The moon hangs like a plump, ripe peach in the sky as Nathan slams him face-first into the wet dirt, snarling and spitting in Arthur’s ear; both of them half-shifted, panting hard, soiled from tussling around the mouth of the muddy cave.
The wind yawns through the treetops outside, scattering the full moon’s light across the cave’s entrance. Arthur’s limbs are sore and he’s fucking tired, but the dig of claws in his back makes him feel more alive than howling at the stars.
He rolls his head aside, baring his neck.
“Now say it,” Nathan says.
Arthur’s lips curl into a smirk, hoping Nathan can see it, and replies with a simple, “No.”
Nathan growls again, his claws sinking into the fur at Arthur’s nape. Fuck, the pain is so good, Arthur nearly moans from it.
“Last chance,” Nathan says. “Say it, or we do this the hard way.”
“I quite enjoy the hard way,” Arthur quips, knowing full well what he’s getting himself into, what’ll happen when he’s mashed all of Nathan’s buttons like a mischievous child in an elevator.
He’s no longer sure if they’re rivals, or enemies, or what. They’re whatever it is when two equally intelligent but polar opposite personalities regularly end up in heated debates at the back of the Art History lecture hall.
Arthur expects his comment to force Nathan’s hand, but instead he hears a cold laugh over his shoulder. “We’ll see,” Nathan says, releasing Arthur’s neck and standing to back away from him entirely. “I can easily find someone else to pass the time.”
Playing dirty with a hollow threat. Arthur flips over, his tail curling defensively over his crotch as his ears flatten. “Who else in the pack is going to fuck you?”
“You don’t know everything I get up to in my spare time,” Nathan says, folding his arms over his silvery chest. He’s grey-white all over—from his spider silk hair spilling around his furry ears right down to his clawed feet; a streak of starlight against Arthur’s dull, ruddy fur. His expression is mocking, and Arthur knows he’s being strung along but a smart part of him wonders if Nathan really would leave if he insulted him enough.
He bows his head and crawls on all fours until he sits at Nathan’s feet; then he slides a hand up Nathan’s leg, burying his face in the fur along Nathan’s thigh. He can smell his musk, face so close to his cock he’s almost delirious.
“Don’t,” he says weakly. “Don’t leave.” Doesn’t care how pathetic he looks or sounds. They’ve spent so many full moons together that he can’t imagine going through it with someone else; or worse, being alone.
Nathan hums as his hand lands on Arthur’s head. “That’s what I thought,” he says, dragging his claws through Arthur’s thick fur. “Your apology, please.”
Arthur glances at Nathan’s cock, the tip shiny and flushed. He folds his legs neatly under him, boosting him to eye level, but he keeps a reasonable distance because he knows how Nathan wants it–or doesn’t want it, rather, so he simply tilts his head back and opens his mouth.
Nathan angles his cock, his scent pushing deeper into Arthur’s flared nostrils. Arthur holds still as it slides past his lips, over his tongue; he tries to relax his jaw, his throat, taking every fed inch until his lips brush the swell of a knot.
“Go on, then,” Nathan says, his hold still firm on Arthur’s head. “Apologize.”
Arthur swallows against the girth in his mouth, pulling back before he shoves forward. His tongue reawakens, tracing the tip whenever it passes, salt and tang smearing on his tastebuds.
What Arthur may never say aloud is that he fucking loves this; loves being claimed by someone who matches him in wit and skill and strength. He’d missed entire lectures thinking about this very moment, hoping he could work Nathan up enough that he’d grab Arthur’s head with both hands and fuck his face and just take what’s his.
And when Nathan’s grip suddenly tightens in his fur, his stomach clenches with that same hope—yet Nathan only wrenches Arthur’s head off his dripping cock and sneers, “Say it.”
Arthur licks his lips. “No.”
Nathan tugs Arthur’s scruff and slaps him. “Say it.”
Arthur’s cock twitches at the contact as he presses his lips together to keep from moaning, from asking Nathan to do it again.
Nathan takes a deep breath above him, his palm flattening against Arthur’s crown. “Haven’t learned your lesson, I see,” he says, petting Arthur’s fur with mocking gentleness.
“Try harder,” Arthur says, voice rasping from more than one uttered word.
Nathan’s eyes flash, his smirk not dissolving. He shoves Arthur onto his cock again, grip relaxing when Arthur’s lips once again brush his knot. “You know what I should do with that rude little mouth of yours?” he murmurs.
Arthur feels the stretch of his brows as he looks up, eyes wide with intrigue and terror.
Nathan laughs and digs his claws deeper. His eyes drop, and Arthur’s gaze follows where Nathan is thumbing his knot with his other hand. Then he brushes the stretched corner of Arthur’s mouth. “Think you could take it?”
Arthur huffs out his nostrils, hoping Nathan can somehow read the stubborn determination in his eyes.
