It was easy.
It shouldn't have been so bloody easy.
The first time was almost an accident-Arthur had come back from killing bandits, his blood still singing in his veins. Was it because his dark hair made him think of Guinevere? Did his small frame seem womanish?
Or was it simply because he was there?
-hot lips, covering his, smothering his objections-
But the momentary madness was gone just as soon as it had begun, Arthur backing away with a horrified look on his face. Without even thinking, Merlin had uttered the spells for slumber and forgetfulness.
And with a few simple words, Arthur forgot.
But not Merlin. Merlin couldn't forget.
-hands, reaching, grasping, groping, fondling-
It was so much easier to be near him, knowing that he didn't remember.
It happened again, almost comically. Arthur was drunk, unable to walk straight, or walk, for that matter. Lying him in bed, Arthur's hand shooting out with surprising dexterity, pulling Merlin on top of him into another bruising kiss.
-straddling him, warm hands in his hair, pressing him flush against powerful muscles, holding him down, drowning him, unable to think, to breathe-
That time it took only the sleep spell; the alcohol took away his memory of his actions the night before.
The third time was worse-harmless liquid in the other cup?
No.
-hands tugging at his clothes, tearing the fabric, latching onto tender skin-
The spells, as well as charms to warn off memories, sewn into his clothes.
The fourth time-each time so much more intense, more needy-
-talented lips tracing his, tongue laving a path from his neck to his navel, almost there, almost, almost-
But no.
He couldn't taint Arthur with this.
Stronger spells, stronger charms, needing to wipe his mind clean as a slate whenever that familiar luster flickered in his eyes.
Was it lust?
Was it love?
Could he chance loving him?
...The fifth time. That damned witch, that bloody perverse witch-
-Arthur's eyes, glowing poisonous green, burning into him as he went down, down, down onto him, babbling, trying to get him to stop, stop, hot wet too much, stop, Arthur-
The curse lasted only as long as him; Arthur remembered nothing.
He couldn't let him in, couldn't let him see through all the masks, all the walls, all the lies-
…
The sixth time.
He didn't know where he came from, who he was, what he was-but now they no longer worked.
No spells.
No charms.
No masks.
No walls.
No lies.
No protection to shield Arthur from what had happened, what he had done.
But truly, the prince really was a fool if he denied Merlin being a wizard now.