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Rick's room felt dark and cavelike, the air still and uncomfortably warm. Rick had cranked up the thermostat the moment Morty's parents left the driveway, muttering about his old bones. Morty hated the oppressive heat, but he hadn't dared to complain about it, though Summer had before she left for some party.
The house was quiet except for Rick's off-key humming that drifted around the room like a flight of buzzing honeybees. Morty rubbed his palms together and watched Rick fold a blanket and set it neatly on his cot. He laid a bottle of cold water on top. For a moment the old man stood silent. Morty wondered if he was congratulating himself on how well he had done 'baby-proofing' his bedroom, as he had called it earlier.
Morty hardly knew how he'd ended up here. Why did he keep agreeing to things he didn't want to do? When Rick shrugged off his lab coat and Morty got a glimpse of his sharp profile highlighted against the dimness, he couldn't deny to himself that he knew the answer. Sitting on the desk chair they had rolled in here for this purpose, Morty fidgeted. Years ago he had thought that his little crush was an anomaly and it would evaporate quickly. Now he was firmly in love with his own grandfather. Rick made him feel alive in ways that nobody else could ever understand. Morty had been to places that no other living creature had ever seen. He had seen Rick steal from Emperors and cheat at cards with mobsters. He had run for his life with Rick holding his hand, feeling the old man's anxiety thrumming in his pulse. How could anyone else ever compare? Rick was the sun and moon and stars to Morty and that would never change. He had accepted it, and accepted that he would never be together with the love of his life. He would have to settle for basking in Rick's platonic attention for as long as he could hold it.
"You ready?" Rick sat down on the edge of his cot, long legs apart and bent at a nearly comical angle. He looked so relaxed, the sleeves of his soft sweatshirt bunched around his elbows. He reached behind himself with a pained groan. " Fuck , my back. Jesus . Ok, c'mere Morty."
Automatically obedient, Morty scooted his chair closer to Rick. His shadow, cast by the single desk lamp, rolled across the opposite wall. "I'm really not sure about this, R-Rick."
"You promised. I'm halfway sober just to trip sit you. No way you're backing out of this now. Fuckin' chicken."
"What if I have a 'bad trip?' I-I-I don't want to see a bunch of scary shit."
"You're not gonna have a 'bad trip,' 'cause you've got me, dawg! I'll get you back on track if you start to get weird."
"For all I know you plan to freak me out!"
"Morty," Rick said, reaching over to lay his hand over Morty's. His palm was cool and dry. Morty swallowed thickly. "C'mon. Trust me, ok? Just trust me. Carelian Dreamwine is a good time. You'll thank me later."
Morty made a sound of deep frustration, letting it boil and overflow his throat. "Fine. Hurry up before I change my mind."
Rick flashed him a triumphant grin. A small brown glass bottle was produced, and Rick's spindly fingers set to work measuring out a dose in a pipette. Rick instructed Morty to open his mouth, which he did with a roll of his eyes. There was something odd in Rick's expression when he took him by the jaw to hold him steady, like a flickering view beyond the steel wall that usually blocked everyone out. It was just a shadow of something that looked like greed.
Morty didn't have time to think about any of it, though, because Rick immediately dropped the absolute worst thing Morty had ever tasted right into his mouth. It was so bitter that his tongue felt numb, as if it were coated in a thick layer of wax. Vile souness spread up the back of his throat and made his soft palate prickle.
"Oh my god!" Morty sputtered. Saliva was bubbling up under his tongue, polluted by the bilious flavor of the dreamwine.
Rick handed him an empty paper cup. "Spit in here. It won't last long."
Morty, utterly ungraceful, drooled straight Into the cup. "Why didn't you warn me about that?!?"
Rick shrugged. "Would you have done it if I had?"
"No!"
"Well, there you go. I'm sure even you can reach the–urrp–correct conclusion here."
"Fine." Morty wished he could look threatening right now, but he kept having to spit thick globs into the cup. "How long does it take to kick in?"
"You'll feel it any second now. It absorbs through the mucous membranes. Time to relax, Morty."
Rick's tone turned gentle just as Morty began to feel strange. The sound of his grandfather's voice began to stretch out. Morty thought of play-doh squishing through the spaghetti maker, brightly colored and soft. He suddenly wanted to cry, remembering the simple times when he used to play quietly at the table while his mother studied, but instead he let out a lilting giggle. Rapt with fascination, he watched Rick's hands take his cup away and replace it with a bottle of water. Morty shivered at a drop of cold condensation falling on the back of his hand.
"I think I'm high," he said, and the sound of his words thinned slowly until they were gone.
"That was kind of the point. Drink the water, Morty. Trust me. You'll love it."