Nathan laughs again, giving Arthur’s cheek a quick pop that makes his lashes flutter. “Bet you’d like it, the way you’re choking on my cock right now.”
Arthur tries to hum in response, but when it comes out more of a gurgle, he reaches for Nathan’s thigh and squeezes.
“I’m glad you agree,” Nathan says, sounding genuinely pleased as he cups Arthur’s jaw with both hands. He shifts his hips and pulls his cock out until the tip rests on Arthur’s tongue. “Deep breath,” he says, with genuine softness this time.
Arthur fills his lungs until they ache. Nathan’s brows pinch and when he doesn’t move, Arthur takes another breath—then another—and nods.
Nathan strokes himself with one hand to slick up his knot, wild and wide-eyed like he can’t believe he’s allowed to do this. He resumes his dual hold on either side of Arthur’s head as he slowly edges forward.
By now Arthur is used to the slide of Nathan’s cock, but when the knot presses heavy against his lips, he sucks in another quick breath through his nose, his eyes watering as his mouth is breached.
“Easy,” Nathan whispers.
Arthur mirrors the hand on Nathan’s furry thigh with his other because suddenly he’s shaking, watching Nathan’s lips part in concentration until the knot finally pops in. They both make a sound—a gasp from Nathan and a sharp rumble deep in Arthur’s throat.
“Holy fuck,” Nathan mutters, eyes still blown open as his fingers graze the bulge in Arthur’s cheeks.
Arthur blows air out of his nose and squeezes Nathan’s thighs, all he can do to signal that he’s fine. And he is—he can breathe, barely, but it’s overwhelming pressure and a little bit of pain and it’s too late to change their minds—and fuck he’s so hard he feels like he could come from a strong breeze alone.
“I’ll go slow,” Nathan whispers, and the first thrust is the promise—shallow, hesitant. Arthur tries and fails to make another sound of assent. “Fuck,” Nathan says again, like he’s struggling to keep up that cruelly amused façade of his. His claws notch along Arthur’s jaw as he thrusts again with a throttled moan. “Fuck, it’s so tight, I can’t—I can’t—”
His voice dies as he snaps his hips. Arthur grunts, chokes; forces breath in and out of his nose as Nathan finally—finally—fucks his face like he’s wanted for weeks. As tight as the knot is, it proves an imperfect seal—saliva bubbles over his bottom lip and drips down his chin, his cheeks burning as a wet, sucking sound accentuates every thrust.
“You love this, don’t you?” Nathan growls above him. “You’ve wanted this all along, you filthy fucking mutt.”
Arthur digs his claws into the meat of Nathan’s thighs, the knot throbbing against his tongue, his entire face wet from sweat and spit and tears, his mind and vision blurring with bliss. As Nathan’s hands slide around the back of his neck, he tries to work his bulging throat in preparation for what’s hopefully coming.
Nathan’s next moan rises into a howl as he comes hot and thick down Arthur’s throat, leaving Arthur to struggle between breathing and swallowing and coughing. He feels like his insides are pushing out and he drops a hand to his cock and squeezes just as he comes.
The cave goes dark as his eyes roll up, his body going lax with only Nathan’s hands and knot holding him upright. Nathan goes completely still, and when Arthur finally opens his eyes he finds the other lycan peering down at him with true fear in his eyes.
It takes a moment for Arthur to compose himself, his raw throat still trying to swallow even though he’s sure Nathan’s emptied himself by now. He lets his other hand drop from Nathan’s thigh, his chest rattling with a sated groan.
“Shit,” Nathan mutters, running his hands over Arthur’s head. “Shit, Arthur, I’m so—fuck, let me just—let’s sit down.”
They guide each other in tandem until they’re both lying on their sides. Nathan’s hands haven’t left the fur on Arthur’s head but now he’s stroking his ears, fidgeting as much as soothing. He says nothing, their breath the only echo in the dark as Arthur’s upturned hand finds its way to Nathan’s hip.
Eventually his lips feel slack enough that he’s able to ease the knot out. He rolls on his back with a huff and closes his eyes, fully expecting Nathan to carry on with his full moon as he usually does, by completing his shift and tearing off into the night.
He startles when Nathan crawls alongside him and flops across his chest. Arthur realizes with a twinge of panic that maybe they had pushed things too far; that despite their constant in-class bickering and endless exchange of heated glares, despite wrestling in the mud and the snap of teeth, they’d crossed a line.
He hasn’t figured out what to say before Nathan asks, “Did I hurt you?”
Arthur chuffs. “M’fine.”
Nathan props himself up on Arthur’s chest, his eyes narrowed. “I can smell when you’re lying.”
“I’ll be fine,” Arthur amends, then quietly adds, “You were right.”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
Arthur looks away, rolling his tongue along his pointed teeth. “Wanted that for a while.”
Nathan sniffs before he lays down again, wrapping his arms and legs around Arthur’s body. “Apology accepted.”