Chapter 141 Surrendering!!

Chapter 141: Chapter 141 Surrendering!!

AUTHOR NOTE: THIS IS A SCENE THAT I WASN’T THAT SURE. I WAS SICK WHEN I WROTE IT, NOT FEELING SO WELL COUPLED WITH EXAM STRESS. SO I WILL STILL EDIT THIS Chapter, PLEASE BARE WITH ME AND MIGHT POST MORE LATER. OR MASS RELEASE IN THE WEEKEND. I KNOW I DIDN’T FUFILL MY PROMISE LAST TIME BUT EXAM HAPPENED!! THIS TIME AROUND 5 ChapterS OR 4 AT BOTH DAYS: SATURDAY AND SUNDAY!!

Noah’s legs gave out.

He caught himself on the edge of the table, fingers gripping the wood so hard his knuckles went white. His entire body was on fire—not the pleasant warmth of desire, but something primal and consuming, like his blood had been replaced with liquid heat.

Lamia watched him with a mixture of pity and irritation. "You people began the ceremony. I think you can’t go on without completing it." He didn’t bother hiding his displeasure. "So that means you have to have sex right away."

"Why just when I was about to train Noah’s magic," Lamia muttered under his breath.

Noah shook his head violently. "I can’t handle that now, Lamia." His voice came out ragged, broken. "Sex? Nope."

But his body screamed otherwise.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, soaking into his shirt. His skin was flushed, feverish, and every breath felt like inhaling fire. The ceremony—whatever it had triggered—was demanding completion, and it didn’t care about his protests.

Damian shifted beside him, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles bulged. "Noah, we can shift this discussion." His voice was strained, controlled. "We are all suffering. Especially you." He swallowed hard. "So let’s carry this to the bedroom."

A muscle in his thigh twitched violently, and he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself.

He wasn’t the only one.

Killan stood rigid against the wall, his face pale, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Sweat beaded along his brow, and his breathing had become shallow, uneven. He looked like a man teetering on the edge of a cliff, fighting the urge to jump.

Eugene was worse. His face had gone chalk-white, and he pressed his back against the far wall like he was trying to merge with it. His eyes were squeezed shut, lips moving in what might have been a silent prayer.

And Lysander—

Lysander was a statue carved from marble, his expression perfectly blank, his posture impeccable. But Noah could see it. The way his fingers trembled slightly at his sides. The way his chest rose and fell just a little too fast. The way his eyes—those ancient, unreadable eyes—kept flickering toward Noah with something that looked almost like pain.

Lysander was holding it together better than the others, but his facade was cracking. His body shook with the effort of restraint.

Noah’s stomach twisted tighter.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t—

A wave of heat crashed through him, and he doubled over, a strangled sound escaping his throat. The ceremony was pulling at something deep inside him, demanding completion, demanding them.

"We don’t have a choice," Damian said, his voice tight. "The longer we wait, the worse it gets."

"I don’t—" Noah’s voice cracked. "I can’t just—"

"You can." Lysander’s voice cut through the haze, calm and steady despite the tension radiating from his body. "But only if you want to."

Noah looked at him.

Lysander met his gaze, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them. His eyes were dark, intense, filled with something Noah couldn’t name.

"I won’t force you," Lysander said quietly. "None of us will."

The words hung in the air.

Then Damian moved.

He crossed the distance between them in two strides, his hand finding Noah’s jaw, tilting his face up. His eyes were wild, desperate, burning with a hunger that made Noah’s breath catch.

"I’m sorry," Damian whispered. "I can’t wait anymore."

He kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative. It was a claiming—Damian’s mouth crashing against Noah’s with a ferocity that stole the breath from his lungs. His tongue swept inside, hot and demanding, tasting every corner of Noah’s mouth like he was trying to memorize it. Noah whimpered, and Damian swallowed the sound greedily, his other hand coming up to grip Noah’s hip, pulling him flush against his body.

Noah could feel everything—the hard planes of Damian’s chest, the heat radiating from his skin, the insistent press of his hips. It was overwhelming, consuming, and Noah’s hands flew up to grip Damian’s shoulders, not sure if he was trying to push him away or pull him closer.

Damian broke the kiss just long enough to breathe. "You taste better than last time."

