Fallen Angel's Harem in the Abyss
Chapter 45: The city of despair - 4

Chapter 45: The city of despair - 4

SWIRRSH~

Vines sprang up between them in a fluid motion, coiling together to form a wall of twisting leaves and buds, thick enough to obscure sight but not sound, their crimson petals unfurling like a curtain drawn for privacy.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Nyxsha barked from the other side, her voice sharp, immediately followed by the sound of her claws scraping against the vines, trying to tear through.

"Don’t do weird things to him, plant-freak!"

"Why the secrecy?" Azareel asked softly, glancing toward the leafy partition, his brow furrowing slightly.

Sylvara leaned in close, her scent of sun-warmed sap and crushed berries enveloping him.

"Because sweetness... is best shared quietly," she whispered, her voice a caress, laced with an undercurrent of something deeper, vulnerable.

He tilted his head, still unsure, his hands resting gently on his lap as the firelight danced across his face.

Sylvara’s presence was intoxicating, her glowing skin veined with gold and green, her berry-stained lips curving in a tender smile.

She knelt in front of him, graceful, her movements fluid and slow.

The petals covering her chest shifted slightly, and with a flick of her fingers, they peeled away like shy curtains, revealing the soft, golden curves of her bare breasts, their surface shimmering faintly in the flame’s glow.

Azareel flushed instantly, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red, his stumps twitching slightly under the simple cloth on his back.

"Ah... uh... Sylvara...?" he stammered, his silver eyes wide, his voice a mix of surprise and innocence.

"They carry nectar," she said softly, her tone still gentle but with an undercurrent of longing, her amber eyes meeting his without shame.

"It’s part of my bloom. The dryads of old used to share it with wounded spirits... or those they longed to nurture."

His mouth opened to say something, but no sound came, his gaze flickering away before returning, drawn by her vulnerability.

Sylvara cupped his cheek with one vine-ringed hand, her touch light, reassuring. "You don’t have to, Heartwood. But I thought... you might like something sweet."

Azareel blinked again, his flush deepening, but his silver eyes softened with curiosity. "So it’s like... fruit juice?" he asked, his voice hesitant, trying to make sense of the moment.

Sylvara smiled with a strange tenderness, her petals rustling faintly. "Something like that," she whispered.

"...Okay," he said softly, his voice barely audible, his innocence shining through.

Nyxsha’s voice came through the vines again, sharp and frantic. "AZA?! Hey! SAY SOMETHING DAMMIT!"

Azareel didn’t answer.

He moved forward slightly, his movements careful, almost reverent.

Sylvara cradled the back of his head with gentle fingers, guiding him toward the swell of her breast.

He paused, his breath warm against her skin, then opened his mouth, his lips closing softly over the flushed surface.

The first taste was subtle—warm, like sunlight dripped into honey, spreading across his tongue with a faint tang of something wild and ancient.

As he suckled lightly, the nectar filled his mouth—sweet, with an undercurrent of earth and bloom that made his senses hum.

His silver eyes fluttered closed, a soft hum escaping him.

Sylvara exhaled, long and slow, her eyes fluttering shut, her body trembling faintly.

Her fingers brushed through his silver-white hair, petting him gently, her vines quivering around them in quiet ecstasy.

She said nothing, but her presence wrapped around him, nurturing, longing.

Outside the partition, Nyxsha was still shouting, her claws raking the vines.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT IN THERE?!"

Virelya chuckled faintly, her golden eyes glinting with amusement. "Let him enjoy his... snack."

Azareel’s cheeks were flushed, his silver eyes half-lidded as he gently suckled Sylvara’s soft breast, the sweet nectar dripping at the corners of his lips, warm and fragrant like melted honey soaked in sunlight.

The taste lingered on his tongue, a blend of blooming flowers and something deeper, nurturing, pulling him into a haze of contentment.

Sylvara’s fingers lovingly combed through his silver-white hair, her amber eyes softened with satisfaction, a hum of pleasure blooming in her throat, her vines rustling faintly around them like a living curtain.

"Such a gentle one," she whispered, her voice a melodic caress, her glowing skin veined with gold and green shimmering in the firelight. "Drink, Heartwood. Drink until your hunger forgets the void."

Azareel nodded against her skin, too lost in the surreal softness of the moment to respond with words, his hands resting lightly on her waist, the warmth seeping through him like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

The makeshift partition of vines and petals enclosed them, the outside world fading into irrelevance, the garden’s hum a distant lullaby.

Or so he thought. _{fr.e ewe.bno.vel .com}

"WHAT. THE HELL."

The sound cracked through the air like thunder, the vine wall exploding in a storm of green leaves and shredded petals, flinging debris like confetti from a rage-fueled party.

Sylvara barely had time to gasp, her amber eyes widening in surprise, before a dark blur charged through, hissing with such feral rage that Azareel almost bit down in shock, his mouth pulling away with a wet pop from her nipple, nectar trailing from his lips.

"NYXSHA—?!" he yelped, his voice muffled and dazed, his cheeks burning crimson as he blinked up at her.

She stood there—eyes burning like molten gold, tail thrashing like a whip in a hurricane, arms shaking with barely contained fury, fangs bared in a snarl that could curdle blood.

Her black fur puffed out like a storm cloud ready to unleash lightning, her golden eyes locked on Sylvara with murderous intent.

"You. Chest-gardening. Leaf-stripper," Nyxsha pointed a trembling claw at Sylvara, her ears flattened back against her skull, her voice a venomous roar.

"I let you live. I let you bloom. AND THIS IS WHAT YOU PLANT?!"

Sylvara, unfazed despite the interruption, cupped her breast with one hand, her lips curving into a smug, unrepentant smirk, her flowering hair rustling as if amused by the outburst.

"He was thirsty. I only offered sweetness. You were watching—wasn’t it tender?" she purred, her amber eyes glinting with mischief.