Morty looked down at the bottle. It looked crystalline, refracting the color of his skin viewed through it. "Is it really ok?" Morty suspected the water would taste like diamonds.
"Go ahead; try it out." Rick leaned forward, a nakedly eager glint in his icy eyes.
Morty felt his face warm. He had to look away, his heart thudding like a timpani. Rick was really close. It would be so easy to kiss him; all he had to do was lean forward.
He was beginning to see the fatal flaw in this whole plan. Why had he even considered lowering his inhibitions around Rick? He fumbled with the water bottle, struggling to get it open. Rick gently covered Morty's hands with his own and helped him twist the cap. The seal broke with a satisfying crack , and a little bit of water spilled onto Morty's lap. When he looked up Rick was smiling at him. Morty stared, gap mouthed, the water forgotten. Rick looked so disarmed. The dramatic lighting cast stark shadows across the sharp planes of his face and deepened the crinkles around his eyes. He was devastating, so handsome that it hurt Morty's heart to look at him. Rick's fingertips were still delicately resting on the backs of Morty's hands.
"Maybe I-I should just go lay down. I think I get the idea." Morty meant to get up, but he felt stuck to his chair like a fly in a sticky trap. Every shift he made suddenly felt slow and stretchy.
"Morty, it hasn't even gotten good yet. What happened to--weren't you gonna trust me? Drink the water, Morty. Come on."
Rick guided the bottle to Morty's lips. Morty’s eyes flicked away from Rick's face. He allowed water to be tipped into his mouth, slowly at first and then with Increasing greed. The water tasted clean and sweet, and it refreshed him like a bracing wind. He gulped as quickly as he could until Rick gently took it away from him.
"Hey! I was drinking that!" Morty reached for the bottle, but his hand was leaving a blurry trail behind. "What the fuck?" he muttered, eyes glued to the visual effect.
"What's going--what's the problem?"
Morty looked up and saw that Rick was blurring, too, leaving behind a perfect map of his past. "I think I'm seeing the fourth dimension, Rick. Oh god, wh-what's gonna happen to me? Is this what's there all the time?"
Rick didn't say anything for a few moments, instead turning away and fiddling with something on the bedside table. Morty counted his heartbeats. Was it his imagination or were they racing? He started thinking about the blur that must surround his heart, the afterimage of its constant throbbing. When he looked up at Rick again he could feel the stiffness in his distressed face.
"Here, Morty, suck on this for a little while." Rick handed him a wooden spoon heaped with something that shone amber in the dim light.
Morty took the spoon and stared down at it mutely while his brain struggled to catch up. "What is it?"
"What the fuck does it look like? It's honey. Just lick it," Rick grumbled.
"Why?"
"Because it'll distract you from the fourth dimension shit."
Morty made the mistake of looking up at Rick's face. His eyes were stony but they radiated a glimmer of refracted light, turning their usual icy grey to early-spring blue. He was entranced. He couldn't look away.
The taste of the honey surprised him, just as the water had. It was complex, warm and sugary but rich with something earthy hidden inside.
"Oh fuck, this is so good," Morty groaned. He sucked on the porous wood to get all of the sweetness out of it. There was a creaking sound, Rick shifting in his seat.
"Just focus on that for a while; you'll feel better."
Morty sat, staring at Rick while he lapped at the honey. The world was taking on a much friendlier haze now, a warm glow that cradled Morty with love. Rick was ringed with light that settled on his thin greying hair like a shining diadem. The older man was worrying at his lip with his teeth. He averted his eyes and fumbled his flask out of his pocket to take a long pull. Morty could smell the rum from where he sat.
"I wanna taste--I wanna try your flask." Morty let the clean-licked spoon fall to his lap and then slide onto the floor.
"Nope. No way."
"Why not?"
"Because you don't need two intoxicants in your system at once. You weigh like two pounds, Morty. If you manage to swallow a shot it's gonna go right to your head."
"But…" Morty screwed up his face in concentration. He hadn't worked out exactly why he wanted to taste the rum so badly. It seemed important, but he couldn't quite reach it.
"Look, let's forget that and try something else. You wanna listen to some music, Morty? I got a treat set up for you."
"For m-me?" Morty was touched.
His grandfather rolled his eyes. "Yes, dipshit. In case you didn't notice, I did all of this for you."
"For me," Morty said. He hugged his arms to his chest. His cheeks warmed.
"ldiot."
On the floor beside the bed Rick had set up a record player. He knelt down in front of it. The speakers hissed a little when Rick flipped the power on. "Check this out, baby! your old man was a punk rock god back in the day!"
