its just the gas! (not the romantic tension)

orin's awakening

TW: this is going to be a vent chapter written from the perspective of Orin. Going to contain homophobia, sex talk and SH.

AU: homosexulality is legal, ik it didn't get legalised till 2003 in the US but I'm british and I make the rules!

Orin sat with his feet upon the desk of his dentist office. He was done for the day, finally! The time seemed to drone on for hours. They say time flies when you're having fun, but even for him, it was a slow day.

He unwrapped a stick of chewing gum and began to flick through an old dog-eared magazine about cars or other automobiles. He needed a new exhaust pipe for his motorcycle, some street urchins decided to stuff rubbish up the backpipe, causing the motorcycle to throw him off. He didn't think of it as comedic. He flicked to the next page and saw an advert for a new TV show broadcasting. "Krelborn's gardening tips". Where had he heard that bame before? Krelborn....old school friend? Did he go to medical school with him? But, why would he be interested in botany if he could be a dentist? He chose to forget about it, why does it matter? Unless it's someone I liked? No, it can't be!

Its the plant nerd. Its always the fucking plant nerd. He kept following him, in dreams, in nightmares and his wank material. Orin flicked the waiting room TV to the gardening channel and sure enough, there was his plant nerd, wearing a awkward grin as he explained how much water a petunia needs to survive. His? His plant nerd? That makes them sound like a couple. He looked so good on the TV. Not in a gay way, in a "fashion" kind of way.  He was wearing a new shirt and his slacks were unwrinkled for a change. He had a piece of tape across the nose of his glasses, his doing more likely. Orin laughed, free promotion I guess! Come to Scrivello's to get your faggot ass kicked!

But am I faggot?, he thought. I jerked to Seymour Krelborn, and I came quick. He's feminine, especially his moans as he bent over his office desk and fuc.....

Fuck, I'm hard again. He wasn't gonna get his rocks off in a dentist's office, that probably brakes health and safety. The only bodily fluids here should be spit, blood and, in his particularly cowardly patients, urine. But, he was so *hard*. He turned up the volume on the TV as Seymour began to demonstrate something to do with seeds.
"So first, you plant the seed in a good soil, a pH balance of 6 or 7"

Orin began to unbutton his trousers, slipping in his hand.

"Next you want to push it down with your finger"

"Keep fucking talking, faggot, good boy"

"Make sure it's nice and deep in there!"

He's gotta be doing this on purpose now, but fuck is it good material, Orin thought, keeping a steady motion on his cock.

"Next you want to water it, not too much water, if it's too wet it will drown the seed"

"Make sure to keep the watering regular, new roses are delicate and should be treated with care."

Fuck, the way he was bending over was so slutty. God, how he wanted to stand behind him.

"And, with consistent care, your roses should look like this!"

He produced a rose from under the table in true blue Peter fashion and held it up to the camera.

"Roses were often used to simplify love in Victorian England, a true, sincere love that can never be broken. The English had a whole language around flowers! Ow!"

He pricked his finger on the rose and began to suck the blood off his finger.

Oh shirt, Orin cummed all over his desk, panting a little as he did. You've done it again, you've wacked it to a guy. His voice is feminine and his mannerisms are hot and his glasses make his eyes look all big and adorable and..Oh.My.God. He had a crush on him, he wanted to be with him, he wanted him to give him roses, he wanted him.

Orin arrived home, a sour mood in the air. He wasn't gay, he can't be. He can't be. He stared in the mirror, the bruise on his head had begun to fade, many people asked about it, his answer was a bar fight. He wasn't gonna tell them he did it himself, that's sissy shit. He was already in enough hot water, why salt the wound? God, he wanted Seymour so bad. He wanted to him here, on his knees, taking him down to the root. Homosexulality was legal in Skid Row, hell, there was a lesbain couple that lived above him. He just couldn't be gay. No,no,no! That goes against everything. Just the idea of Seymour staring at him through those coke-bottle lenses his cute puppy dog eyes whilst his mouth was around him was enough to make any man question himself. It was decided, he was gonna fuck Seymour, no matter what.

Sorry if this is shit, it was rushed 😑