Don't get us killed.  Such a simple request.  Miaren dips her head, as though Fern has just bested her in a contest of wills.  Perhaps this will give the illusion that Fern has been cooperating all along.<br/><br/><em>I'm not - completely inexperienced,</em>she sends back, hoping to reassure the half-elf.<br/><br/>She turns her head again, moving so that Adamion's shaft now touches her lips.  She begins to lick, precisely as commanded.  She doesn't take him into her mouth.  She doesn't lay kisses upon that reddened flesh.  One time, a mage she was traveling with used a spell to make ice out of fruit juice too young to ferment, and now Miaren licks at Adamion like she had to lick at that frozen delicacy.