Sabotage, a General Hospital story by Sue Castle. Rated NC17. Becomes alternate universe after the episode aired 12/20/02 (Ric was originally supposed to be Lily’s brother, not Sonny’s.) No copyright infringement intended.

Christmas 1985

Quiet laughter echoed the louder sounds the children made. Ric looked over at his mother, lying on the rattan lounge, the bright cushions seeming to leach what little color there was from her face. But no matter how pale her cheeks, or how her long dark hair looked dull in the sunlight, her eyes still sparkled. Over the pain, and the sure knowledge of ending, was her determination to enjoy every day she had left.

Too few.

His sister ran past him, poking him in the shoulder and teasing shrilly, "Ricky ama Selma!"

Ric rolled his eyes and refused to chase after his sister, who was grinning like an idiot. Really, at fifteen, she was too old to be acting like such a fool ... and he, at thirteen, was too mature to respond. Selma was just a friend.

A gorgeous, sweet, mysterious friend with eyes like chocolate and a mouth he desperately wanted to kiss.

Another "Enamorado" floated back at him, and he gave in to temptation, chasing his big, irritating, adored sister all over the house.

His mother's laughter followed them.

Christmas 1995

He stared around the apartment, listening to the silence. He'd been told to stay away from home this year. His father's enemies were pressing in on him, and as the only son, it was Ric's duty to stay out of the crossfire.

To stay alive.

He took another sip of whiskey and stared down at textbook on corporate law opened on his lap until the words blurred together.

He missed his home. Missed his sister, across the country from him, incommunicado since moving to New York. Missed his mother, somewhat desperately, although she'd been dead for nearly a decade. He even missed his father, although since he'd become an adult, there'd been more distance than ever between them. Intellectually, he knew it was for his own protection.

In his heart, he couldn't help but resent it.

It wasn't much of a Christmas. He shrugged off his melancholy, tilted his glass and swallowed the last of the whiskey. He still had studying to do. He had two more classes, then the Bar to take, then, if he was lucky, he could end this family-imposed exile to the mainland and follow his heart back home to Puerto Rico.

1996

When Ric closed his eyes, all he could see was the bright yellow blast, as the explosion destroyed what was left of his family. His father's life had been lost as it had been lived, and while Ric mourned, he understood. A bitter understanding, but an acceptance.

But his sister ...

She deserved so much better than this.

On the other end of the line, his father's trusted lieutenant, now working for the enemy in the only way he could save his life, asked anxiously, "Mijo? Are you there?"

"Si, tio," he answered automatically. "I'm coming home."

"No," came the immediate response. "They don't know about you. That's your best, your only chance. Stay there, mijo, and bide your time. Think it through. When the time is right, then you can do what your blood calls for you to do. Until then, you must stay where you are. Or they will kill you, too."

Ric wanted to argue, but the reasons were too sound. "I want to kill him. Like he killed her." His voice broke.

"Kill him the best way, then, mijo. Go to business school, learn all you can, then when he leaves himself open, you approach him like the wolf in the expensive suit. Infiltrate, sabotage, take him out the only way it will hurt. Cripple him. Then let the law kill him. Keep the blood off your hands. Make him pay. Make him hurt. Kill him slowly. From the inside."

Ric let himself be led, stayed in the shadows, learned and worked and waited.

Christmas 2002

The first time he'd heard of Luis Alcazar, he'd been thrown in a jail cell by the gunrunner's pet policia. It had taken weeks for the ransom to come through, weeks when he'd thought he'd be killed at any moment. He'd hated that cell. It had also been the first time he'd seen his eventual targets.

Once back in the United States, Ric found that Alcazar's death was a benefit to his plans. Almost as if Fate was repaying him for the weeks of fear and isolation in that jail. With Alcazar dead, Ric had one less cover to maintain. Since everything seemed more difficult at this time of year, the less complexity in his life the better. He grinned mirthlessly.

As if juggling Sonny's suspicion, Carly's curiosity and Jason's hostility wasn't enough. Not to mention Elizabeth, with her beauty that reminded him uncannily of Selma and her loyalty to a man he'd sworn to destroy.

Besides, the murder investigation distracted Corinthos, and when the hawk was distracted it was easier for the snake to attack the nest.

It was difficult. Every time he had to bite his tongue, apologize to that insolent face with those arrogant eyes, Ric wanted to take a knife and gut Sonny Corinthos, then watch him bleed to death, lying at Ric's feet. But his honorary uncle was right. There were smarter, more subtle, though no less risky ways to make the bastard bleed.

At first, he'd thought seducing Carly would be the best way to hurt Corinthos. Unfortunately, she was as blinded by the man as most women seemed to be. Then he'd approached the district attorney, but Baldwin was a crude and stupid man, guided by his own ambition to the point he made foolish mistakes. Ric had seen his error quickly, in time to salvage his position with Corinthos, and he hadn't made the mistake again.

