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It’s a game they’ve played before.
Merlin sprints ahead, ducking beneath low hanging branches that are weighed down by the thick layers of snow gathered on them and skidding around boulders to stay on a path whose existence only his instincts recognize. Arthur follows, hot on his trail, a few seconds and a pounce away from tackling Merlin to the ground. Merlin can sense his presence, hear his breaths and the hunter in him pushing to catch its prey. The thrill of knowing he is the prey keeps his blood hot and his steps precise as he races through the forest, farther away from the pack in the caves by the river.
Heart pounding, Merlin rounds a large pine tree and leaps over a fallen tree trunk next to it. Arthur might think himself smart if he tries to run below the branches rather than around them, but if he does so then the joke is on him – he will inevitably bonk headfirst into the fallen trunk.
Seconds later he hears a crash and a broken howl, full of disdain and annoyance. Merlin lets out a smug bark, the closest to a laugh he gets to as a wolf. Arthur has recovered and growls as he tries to catch up with Merlin, a few more seconds behind than he was before.
There’s a clearing up ahead and the snow will be heavy and thick there. In the summer it’s a beautiful spot to bring the pack’s pups to play in and to soak in the sun afterwards. Several summer nights Merlin has spent rolling in the grass and sniffing the flowers, stretching out his human limbs against the soft ground and napping with his head on Arthur’s chest.
The moon hangs low and full above them, the untouched snow sparkling all around. Merlin feels the magic in the air, with each sharp breath he takes. Nature is magic as much as he and Arthur are.
He’s reached the clearing and his steps begin to slow unintentionally. His instincts have lost the path they’ve kept him on and he has to decide on where to head next. Fast, if he wants to keep Arthur chasing.
Those few precious seconds the tree trunk had bought him, Merlin has lost now. He charges blindly forward to cross the clearing and disappear among the spiky bushes. Arthur is at the clearing’s edge now, too close behind him. Merlin won’t make it and Arthur seems to know it too, because he’s no longer growling.
When Arthur pounces, Merlin throws himself sideways. He’s not running, sure, but he’s not caught yet either. Arthur lands on his stomach, having been too confident in being able to pin Merlin down with his weight. Merlin snickers breathlessly - soundlessly as a wolf - but Arthur seems to hear it anyway. He bares his teeth and Merlin rolls away again, just in time to avoid getting his belly smacked.
It’s a risky move, but it’s Merlin’s only chance to get running again. Rather than keep rolling away, he gets on his legs and shakes himself off, before leaping forward again.
He gets about half a step away, before Arthur is on him again. He’s hanging onto Merlin with his front legs, just for a second before his teeth bury themselves in Merlin’s nape and he gets a secure grip of the loose skin there.
From experience, Merlin knows there’s no getting away from Arthur now. He’s always been a better hunter than Merlin, whether for play or a real hunt, and no prey has ever escaped his hold. For the excitement, Merlin refuses to give up. He pushes himself backwards, attempting to dislodge Arthur by shaking himself. Arthur growls, low, right behind his ear, his grip of Merlin tightening. It’s not actually uncomfortable, because Arthur never bites down too hard. Just hard enough to keep Merlin where he wants him to be.
Except Merlin doesn’t want to stay still. He bucks and jerks around, stumbling right, left and forward with Arthur hanging off him like a weight around his neck. At some point Arthur gets annoyed with his antics, forcing more of his weight on Merlin, until he buckles under it. It’s an unfair tactic – just because Arthur is bigger and heavier as both human and wolf, he shouldn’t be allowed to use it against Merlin like that.
Even with Arthur fully lying on him, his teeth digging into the vulnerable side of Merlin’s neck, he refuses to yield. Merlin wriggles best he can, which isn’t very well at all. Arthur grunts and transforms above him, his jaw releasing Merlin from its hold.
“Merlin,” Arthur says, exasperated and fond, moving his human legs to straddle Merlin. “I’ve clearly caught you, admit it.”
Merlin barks out a laugh and transforms, the cool snow sending shivers along his skin. Arthur shifts above him, his warmth a pleasant contrasting sensation. His filling cock brushes against Merlin’s back.
“I’ll never admit defeat to you.”
He can hear Arthur roll his eyes. “Fine.”
Arthur kneels between Merlin’s legs. He knows what’s coming, but still, Arthur’s manhandling always manages to quicken his blood flow. He’s pulled backwards, onto his own knees, ass in the air. Despite the cold snow on his sensitive human cock, Merlin grows hard. Arthur’s wide splayed fingers and secure grip is rough on his hip, and the way his other hand circles Merlin’s throat speaks of possessiveness, but he’s adjusting himself so Merlin’s airways are clear and his position comfortable, ever the gentleman. With the pressure of Arthur collaring his neck Merlin breaths lighter.
The initial entry is the most brutal, Arthur never being too easy to take. Merlin did prepare before enticing Arthur to chase him, knowing well how these games end for them, so he doesn’t mind in the least, and welcomes it. Once Arthur finds his pace, he bends forward to come closer, keeping Merlin in place despite having no need to control his mate. Merlin answers each thrust with small jerks of his hips, as much as Arthur allows him to squirm in his hold.
“What about now?” Arthur growls out. His long human nails dig into Merlin’s jugular, prompting a series of moans to fall out. “Do you yield?”
“N-no…”
Arthur huffs a chuckle, his next thrust merciless. Merlin pants and doesn’t hold back any of his sounds. His fingers burrow into the snow, scratching at the frozen ground beneath, his cock hanging low above the sparkling whiteness. In the moment, nothing exists except for Arthur’s heavy cock inside of him, Arthur’s hot breaths against his back and Arthur’s steady hands on his skin. And the moon, watching above them, spreading glitter and faint light over the grounds.
Merlin finishes first, after which Arthur releases on his back. It’s a shame Arthur lets go of Merlin’s throat to wash it off with snow and pull Merlin into his arms so they’re lying nose to nose in the quiet night. Their breaths mingle between them as tiny clouds before the cool air claims the warmth as its own. Merlin’s content; he’s been itching for a good chase for a while. The softness around Arthur’s mouth speaks of the same.
“You’re a difficult playmate.” Arthur closes his eyes, the smile still on his lips. “So unfair, you never follow the rules. And that tree trunk trick was mean to pull on your mate, I’ll definitely get a bruise on my forehead.”
“Not if your mate is dumb enough to think he could discover a shortcut I wouldn’t know about. You’d be fine if you had followed in my footsteps instead of trying to be clever.”
“Hm.”
Merlin shuts his eyes as well. Somewhere an owl hoots. They should return to the pack soon, before someone realizes they’re missing. If someone wakes during the night they might get worried. Alternatively, Merlin will never live down the teasing he’s about to face tomorrow. Everyone knows who to blame when Arthur’s grumpy or bitchy all day because he “didn’t sleep very well”.
But just for a little while longer, Merlin wants to lie in this beautiful clearing and share breaths with his mate.