Author: Lipstickcat
E-mail: [email protected]
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Snape/Lockhart
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I�m sorry, Rowling, I know you didn�t intend for your characters to be doing this, but if you let your muses wander in my brain, these things happen. I�m not making a penny and you are, if that�s any consolation
Notes: So far, I�ve read the first two books and I�ve not seen any of the films. I know I�m slow on the bandwagon. *shrugs*
***
A low light flickered across the walls of Gilderoy Lockhart�s office, cast by several nearly burnt out candles; the hour was well past midnight. The amber flame danced over a host of photographs of the new Professor of the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, highlighting their expressions in warm orange and deep shadow. Many of the photos had their backs turned away from the room, some even clamping their hands over their ears. Others had covered their faces with their hands, peeking through slitted fingers at the events in the office. More still stared at the scene, eyes wide, mouths gapped open in shock, a rosy flush colouring their cheeks, horrified by what they could see but unable to tear their gaze away. One photo was taking notes.
The real Gilderoy Lockhart was bent over his desk with his pastel robes hitched up above his waist, the material pooling over the edge of the table and silkily brushing his thighs. Strong pale hands gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into his flesh and stinging just enough for the pain to be sweet.
Severus Snape was fucking the man beneath him for all he was worth. His expression was a mixture of pleasure and concentration and disgust. His upper lip curled in a sneer even as the corners of his mouth pulled out and turned up in a thin lipped smile. His eyebrows knotted together in a frown that fell heavy on his brow and cast his eyes into darkness; only a glint of gratification shone through and it was a gleam that disturbed the photographs watching. He made barely a sound, simply grunting in a gravely voice that made Lockhart weak at the knees and breathing harshly at the effort involved in both screwing the other Professor and in keeping the blond from collapsing to the floor.
Lockhart, on the other hand, was most vocal; it was just as well that the hour was late and no students were up to hear him. A constant stream of haunting mewling sounds drifted down the hallway outside of his office, broken up by loud cries and long, drawn out, moans. He flailed his arms out in front of him and gripped onto anything he could find on the desk, blindly knocking a pile of fan mail to the floor in a flowing river of paper and envelopes. He clutched onto several photos waiting to be signed, crumpling them in his fist as he wailed and flung his head back. His hair was tousled and tangled, clinging to his forehead in sweaty locks. His blue eyes were misted over; he was completely lost to the outside world, lost to the pleasure-pain that centred within himself.
The Professor of Potions came with an efficient snap of his hips, pulling Lockhart to him as he did. It was too much for the other man; he came as well, spilling his seed over his desk and robes, flinging his arms out to embrace the rush of orgasm and knocking over a bottle of ink. The black liquid seeped quickly over the desk, engulfing several other photos, so that the images of Gilderoy within them were forced to crowd into the remaining unblotted pictures. The man himself collapsed onto the desk oblivious to the mess, sighing contentedly.
Professor Snape pulled out and began to rearrange his robes. Lockhart glanced over his shoulder at the loss of contact and then, after a couple of seconds, stood upright and began to tidy himself as well.
�� I� I don�t�. normally�er,� Lockhart smoothed out his robes, trying to ignore the dark, wet, sticky stain that managed to cover most of the front. �That is� I would rather keep this our little secret, if that is ok with you,� he ran a shaky hand over his hair and attempted to brush it through with his fingers.
Severus half turned away, looking over his shoulder to the exit. The full length poster of Gilderoy Lockhart on the back of the door was in the process of tucking himself back into his robes, looking slightly flushed, having taken shameless advantage of the floor show and his own Narcissism. Snape turned back with an unreadable expression that could have been a sneer or an amused half-smile.
�Of course, I wouldn�t care if the whole world knew, but I have to think of my fans,� Professor Lockhart continued, �so many ladies� hearts would be broken if they� Let me show you my gratitude.�
At this, Snape�s mouth did quirk, but the expression quickly faded again as the other Professor spun around and begun to root through the disaster zone that had been his desk. Lockhart pulled out an unblotted, mostly uncrumpled, photo of himself. He found his quill beneath the fan mail landslide and jabbed it into a pool of ink. With a scratchy flourish, he signed his name to the photograph, then he paused and wet his lips in thought before adding a single �X�. His eyes drifted shut as he took a silent breath and fixed his Charming Smile in place before spinning back around and holding out the signed photograph casually between his index and middle finger.
�Here. Something to remember me by��
The door swung shut with an echoing bang.
�Oh,� Gilderoy Lockhart looked forlornly at his smiling image for a moment, eyes scanning over the swirls of his signature and lingering on the single kiss. Then he picked up a letter that he had written from the floor, a reply to fan mail, and stuffed the photo into the envelope.
�Plenty more fish in the sea,� he told himself.
It was a shame he wasn�t interested in fish.
***END***