The police commissioner might have been an option, for Mac Scorpio had a reputation as an honest cop, but he was also a simple man, and his straightforward way of operating would interfere too much with Ric's plans for vengeance. Taggart hated Corinthos as well, and was more honest than Baldwin about wanting to take him down in a way that would stick in court, but again, he was too much the bull in the china shop to fit with Ric's plans.

Corinthos' trusted inner circle was very small. Only his wife Carly, his sister Courtney, his old flame Brenda, his adoptive son Michael and his faithful watchdog Jason Morgan. Carly was too faithful, Courtney was too wrapped up in the Quartermaine family, Brenda was too involved with Jasper Jax and too brightly lit by the murder investigation to be safe to approach. Ric refused to use the child to go after the father. That would make him too much like that which he worked to eradicate.

Which left Morgan.

There was hostility and distrust there, but from what he'd seen, that was Morgan's modus operandi with everyone except Carly and Sonny. And possibly Elizabeth, but she was an emotional minefield for Ric and he was determined to keep her out of his plans as much as possible. Given the way Morgan watched her and she watched him when she thought he wasn't looking, she was as much a morass for Morgan as she was for Ric.

There was also the secret relationship between Courtney and Morgan of which Sonny would not approve. Ric could use that, though he didn't yet know how it would fit into his plans. Information was power, and he was an expert gatherer of information. The more power he brought behind his intent the better his chance of success. The more he knew, the harder Sonny would go down.

Carly was easy enough to manipulate. A few appreciative comments, not for her looks, but for her brains, and she was his. The club she planned was his way inside her husband's life, and while Corinthos was suspicious, he didn't step in and force her to fire Ric. So Ric made it a point to be wherever Carly was, and in short order, watching Ric as he was courting Carly, there was Morgan.

Taking the bait like a good little shark.

After a month or so of this complicated dance, Ric allowed Morgan to catch him at Jake's late one evening after Ric saw Carly off into the snowy night. Things were going well on that front. Now it was time to move to the next phase of his plan.

Looking up to catch Morgan staring at him, no life in his ice blue eyes as they pinned him in place, Ric drawled, "Well, hello there. What a surprise."

Morgan slid off the stool and stalked over to tower threateningly, he no doubt believed, over Ric. Ric raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm keeping an eye on you, Lansing," Morgan growled.

Ric managed not to grin. "I noticed. Why not join me for a drink while you watch? You seem a bit tense."

Morgan stared at him for a moment, his entire body eerily still, reminding Ric uncannily of a hunting cat right before it springs. Those eyes never blinked, looking at him as if he could look through him, but Ric had a lifetime's experience with remaining calm under pressure, and he simply looked right back. Eventually, shoulders still tense and hands out as if ready to attack at any provocation, Morgan took a seat.

Ric broke their staring contest to glance over at the barman. A nod, a gesture at the beer in Morgan's hand and the glass in his own, then two fingers up brought a nod. They sat in silence as their drinks were placed in front of them. Ric let it stretch. He knew the value of patience better than Morgan ever would.

"What do you want from Carly?" Morgan asked abruptly.

Once again, Ric suppressed a smile. He'd take every minor victory he could, to ease the sting of the losses, and eventually those battles he won would win him the war.

He shrugged one shoulder elegantly, covertly watching the way Morgan's eyes swept over him. With an easy smile, he answered, "Nothing." Morgan gave him a disbelieving look, and Ric took a sip of his drink before continuing. "She is an intelligent, creative, confident woman, and she invited me to be her partner in a business venture. She brings the capital and the vision to the project; I take care of the legal details and the long-range business planning. She's intriguing, of course; strong women always are, particularly if they're as beautiful as Mrs. Corinthos. I notice. I'm a man, and I'm not dead. I also want to stay that way, so my respectful appreciation will never be more than that."

The side of Morgan's mouth twitched, and the intensity of his eyes lightened for a moment. From anyone else it would have been a grin and a laugh. "Smarter than you look," Morgan told him.

"I'm more than just a pretty face," Ric responded gravely. That actually earned him a tiny smirk. "This town seems to have an unusually high complement of intelligent, spirited, beautiful women," he added, watching Morgan through his lashes. "Mrs. Corinthos. Brenda Barrett. Elizabeth Webber is another. She's very protective of you."

Morgan glared at him, then drank a good half of his beer in two long swallows. Frustration was written in every line of his face. Ric wondered why the police had such a difficult time reading the man. He was an open book as far as Ric could see.

"What?" he asked, a laugh in his voice inviting Morgan to confide. The bottle came down on the table with a loud smack, and Morgan stared at it for a long moment before he broke.

"Between Carly and Elizabeth and Brenda I've had about as much as I can stand of women and their complications." It was the longest sentence Ric had ever heard from Morgan.

