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Mature story contains dark themes involving graphic violence and taboo topics that may contain triggers for sensitive readers. Please do not read further if this bothers you.

Rich Boy: Inheritance - 2. Chapter 2

THIS STORY ONLY HAS 3 CHAPTERS WRITTEN. IT HAS BEEN ABANDONED.

We are posting all three chapters as people aware they exist. This story will very likely never be completed.

“That is one hunk of a man.” Emilio Sharpe stated as he looked out of the plane’s window. The wings had rotated to their vertical position, and the propellers were now glorified rotors as the Osprey descended onto Clairville’s extended set of landing pads just outside the city gates. Worthington looked out the same window and smiled before turning to give Emilio a stern stare.

“That man is off-limits, Emilio.” He warned his squad leader as the plane jostled slightly with touchdown. Worthington turned away from the window and tried not to show his men the erection now tenting his camo pants. The sight of Kyle wearing his skin-tight white and green baseball uniform left him extremely horny, even as exhausted as he was after this mission just over the border in Mexico.

“Fucking zombies.” Mitch Halverson grumbled as they stood up and began to gather their gear. The plane’s engines were throttling down, and soon enough they’d get out of the smelly interior. Half the squad had gory remains on their clothes, and the ride back had been stinky as hell. “Who the hell raises dead bodies anymore? Isn’t that supposed to be passé or something?”

“Listen to the jarhead.” Sheila Lawlin stated with a gruff laugh. “Two years in the squad and he’s calling zombies ‘passe.’ I remember him puking his guts out the first time he came face to face with a real live werewolf.”

“Debrief at 0600.” Sinclair interrupted their good-natured ribbing as the door opened and the ramp was extended. By custom, he was the first one off the plane, and he rushed out, hoping Kyle would be as glad to see him as he was to see the man.

“Y’all stink,” Kyle said as he hugged Worthington close. Both men had rushed towards each other, grasping each other tightly.

“You smell too, but in a good sweaty way.” Worthington breathed into Kyle’s ear before burying his lips against Kyle’s neck.

“What was it this time?” Kyle asked as they broke the hug, and Worthington began to walk towards the edge of the platform. A dwarf driver was waiting there in a golf cart for them while several more waited for the rest of the squad.

“A teenage necromancer lost control of a bunch of zombies, and they turned on him, killing him and his master,” Worthington spoke while trying to stop from shuddering.

“I thought necromancy was forbidden,” Kyle stated and then shook his head. “Yeah, that’s why they were in the middle of bumfuck Mexico.”

“Yes.” Worthington agreed as they sat in the back seat of the cart. “Hello, Regan.”

“Welcome back, Lord Sinclair.” The dwarf stated. As he drove off, Worthington reflected on how the dwarves always seemed to get what they wanted. He’d fought for years to get them to drop the “Lord” crap, but they ignored his protests and used the word. Their society had been feudal for thousands of years, longer than all of recorded human history and they preferred it over any ‘modern’ form of government.

Yet they were also massive users of technology, fully embracing those changes.

“Anything new here?” Worthington asked and risked putting a hand on Kyle’s leg. The soft, silky material was firm, indicating it was made of precious dwarven liquid metal instead of genuine cloth. It would take a large-caliber armor-piercing round to penetrate these pants.

“Trolls still haven’t learned how to run the bases.” Kyle shrugged. He tried to pretend it was no big deal, but the corners of his lips were twitching.

“Don’t tell me an elf stole an actual base again.” Worthington snickered.

“No, but it’s hard to win the game even after the batter hits the ball so hard the elves couldn’t even see where it landed if he doesn’t run around the bases.” Kyle sounded so damn frustrated.

“If you think we’re bad, you just wait till the wee little ones get here.” Regan, our driver, spoke up. Oh sure, they believed in all the medieval crap, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t listen to your conversation and comment on it if that was what they wanted.

