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Orpheus Music

(by N. Anachronism) When you walk down the aisles of Orpheus Music, you can expect to find just about everything. Orpheus caters to a wide variety of musical tastes and desires, but don’t expect the employees to be so forgiving. I’ve seen people picked completely apart for their taste in music in that place. I’ve seen kids run out the door crying, clinging to that manufactured boy band album they just had to have. And though I’d always bitch to the guys about losing customers, I always felt a little surge of vindication. Orpheus Music was built for the music snobs of the world.

I spent at least half of my week in that place, wandering the stacks, digging through the bargain bins, carefully flipping through dusty records. They might as well have slapped a nametag on me and given me a paycheck. Thom said that almost every time I walked in there. He once threw a broom right at my chest upon entry and told me to go clean up on aisle seven. The sh*t of it is, I actually did it. These guys were the closest thing I had to best friends those days.

So when I walked in on Valentine’s Day, I knew what to expect. The boys had on The Smiths, mixed back-to-back with Magnetic Fields. The store wasn’t decorated. No paper cupids in the window, no foil heart-shaped balloons getting trapped in the rafters. Just Thom and the rest of the kids, moping around to The Smiths. But it made me smile.

I bounded to the counter, put on a big cheesy grin and got right up in Thom’s face. “Happy Valentine’s!” I yelled, watching as Thom rolled his eyes, reaching up to ruffle through his messy brown hair.

“Oh yeah, real f**kin’ happy,” he muttered before glancing back to the kid in the plaid shirt. “Put on five,” he said and almost instantly ‘I Thought You Were My Boyfriend’ came on.

I shook my head a little, ready to distill some more stupid humor into him before I noticed the sadness in his eyes. I sighed to myself, trying to come up with a good excuse to get him alone so we could talk. “Hey, you got that Buzzcocks album in yet?”

Thom nodded and slid from his stool, adjusting that vest he always wore. Any extra patches the store got he’d add to it, so long as he liked the band, that is. So it was safe to say that the vest was pretty covered up by now. But I remember when it was nothing but a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and a sloppily sewn on Cramps patch. He set down the well-thumbed copy of Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club and walked around the counter to me. He stood just a little taller than me, which wasn’t honestly that much. I was around five foot seven, and he couldn’t have been more than five-nine, at least.

I loved the way he looked when he smiled at me, his lips curved up into this elegant, almost sinister smirk every time. It was the perfect smile, and he was giving it to me right now, even though I could tell he wasn’t in the mood for smiling. He nodded and started to the backroom with me following behind like a lost puppy; the way I used to follow the guys around when I first started hanging out with them. I reached up and scratched at the back of my neck, running a hand through my lank black hair. Thom always called me the next Billy Corgan because, as he put it, “that black dye sh*t is gonna make your hair fall out, idiot.” I never really listened to him.

Finally we were back away from the rest of the guys, the music just barely audible between the stacks of music. I tilted my head up to him, my green eyes glinting softly. I couldn’t lie, the whole way back here I’d been expecting something more than just a little talk about Thom’s feelings. I wasn’t stupid. I’d been noticing the way he looked me up and down every time I came into the store, the way he was always the first one to talk to me and the last one to say goodbye. Maybe he’d been expecting something of me, too. Through all his teasing, all of his goth kid jokes, I knew I was something special to him.

I hadn’t realized how deeply I’d been in thought until I felt Thom’s hand on mine, pulling me back down one of the teetering stacks in the backroom. He had that smirk on his lips, making me wonder. And then, as quick as that, his lips were on mine, pressing in hard, body pushing me back against one of the racks. I secretly prayed it wouldn’t topple over, though it looked like it was about to. I panted softly, hands moving to grip at his denim, pulling him in closer. I could hear him groaning, his lips moving wetly from mine, down my neck, biting and sucking at my soft pale skin. My back arched, pushing closer to him, keeping our bodies as close together as I could.

As I lifted my leg to rub against his, I could feel his cock grinding down into my thigh through his tight jeans. I couldn’t help but moan, fingers slipping down his chest, his thin t-shirt, to the waistband of his jeans. My fingers scrabbled over his belt buckle, trying my hardest to get it undone, though my whole body was shaking. Somehow I got it open, my hand sliding down, gasping when I didn’t meet boxers, only hot flesh. He mumbled something into my neck before pulling his head back up, our lips locking together, tongues attacking and exploring as if this were the most important thing in our lives, and right then, it was.

My hand slid downwards, wrapping around his cock, trying to size it up through his jeans. His warm breath on my face as he pulled back again, our eyes locking together as our lips had just moments before. I licked at my lips and felt my hands moving to pull his jeans down past his hips. I glanced down and a smirk flitted over my lips, raising an eyebrow. He gave a gentle, nervous laugh and ran a hand through my hair. I could feel myself getting harder, cursing the fact that I’d worn such tight pants, knowing my erection was painfully obvious. But right now was about Thom. I needed to make him feel good before I could feel anything at all.

Without another moment’s hesitation, I sank down onto my knees, gazing up at him, the rings of black liner around my eyes making them all the more wide and near-innocent. I watched Thom swallow and tilt his head back, moaning gently. My lips were around his cock, taking him in as deep as I could, sucking hard. I grabbed at his hips and could feel him straining to stay still, to not shove into my mouth as he wanted to. I bobbed my head quickly, hands moving slowly down over his thighs, taking in the delicate hairs and soft skin. He was a little heavier than me, but then again, most people were. There was a reason my nickname was Skeletor.

I clutched those hips, skin darker than mine, looking like he might have seen the light of day once in a while. My pale little fingers made impressions on his body as I slowly swirled my tongue around his cock, one hand moving to grasp at what I couldn’t take in my mouth. I rubbed, massaged, sucked and bobbed, all for him. Thom moaned, not even bothering to keep it down. The boys wouldn’t hear and definitely wouldn’t come back. Thom was usually the only one to do anything productive in the store.

It wasn’t long before Thom was reaching down, brushing his fingers through my hair, playing with it. It was short now, having just grown back from the Rozz Williams-esque half shave I’d given it. My hair constantly changed. I felt a tug at my hair and a wet moan from Thom, knowing it was time. I pulled back only slightly, letting his warm come spill into my mouth, swallowing it down. I’d always heard vegan boys tasted better, and now I knew it was the truth. Thom made a soft whimper as I pulled away, once again gazing up at him. I mirrored his smirk as I slowly rose to my feet, pulling Thom’s jeans back up. I pecked his lips and we both let out a soft laugh when we heard ‘It Must Be Love’ coming through the wall.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I murmured gently, our lips brushing together ever so softly.
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Upload Date: 31/12/1969

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