Oh author-anon, it's Christmas in August. I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS, not in the least that you wrote this in Matches' very wonderful, very lovely, very distinct voice. THANK YOU FOR TACKLING THIS PROMPT. This fill is epic, wonderfully sleazy, and deliciously smutty to boot.
"It's fine, sweetheart, I only wanted the cherry anyway, ha, ha. Maybe buy me a drink later if I'm still thirsty, if ya catch my drift."
I swear to god, I heard this in Affleck's voice (complete with Matches' insincere laugh!) and I just. about. died.
Really, I shouldn't quote this entire story back at you--because you wrote it, you know it, you have to know this thing is lovely. But god there is so much to love here. I've read it three times so far, and it just keeps pulling me back in.
He dips into his pocket, licks his thumb and peels a bill from a roll. When Kent goes down onto his knees for a slow grind of his hips, rising staccato in time with the beat, Matches leans over the stage and presses a benjamin against the boy's gleaming chest.
These sentences. How's that for a section ender?? Ugh I could smoosh my face into your prose and be delighted with its smooth, smooth taste for years.
"No," Kent says, in the kind of tolerant tones reserved for speaking to a misbehaving child.
I AM GONE FRIEND.
<3333333333333
please feel free to write all of the Matches Malone fic in the future. This is the perfect intersection between awful plaid and east coast sleaze. *offers you kinkmeme cookies in repayment*
Re: Fill: Cover Charge, Clark Kent/Matches Malone, undercover as a stripper
"It's fine, sweetheart, I only wanted the cherry anyway, ha, ha. Maybe buy me a drink later if I'm still thirsty, if ya catch my drift."
I swear to god, I heard this in Affleck's voice (complete with Matches' insincere laugh!) and I just. about. died.
Really, I shouldn't quote this entire story back at you--because you wrote it, you know it, you have to know this thing is lovely. But god there is so much to love here. I've read it three times so far, and it just keeps pulling me back in.
He dips into his pocket, licks his thumb and peels a bill from a roll. When Kent goes down onto his knees for a slow grind of his hips, rising staccato in time with the beat, Matches leans over the stage and presses a benjamin against the boy's gleaming chest.
These sentences. How's that for a section ender?? Ugh I could smoosh my face into your prose and be delighted with its smooth, smooth taste for years.
"No," Kent says, in the kind of tolerant tones reserved for speaking to a misbehaving child.
I AM GONE FRIEND.
<3333333333333
please feel free to write all of the Matches Malone fic in the future. This is the perfect intersection between awful plaid and east coast sleaze. *offers you kinkmeme cookies in repayment*