“We had to explain very firmly to the football team why using magic wasn’t acceptable,” Worthington explained at Kyle’s inquisitive look. This time he broke out in laughter.

“I can just see the runts using magic to levitate the ball into their gloves.” Kyle shook his head as he laughed, causing Worthington’s breath to hitch in his throat. There was something about Kyle’s look with the ball cap low on his face, his brown hair just visible at his ears and the profile of his face that made Worthington weak in the knees.

“I’m so glad to be home,” Worthington stated as the car passed through the main gates. There was a line of cars waiting to get in, mostly mage families coming to shop or visit, but they weaved through them and were waved past by the guards.

“You were gone all of four days.” Kyle reminded him with another chuckle. “It’s good to have you home, you know.”

“That’s nice to hear it,” Worthington stated and waved at a few elves that were in a group together and waving at him. Or were they waving at Kyle?

“Me,” Kyle answered the unspoken question. They could often sense unspoken thoughts now, weeks after Kyle’s return. “I’ve been accused of prancing around in this gear just to show off.”

“You are showing off.” Worthington laughed.

“If the dwarves are so kind to make me an entire wardrobe of outfits, I’ll wear them all,” Kyle said with a shrug. He nodded in the direction of a particularly dandy elf dressed in a riot of colors that looked like they came out of a Renaissance Faire. “The rules of society out there don’t really apply in here, do they?”

“No, they don’t.” Worthington was forced to admit as they pulled into the Keep’s entryway. It was hard to believe this had once been an abandoned, polluted copper mine. Bright pennons flew from the four corners of the Keep and from the top of the Round Tower at the north end. The village was four times as big as it had been just five years ago, and it was still growing. Negotiations were under way with the government to acquire more of the National Park land around and under them. “Have we heard from Lokar on how many more of his people are planning to move here if they get the underground rights and the water rights for those aquifers?”

“Five thousand, six hundred and ten by the last count, and most of those planning to move are technically Light Dwarves.” Kyle murmured. Regan snorted at the term “Light,” which was a reference to their skin color and tendency to be less greedy than their counterparts, the Dark Dwarves that had settled here originally. “Their water sources at their old caverns have been polluted beyond their ability to repair easily.”

“Damn oil.” Worthington murmured, knowing full well that he’d only recently divested his family holdings of shares of the oil company responsible for the spills that had damaged the aquifers in question.

“Thanks for the ride, Regan,” Kyle said as the cart stopped and they got out. The dwarf just grunted and drove off quickly, likely running some other errand for the housekeeper.

“He seems a little touchy today.” Worthington sighed as he led the way inside. His first destination was to be his rooms on the top floor of the Keep, but a waiting Brandon in his suit with an armful of papers warned him he might be stinky for a while.

Three hours later he finished the climb up to the top of the Keep and nodded at the guards standing at the entrance to the ‘family’ level. Sure he’d personally built most of the wards on this level, but nothing was foolproof and having dwarf guards and human guards up here at all times kept things safer. He was tired, sore, and even smellier than he had been when his plane landed, and actually experienced a moment of resentment when he felt Kyle waiting for him just inside his rooms.

“It was that bad?” Kyle asked as Worthington entered the lounge area that was shared by the two main chambers at this end of the floor. Jamie had ‘loaned’ the chambers reserved for him to Kyle upon that man’s return.

“I just want to get clean.” Worthington murmured, hoping Kyle wouldn’t detect the fading resentment. His friend, boyfriend, or was it, fiancé, still wore the same outfit he’d been in earlier although he had taken his shoes off and had his feet with their green socks up on the coffee table in a pose Worthington still found difficult to assume.

“Let me help you.” Kyle was up on his feet before Worthington could blink, and strong hands were on him, helping to take off the digital-pattern desert tunic. His hands gently pushed Worthington towards the door that led to his chambers while they helped him leave a trail of clothes behind.

“Oh, God, I’m tired.” Worthington hissed as he leaned against a wall while Kyle helped get his boots off. He was so tired he wasn’t even getting hard at the nearness of Kyle’s head to his groin.

