[fic] for thete1: The Triple-Cross (World's Sleaziest OT3)

[glossing]

Title: The Triple-Cross
Characters: World's Sleaziest—Gary Glanz, Matches Malone, & Pete the Penman
Summary: The con is complicated, but not half so much as the geometry among these three.
Rating: Adult Filthy
Disclaimer: DC, not me.
Notes: I ignored Waid's Birthright, in that Clark's not a vegetarian. Enormous thanks to romanyg for bringing Pete the

Comments

*screeeeeeeeeeeam* (or maybe I mean '*creeeeeam*')

[thete1]

Okay, so maybe it's more like "aaaahhhhhh" and a little bit of "nnngaah" and a whole lot of "UM!!!" as Jack points out, over my shoulder, beside me, staring unblinkingly at THIS BEAUTIFUL THING.

Excuse me: Beautiful FILTHY thing.

Holy fucking SHIT, LADY. *pants and pants*

I --

They --

Seriously, Jack and I were reading this and just making NOISES. ALL OF THE NOISES. POSSIBLE. THAT IS. Holy -- this is the most perfect beautiful filth-ridden NASTY PERFECT YES I KNOW I SAID THAT ALREADY.

Jack: "I keep expecting you to write perverted."

How can I? This is *them*, and as such -- it can't be perverted any more than they already are. You've left perverted behind and found *natural*, once more, and I swear to God I don't know how to blink anymore. How can I compare? How can I *approach*?

I mean, Matches' clothes, Gary's jerky-twitchy *self*, and Pete's old-fashioned *cool*, maneuvering through the -- yes, *rapids* -- of interpersonal HOLY FUCKING SHIT. One day, I will get you alone and we will go over this word by fucking word, possibly while my hand is up your skirt. (We'll find you a skirt to wear, just for the occasion.)

For the moment:

Superman's cape snaps as he rises in the air, carving a new shadow over the boy's chest.

TOO BEAUTIFUL. What a last line. What a fucking story.

*lays self at your feet*

Oh, MOMMA.