Chapter 123 Sin in the shadows

Chapter 123: Chapter 123 Sin in the shadows

The footsteps grew nearer—heavy, deliberate boots crunching against the sandy path outside. Noah’s heart slammed against his ribs, a wild build of terror and razor-edged arousal flooding his veins. He tried to push Lysander’s head away, his fingers trembling in those dark, silken locks, but the demon merely hummed in disapproval around his length, the vibration sending a catastrophic jolt straight up Noah’s spine.

"Mmph—" Lysander’s crimson eyes flicked upward, locking with Noah’s panicked gaze, and in that heated stare was a silent promise: I own this moment. No one will take it from us.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Lysander conjured a shimmering veil of shadow that rippled outward from his free hand. It wrapped around the doorway like living smoke, muffling the outside world. The footsteps paused just beyond the threshold—a guard, perhaps, or a servant—then shuffled away, muttering about a sudden chill. The danger passed, absorbed by Lysander’s demonic wiles, and Noah let out a shuddering breath that dissolved into a ragged moan.

"See?" Lysander pulled off with an obscene pop, his lips slick and swollen. "Nothing will interrupts us. Not now. Not ever."

Before Noah could form a coherent response, Lysander yanked the boxers down fully, letting Noah’s rigid cock spring free, glistening with saliva and precum. The cool cottage air kissed the heated skin, but Lysander’s mouth was back on him in an instant—no teasing this time, just raw, unadulterated hunger. He took Noah to the hilt in one smooth, practiced motion, his throat relaxing around the thick intrusion like it was made for this. And perhaps it was—Lysander was a creature of excess, of indulgence, and Noah’s pleasure was his current religion.

Noah’s hips bucked involuntarily, driving himself deeper into that wet, sinful heat. "Fuck—Lysander—your mouth—" He couldn’t string together a full sentence. His hands found purchase on the rough wooden wall behind him, nails scraping splinters as Lysander bobbed his head with devastating rhythm. The demon’s tongue wasn’t just passive; it worked—undulating along the sensitive underside, tracing the prominent vein, flickering over the flared crown with every upward stroke. Then he’d descend again, taking Noah’s entire length until his nose pressed against the thatch of dark hair, his throat convulsing in a way that made stars burst behind Noah’s eyelids.

But Lysander wasn’t content with just his mouth. His hands roamed with possessive greed—one palm cupping Noah’s heavy balls, rolling them with just enough pressure to make Noah gasp, while the other snaked around to grip his ass. Those fingers dug into the firm muscle, kneading, spreading, teasing the cleft with a sly fingertip that ghosted over his entrance through the thin layer of remaining fabric. Noah jolted at the sensation, a broken whimper escaping his lips.

"Lysander, we—we should—" Talk. Plan. Find out about my past. The words died as Lysander hummed again, that devilish vibration traveling up his shaft and settling deep in his gut.

"Talk later," Lysander murmured against his skin, pulling off just enough to speak, his breath hot and damp on the sensitive glans. "Feel now."

And he dove back in, this time with a frenzied pace that bordered on brutal. Saliva dripped down Noah’s shaft, slicking his thighs, pooling on the floorboards. The wet, obscene sounds filled the tiny cottage—slurping, gagging, the rhythmic hiss of breath through Lysander’s nose. Noah’s composure shattered completely. He was no longer a warrior with a heavenly sword, no longer a man on a quest for identity. He was just a bundle of nerve endings, a vessel for pleasure so acute it bordered on pain.

Lysander’s free hand abandoned his ass and slid upward, beneath Noah’s tunic, tracing the ridges of his abdomen. Those fingers found his nipple and pinched—hard—and Noah cried out, his back arching off the wall. The demon twisted and rolled the sensitive bud, then soothed it with a gentle scrape of his nails, alternating torment and tenderness until Noah was babbling incoherently.

"Please—I’m close—I’m gonna—"

Lysander pulled off abruptly, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Noah’s weeping cock. "Not yet, darling." His voice was wrecked, hoarse with desire, but there was iron in it. "I’m not done playing with you."

Before Noah could protest, Lysander rose to his full height and spun him around, pressing Noah’s chest flat against the wall. The wood was cool against his heated skin as Lysander yanked the tunic up to his shoulders, exposing the whole expanse of his back. Then those clever hands were everywhere—sliding down his spine, gripping his waist, palming his ass cheeks with rough, appreciative squeezes.

