All rights belong to ITV. None of this is for profit or for anything beyond entertainment. Nor am I saying anything about the gorgeous actors in these roles.
This story isn't real life or a guide to real life. Don't take any of this as anything but fiction or trash.
Don't read if you aren't 18 or older.
Thank you for your feedback and encouragement. I'm really sorry for the delay, I've been very busy in the last few months. I'm working some of your ideas in and will work more in, so let me know what you want to see.
Merry Christmas, or happy other holidays, if you celebrate those.
Nifty is an awesome resource and could use your donation.
00000000
Ross hated the way they looked at Nikhil - everybody, except his cokehead of a brother. Like he was a rock star. Like he could solve every problem they had with a fake smile and a granddad's jumper. Like he had stars in his eyes.
No one looked at Ross like that. Not even Finn anymore. That's why he was so sick of his family. Why he was going to make them pay someday.
Ross hated how even people who didn't like Nikhil very much still respected him. Even Debbie. What did they respect? Some prat who got everything based on Daddy's money? Was it because he lived in flippin' Canada? Ross had been to Canada - of course he'd spent most of the time drunk in the back of a van - and nobody gave a toss. Was it because he had a dead wife?
Nobody had given a stuff about Ross after Donna died...nobody. Not really.
And Nikhil wore his wedding ring all the bleeding time, just to make people cry a little more. If Nikhil had really loved her, he'd have taken it off, buried it where nobody could've found it. That's what he would've done for Donna.
That was why Ross did it. Why he made the plan to steal the ring.
Everything was perfect. Sharma was half-cut, alone outside the Woolie. Ross had his favorite bat (besides the one between his legs). He wasn't going to do any real damage - not deliberately, anyway. He just wanted the damn ring.
Maybe he'd been getting lazy. Maybe he'd had a few too many pints himself.
No, it was just Nikhil being lucky again.
A lucky duck as the bat cracked against the brick wall. A lucky punch to the gut. Didn't hurt - much, but it was enough to get him on the ground, see Nikhil glaring down on him, like a headmaster who'd seen him sneaking smokes.
When Nikhil shouted, "Who are you?" like he was in a bad crime show starring someone who'd been on Doctor Who, he took his chance, shoving the prat hard against the wall, yanking the ring off his finger.
Nikhil had such long legs, but running wasn't enough when you knew where to hide, when to hide.
He waited, got his breath back, before ducking into the garage, wondering if he should melt the ring down or sell it or keep it as a reminder that sometimes even living saints get a lightning strike.
He'd just about let himself have a smirk at the way it shone in the dim light when pretty boy shot out of nowhere, slamming him onto a car bonnet.
"YOU! Did your little girlfriend put you up to this?".
Ross kneed Nikhil in the stomach, watching him stagger back.
"This has got NOTHING to do with her!"
Nikhil charged at him, eyes full of hate. Something way too familiar by now, something he didn't let bother him anymore. Hate he could deal with.
He held the ring up in his hand before Nikhil could unball his fist.
"Want it, ya fuckin' Gollum? Here!"
He threw it as hard as he could, grinning as he heard it fly against a back wall, fall under a shelf. He hoped nobody ever found the damn thing.
Nikhil grabbed his black hoodie, slamming him against the wall, forehead pressed against forehead.
They stood that way for ages. He kept waiting for Nikhil to try for a punch or push him away to get the ring, but nothing. Nothing but ragged breaths.
"Startin' to get bored here, Lil' Nicky. Oh - unless ya wanna replace one ring with another. Aaron's more your boy."
Nikhil grabbed at his hair, stubble to stubble, hot air hissed in his ear.
"Even SHE's too good for the likes of you."
"Say that again," he taunted, wanting to wind sweater set up even further.
Nikhil just kept glaring, stone face and gasping breaths, before the rage slowly morphed into a smirk.
"You know, I feel sorry for you."
That was the one thing he could never take from anybody, especially this sanctimonious bag of shit.
"Shut it."
Nikhil laughed.
"No, I do."
"I mean it."
