Coronation Street is the property of ITV. I own none of this and I make no profit. None of this has any resemblance to real life or says anything about the actors who play the characters. Read only if you're 18 or older.
Sorry for delays.
00
Ryan hated working at the Bistro...actually Ryan hated working full stop, but cleaning out the kitchen drains was the worst way to get a cheap wage. Even worse than cleaning out the bogs, because he could at least have a moan about cleaning out the bogs. He couldn't with the kitchen because his mum would make him clean out the bogs.
He didn't have to worry about this shit in Ibiza. All he ever worried about was sunburn. And bad gear. Mostly bad gear.
Distracted by the smell of a hard day's slog, Ryan threw his jacket on the floor before cracking open a can, then another can, then another can, before stopping as his dizzy head reminded him not to chug after he'd already had a few shots at closing time with the new bird waiting tables. A good portion of the lager was on his black work shirt, but he didn't care - he hated it anyway. He popped open the buttons, ripping a few, soon followed on the floor by his white vest.
He wasn't sure why his mum's new husband, Robert, insisted his employees wear all the layers, but he'd noticed Robert staring at him a little longer whenever he had just his vest on, especially when he put his arms behind his head and let his hairy pits take the attention. Ryan wasn't surprised at older men perving on him; that's how he'd made it as long as he did in Ibiza without begging for change. Robert was also quite fit, with a smooth body that clearly saw a lot of the Weatherfield gym, and an intense, hooded stare, like he could see right through your clothes. He was what the girls called a 'silver fox.' Or 'Daddy.'
To Ryan, he practically was a daddy, through marriage. Ryan had hurt his mum enough over the years to not take that last step, no matter how many times he fisted his fat cock through his trackies at the thought of getting his hands on that prize sausage trapped in Mr. Preston's tight slacks.
Ryan pushed the thoughts down just as fast as he pushed down his own tight jeans, kicking off his black trainers and flaming red socks (his way of showing he wasn't like everybody else) before going to get the shower started. All he had left was his red trunks, a little too snug for him after he'd put on some weight since his time back in Weatherfield and getting access to as much food and drink as he wanted. His thick thighs were his burden, along with a slight belly and a bit of a chin, but girls didn't seem to mind. Neither did the boys, but Ryan didn't bring them home - his mum was already freaked out enough by...everything he did.
Not caring how much hot water he used, he ran his surprisingly delicate fingers through his increasingly shaggy brown hair, letting it fall in his eyes. He settled in for a nice long wank, back pressed against the cool tiles as he wrapped his hand around the firm flesh it knew so well. He whimpered at the sting of shampoo sliding through his foreskin and soon his exposed glans, and tugged at his baggy, hairy balls to relieve some of the sensations.
Images of the time he walked in on Robert barely hiding morning wood in tight white boxers made his girth sputter and made his Ibiza-christened hole twitch. He began to fist himself faster, imagining Robert's calloused, thick fingers roughly fucking his hole before his horse cock finished the job.
Ryan's knees buckled from the warm spray and the alcohol. He slid one, two, finally three fingers inside his hot hole, desperate to blow his load and find a floor to spread out on...or something to sit on. Anything.
His thumbnail was coaxing the first rough spurts out of his piss slit when the shower curtain was violently torn open.
"Can't you STOP leaving your nasty clothes on the..." was all the other man got before his mouth fell open just in time for a full, pent-up blast of Ryan's creamy Connor cum, followed by another, and another...and a few more, since it had been a while
Once the last drops slid down his reddened crown, Ryan finally saw that it was his reluctant flatmate, and sorta-not-really-brother, Ali Neeson, who'd gotten the gift of his jizz, from his immacuately stubbled cheeks to his immacuately pressed suit and trousers. Some had even gotten in his mouth, judging by the state of his tongue.
Ryan couldn't help laughing, especially when he saw the scowl on Ali's face - an even bigger scowl than usual.
Only when Ryan saw the lust in Ali's eyes as he licked the cum around his lips did the laughing stop.