets of water tracked down his sculpted, powerful chest.

Darren’s eagle-like eyes instantly locked onto Ezra, who was curling into himself, clutching the blanket. "You're awake," Darren said, his voice carrying a heavy, gravelly morning rasp that sounded intensely deep. "Clean yourself up. We don't have much time."

Ezra swallowed hard against his dry throat. Gathering the remnants of his strength, he stepped off the bed. His legs trembled weakly the moment his feet touched the cold marble floor, causing Darren, who was watching his every move, to curl the corner of his lips into a faint smirk.

Inside the spacious, masculinely scented bathroom, Ezra turned on the shower. Warm water began to cascade over his body, attempting to wash away the overwhelming exhaustion. However, he failed to notice quiet footsteps drawing near.

Slide.

The glass shower door was pushed open. Ezra jolted backward until his spine hit the cold marble wall as Darren stepped inside completely naked.

"D-Darren? I thought you already—"

"I want more," Darren cut him off ruthlessly.

Bound by Water and Fire

Before Ezra could voice a protest, Darren's large hand gripped his jaw, tilting his face up and locking their lips in a harsh, demanding kiss. Darren pinned Ezra’s slender frame against the wall, cutting off any avenue of escape. The water from the shower poured over their tangled faces and bodies, creating an intensely suffocating heat amidst the rising steam.

Darren’s kisses descended to Ezra’s neck, biting the sensitive skin there with a fierce hunger until a stifled cry broke from Ezra's throat. "Ahhh! Dar—ren, it h-hurts..."

"This is my mark, Ezra. So everyone knows exactly who you belong to," Darren whispered hoarsely against his ear.

Without giving Ezra a single moment to breathe, Darren spun him around until the young man was facing the wet marble wall. Darren gripped Ezra's hips firmly, lifting one of his legs to clear the path for his absolute dominance. Darren’s touch was initially rough and urgent, driven entirely by a burning, primal lust.

"Nghhh! Ah... slow down... please, slow down..." Ezra whimpered in submission, both palms pressed flat against the wet marble to support his weight. His fingers gripped the edges of the tiles tightly as Darren began to claim him deeper.

Darren didn't listen. Instead, he quickened his rhythm, pounding against Ezra’s body repeatedly beneath the stream of warm water. Darren’s display of dominance was intense, selfish, yet at the same time, it sent a lethal wave of pleasure coursing through Ezra’s entire being. The bathroom was instantly filled with the echoes of colliding skin and heavy, breathless groans.

"Ahhh! Ohh... Dar-ren... m-more... nghhh!" A passionate cry escaped Ezra's lips, burying whatever pride he had left. The corners of his eyes welled with tears as he tilted his head back, completely surrendered to every merciless, burning thrust.

Darren growled low, wrapping his arms around Ezra from behind, driving the union to its absolute peak. "Good, Ezra... Groan for me again. Say my name!"

"Ahhh! Darren! Darren—nghff!"

An explosive climax hit them both simultaneously. Ezra collapsed weakly into Darren’s embrace, his breath hitching in ragged gasps as his chest heaved violently, while Darren buried his face into the crook of Ezra's neck, exhaling his heavy, hot breath.

The Terms of the Lease

An hour later, the atmosphere inside the penthouse dining room shifted drastically, turning ice-cold and professional, as if the heated struggle in the bathroom had never occurred.

Darren, now immaculately dressed in an expensive button-up corporate shirt, slid a thick document across the table to Ezra, who sat with a still-trembling body beneath his new clothes.

"Those are the draft rules of the contract you must abide by while you belong to me," Darren stated coldly, sipping his black coffee without a shred of expression.

Ezra opened the first page with a weak hand. His eyes scanned the lines of text written there. The crease on his forehead deepened.

"Clause one: You must always be ready whenever and wherever I want your body," Darren dictated, his voice sounding absolute and non-negotiable. "Clause two: You are strictly forbidden from protesting any schedule I arrange. And most importantly, the final clause..."

Darren paused, staring directly into Ezra's eyes with a lethal, predatory gaze.

"...You are strictly forbidden from involving feelings in this arrangement. Do not ever fall in love with me. If that happens, the contract is breached immediately, and you will return every single cent I have given you."

Ezra held his breath. His chest tightened, not from passion this time, but from the reality slapping him in the face. In Darren's eyes, he was nothing more than a high-priced rental item to be used at any given time.

"I understand," Ezra replied quietly, closing the document and signing it with a shaking hand.

Traces of Ownership

By afternoon, Ezra had returned to the Universitas Nusantara campus. His steps felt heavy and slightly stiff from the extreme physical activity of the morning. Fortunately, Darren's money worked like absolute magic; his academic status on the administration's computer had already changed to 'Active,' without a single rupiah of debt remaining.

However, that peace did not last long. As he walked through the crowded campus corridors, Ezra constantly tugged the collar of his flannel shirt upward in agitation. Beneath the fabric, his neck, chest, and collarbone were covered in contrasting purplish bruises—deep, dark stamps of Darren Wijaya's absolute ownership. He had to fight desperately to keep them hidden from public view.

"Hey, Zra!"

A heavy clap on his shoulder made Ezra flinch in shock. He spun around to find Raka walking up to him, his forehead knitted in confusion.

"Where have you been? Your phone was unreachable yesterday," Raka questioned probingly. But before Ezra could formulate an answer, Raka’s eyes suddenly locked onto the side of Ezra's neck. Ezra's collar had shifted slightly due to his sudden movement, exposing a highly prominent red mark.

Raka narrowed his eyes, his footsteps coming to a halt. "Zra... your neck... what is that?"

Ezra’s heart felt as though it had stopped beating entirely. His blood ran ice-cold beneath the searching, analytical gaze of his own best friend.