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Harry and Severus Read Fan Fiction in Bed

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Harry and Severus Read Fan Fiction in Bed

 



"So can I read you my latest favorite fan fiction? The one I just found this morning?"

Propped up against the padded black suede headboard of their king size bed with his laptop propped on his lap, Harry Potter glanced over at Severus Snape, who was marking student papers with an Ever-Flo quill pen and copious red ink. Snape shrugged and continued the scritch-scratch of his insults across the top of a neatly written parchment.

"C'mon Sev'rus, you'll just love this one?" wheedled Harry, widening his green eyes and tipping his head down so he was looking out through his bangs at his lover. "You know how excited I get reading aloud to you."

Snape paused and squinted suspiciously at Harry over his narrow silver reading glasses. He was very vain about his need for those glasses - Snape and Harry had been living together for more than a month before Snape allowed his lover to see him wearing them. It had been a difficult few weeks for Snape's students - the Potions Master's comments, written late at night after Harry fell into an exhausted sleep, had been unusually derisive.

"No 'leaking pricks'?" asked Snape in a dubious tone.

"I know they make you think of disease . . . " grinned Harry back.

Harry was freshly showered and wearing his new Slytherin green flannel pajamas, which he had every confidence that Snape would be peeling from his body very soon. Snape's black satin nightshirt was already unbuttoned almost to his waist, but the Potions Master had insisted on completing his work before allowing Harry back beneath the layers of velvet coverlets shielding his lap.

"No, 'One, two, three fingers in, and suddenly you've got a warm, welcoming vagina of an arse'?" continued Snape.

The two shared a reminiscent chuckle at the memory of their shared efforts to achieve even slight penetration in the early days of their relationship. Harry's first time mounting Snape's generous member had not been ecstatic for either of them.

"Promise," retorted Harry. "Now listen to this . . . . ."

'It was a dark and stormy night, and the Death Eaters were sitting around the campfire . . .'

"No, please," interrupted Snape, raising one thin hand and rolling his eyes at Harry. "Not another Death Eater bondage story, if I'm to finish this work tonight. I do not have time for ropes, and whips, and chains, and then all the healing spells your penchant for playacting would require."

Harry pretended to pout, then relented when Snape simply sniffed and went back to his marking.

"No really, Severus, they're just telling stories around the campfire - about what a great lover you were - and how much they hate me, by the way."

Snape looked over again with more interest, one eyebrow raised in inquiry.

"They all say 'Damn you, Harry Potter' in unison at one point - I always imagine that line of the story in the voice of John Stewart from the Daily Show."

Snape's mouth twisted in irritation. "I don't enjoy American humor at all," he responded, looking back down at the paper he had been marking with increasing irritation. Harry's television habits had not endeared him to Snape. "Can't you find something more . . .consensual?"

Harry shrugged but turned his attention back to the lit screen glowing on his lap. No, tonight was not the right night to introduce his lover to the joys of erotic fan art.

"Creaveys!" Snape pronounced in disdain, marking an "F" at the top of a page and tossing it into the growing pile of marked work, disdaining further comment.

'C'mon Sev'rus. You know you love some of the fan fiction . . " said Harry, his fingers flying across the keys. "What about rimming? There's a whole list of stories on it . . . .?"

Snape looked over in confusion. "Why would there be a series of stories just about . . . .?"

He leaned unexpectedly closer to Harry, their shoulders touching, and peered through his glasses at the computer screen.

Oops. Harry hadn't closed all the windows, and one particularly gratuitous image of a very young Harry in a see-through dress perched on Snape's lap was still visible.

"Now that," Snape stabbed his long, stained finger towards the screen, "That, I'd like to see."

"Really?" Harry's eyebrows climbed into his hairline.

"No, not really." Snape smirked at Harry's blush. "Just wanted you to think twice about what you're looking at. As compared to what is real."

Pushing his reading glasses up into his thick black hair, Snape pulled his wand from beneath his pillow and sent all his grading, ink and quills floating towards the desk across the room. Then he wrapped his right arm around Harry's shoulders and let the fingers of his left wander down beneath the coverlets, teasing Harry through the soft flannel of his pajamas.

"Oh I do, Severus, I promise that I do. All I think about is you."

Harry slipped his hands beneath Snape's open silk nightshirt and caressed his lover's bony ribs, feeling Snape's pierced nipples tighten at his touch. The laptop wobbled precariously on Harry's stomach.

"You can read to me some more while I touch you," suggested Snape, in the deep husky tone that always made Harry ache. With an effort, Harry pulled his fingers back to the keyboard, barely stifling a moan as Snape shifted position and his tongue followed the path of his hands. Harry read:

'One of the men, tall, young and muscular with waist length blonde hair, leaned forward, warming his hands over the fire. "Did I ever tell you about the night Severus Snape made me cry?" he said. His companions leaned closer. Veela always gave pleasure rather than receiving it - what could this Snape have done?'

Snape's breath came more harshly than before. Harry grinned again, arching beneath his lover's practiced caresses, noting the increasing roughness and lack of control. Continuing to read, Harry lifted the laptop to allow more room for Snape to maneuver. Just wait until Snape got past his pajama bottoms and noticed his new cockring.

'The beautiful young man shuddered and rubbed his long, elegant fingers together over the fire again. The firelight glinted on the molten gold of his hair. "I was lying naked, asleep, when Severus first came to me, so that I thought the movement of his tongue up my thighs was a part of an erotic dream, so I just spread my legs wider for him . . ."'

Fan fiction in bed. It was a beautiful thing.