It was also an opening he wouldn't miss. Watching Morgan run his fingers restlessly up and down the neck of the bottle, Ric mused, "What you need is a straightforward, uncomplicated tension-relieving fuck."

The bottle slid off the table as Morgan's entire body twitched. Ric watched it crash-land on the floor, and calmly waved the barman over with another. The waitress came over as well with a rag, and cleaned up the mess. Through the ruckus, Morgan stared at him, and Ric let his words settle in. Once they were alone again, a fresh bottle of beer set a careful three inches from Morgan's hand, the icy blue eyes finally blinked.

"And just where the hell am I going to get that from any of the women I know?"

Ric shook his head. "Not the women; that's never uncomplicated. From a buddy."

Morgan's "You're saying I need a buddy-fuck?" was strangled.

Ric gave him an innocent look. With a layer of heat under it. "Surely you've heard of it?"

"Heard, yeah. Done, no." Suddenly, after staring at Ric for days, Morgan was looking everywhere but at Ric. Interesting. He wasn't a very good liar, considering his line of work.

"No inclination or no opportunity?" Ric eventually asked, after Morgan began to fidget. He'd never seen Morgan fidget. It was ... encouraging. The scorching glare he got in response to his question answered it quite well, and got Morgan looking at Ric again. A good thing, as it gave Ric the chance to give him his best 'come and get it' glance.

Morgan twitched again.

"Think about it," Ric told him, then got up. He threw a fifty on the table and headed out the back door toward the alley. Once outside, he paused and looked up. Snow was falling, and it looked beautiful against the dark sky. The air tasted crisp, the cold dampening the smell of the city, clean against his face after the close confines of the bar.

He was reaching to button up his coat when Morgan descended on him, shoving him hard up against the wall, forearm to his throat, face inches from Ric's.

"Are you fucking with my mind?" he snarled.

"No," Ric gasped past the obstruction of his windpipe. "I just want to fuck your body. Your mind's your own."

The arm disappeared, to be replaced by the solid warmth of Morgan's chest pressed against Ric's, a startling contrast to the cold bricks at his back. A hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head down into a kiss that was meant to be punishment.

Ric returned the kiss as hard as it was given.

When they broke for air, there was blood on his mouth and Morgan was licking his lips. They were panting, the air fogging between them, and Morgan was grinding his pelvis unconsciously against Ric's groin. They were both hard as stone. Ric raised a hand to wipe the trickle of blood from his mouth.

Morgan caught the hand before he could wipe it clean, and licked it.

Ric groaned. He couldn't help it. Morgan's tongue slid around his finger like it was a miniature cock and the sensation went all the way through Ric's body. For a straight man, Morgan knew what to do with his mouth, which made Ric wonder momentarily how close Morgan and Corinthos actually were.

Then Morgan's hands were inside his coat, heading for the zip on his trousers, and he didn't have time to ponder unknowables. He caught Morgan's wrist and barely managed to stop him. Frustrated, Morgan pressed closer and began to thrust against his thigh. It was ridiculously arousing.

"As much fun as it would be to fuck in this alley, it's a lot more fun with less chance of being arrested for indecency if we go back to my room and do it in a bed."

Ric was rather proud of his coherency considering that all the blood in his body was centered in his erection, and his brain felt like it was shutting down. Forcing himself to move, Ric ducked out from between Morgan and the wall, and headed down the alley toward Kelly's, less than a block away. A moment later, he heard footsteps behind him. He didn't bother to smother his grin.

They went up the back stairs, a hand coming up to grope him from mid-thigh to balls halfway up the stairs that nearly made him trip, causing him to glare over his shoulder at an unrepentant Morgan. Ric's hand shook a little as he inserted the key in his door, but that had more to do with the possibility of Elizabeth snooping around and blowing all his hard work before he got the chance to finish what he'd started than the fact that Morgan was rubbing up against his ass in a way that was quickly overheating them both.

Or so Ric told himself.

Once safely inside his room, Ric turned the deadbolt on the door and turned on Morgan. Hard hands caught at his clothes, stripping him with a speed that spoke of anger and lust. Ric allowed himself to be disrobed then caught Morgan's face between his hands, bringing him up for another devouring kiss. Morgan's body twitched and his hands came to rest on Ric's shoulders.

Which gave Ric the opening he needed to strip Morgan with the same ruthless efficiency. This wasn't about love, or affection. It was about scratching an itch, as far as Morgan was concerned.

It was about putting a chink in the wall, to Ric.

Having been celibate much longer than he cared to admit, Ric's body didn't give a damn. Morgan pushed him toward the bed and Ric let him. They were tangled together, hands grabbing at chest and cock and flank as they fell to the mattress. Morgan's fingers clenched a little too tightly and Ric yelped.