Then he was kissing him again, deeper this time, his tongue curling against Noah’s in a rhythm that made his knees weak. Noah moaned into his mouth, and Damian responded with a low growl, his fingers tightening on Noah’s hip.

The sound seemed to break something in the room.

Killan moved next, his hand closing around Noah’s wrist, pulling him away from Damian just long enough to claim his own kiss. His was different—slower, deeper, almost reverent. He kissed like he was worshipping something sacred, his lips soft against Noah’s, his tongue gentle as it traced the seam of his mouth.

"You taste burns me so deep," Killan breathed against his lips.

Noah’s heart stuttered. "Killan—"

"Shh." Killan kissed him again, and this time there was more urgency behind it—a desperate edge that betrayed how hard he was fighting for control. His free hand came up to cup the back of Noah’s neck and soft ass, holding him in place as he deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth with a hunger that made Noah’s toes curl.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. "I’ve wanted to do that style for so long. Fuck I am getting better at this"

Before Noah could respond, Eugene was there.

His hands cupped Noah’s face, trembling slightly, and his kiss was desperate and shaking. He kissed like a man drowning, like Noah was an air and he couldn’t get enough. His body pressed against Noah’s, and Noah could feel the heat radiating from him, the way he shook with the effort of holding back.

"Please," Eugene whispered against his mouth. "Please—"

Noah didn’t know what he was begging for.

Eugene kissed him again, harder this time, his tongue thrusting into Noah’s mouth with a rhythm that was almost fast. His hands slid from Noah’s face to his shoulders to his chest, mapping every inch of him like he was trying to commit the feel of him to memory.

"Eugene," Noah gasped.

Eugene pulled back, his chest heaving. "I’m sorry. I can’t—" He swallowed hard. "I can’t stop."

Then Lysander stepped forward.

The others fell back—not because they wanted to, but because something in the air shifted. Lysander’s presence was overwhelming, ancient and powerful. He reached for Noah with hands that trembled despite his control.

His kiss was nothing like the others.

It was soft, and laced with deep emotions of kissing his longing mate from the past. A past Noah doesn’t understand and that feeling of the kiss destroyed Noah.

Lysander’s lips moved against his like he was handling something precious, something fragile. His tongue traced the seam of Noah’s mouth, asking permission, and when Noah opened for him, he tasted like starlight and eternity.

Noah’s knees buckled.

Lysander caught him, one arm wrapping around his waist, pulling him close. The kiss deepened, and Noah felt something inside him snap—the ceremony, the bond, the desperate need—all of it crashing together in a wave of pleasure so intense he saw stars.

When they broke apart, Noah was gasping, clinging to Lysander’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Lysander’s forehead pressed against his, his breath warm against Noah’s lips.

"I’ve waited centuries for you," Lysander whispered. "I can wait a little longer."

But his body betrayed him—the way he trembled, the way his fingers dug into Noah’s hip, the way his breath came in ragged, uneven gasps spoke otherwise.

"Bedroom," Damian growled. "Now."

Noah looked at him—at all of them—and saw the same hunger reflected in their eyes. The same desperation. The same barely leashed need.

Killan’s chest heaved, his hands clenched at his sides. "Noah, please. I don’t know how much longer I can—"

"We need to complete this," Eugene said, his voice shaking. "We need—"

"Enough." Lysander’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and commanding. He looked at Noah, his eyes dark with something that looked almost like pain. "Noah. Tell us what you want."

Noah’s body screamed yes.

His mind screamed no.

But when Lysander’s lips brushed against his ear, when his voice—low and rough and utterly wrecked—whispered, "Tell me to stop," Noah knew the truth.

He didn’t want to stop.

He wanted all of them.

And the gods help him, he was going to have them.

"Don’t stop," Noah breathed. "Don’t any of you stop."

The words hung in the air for one breathless moment.

Then Damian surged forward, capturing Noah’s mouth in another searing kiss. Killan’s hands found his waist, pulling him back against his chest. Eugene’s lips traced down his neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. And Lysander—Lysander watched with eyes that burned like flames, his control finally shattering as he stepped forward to claim his place among them.

Noah surrendered to it. This was his last shred of control shattering. Fuck regret and danger he was getting laid by them.