Title: What The Eye Saw
Disclaimer: I lay no claim to any of the characters and no copyright infringement is being intended.
Author's Notes: This story is quite... strange. Or, to say it in the words of Bernard Black: "It's dreadful, but at least it's short.":-)
Moody knew that he wasn't much to look at, really.
Actually, that was an understatement.
He'd never been a beautiful boy, like that Potter brat, or a handsome man like Remus Lupin, hell, he'd never even been striking like Snape was, cursed be that traitor's name. No, he'd always been… nondescript. After Voldemort's Death Eaters had finished with him, 'non-descript' was certainly the last word anyone would have used to describe him, but Moody was reasonably sure that this was not actually an improvement.
There was the leg. There was his nose (well, what was left of it, anyway). There was the eye.
He actually quite like his eye. His magical one, that is. Not only did it allow him to see through the back of his head, no, it could also serve voyeristic purposes - he'd never have guessed just what kind of underwear that imbecile Fudge went for, nor Tonks, for that matter – as well as double his money's worth when he got up the nerve to go to a brothel.
And it was lovely in a way, popping out his eye and putting it in a glass of clear water on the nightstand, skillfully ignoring the whore's quiet look of disgust. Watching him – or her, if he was feeling particularly adventurous – slowly undress from both sides, admiring cock and arse at the same time. Moody always made a point of letting his partner ride him, so that he could just lie back and enjoy the show, so to speak, that incredible feeling of being envelopped by tight heat, watching someone slide up and down on him…
Oh yes, watching was one of Moody's favourite past-times. He often closed his real eye and let the sensations wash over him, while his magical eye hung suspended in that glass of water, sending images of himself and the whore through his mind, in addition to pictures of the door and the dark corners of the room.
Because, a magical eye that would let him see himself in the middle of a good shag was all good and well, but a rotating magical eye was just bloody fantastic. It allowed Moody to get his brains fucked out and not to neglect the one thing, most important to him, at the same time –