"You have the `perfect' girlfriend, a son, a family...and what are you doing? Acting like a common thug, because it's just not enough."
He tried to get away, but Nikhil had his arms pinned against the wall, his legs locked in too.
"You're not even a thief or a thug..."
Nikhil leaned forward again, every drop of poison carefully whispered in his ear.
"You're just a loser."
He wanted to go for a headbutt, wanted to tear that fucking lord and mighty bellend limb from limb. He could have, without breaking a sweat.
Instead, before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed the back of Nikhil's head, pushing their mouths together hard, teeth and beard and blood.
Nikhil grunted, opening his mouth enough to get a taste, to conquer.
He got what he wanted and didn't want when Nikhil kept kissing him, anger, channeling whatever neither of them ever wanted anyone else to see.
The hoodie went over his head along with the black top, his nipples hard in the December air, surrounded by Nikhil's clawing fingernails and smooth, pressing thumbs.
"You make me sick," Nikhil spat, shrugging off his brown suit jacket and eggplant old man cardie, letting the buttons on his light blue dress shirt fly across the room with two rough tears from two very different sets of hands.
Even as Ross jabbed a finger between Nikhil's tits, he couldn't help admiring Nikhil's chest - more in a blokey, maybe-only-eating-sunflower-seeds-pays-off way more than in a gay way.
He ran his grubby hands over the hair-dusted pecs, tugging at the dark tufts as his other hand slid down to grope the crotch buried in tight trousers.
"Funny way of showin' it," he taunted as he squeezed his hand hard on the expensive material, hoping he'd leave some grease stains.
Nikhil shoved him over the bonnet. He grunted at the feel of the big paw groping at his tight black jeans, yanking at the fly.
"What would precious Gennie think now, eh?" he sneered, laughing before Nikhil covered his mouth.
"Just shut up. Shut up!"
Ross bit down on the long, clean fingers, just hard enough to remind the sneering twat who was in charge. The sneering twat's cock jumped in his slacks at the sensation.
"Fuckin' perv. Fuckin' queer," he taunted when Nikhil yanked him up by the back of the neck for another desperate kiss. He leaned back to bite at Nikhil's chin and neck, wanting to mark that too-pretty face up. "Betcha'll suck David's cock after we're done."
"Shut up," Nikhil grunted as he grabbed the hems of Ross' jeans, yanking them down and trying to drag Ross off the bonnet and right to his bulging crotch.
Ross wiggled out of the denim, letting his trainers go just leaving him in black socks (he rarely bothered with underwear). With his free legs, he kicked at Nikhil's knees, flipping them over until Nikhil suddenly took his place on top of the hood.
Ross straddled a bewildered Nikhil's chest, slapping his pectorals as he tore open the zip of his trousers and began fisting his cock.
"Nice," he said, squeezing hard to get the groan he wanted. "Just not as nice as mine."
He straddled Nikhil's face now, rolling back his foreskin to push his tip against Nikhil's full mouth.
Nikhil snorted, refusing entrance.
"Fuck..."
He dick-slapped one cheek.
"You!"
He dick-slapped the other, smirking at the pre-cum trailed above Nikhil's lips.
"Suck - not fuck. Guess uni don't teach it all."
Ross flexed his pert cheeks over Nikhil's half-erect dick, enjoying the whimper as he figured out another way to get the posh prat more in the mood.
"Just pretend I'm David. Best mate my arse. Or his arse, maybe. He fancies ya. I've seen it."
He was lying, but the thaw in Nikhil's cold eyes told him he was on the right track.
If there were any men in the village he could fuck, after Robert and Aaron (already fucked them) or Nikhil (currently fucking him), it would be David. He had a body like a gymnast and dark blonde hair that was always just a little too long, just right for grabbing and pulling. And he had that ink all over his left arm that drove Ross mad.
If he played his cards right he could probably get them both.
"You're gonna cum all over his tats. Gonna leave here..."
Nikhil moaned as Ross' strokes became less rough, especially the thumb circling his tight foreskin.
"And pop his cherry..."