“Your feet stink.” Kyle laughed as he got the second boot off, and they resumed the journey to the bathroom. He could feel Kyle’s magic sweep forward, activating spells to start the bath filling with hot water.

“Like yours don’t after playing ball?” Worthington countered.

“Not like this.” Kyle laughed as they entered the bathroom, and then he was tugging Worthington’s pants down. He must have felt the flash of thought that surged through Worthington and got a tingle out of his tired body. “Settle down. You haven’t put that ring on my finger yet, so we won’t go that far.”

“I can dream, can’t I?” Worthington asked in a teasing tone as his boxers were pulled down. He naturally preferred boxer briefs, but the climate had pretty much demanded the roomier boxers. After the fight against Demon Lord Noloc in the jungles of Vietnam, he’d learned to give his equipment some breathing room. With Kyle’s help, he slid into the steaming bathtub and let out a sigh of relief. A flash of something green flying across the room had him turning quickly though. “What the fuck?”

“My feet don’t stink nearly as bad as yours, but I can stand getting clean, and someone needs to make sure you don’t pass out,” Kyle said with a smirk as he took off his other sock and threw it against the far wall before loosening his belt. It was fun to watch how he shimmied out of the tight white pants with their elastic bands just below his knees.

“If you wore normal clothes you’d be in the bath by now.” Worthington teased as Kyle finished stripping out of the pants and then the compression shorts underneath. The bath could, and had, fit up to six adults comfortably, and there was plenty of room as Kyle slid into the water. Unexpectedly he settled next to Worthington, not on the other side of the bubbling water. “You’re frisky today. Isn’t the Light worried I’m going to take you?”

“The Light reminded me that staying away from you isn’t the test it had in mind with us.” Kyle laughed softly as he gestured to summon a washrag to his hands. He dipped it in the water and began to scrub at the grime that still covered Worthington’s face. “Dedication includes resisting the direct temptation as well as the indirect. If I’m going to spend my life with you, I need to prove that not even your gorgeous body can tempt me from the Path.”

“This? Gorgeous?” Worthington snorted in a most undignified way as Kyle rinsed the soap off of his face. He didn’t need to open his eyes to see the scars from his first encounter with a Demon Lord or the scars from the werewolf-mage that had taken to snacking on human babies in a remote Louisiana parish. There were more scars where demon children had opened his stomach with their claws, and scars where one had nearly torn his heart out. For four years he’d hunted demon children down in every corner of the Earth, being one of the few mages powerful enough to stand against them.

“Some people find scars sexy,” Kyle said as he switched the hand with the washrag to scrub down Worthington’s chest along the center scar lines. “They’re evidence of all the work you’ve done to keep people safe, you know.”

“I never imagined I’d spend my life hunting down children bred as mutant spawn of demons, or demons themselves,” Worthington admitted as he closed his eyes. He was fully hard now, and hoping the Light was as generous as it had been with Jamie when they were both sixteen, allowing some sexual contact, at least enough for kissing and masturbation. He wanted to feel Kyle’s hands on his…

“It’s not that forgiving.” Kyle ruined his hope by whispering in his ear. The feel of his skin against Worthington’s was almost too much, but he was so tired that he gave up trying to push for more contact. “Turn around so I can scrub your back and you can tell me what had Brandon ambushing you.”

“My fucking uncle,” Worthington growled as he turned around. Kyle’s scrubbing was relaxing as much as it was invigorating. Strangely enough, since Kyle had returned home, at last, Worthington had no longer felt any sexual desires for other people.

“What now?” Kyle asked softly as his rag crept lower and lower.

“He’s challenging the training regimen we got passed through Congress.” Worthington sighed as Kyle motioned for him to turn back around and to extend his legs. The feel of the man’s hands on his feet had him ready to melt. “Oh, don’t stop that. I have to go to D.C. for a damn hearing of the Oversight Committee, and Stacy will have to go with me. We’ll have to sit there in the same room as him!”