Rick let the needle drop. He nodded his head to the opening strains of a heavy, bass-driven track with a complex rhythm. An album cover was thrust into Morty's hands. It took a few bars for him to begin to glean any information from it. Realization dawned slowly.
"Is that...you?" Morty squinted down at the photograph on the cover. A younger Rick glowered up at him, flipping him the bird. The bare-chested rocker was the sexiest single thing that Morty had ever seen. He squeezed his thighs together, trying to stave off a problem.
"That's right. I'm a multi-talented individual, Morty. A real Renaissance man." Rick sat back up on the cot, long legs tangled, tapping to the beat on his knee.
"You're so hot."
Oh god, why had he said that? Why would he ever think it was ok to say something like that? A cloud passed over Rick's expression, a flicker that was impossible to miss and equally impossible to identify.
"Little fuckin' weirdo. Maybe I gave you too much…" Rick reached out and took Morty by the chin, pulling him closer and staring him straight in the eye, probably checking the dilation of his pupils.
Morty didn't stop. He kept moving forward and slid off of his chair to his knees on the floor directly between Rick's legs. All he could think was that Rick must have been so warm to touch. That he had wanted to touch him for so long. Rick had seemed so soft and gentle tonight. He couldn't fight his sudden impulse that had flared to life the moment Rick had touched his face. The music was making his nervous system throb in time. A beautiful curtain of kaleidoscopic lights danced around Rick's head. Morty set his hands on Rick's knees for balance and stared up at him. Neither of them breathed for what felt like forever.
"What are you doing, Morty?" Rick's voice was full of veiled complexity. Morty thought it sounded like a snake's sinister rattle.
Morty's answer was to run his hands up Rick's thighs, honing in on the heat of his body. Rick grabbed his wrists and stopped him.
"I said what are you doing, Morty?"
"Whatever I want." Morty laughed with the realization that he meant just that--he was so unburdened that he was finally doing what he desired.
"Ok, well, if you're touchy-feely you can just hold on a minute and I'll get you that fleece blanket from the couch." Rick started to get up, but Morty leaned into him and buried his face against his stomach. He smelled like clean laundry and something heavy and masculine that sent a thrill to the pit of Morty's belly.
"Don't go," Morty said, voice muffled by Rick's body. "I just want--"
"I don't care what you want. Get off of me before there are consequences, Morty." Rick gripped Morty by the shoulders painfully tight.
But he didn't push him away.
Morty moaned against Rick and his fingers bit in even harder. "I don't care, I don't care." Morty's world had narrowed to the thin reality of sensation, higher thought forgotten. "I just want to touch you."
"Morty, fucking let go right now."
"Make me."
With a pained growl Rick finally threw Morty away from himself, knocking him back on his ass. Morty whined, his head nodding heavily. He would be paying for all of this when he came down, so he might as well just try to enjoy the ride while Rick was still kind of obligated to be nice to him. When he managed to tilt his head back Rick was on his feet, eyes flashing, shoulders heaving with shaky breaths.
"You think you're funny? Huh?”
“No,” said Morty, because he really didn’t.
“Where’s the camera?” Rick started to rifle through his meager belongings, looking for something that wasn’t there. “This is fucking entrapment.”
Morty crawled to Rick on his hands and knees, only wobbling a little. He grabbed his grandfather’s pants leg and used it to pull himself upright. Clinging to the old man’s thighs, Morty stared up at him in sheer wonderment. He could see the cosmos burning in Rick’s eyes, the reflected light of a thousand thousand stars.
“Stop staring at me like that,” Rick said, his voice timorous.
The bass was still thumping in the background, a reflection of the low pulsing of Morty’s heart. Rick seemed frozen in place, hardly breathing.
“You’re already mad at me,” Morty reasoned. The words floated up from him like soap bubbles; he had no control over their flight, but was fascinated by their rainbow hues once they had been released into the world. “M-Might as well get your dick sucked, right? Before you murder me?”
“Morty,” Rick said warningly. He looked out of his depth, a strange look on him. “Knock it the fuck off.”
Morty just nuzzled his face into Rick’s thigh.
Strong hands grabbed him by the shirtfront and hauled him to his feet. His grandfather was seething, and frightened, and so close. “Listen here, you little shit. I’m not gonna tell you again.”
Rick was so warm and fluttering with life. Morty put his arms around his neck and met his furious gaze. He didn’t much care what Rick was saying anymore. Standing on his tiptoes, he pulled Rick down towards himself. In the middle of that vast canyon between them, their lips met in a clumsy clash.
“Morty, no,” Rick spoke into his mouth.
