Disclaimer: General Hospital, its characters and locales are the property of ABC Daytime. The events of this story are entirely fictitious, the product of my overactive imagination and not in any fashion meant to reflect the private lives or sexual orientations of the actors featured. And lastly, this story is intended for readers of legal age in their respective territories, who are not offended by gay themes. If you like this story, drop me a line at the email address above. Cheers!
SCANDAL IN PORT CHARLES Part 1
Dante Falconeri crept around the corner cautiously, hand ready on his holster. He was worried about his work partner, of whom there was so far no sign.
Detective Nathan West had called him 20 minutes earlier, urging him to come to Silas Clay's apartment. Nathan suspected the good doctor of attempting to murder his wife with an overdose of sleeping medicine. Despite Commissioner Devane's reservations about Clay's guilt, Nathan was hell-bent on nailing him for the tragedy that had left Nina Clay comatose for the better part of 20 years. Dante really hoped his mule-headed partner hadn't barged into Clay's apartment and exposed the PCPD to a lawsuit and bad publicity they really couldn't afford.
His heart sank when he noticed that the apartment door was ajar. The idiot had gone in without a warrant. Man, the Commish was going to be pissed off! This was exactly the sort of thing she'd wanted Dante to prevent when she'd assigned him as Nathan's partner. Dante grimly promised himself that, even if West somehow got out of a disciplinary hearing, he'd give the dumbass one of his own.
Then he heard it: loud grunts and groans of pain. Someone was in trouble! He recognized the groaning voice as his partner's. From the sound of things, Nathan was in dire straits.
That was all the incentive Dante needed. He drew his gun and nudged the door open wider. The groaning got louder ... it was coming from behind the couch. He could just about see Nathan's head bobbing above the top of the couch. Was he restraining someone on the ground?
As quietly as possible, he drew closer until he could see what was unfolding on the floor. He didn't want Nathan to be distracted and give his foe the drop on him.
The sight that greeted him was so shocking that he dropped his gun.
"WHAT THE FUCK?" he yelled.
At his shout, Nathan's head whipped around, eyes wide with panic. "Dante! It's not what it looks like!"
"Not what it looks like?" shouted Dante incredulously. "It looks like you're fucking a schoolboy!"
Nathan's mouth opened, ready to protest, and then closed again. He wasn't sure how to defend himself. As Dante had observed, he was impaled on the cock of Silas Clay's nephew, Rafe Kovich, Jr. The young cop was straddling the prone boy, fucking himself on his teenage cock. They were both naked and dripping in sweat. Rafe's pale complexion offered a striking contrast to Nathan's tanned skin.
As Dante watched in horror, Rafe mischievously reached up to twist Nathan's nipples, eliciting a howl of pleasure from the detective.
"What the fuck is wrong with you man! Get the fuck off the kid!"
"I c-c-can't!" moaned Nathan, continuing to ride Rafe like his life depended on it. Dante was disgusted to see that his partner's stiff cock was slapping against his rock-hard abs.
"What do you mean, you can't?"
"He made meeeeee," Nathan's voice trailed off in a shriek as he came, blasting his spunk all over Rafe's face and chest.
Dante couldn't believe what was happening. His macho partner, who'd scarcely moved into town before hitting on Dante's own wife, had just blown his load from getting fucked up the ass by a teenage boy.
Dante managed to find his voice. "Are you fucking kidding me? Rafe made you fuck him? You're the adult-"
"Not Rafe," panted Nathan. "Clay."
This shit just got weirder by the second, thought Dante. "Clay made you fuck his nephew?"
Nathan didn't answer. He was too busy kissing Rafe and licking his own spunk from the boy's face.
"Dude, I don't know what's going through that head of yours, but I'm gonna have to report this to the Commish. It's your business if you wanna screw guys or girls, but a friggin' schoolboy?"
No reply from Nathan. Rafe cooed in pleasure as the detective mauled one of his nipples.
"Aren't you even going to try to defend yourself?" asked Dante.
"I doubt Det. West can," said a voice behind him.
Dante whirled around in surprise. Silas Clay had managed to creep up on him silently. To be fair, it is hard to remain wary of your surroundings when you've stumbled across your partner getting the shit fucked out of him by a teenage boy.
"Dr. C-Clay!" stammered Dante. "I d-don't know what to s-say."
"Oh, you don't have to say anything," said Clay, smiling pleasantly. Dante wondered why he was smiling when he'd just walked in on his teenage nephew being violated in his home by a police detective who was a dozen years older than Rafe.
"I don't know what's come over my colleague but I assure you, Dr. Clay, this sort of behavior is utterly unacceptable to the PCPD -"
Silas Clay held up a hand to stop him. "It's quite alright. Det. West's behavior is only to be expected. It takes a very strong-willed person to resist the charms of a Morley, especially when that Morley is my son and heir."
Dante blinked. Son? Dr. Silas Clay was only Rafe's uncle, not his father. Rafe got his name from his legal father, but his biological father was Silas's younger brother, Stephen, a demented serial murderer who'd believed he was an immortal vampire named Caleb Morley until he was killed last winter. Of course, Stephen Clay had greatly resembled his brother, almost a dead ringer in fact ... but it was not possible. Stephen Clay was dead. Only batty old Lucy Coe had insisted he was immortal.
