Adamion absorbs Miaren's suckling as a slice of limestone would.  Her lips and tongue skate their yielding around the pronounced details of his penis, eliciting a rise of languid heat; a hard splinter of dawn rising in the tight cave of her mouth.  Below, where Fern laps, her tongue is treated to an articulate shifting of his scrotum.  Coils of warmth, wire-tight and dense, twist subtly in the sack she licks.  Taste sheds down in threads of salt, branching as they burst on her tongue and roll down.<br/><br/>Adamion remains impassive.  The meat that Miaren's gorge teases shares his stony resolve.  Its arousal makes it into a precipice that her lips clutch in ceaseless tracing of its terrain.  Its movements are mean, elusive despite its size: A torpid lift of its slender, stiff back; a lazy swell of its tip; the shove of the central vein as fluid pushes reluctantly through the slitted end in sticky hints.<br/><br/>All the while, his caresses contain the busy heads clustered to his groin.  They stroke in firm circles, embellished and affectionate in their lithe way - skimming deep over scalp and through tousled hair.  Then, after a long chorus of wet silence, Adamion speaks.<br/><br/><strong>"Switch now.  Tell her to do as you do."</strong>Adamion says, his voice a pointed scratch on black enamel.<strong>"Then take me deep."</strong>