Nikhil's heavy breathing and the heavy thud of the Sharma saint's engorged shaft slapping against his crack were making him hard as nails. He knew he had to get busy.
"So suck it. Suck it like I'm your bessie mate."
Nikhil's eyes went wide as he slowly opened his mouth, allowing himself a few licks of the semen-shiny bellend.
Ross was tempted to start shoving his killer dick down pretty boy's throat, but he liked seeing Nikhil lick and taste. He liked seeing innocence corrupted.
"Oh God..." he hissed as Nikhil tentatively took the head into his mouth.
"Just like that..." he purred, running his hand through the silky dark hair as the other tugged at Nikhil's full babymakers. He twisted them slightly, hoping for a small bite against his shaft - his secret kink. "Ugh I fuckin' hate ya..." he grunted as he got what he wanted, perfect teeth nipping at his juicy junk.
"Wanna make ya cry," he whispered, a dirty thumb over spit-shined clean lips, succulent dicksucking lips, before he began feeding more and more of his big Barton banger to the oral virgin. "Oh yeah," he panted as he heard the gags Nikhil tried his best to avoid, because he had to be perfect at EVERYTHING.
"Play with me tits," he ordered, putting Nikhil's large, well-kept hands on his chest.
As Nikhil, distracted by having half of Ross' dick stretching his jaw, squeezed his hard nipples - nervous at first, then firmer, more tweaking - Ross wiped the tears from Nikhil's gorgeous eyes, licking them from his fingertips.
"Bet it's even better than yer cum," he jeered, giving another rough stroke of the erect length trapped under his muscular thighs, tasting the pre-cum on his fingers in time with the salty tears. Nikhil jerked, this time slowly pulling Ross' manhood out of his mouth.
"I didn't tell ya -"
Nikhil shut him up by not-so-tenderly biting at the vein throbbing alongside the underside.
"You don't TELL me anything," he said, licking up and down, down and up the turgid shaft, driving Ross wild as the licks began to circle around his sensitive glans.
Ross began to bounce up and down on Nikhil's lap, wishing he could sit on Nikhil's smug face, see how far that tongue could be buried inside him, then ride the long, dark length so good they'd make the fucking bonnet fly off. But so many of the times he'd taken dick from men had been gangsters and thugs he owed money to - and he'd enjoyed it (most of the time), but he wasn't going to let anyone around this village of the damned know his weakness.
"T-tell ya this -" Ross managed, grasping himself to slap Nikhil's cheeks hard again with his throbbing hardon. "I'm yer first...you'll never forget me."
With that said, he gave the aching flesh between his legs one final tug, rewarding and punishing a shocked Nikhil with a face full of cum. The surprise led to a mouth opened to protest, soon filled with Ross' best babymaking batter.
Ross sat back on Nikhil's nail-hammering cock, the humiliation of the semen shower and the pressure of Ross' perfect glutes sending him into his own blown load nirvana.
Ross smirked at Nikhil's O-face, the pure bliss, the incoherent moans even as his tongue lolled about in Ross' corrupting cum.
"Oh yeah," Ross taunted, "Sweet fuckin' whore."
Ross got an idea from the Sharma seed slick against his backside, and, before Nikhil could react, he sat on Nikhil's splattered face, mixing the two different ejaculations of two very different men into one load.
To his surprise, Nikhil only grunted disapproval for a minute before lapping away at the tight entrance, eagerly tasting himself.
"We're just gettin' started..." he bragged as Nikhil's tongue went deeper and deeper, but then his phone went off.
He knew it was Debbie without even answering it.
With a deep sigh, he jumped off Nikhil's face (how did that bloke look so perfect even after what they'd just done?) and gathered up his clothes, humming to himself at Nikhil trying to hide his massive pout at their time being over.
As Nikhil groggily sat up on the car, Ross yanked him forward for a rough goodbye kiss and a harsh message to the ear.
"Be around real soon to see your and your bessie bum chum Davey."
Nikhil tried to ignore the comment, but his revived erection sticky against the bonnet gave him away.
"Oh and don't forget your ring...nice job on my ring, by the way."