“What kind of trap is he setting for you?” Kyle wondered aloud. He knew the full story of Worthington’s uncle. Hell, he knew almost everything Worthington ever knew.

“I have no clue.” Worthington shrugged. “We lost our last spy in his ranks last year, so we have no idea exactly where he is going with this. Between this and what we learned with this whole election shit, I can’t help but think something really big is in the works.”

“I love touching you,” Kyle whispered in a hoarse voice and lowered Worthington’s foot until it brushed his erection.

“Careful,” Worthington warned him, feeling the sudden surge of desire. It was hard to resist, but he pulled his foot away and was rewarded with a blinding smile.

“See, you do care.” Kyle murmured in a slow drawl before taking Worthington’s other leg into his hands and began to scrub again.

“I told you, I want this to last,” Worthington said as he sighed and leaned back in the tub, closing his eyes. “I haven’t even looked at another man since you’ve moved back in here.”

“Ah have to admit that I feel like I'm finally home.” Kyle’s drawl grew thick, and he lowered his head as he blushed. Worthington was struck by Kyle’s handsome features again. “Five years ago, I’d have called you crazy if you said I’d love this place like I do now. Those dwarves gave me the willies when I first saw them.”

“Willies?” Worthington couldn’t help the burble of laughter that welled up in him at that and relaxed even further in Kyle’s grasp.

Life was so damn good at this point.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Life sucked big time.

Next week was his sixteenth birthday, and he’d had plans. Now all those plans were trashed, all because he’d been stupid and given in to those feelings and those voices in his head. He’d always known he was cursed and now things were way worse than they’d ever been before.

The first curse happened when his freaking mother named him. Well, it really happened when his mother got pregnant with him, but she’d just made it worse by giving him the sissiest name ever: Corey David Pinter. She said his middle name was for his father, but he had never met the man.

His last name just made it worse, and his small size for most of his life guaranteed he’d be teased about being sissy Corey and half-Pint all through middle school and into high school. While other kids got taller, he stayed short. They sprouted hair in their armpits and groin, and he stayed hairless like a little boy. It wasn’t until four months ago that he sprouted his first hair and started to grow.

“You’re sure this kid is fifteen?” The social worker had demanded of the cops when they’d brought her in. “He looks ten.”

“His school identification says he is.” The cop had responded with a shrug, handing over the identification before walking out of the interview room. Freckles over the bridge of his nose, hair that couldn’t decide if it was pale red or strawberry blond, and a layer of baby fat on his face only made it easier for people to think he was still a pre-teen, not within a week of being old enough to drive.

At least he’d grown two inches in the last few months since his growth spurt had finally started. That was when the voices in his head had started too, and the combination of the incessant voices and the pain from his rapid growth had driven him to start dipping into his mom’s stash of oxycodone. The pills shut everything down, just as they always had, but he’d taken too many this time, and she’d gotten suspicious

That was how she’d caught him kissing Kenny, the neighbor kid that had come over to try and score some pills. Despite never having a job, despite being a drug and alcohol addict, his mother had somehow kept up a home in a middle-class neighborhood. Maybe her sole business of selling prescription pills on the sly made enough money, or maybe it was the father he’d never met paying her off to keep her quiet, but they’d lived a life that looked perfectly normal on the outside.

It was only on the inside that things had truly been fucked.

“The police inform me that they found a large number of illicit pills on you without a prescription.” The social worker, a stern-looking woman in her fifties, stated, and Corey frowned at her.

“Aren’t you supposed to introduce yourself first and tell me you’re here to help?” Corey asked and actually felt anger for the first time at his voice cracking. He’d prayed for it to break as a sign of puberty starting, but now it made him feel stupid.

