Archive of Our Own

Human, human, human -- the scent calls out to Merlin, echoing through the thick forest, bouncing off the trees. Low hanging branches catch his fur as he barrels past. He doesn’t slow; the woods teem with wolves with senses as keen as his.

He finds the human in a clearing, his blond hair shimmering in the moonlight.

Merlin steps cautiously forward. He sees no weapons, smells no other humans, but he’s been tricked before.

The man startles at the sight of him but quickly recovers. “You.” His face is marred with confusion. “I dreamt of you.”

He smells like the hunter, Pendragon; they share the same blood. The scar on Merlin’s calf still aches where the trap tore through his skin three months before. He feels it each transformation and wonders if the slice of his claws on the hunter’s chest left similar jagged silver lines.

Merlin readies himself to bolt as the human edges closer.

“I’ve dreamt of you since I was a child.”

The words are spoken as though they slip out without permission. Merlin struggles to catch their meaning. His brain is sluggish while he’s a wolf; all he knows is the stench of hate the older Pendragon carried with him is missing in his kin.

There’s a crack of a twig in the darkness beyond the clearing. Merlin pounces. If the human runs, he’ll be torn to pieces.

Merlin barks out three booming warnings, staking his claim.

There’s a return bark. A heated moment passes and the human stops struggling. The unseen wolf darts away in a rustle of leaves, letting Merlin win this battle without a fight.

A growl reverberates in Merlin’s chest as he watches the trees for any other visitors. Beneath him, the man’s breath is ragged with Merlin’s weight on his chest. He smells of fear and, beneath that, lust. It takes Merlin by surprise, the rich tang of it prickling his nose and warming his belly. No human’s ever reacted to him in this way. He stares down at the wide eyes, pupils blown until only thin rims of blue look back at him. The stranger is beautiful – strong jaw and full lips.

Helpless to the scent, Merlin presses his nose to the young Pendragon’s neck, his hair, under his arm.

The man whimpers and the smell of want overtakes that of fear. His hands slide into Merlin’s thick black fur, tugging like he’s been waiting for this all his life. Merlin’s wonders if maybe he has, and the thought shoots through him like a blaze of fire.

He’s been hiding this part of himself, struggling with his own self-hate since that morning he woke, a massive bite to his thigh oozing tainted blood. But this man doesn’t look at him with disgust, doesn’t curl his lips like the hunters do – fire in their eyes and crossbows in their hands.

Instead of pushing him away, the human’s hips tilt up. His jean covered crotch is rough against Merlin’s unsheathed cock.

Merlin doesn’t trust his own restraint. His teeth, his claws – his instincts urge him to take, take, until his desire is sated and the human’s left broken. He reels at the thought, climbing off.

Hurt flashes in Pendragon’s eyes. Humiliation. He covers his crotch as if he can hide when the air around them is alive with the scent of his lust.

Merlin noses the hand away, shoving his muzzle against the bulge there, his mouth watering at the intensity of the scent. He licks at the denim and the man lets his legs fall open. He continues until the fabric is sodden and Pendragon fumbles with his zipper, hands trembling as he exposes his cock to the night air and Merlin’s powerful jaw.

Merlin’s heart pounds at the trust, the vulnerability this man presents despite the broadness of his shoulders and thick curve of muscle beneath his shirt. Merlin’s long tongue dips low to tease the human’s tight sack before curling around his cock, lapping ruthlessly. The man cries out, tugging at the fur behind Merlin’s ears as he gives over to his orgasm, rutting against Merlin’s muzzle. Come splatters Merlin’s nose, clinging wet and sticky to the fur around his face. It’s salty and bitter on his tongue as he cleans himself and then the man.

Merlin stays the night, curled next to the human, pressing his scent on the sleeping form, claiming him as pack. Should he come looking for Merlin again, he won’t be touched by another.