"Such a perfect body," Lysander breathed, his lips trailing hot kisses along Noah’s shoulder blade. "Made for sin. Made for me."

He dropped to his knees again—not in front, but behind. Noah’s eyes flew wide as Lysander’s hands spread his cheeks apart, exposing his most private place to the cool air. Then a wet, hot tongue laved over his entrance, and Noah’s knees did buckle this time. Only Lysander’s firm grip on his hips kept him upright.

"Oh God—Lysander—what are you—"

"Shh." The word was a hot puff of air against his most sensitive flesh. "I told you. I make you commit sin."

Lysander’s tongue was relentless—circling, probing, dipping just inside before retreating. He lapped at Noah like he was tasting ambrosia, his moans of appreciation vibrating through Noah’s entire pelvic floor. One of his hands snaked around to resume stroking Noah’s aching cock, and the dual assault—the slick, invasive tongue behind and the firm, twisting grip in front—was too much. Noah’s forehead pressed against the wall, his breath coming in frantic pants.

"Inside," Noah gasped, surprising himself. "Lysander, I want—I need you inside me. Now."

Lysander stilled for a heartbeat, then let out a dark, delighted chuckle. "There he is. There’s my greedy little mortal."

He rose in one fluid motion, and Noah heard the rustle of fabric—Lysander’s own trousers being undone. Then the demon’s body was flush against his back, and something thick and scorching hot pressed against his slicked entrance. Lysander had conjured a small vial of oil from thin air—demon trick—and coated himself generously, the slick sound obscene in the quiet room.

"Look at me," Lysander commanded, and Noah turned his head just enough to meet those crimson eyes over his shoulder. "I want to see your face when I claim you."

With that, Lysander pushed forward—slowly, deliberately, inch by agonizing inch. The stretch was overwhelming, a burning fullness that made Noah see white. He cried out, his fingers scrabbling against the wall, but Lysander didn’t stop until he was fully seated, his hips flush against Noah’s ass. They both stilled, breathing ragged, the connection so deep and complete that Noah felt it in his very soul.

"Fuck," Noah whispered, his voice shattered. "You’re so—so big."

Lysander’s lips pressed against his ear, his breath scalding. "And you’re so tight. So perfect." He pulled back, slow, then thrust forward again, and the rhythm began.

Each stroke was measured, deep, angled to hit that spot inside Noah that made stars explode. Lysander’s hands gripped his hips, fingers denting the flesh as he set a pace that was both punishing and reverent. With every thrust, his cock dragged against Noah’s prostate, and Noah’s own erection slapped against the wall, neglected but still weeping.

Lysander’s hand eventually found it again, stroking in time with his own pounding rhythm. The demon’s mouth was everywhere—biting Noah’s shoulder, licking the sweat from his neck, whispering filthy promises about all the things he’d do to him later, in a bed, with ropes and candles and no interruptions.

Noah could feel the pressure building—a coiling, molten heat in his groin that spread to his limbs, his chest, his very core. Lysander’s thrusts grew erratic, the demon’s composure finally cracking.

"Come for me," Lysander growled, his rhythm faltering into desperate, shallow thrusts. "Now, Noah. Let go. I have you."

And Noah did. With a shattered cry that was half his name and half a prayer, he spilled over Lysander’s pumping fist, his release splattering the wooden wall in hot, pulsing ropes. His inner muscles clamped down like a vice, and that was all Lysander needed—with a guttural roar that shook the rafters, the demon buried himself to the hilt and emptied himself deep inside Noah, his hips jerking through wave after wave of intense, shuddering climax.

They collapsed against the wall, a tangle of sweaty limbs and heaving chests. Lysander’s arms wrapped around Noah’s waist, holding him close as if he might dissipate into mist. The heavenly sword lay forgotten on the floor, its glow dimmed to a soft, pulsing ember.

Lysander pressed a tender kiss to Noah’s nape. "That," he murmured, "was only the beginning."

Noah laughed—breathless, wre

cked, but undeniably happy. "You’re going to be the death of me."

NOTE: THIS Chapter MIGHT STILL BE EDITED. I WAS IN A HURRY TO POST AND NOT TO LEAVE YOU ALL HANGING. SO THE MASS RELEASE CONTINUES AND AS USUAL I NEED YOUR SUPPORT TO RELEASE MORE ChapterS, THE MORE THE MERRIER!!