“Do you want me to help you?” She asked as she cocked her head to the side and actually looked at him. The codone was wearing off, and he could actually hear the voices again, although they were muted by distance. To his surprise, he couldn’t hear anything from the woman. “If you really are almost sixteen, you’re old enough for them to charge you as an adult for possession, and you’re obviously a runaway. I’m only here to see if there’s a reason not to classify you as an adult.”

“Don’t you have to be a psychologist for that?” Corey asked her in confusion.

“Yes, and I get to decide if you go on to see one or we put you in the juvenile system, or something else.” She said the last bit cryptically. “You do know what you are, don’t you?”

“I’m a freak,” Corey stated miserably, crossing his arms and slouching in the chair as he looked down at the stained table in front of him.

We’re all freaks to others, Corey. Her voice almost sounded tender for a moment, and he snorted.

“Yeah well not all of us hear voices.” He replied aloud.

Your barriers are rotten. She told him, and he looked up long enough to frown at her. When she continued to speak, his eyes grew wide. Is that why you take the pills? They do have enough of an impact to dull the senses. Who is training you?

“Your mouth isn’t moving!” Corey gasped as he stood up fast enough to knock the heavy metal chair backward. They’d taken the cuffs off him when they put him in here, and now he backed up all the way against the wall as the woman frowned at him.

“Oh, damn.” She murmured, and this time, her lips did move. “At least I know what to do with you now. Who would have thought a boy of your potential not even knowing?”

“Knowing what?” Corey asked, and she frowned before making some weird gesture with her hand.

“There, they probably aren’t watching, but the microphone won’t record the conversation.” She stated, causing further confusion for Corey. “Oh, sit down, kid, I’m on your side.”

“What is going on here?” Corey demanded in a shaky voice.

“You hear voices.” She stated it as fact, not a question. “That is because you’re a mage, a wild one obviously not born into an existing family. Do you live, no did you live with your mother and father until recently? Did something happen to them?”

“I never met my father.” Corey couldn’t help the bitterness that welled up in him. “Mom kicked me out when she caught me kissing the neighbor boy. She called me a fag, and she was pissed ’cause he was younger than me.”

“How much younger?” She demanded, and he had a feeling she’d know if he was lying.

“He’s thirteen.” Corey could feel the blush hitting his cheeks. “He’s two inches taller than me, and he wanted it! I could hear him thinking…”

“If you say he was willing, I’ll take your word for it.” She snapped at him with an irritated frown. He thought she was disgusted by his kissing another boy, but he somehow knew the feeling was directed at his mother and not him. “So your mother caught you kissing the neighbor boy and kicked you out. Where did you get the pills?”

“From her stash.” Corey shrugged. He was screwed anyway, so what did it matter if he answered her questions. If he was lucky, his mother would get caught and put in jail. “I took them from the stash she keeps to sell. It’s how she makes her money.”

“Karma can be a bitch.” The woman said, and Corey’s eyes nearly bugged out at her language. “My name is Linda Connors, Social Worker, and secret mage.”

“Mage?” He couldn’t keep the scorn out of his voice, just like he couldn’t keep from turning the word into two syllables with his voice breaking on the second syllable.

“Yes, the abilities that allows you to hear voices.” She said in an exasperated tone while holding up a hand. The fire that appeared there for a single moment had him gasping and recoiling again. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward as the flame disappeared.

“Was that real?” He asked with disbelief. For some reason, he could see her in a different way now, almost glowing with light that flowed through her in odd patterns. He shook his head, and the vision went away.

“Your first glimpse of mage-sight?” She asked him with a little laugh and then shook her head. “Have a seat, Corey. We’ve got a lot to discuss, and then we’ll have arrangements to make.”

“What kind of arrangements?” He asked, suspiciously.

“You’re a wizard, Corey Pinter, and you’re going to Hogwarts.” She said in a voice that sounded mocking, but he got the impression she wasn’t mocking him.

“I hated Harry Potter.” He frowned at her as he picked up his chair and sat back down almost a foot away from the table.

“So did I.” She said with a laugh, “but the phrase fits.”