"Sorry, man," Morgan muttered, and pulled his hands away to run them restlessly up and down Ric's back. Ric wasn't paying attention. He was too busy licking and biting his way down Morgan's chest.

"Fuck," hissed Morgan when Ric caught a nipple and nipped it. Then "Yeah," as Ric nosed through the hair at his groin and licked up the length of his cock.

After that, words were beyond Morgan's reach, and that was all right with Ric. The strangled curses and uncontrollable moaning let him know he was doing just fine. Ric burrowed between Morgan's thighs and rubbed his fingertips over the thin skin behind the heavy sac as he took the head in his mouth, relaxing his throat to swallow as much as he could. Morgan fisted Ric's hair again, the slight pain enough to add an edge but not enough to slow him down.

Judging his timing perfectly, Ric waited until Morgan was involuntarily thrusting into his throat before pushing his sweat-slicked finger into the hole clenching between the muscular cheeks. There was a startled squawk from above his head, but the thrusting only increased in speed and strength, so Ric ignored it and added a second finger. Morgan's ass opened more easily than Ric expected, and he took advantage of it. Pressing deeply, he hooked three fingers and raked them back.

Morgan screamed. Arched until he nearly bucked Ric off, and came in a few long gouts. Ric pulled off just as Morgan spasmed, bringing his free hand up to milk Morgan's cock as he kept working his other hand deeply in Morgan's ass. The man twisted between his hands, sweat sliding freely over his skin, his eyes closed, his mouth open as he shook his way through his orgasm.

As he was coming down, Ric moved up on the bed. Quickly coated his own erection with the sticky mess on his hand, and replaced his fingers with his cock. Morgan's ass clenched around him, still rippling with the aftereffects of his climax, and Ric grunted as he shoved his way in.

For a moment, he thought Morgan might fight him, but as quickly as the anger flared in the pale eyes looking up at him, it was replaced by the heat of lust. Someone, somewhere, had taught Morgan how to take cock and like it. Ric took advantage of that unexpected bonus, slowing his pace, corkscrewing his hips to give Morgan the full benefit of the reaming Ric was giving his ass.

"Fuck," Morgan gasped again, and Ric couldn't help grinning at him.

"Doing my best," he panted back, and after another instant glare, Morgan surprised him by laughing.

"Damn good job," Morgan muttered, then reached up to pull Ric close enough to lay a biting kiss on his mouth. The cut on Ric's lip reopened and Morgan lapped at it like a cat at a bowl of cream.

Vampire, Ric meant to tease, but Morgan wrapped his legs around him, and Ric found himself pulled in as deep as he could go. The urge to pound into Morgan was too pressing to fight, and he gave into it, digging his hands into Morgan's shoulders and holding on as he thrust hard. Ric broke Morgan's grip on his face and threw his head back, his hips moving faster as he approached climax. Morgan traced the muscles standing out in his throat and chest and chanted, barely under his breath, "Ric. Ric. Ric."

He came so hard it felt as if he'd turned inside out. It was almost embarrassing. His answering "Jason!" growled through clenched teeth was too close to intimacy to fit his plans, but at the time he couldn't stop it. Ric filed it away as a warning and collapsed against Morgan, waiting for his heart to stop pounding and his brain to start working again.

Morgan shifted under him, and Ric slipped free. With a last lick at his mouth, Morgan disentangled himself from Ric and eased to the side of the bed. Ric reached out and ran a lazy finger through the slick fluid smearing the side of Morgan's ass cheek.

Morgan twitched. Glared at him. Ric raised an eyebrow and silently dared him to say a word. They'd both enjoyed it, and they could both admit it.

Not that either would, aloud. Morgan rose stiffly and stalked with less than his usual liquid grace over to the pile of clothes next to the door. Ric appreciated the view. That ass looked edible, marked with fingertip bruises, reddened from the pounding Ric had given it, come still dribbling down between the strong thighs.

Ric wanted to fuck him again. Soon.

Pulling his denim and cotton and leather armor around him, Morgan glared down at Ric, still sprawled across the bed.

"This never happened," he snarled. The usual level of hostility wasn't apparent in either his tone or his eyes.

"Does that mean it can't happen again?" Ric gave him another innocent look, at odds with his debauched appearance. Morgan froze, one hand on the door, for a very long moment.

"No," he finally answered, then gave Ric a tiny smirk and left quickly.

Staring at the closed door, Ric grinned, feeling cold triumph chill the heat of his body. Things were going well. A little patience, a little time, some careful maneuvering, getting closer to Carly through business and Jason in bed, cutting Corinthos off from his support system, sabotaging his entire life and destroying him ... soon, Ric would have everything he'd thirsted for since his family had been taken from him.

Restitution, as much as could be gained. For his father. Reclaiming the honor of the Rivera name so he could finally stop living a lie.

And vengeance for his beloved sister.

For Lily.

end