Bearclaw Valley dancing with the devil

evien took him in stride. merrick enjoyed that, but most of all the tidbit about poisonous mothers — his mouth watered at the savory feel of the image in his head. "was that why you went into plants?" he ventured, pressing the boy for more of the sudden, heavy spike to his ever-muttering brain.
"i like your honesty," merrick murmured, but then for a long time was silent, considering the question. he knew what he wanted, of course, but evien's canniness was like a heavy victorian gown swathing the other from ankles to throat.
he wanted to cut through it, rip it away, leave the medic naked and shivering. "loyalty," his teeth glimmered. "i want to know you will do what i say when i say to do it." no need to lie. this was evien's final test, and they both understood it.
he veered sideways somewhat, sought the brush of flank against flank, even as he circled his scarred face 'round. the boy of toffee and jade, begging a press of lips to thoughtful face. "i need to know if you will kill."
he swung his hip in a sudden strike, aiming to knock evien off balance; he wanted to see that cautious veil fall from the pretty face, see the first nudity of a true response.