Little shop of horrors

Orin x seymour

(M)oral Fixation
TheGreatGreyBeast

Summary:

God, the things he could do to that mouth.
Chapter 1: Temptation

Chapter Text
Orin Scrivello kicked out his motorcycle's kickstand, parking off to the side of a rundown skid row diner. Trash riddled the sidewalk out front and one of the windows had been smashed in and covered with a black trash bag taped on the inside. A real classy joint.

Normally the DDS wouldn't be caught dead anywhere downtown, that's where his practice was and nothing more. But today was a long fuckin' day. The longest he'd had in a while. And he needed a burger, quick.

He pushed the black hair that fell into his face back, and kicked open the front door with his heavy steel-toed leather boots. The bell above the door trembled, ringing more aggressively than it was used to. Orin sauntered in, smirking at all of the patrons who turned to stop and stare at him. Take a picture, he thought, it'd last ya longer.

His boots tracked dirt over the black and white checkered floor as he walked up to the main counter. He leaned up on the counter to scan the menu, though he already knew exactly what he wanted.

He whistled at the woman in the back kitchen and gestured for her to come to the front. She sighed and trudged her way up to the counter. She picked up a pad of paper and a pencil. "What can I help you with sir?" She said. She chewed pink bubblegum and stared daggers into Orin.

He leaned seductively closer to her over the counter. "Get me a burger with fries, would ya doll? And no onions. If I see onions someone's gettin' fired, got that?"

She popped a big pink bubble as she scribbled down his order, trying to drown out his talking all together. "And will that be for here or to go?"

"Oh, to go darlin', I would never eat in a dump like this."

"Coming right up." She said, slamming the order down on the silver spike. She rolled her eyes to herself as she made her way back into the safety of the kitchen. Orin made no attempt to hide the fact that stared at her ass as she walked away.

As soon as she was gone, he sat on the torn faux leather stools with his back to the kitchen, scanning the restaurant while he waited. In the very back corner of the place sat a single man alone, drinking a prissy strawberry shake.

The little plant freak from Audrey's work. Orin had seen him around and talked to him maybe once or twice, but the florist was still an enigma to him. And ever since he'd broken up with Audrey he quit having those fleeting interactions with the man. What a shame, since Seymour seemed so easy to toy with, and one could even say... cute. Still weird as all hell and pathetic to boot, but cute.

Fuck it, he was gonna talk to him. He was waiting on his food anyway, what else did he have to do?

Orin slid slyly into the seat opposite of Seymour in the corner booth. Seymour froze, mouth still on his straw. His eyes went wide and he didn't know what to say. "How's it hangin' freak?" Orin said, resting his head on one hand.

Seymour frowned and slowly pushed his shake away. "That's not my name and you know it." He said, sounding like he wanted to flee the diner.

"I know that, freak. Do ya think I'm dumb?"

Seymour frantically shook his head no.

"Good. It's a nickname, anyhow. You should be flattered."

" Flattered ?" Seymour said incredulously.

"Yeah kid. It's an honor to get a nickname from Dr. Orin Scrivello DDS." Orin smiled, looking more predatory than friendly.

"Well, I-I'm not. Flattered, that is." Seymour scooted back in his seat, like the distance would somehow save him from the dentist's wrath.

Orin narrowed his eyes. "Ya know, you got some guts talkin' back." Maybe I should rearrange 'em. He pushed the shake back Seymour's way. "Don't stop drinkin' on my account. I'm just here ta talk."

Seymour blinked and looked at his drink confused. Orin's stare was unwavering as he fixed his eyes on the man. Seymour complied and sipped the shake straw, revelling in how good it was. Best milkshake this side of skid row, made right here. Orin had a look of glee behind his eyes watching Seymour's mouth work.

Seymour pulled away from his drink, much to Orin's chagrin. "What are you doing in here anyway?" He said, curiosity slowly getting the better of him.

"What, can't a man eat?"

Seymour adjusted his glasses. "Sh-sure. But not you, and not here. You hate skid row." He left out a biting rich boy, though he definitely thought it. He just wasn't a man built for confrontation.

Orin leaned into Seymour's space. "Ya know, I'm startin' ta think skid row has its perks." He said in a low husky voice. His foot rubbed Seymour's leg teasingly under the table.

Seymour flushed bright red head to toe, suddenly realizing this was Orin's way of coming on to him. It was baffling, really. Orin didn't seem the homosexual type, and Seymour didn't seem to be Orin's type. Still, the attention was making Seymour feel sort of special.

A bell rang on the front counter, and the woman from the kitchen called Orin's number order.

"Guess you have to go?" Seymour said, trying his hardest not to sound at least a little disappointed.

"Guess so." Orin said, but made no effort to move. He drew a card and a pen out of his leather jacket's pocket. "Say, all'a them milkshakes gotta mean cavities. Real gnarly ones." He said, writing something on the back of the white cardstock. When he was done he presented it to Seymour. "So here's my card, in case you ever need me." He winked. "Catch ya on the flip side, freak." He slid out of the booth and grabbed his food. On his way out he didn't even so much as glance at Seymour.

Alone, Seymour sighed and read the front of the card. Typical business card, Orin's name and number. He flipped it over to the back and read, "Let me know if that pretty mouth'a yours wants to do anything else xxx -Orin Scrivello (DDS)"