Okay, so it's my first Blaise Zabini/Neville Longbottom fic. I'm working on other pairings, too... I just don't know if I'll ever finish them. I'm also working on a Star Trek story... among other things. I've had this for a while, and just rediscovered it... so I figured I'd post it. It's probably a little out of character... but what do you expect?

Rated: M, for sexual situations, sex, rape, and language

There are minor mentions of heterosexual "relationships". As for homosexual relationships... well, look at the pairing, sweety. And as in the rating, there is sex, a few mentions of rape (nothing too descriptive, I hope), and - of course - language.

And, as you should all know - you DO, don't you? - I own nothing.

Okay... I think I covered everything. If you catch any mistakes, let me know, please.

it's in his kiss

It was just sex. Sex, fornication, lust – sin between the two of us. Mother would be so proud of me, I think, lying to the girl whose eyes say "fuck me" as I think of fucking someone else, of being fucked by you.

It had started with a lie, like everything else in my life. I told the professors I was failing herbology. They didn't check my marks, believed the words of a Slytherin. Fools, the lot of them.

It was dark when I approached you, sitting alone in your little garden, humming like the idiot Gryffindor that you are. The curse that flew towards you was unexpected, came out of my mouth before I could think. You were struggling in the bind, wiggling and trying to break free of invisible ties.

Your eyes screamed and your voice broke that night. No teachers came into the greenhouse to disturb us, trusting you to take care of my tutoring.

I meant to break you that night, and I suppose a part of you did break. In the hallways in passing you flinched away, but in private, when I cornered you, there was a rage, a hot fiery rage that made you hate me as much as I hated you.

You told me, every night we met you told me how much you hated me. Those three dreadful words replaced my name on your lips. I loved you so much for not loving me.

"I hate you. I hate you," you would say, panting in the afterglow, when the world started growing beyond the two of us, your fingers still in my shoulders or around my waist.

The words "no you don't" were never said. By either of us.

*

Gifts weren't exchanged. Kisses weren't exchanged. Words were rarely spoken, just the hatred that we both loved so much.

Fists were shared on occasion, and sometimes pants, when we had to make haste. Once, we switched robes, but nobody noticed.

Positions changed as often as environment, and our exhibitionistic behavior almost got us caught several times, by teachers and students. The ghosts never paid much mind. Perhaps they were used to it, as I'm sure we weren't the only students having sex on school grounds.

I don't know when I stopped fucking girls and just kept to fucking you. It was gradual, I think, or else I would have noticed the abrupt change in my sex life.

I don't know what made me do it. I'd never done it before and I'm sure you hadn't either, before that night, but your lips looked enticing, wet with your hungry tongue searching. I fed it.

It was light, just a simple brush, a simple taste, but it was enough of a shock for you to come, eyes shut and mouth open.

When it was over you looked at me. You never look at me after we're finished, so it surprised me to see the hazy gaze of your eyes on me as I cleaned us up. I stopped to look back at you.

"I hate you," you smiled. "I hate you."

I smiled back. I didn't have to say "no you don't."

I didn't want to.

*

Your friends started getting suspicious as you kept coming in so late at night on a regular basis.

I can see you shrugging it off and blushing, so different with them than you are with me, as you tell them Professor Sprout has been letting you help more in the gardens, a plausible excuse seeing as how you are so good with your hands.

They don't push the issue, but they are still suspicious. They started to watch you more, questioning your daily disappearances.

Your excuses became more wild, more unbelievable by the day, your roommates disbelieving more and more, growing anxious as you lied to them as much as I lied to the girls I used to date.

They started seeing through you, started following you. It grew tiring quickly, trying to hide from they who were actually looking for us.

They stopped, however, when you faced them with the greatest lie of all: the truth.

They didn't believe you, of course, believing it to be just another lie, even as you screamed it at them in the far-from-abandoned hall, showing them, finally, the nerve you dared to show me.

You stood with your hand on the door, ready to turn the handle to the room in which I waited, your friends behind you wondering.

"I'm fucking Blaise Zabini," you said, smiling. I could hear it in your voice, and not the nice, shy smile that you used with friends, but the hard, cold smile you saved for me. "Would you like to watch?"

You entered the room without them, and then you entered me.

"I really hate you," you whispered against my neck.

I smiled and didn't say anything.

*

It stopped being about fucking.

The first kiss ignited the need for more.

Then it was all we did.

The hours we spent before lost in lust were now lost in passion, heated passion shared with a slip of the tongue and a twist of the lips.

The kisses became smaller, lighter.

We both closed our eyes and breathed each other in.

It was tender, you were tender, I was tender…

The next time we came together it was no longer considered fucking.

*

There was no rushing. We were slow, patient. We had experienced the rush before, but never this feeling. This new feeling.

No one asked questions when you started glowing.

It continued, and you stopped saying those three words. You replaced them with my name.

I replaced my silence with yours.

There were secrets hitched in breathless whispers, wanton moans. Touches became gentle and soft. There was a craving hunger that hadn't been there before.

It wasn't just about sex anymore. There was something more there, and it felt a hell of a lot like falling.

We never spoke of love. We barely spoke at all, save for the mindless scream of intense orgasmic pleasure that always seemed to escape. It wasn't about love or hate.

It became more about physical need than actual physical release, a wildly intimate dance that we couldn't stop.

*

What is this? You asked one night. What are we doing here?

What do you mean?

This! You sounded desperate and your breathing was as wild as your eyes. You and me! What are we?

What do you mean?

To be honest, I never thought what we were, what we could be. We were fucking, that's all I knew. You inside me or me inside you.

And then we kissed and that's all I wanted. It wasn't just fucking anymore. It was too… intimate to be considered such a lewd act.

What do you want it to be? I returned.

Your breathing stopped. Your movement stopped. You stopped, just laying there in my arms like it was completely natural.

I don't know what I want anymore.

That night, that's all there was to it.

*

Studying consumed our time together. The few times that we could meet, we shared chaste kisses and little else, a few whispered words in the halls as we passed and intimate caresses when we got too near.

I'm sure people saw, my dorm mates, your dorm mates, people in class or in the library supposedly studying.

You didn't mind what the others thought, content with holding my hand beneath the tables we sat at or kissing me in the bathroom. More often then not, you were the one initiating it.

By the time the tests were over, I wanted more.

*

It was almost time for holiday.

You were making plans to head out the next day to your grandmother's place, stop by the hospital to see your parents on the way.

I didn't have plans, content with staying in the castle until classes resumed.

You kissed me as though it might be the last time.

I didn't want to let you go, so I didn't.

Say you're coming back.

You gave me a look that I didn't understand. I'm not sure you understood it either.

Of course I'm coming back, you told me, a small smile letting me know that you thought my actions were peculiar and somewhat funny.

Not back to the castle, I shook my head, eyes closed so I couldn't look at you. Not back to school.

I took a deep breath. Let it out. It was shaky. I was shaky.

Back to me. Say you're coming back to me.

You laughed. My heart dropped into my belly. I suppose I should've known that you would…wouldn't…

Your forehead found mine and my eyes opened in shock only to see yours. Your smile was so wide I thought it might leave permanent creases in your skin.

Silly, you whispered, and the humor lifted from your features so that you were left with a soft look, something I had only seen in romantic movies and the like. Of course I'm coming back to you.

You wrapped your arms around me, leaned me into the wall and laughed like the evil Slytherin you probably should've been.

I'm only going to be gone for a few days. And then I'll be back, and I'll be all yours.

You already are.

So... what do you think?