Bearclaw Valley dancing with the devil

and then — humour. mirth. excitement, mingling with his own.
cut by a thousand blades, merrick lay across the defiant form of the other, matching his panting with that of evien. he grinned openly, joyously, down at the newcomer, blood dripping from his chin to lighten the other's pelt from ecru to sanguine.
hearts thudded against one another; merrick shifted himself more firmly against evien, uncaring of who might come upon them entangled such as this. "now," he breathed before sharp inhales, breath returning to him, "wasn't that great?" tongue plied across his own red-stained lips, and then he nosed lower, seeking to lick his own claret slowly from evien's mouth. 
"you could have a future here. with me. with fields," merrick purred roughly when he had finished. "are you ready to do what i say?"