Nikhil smiled at the crude joke and the laughter trailing away, even though he should have been disgusted with himself. Ross was an animal, a disgusting pig, and a thug, but the seven and a half inches currently thick in his palm told him how he truly felt. He felt alive for the first time in a long time. And he felt horny.
He went back to David's house, where he was staying, grateful that his daughter was with her gran.
An insomniac David was baking cookies, holding a wooden spoon, feeling underdressed in his tight sky blue tee and boxer briefs, the ones that hugged his ex-gymnast's legs and bum so well.
"Nik? Tast -"
David's eyes popped at Nikhil's torn shirt, exposing his hairy, sweaty chest and cold-erect nips, his torn slacks exposing his runner's thighs and clearly half-aroused package in his underwear. He was breathing so heavy it almost seemed like a language of his own, and he was...looking at David like he wanted to lick him, not the spoon.
"What happened?" he said, hoping the cookie sheet would cover his reaction to seeing his buttoned-up best mate looking like he just got out of a gangbang. "And where's your ring?"
Nikhil looked at his hand like he'd just seen it for the first time.
"Nikhil?"
The next thing he knew, his arse was squeezed in two large hands, then pressed against the countertop, a knee between his legs and brushing his rapidly stiffening cock.
Nikhil held David's head in his hands.
"Let's fuck," Nikhil panted, punctuated by crazy eyes and cum breath.
David responded by doing what anyone in the situation would do.
Shoving his tongue down Nikhil's throat and tearing off what remained of his tatty clothes.
It was going to be a long night.
0000000000000000
Aaron and Adam were in Adam's old room at the farm, sharing their last can, tipsy and giggly.
"You boys alright?" Cain said, sticking his head in the door. Adam noticed that Cain had been watching him a lot more lately.
"Yessir!" Adam shouted, leading Aaron to collapse in snorts on his chest.
Cain's eyebrows went up.
"Just keep it down. Moira's dead on 'er feet."
He left, but Adam knew that wasn't enough for Cain. He just wondered what he'd done wrong now.
He looked down at Aaron sleeping on his chest.
"I love you," Aaron whimpered as he drunkenly fumbled at the first few buttons on Adam's red and white checked flannel shirt and kissed his hairy chest underneath the white vest.
"I love you too, Aaron," Adam teased, because he did love Aaron, his best friend.
Many said they were like brothers, but Aaron had never looked at him like a brother.
He certainly wasn't right now, as he leaned in, staring Adam down, licking his lips.
To Adam's surprise, he didn't try to stop Aaron, instead accepting the tender, sweet kiss for what it was, giving back in return, kissing Aaron's nose and forehead and soft lips, both young men breathing heavy from nerves and desire.
Only when Aaron began to paw at Adam's fly did he remember what they were doing and why they had to stop.
"I'm sorry. I'll go. I'll go. Go..." Aaron slurred, trying to sit up.
"It's fine. Maybe next time?"
Aaron accepted being placated, and another gentle kiss, before snoring on Adam's chest.
Adam watched him sleep and admitted to himself it wasn't placating...he really did want to try with Aaron, even though he was married. More kissing, or even further, if they wanted. The shapely bottom currently showcased in Aaron's old track bottoms gave him incentive for curiosity.
"Gonna give you your best birthday present ever, Aaron," Adam promised the sleeping lad. And it was one he knew he'd enjoy almost as much.
0000000000000000
Cain was still watching, sucking at his teeth when he saw the brief kiss, knowing Aaron would just get hurt. Well, Aaron got hurt a lot. He couldn't always step in.
He was more preoccupied by the photos sent to his phone...snaps of so many naked, throbbing Emmerdale studs. Even his lamebrained stepson Adam, pubes flashed above tight boxers, fat cock with a delicious mushroom head exposed with a towel drop...along with his humpy hairy hole when he bent over to pick it up.
He called the person he knew sent them.
"Kirin? Yeah, it's me. Keep it in yer pants. If you want me to take mine outta my pants, you're gonna have to do something for me..."