Fallen Angel's Harem in the Abyss
Chapter 46: The city of despair - 5

Chapter 46: The city of despair - 5

"YOU BUILT A VINE TENT FOR THIS??!" Nyxsha bellowed, her tail slamming the ground hard enough to send petals flying, her claws unsheathing with a metallic shink.

Sylvara tilted her head, her vines curling lazily behind her.

"Privacy is sacred. Intimacy should be slow-grown. He was very... responsive," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction, glancing at Azareel with a fond, teasing smile.

Azareel looked between them, confused and guilty, his face still flushed, nectar glistening on his chin.

"She said it was a secret," he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his silver eyes wide with innocence.

"You sucked her!!" Nyxsha barked, her voice cracking with outrage, her golden eyes flashing as she lunged forward.

"I... thought it was food..." Azareel stammered, his silver-white hair tousled, his torn robe shifting awkwardly as he tried to sit up straighter.

"AND DID YOU LIKE IT?" Nyxsha demanded, her tail thrashing wildly, her fur standing on end like an indignant porcupine.

Azareel paused, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, his cheeks burning even brighter.

Then he nodded, his voice small but honest. "It was... very sweet."

Sylvara giggled, utterly unrepentant, her amber eyes sparkling with delight as she adjusted her petals, the sound light and melodic amid the tension.

WHAM.

Nyxsha leapt across the space and tackled Azareel, snatching him from the ground like a stolen loaf of bread, her massive arms wrapping around him in a possessive crush.

He let out a confused squeak, his legs dangling as she hauled him up.

"HEY!" Sylvara shouted, her vines whipping out in protest, petals shedding like angry confetti.

Azareel let out a muffled noise as Nyxsha wrapped her tail tightly around him like a snake claiming her prize, her black fur enveloping him in a fluffy prison.

"You’re not allowed to be corrupted!" she roared, her golden eyes blazing with jealous fire.

"Corrupted?" Virelya’s voice whispered from the shadows, slithering in unnoticed, her porcelain mask cracking with a sly smile as she emerged, her damp black hair clinging to her pale skin.

"He sucked one. He can suck another," she purred, her golden, slit-pupiled eyes glinting with wicked amusement.

Azareel’s eyes widened in his tail-wrapped cocoon, his voice muffled. "I didn’t mean to cause a problem..."

Virelya slithered closer, her veils rustling as she slowly extended one pale, delicate finger toward her own chest, pulling aside the veil that clung loosely to her damp skin, revealing the soft curve beneath.

"I’m curious. Does he make the same sounds with everyone?" she teased, her voice a breathy hum laced with seduction.

Nyxsha lunged again—this time dragging Azareel behind her like a wild animal stealing prey from predators, her roar echoing through the glade.

"NO! No more sucking! No milking! No teasing!" she bellowed, her tail tightening protectively around him, her black fur puffing out in a chaotic storm of jealousy and fury.

Sylvara arched a brow, her vines curling defensively.

"He’s immortal. Let him choose his sweet," she said, her amber eyes narrowing, her flowering hair blooming brighter with indignation. fr eewe(b)nove.l.co\m

"He’s mine! I mean—he’s my prey! I mean—stop confusing him!" Nyxsha stammered, her golden eyes darting between the two women, her claws flexing as she backed away, Azareel bouncing slightly in her grip.

Azareel, wrapped in tail and chaos, clutched his robe like it could protect him from the estrogen-charged madness, his silver eyes peeking out with wide-eyed innocence.

"I didn’t mean to cause a problem..." he repeated, his voice small amid the storm.

Virelya slithered beside Sylvara, her golden eyes gleaming with delight.

"You are a problem, Still One. A soft, juicy problem," she purred, her coils twitching as if ready to join the fray.

Sylvara folded her arms under her chest, her vines rustling.

"Let him go," she demanded, her voice a melodic command.

"No," Nyxsha snarled, her grip tightening.

"Then we’ll all cuddle," Sylvara suggested, her amber eyes sparkling with challenge, her vines unfurling slightly.

Azareel made a tiny sound, a mix of surprise and bewilderment, his cheeks flushing deeper.

Virelya hissed with delight, her porcelain mask cracking wider.

"I like that idea," she whispered, her coils slithering forward.

"NO!" Nyxsha roared, her voice echoing like thunder, lifting Azareel fully off the ground and sprinting away like a thief in the night, her paws pounding the moss, her tail a fluffy prison around him.

"MINE! MINE! NO MORE TITS!" she bellowed, her words trailing behind her in a chaotic echo across the courtyard.

Sylvara watched them go, her vines drooping slightly, a faint smile curving her berry-stained lips. "I wasn’t done blooming..." she murmured, her amber eyes lingering on the path.

Virelya coiled beside her, her golden eyes following the trail of Nyxsha’s dust vanishing into the dark, her mask tilting with amusement.

"...Should we chase them?" she asked, her voice a breathy tease.

Sylvara looked at her, one vine lazily curling a rosebud around her finger, her expression thoughtful. "He’ll come back. He always does."

Virelya nodded, her coils relaxing slightly.

"...Still want him to suck yours?"

"Eventually."

_______

Nyxsha stormed through the crumbling, crooked alleys of the Abyssal city, her tail wound tightly around Azareel like he was a stolen relic, her massive paws thudding against the veined stone with each furious step.

Broken towers loomed above like skeletal fingers clawing at the ink-dark sky, their jagged edges casting long, twisting shadows that seemed to shift when not watched directly.

The cracked ground pulsed occasionally underfoot, a subtle throb echoing the slow, breathing hunger of the Abyss, the air thick with the metallic tang of rust and faint whispers that might have been wind—or something else.

She didn’t care.

She just wanted to get away.

Get him away—from that vine-throttling, petal-flaunting tit-witch Sylvara, who had no shame, and Virelya, whose teasing coils were a menace.

Her black fur bristled with a mix of rage and something sharper, something she refused to name, her golden eyes flashing in the crimson gloom.

That kiss—nectar, whatever Sylvara called it—had been too much, too intimate, too wrong for someone as pure as Azareel.