"I can practically see the wheels in that head of yours turning," said Clay, interrupting Dante's reverie. "But surely, vampires aren't real, and the dead don't come back to life."
Dante had been a cop long enough to sense trouble, and right now a dozen alarms were going off in his head. He glanced quickly across the floor to where he had dropped his gun. If only he could ...
A shadow fell across the floor and he looked up immediately, but it was too late. Stephen Clay was right next to him, and he was holding something. Dante opened his mouth to yell, but before he could, he felt a prick at the side of his neck, and everything went black.
EARLIER THAT DAY ...
"Oh look, it's Dracula's Spawn."
"Hey Kovich, where are your fangs?"
"I bet Addie would love you to suck her dry."
"Ew, gross!"
Rafe was used to the jeering by now, but it still hurt. He hadn't realized kids could be so cruel. Growing up on the run with his mom, he'd longed to be in school with the other kids. He'd learned a lot being homeschooled by his mom, but it didn't provide many opportunities to mix with kids his own age. Then they'd come to Port Charles, where his mom was stabbed to death right in front of his eyes by the biological father he'd never known.
The only light in those dark days had been Molly Lansing-Davis, but contrary to popular belief, he wasn't hopelessly in love with her. He knew she felt something for him - that much was obvious when she'd walked in on him naked after a shower - but Rafe wasn't interested in her in that way. Oh, he was jealous of the closeness she shared with her boyfriend, T.J. Ashford, alright - but only because HE wanted to be the one in a relationship with T.J.!
T.J. was the kid from the wrong side of the tracks, not unlike him, but where Rafe was shy and docile, T.J. was brash and passionate. Rafe had seen T.J.'s body in the locker room and counted himself lucky that he hadn't thrown a boner immediately. It was bad enough being bullied for being the son of a self-proclaimed vampire, without also being picked on for being gay. Rafe had spent many a night dreaming about T.J.'s ripped body and prominent bulge.
Of course, nothing would have come of his fascination with the mocha-skinned boy, if not for a chance encounter on the pier.
Rafe had gone there because it was the anniversary of his mom's death - a fact all but forgotten by everyone, including Molly. She was not on speaking terms with him after his latest attempt to tank her and T.J.'s relationship.
Rafe spent a few quiet minutes looking into the dark waters of the pier before he felt a presence behind him. He turned around quickly.
"Uncle Silas! You scared me. What are you doing here?"
The man smiled. "You didn't think I'd forget Alison's anniversary?"
Rafe shrugged. "It's nice that you did, even though you never even met her."
The man shook his head in amusement. "I'd never forget the woman who gave me my firstborn."
Rafe's eyes widened, and he caught sight of the gold signet ring on the man's hand - the same ring that Lucy Coe had insisted imbued Stephen Clay a.k.a. Caleb Morley with immortality.
He opened his mouth to scream but his father was on him in a flash, the ringed hand covering his mouth. "Don't make a sound, unless you want to die here like your mother. It would be a terrible shame to waste her sacrifice."
Rafe was overwhelmed by impotent rage. He didn't doubt that this monster would kill him in a heartbeat, son or no son.
"So are you going to scream?"
Rafe shook his head.
"Good. Then we can have a proper father-son talk." Stephen let his hand drop from Rafe's mouth, but he kept the other hand ominously in his pocket.
"What do you want?" spat Rafe.
"I told you: a father-son talk."
"You're not my father! Rafe Kovich was."
Stephen rolled his eyes. "You may be named after that goody-two-shoes, but the blood that flows in your veins is mine."
"I'm nothing like you!"
"More's the pity. If you had grown up in my keeping, you would be a very different boy today."
"You mean a freak like you? No thanks!"
Stephen grinned. "I've heard far worse insults in my time. But no, Rafe, what I meant was that you'd be respected, idolized, even feared - but certainly not bullied and tormented."
"How do you know about that?" asked Rafe quickly.
"I've been keeping an eye on you, son. Frankly, it breaks my heart to see how you're treated at school. You're a Morley, damn it! They should all be bowing in deference to your superior bloodline. And you should have any boy in that school eating out of your hand."
Rafe bristled. "What do you mean by `any boy'? I'm not gay!" he protested.
Stephen waved his hand dismissively. "Come now, I told you I've been keeping an eye on you. I've seen the way you look at that boy, T.J. is it? How you moan his name when you're in bed alone, your hand on your-"
"That's enough!" shouted Rafe, blushing crimson with shame. His dad had watched him masturbate to the memory of another boy?
"No need to fret, Rafe. There are some who would be quick to cast stones but I am not one of them. We vampires have never discriminated by gender in our choice of our lovers."
"You're not a vampire!" growled Rafe, although what he really wanted to ask was whether his father had been intimate with other men. Surely it was not a hereditary trait?
Stephen shrugged, elegantly. "You can choose not to believe that, son, but believe me when I say that I want to help you."
"Help me how?" asked Rafe suspiciously.
"I can help you seduce the boy of your dreams ... in fact, I could help you seduce just about any male you desire."
Rafe stared at him wide-eyed. Could it really be possible? Could he lure any man he wanted to his bed? It was too good to be true, wasn't it?
"That's a load of bull. You can't possibly do that. You can't change people's sexualities."
Stephen just smiled enigmatically. "Oh really? How about we put it to a test?"
And that was how it all began.
TO BE CONTINUED ...