“They caught me in a sting operation trying to sell my ass and with over fifty oxy pills.” Corey knew he was in deep shit. “I’m going to juvenile detention until I’m eighteen if I’m lucky or prison until I’m fifty.”

“More like thirty, but close enough if you were a normal person.” She agreed with a nod, and he frowned even more. “Magic is real, so are many magical creatures, although most of what you’ve probably read is pure fiction. There’s a whole spiel we’re supposed to give, but I can’t stand it. Bottom line is we’re going to make some adjustments to the memories, or rather I am going to make adjustments. The cops will never remember you being here, and then we’ll go.”

“Go where?” He asked, putting aside the whole believing she could do what she claimed thing.

“My home to start with.” She answered as she crossed her arms in mimicry of him and frowned at him. “I’ll have to put you up for the night, and then you’ll be on the first plane in the morning to Phoenix.”

“As in Arizona?” He gasped in surprise. “Why would I go there?”

“They’ve got a school for wild mages like you there.” She snorted. “They’ll teach you to use your abilities and all that mess.”

“If I’m a mage like you say, shouldn’t you be nicer to me?” Corey asked her as he fixated on this point. “You sound like I’m wasting your time.”

“You are wasting my time.” She huffed as she dropped her arms to the table and started thrumming her fingers to some weird tune. “You’re a mage. There’s more than enough safety nets in place to take care of you. When I call them, your flight will be paid for by that damn school. You’ll have a place to stay, probably be adopted by some family, maybe even some non-humans, and you’ll have everything in life you’ve ever dreamed of and I get pissed because the asshole that set all this up for mage kids didn’t bother lifting a damn finger to help the kids that really need help. If they’re not mages, there’s none of this for them.”

“I don’t want to be adopted,” Corey argued, suddenly afraid of everything she’d laid out for him. “He’s probably some old queer that likes boys.”

“He’s a young queer, in his mid-twenties, and he probably wouldn’t hesitate to screw your virgin ass if you waved it front of his face.” She snorted again. “He’s a Dark Path, whatever he claims about the Gray. It’s all illusion as far as I’m concerned.”

“This is unreal.” Corey shook his head, suddenly doubted he was even having this conversation.

“Get over it, kid.” She snapped, literally with her fingers and a flame appeared once again over her hands. She shook it out, and he lifted his hands, trying to see if he could imitate her. His head rang as it felt like she’d slapped him, but she hadn’t moved. “Don’t even think about trying anything until you’ve had your first lessons, and I’m not teaching you.”

“That hurt!” He complained, his voice cracking again and turning it into a whine.

“Stop whining.” She retorted. “You have no idea just how lucky you are. If I had been just another Normal worker, you’d have been in prison by the end of the week.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate all that, but what about what I want?” Corey complained as he stared at her.

“You’re homeless.” She bit off each word. “Your mother threw you out. Do you want me to try and reconcile you with her? If she let you come back, do you want to live with her?”

“Hell no,” Corey answered immediately, slouching down a little more as he spoke.

“You’ve broken the law, quite seriously.” She continued in a staccato pattern. “Do you want to go to jail?”

“Not really.” He answered glumly, already seeing where this is going. “Fine, I get the point! I’ll do what you said.”

“That’s why I didn’t bother asking, kid.” She actually sounded cheerful at that. “I’ve done this job for nearly twenty years, and I can usually figure out what’s best for the kid within a few minutes.”

“Don’t you know it’s not nice to be so smug?” Corey asked grouchily, and she laughed at him as she stood up, holding out her hand.

“C’mon kid, you’re going to think today was the best day of your life in a few years.” She stated.

“You do realize that could mean my life is going to suck from here on out, don’t you?” He asked her, and she smiled, saying nothing as she they headed for the door.

Yup, life sucked badly.

Copyright © 2019 dkstories; All Rights Reserved.

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Ever since the first time that I read this years ago; I always felt Corey was going to be a great character.  Have to wonder what he would have turned out to be...

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