Morty kissed him harder, clinging desperately. He was doing everything he could to press his feelings into Rick’s skin. Even through the high, Morty knew that this was his only chance at this. He had blown his load all on one single gambit. Impulsively. Sober, he would have freaked out and given up long before. Still, he trembled as he waited for something to happen.
And then something did.
Rick’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him even closer. Spidery fingers tangled in his hair, and thin lips softened against his own. Morty lost himself utterly in this new kiss, the one Rick was slowing and deepening. He felt heavier, full of warm syrup and joy.
“You fucking idiot,” Rick murmured against his lips. “Moron. You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?”
Morty only moaned wantonly and let Rick scoop him up, putting his legs around his waist and laying his cheek on his shoulder. He molded around him like water, mewling happily. He closed his eyes while Rick moved about the room, not particularly caring what he was doing opening drawers and shoving things in his pockets. Then Rick carried him upstairs. Morty had never felt so safe and loved. Everything was shining with his intoxicated happiness.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve dreamt of doing this? I stand at the bottom of the stairs at night, talking myself out of this,” Rick said gruffly. He laid Morty on his back on his own bed. The sudden familiarity of his sheets felt good, and Rick covered him with his body, which felt even better. “I’m sick. I’m fucking sick, Morty, but I tried. You ungrateful little shit. I’m done. I’m done holding back. I’m gonna do what I always do--I’m gonna take what I want.”
“I-I-I want it, too, Rick,” Morty gasped as Rick nosed against his neck. “I dream o-of it, too.”
“Shut up, Morty.” Rick pushed Morty’s shirt off over his head, and when he pressed his lips to the hollow of Morty’s throat and tasted his skin, he groaned in unbridled pleasure. “You did this to me. You made me this way.”
Morty panted, squirming beneath Rick, rutting up against his belly. “Rick, I want you, I need you.”
“You just had to go and push it, didn’t you? It’s never--nothing is ever enough for you.”
Rick sank his teeth into Morty’s shoulder. Morty could feel him leaving the impression behind, moaning and writhing at the blossom of pain. Rick’s tongue ran apologetically over the bruise. Morty tugged urgently at Rick’s shirt, who let him slip it off and cling tight. The feeling of Rick’s warm, dry skin against his chest set him off even more. He was a wriggling sack of eagerness in Rick’s arms.
“I want you,” Morty repeated, growing more urgent as his pulse raced. Rick seemed unhurried, though, and kept kissing his neck. It hardly mattered; Morty was so sensitive after the dreamwine that he thought he could probably get off just from rubbing against Rick’s stomach.
“You don’t know what you want,” Rick said. “You don’t know anything. You don’t know what you do to me.”
Rick’s stubble scratched Morty’s sensitive skin. It burned a little, but Morty was swept away by the sensation. It was so masculine, and so Rick. Somehow, with his focus reduced to that one sensation, Morty felt his fantasies coming true. He had always been attracted to men–not boys his age, not smooth twinks, but men. Which was probably not healthy on several levels, but Morty couldn’t help it. He nuzzled back against Rick’s face to savor the sensation. Fumblingly, Rick found Morty’s lips with his own. The old man moaned, and Morty swallowed the sound eagerly. He could feel Rick’s erection against his thigh, and he met each questing roll of his grandfather’s hips with one of his own.
“Rick,” Morty whined, “I-I’m gonna come in my pants.”
“You that horny, baby?” Rick asked, his dry lips brushing against Morty’s as he spoke.
“Uh huh.” Morty arched, driving his hips up into Rick’s.
“You get turned on by your grandpa, you sick piece of shit?”
Morty’s nails bit into Rick’s back. He twisted, pinned beneath the old man’s weight. “Yes! Yes!”
Rick ran his tongue across Morty’s lower lip. “You wanna show grandpa what it looks like when you blow your load?”
Sobbing, Morty nodded.
“Keep your eyes open, baby. I wanna watch this.”
Rick’s spindly hand crept between them, and Morty’s need became more urgent when it cradled his cock, squeezing the head through his jeans. He let his head fall back and keened. Obediently, he kept his eyes open, and he watched bubbles of electric blue bob up toward the ceiling and burst into glitter in the dimness. Rick shifted his weight, cradled Morty’s neck while he worked him with a skilled hand. Morty turned toward him and peered up into his eyes.
“I’m…” Morty whimpered.
“Yes?” Rick was all sharp eagerness and greed.
“I’m coming,” Morty wailed.
He couldn’t stop himself. His loins pulsed as he filled his boxers with hot, sticky semen. It was like there was a vibration right under his skin, warming and overstimulating him. His muscles squeezed so, so tight. It was amazing, it felt like it was going to go on forever. He could feel his heartbeat in his dick. It wasn’t until Rick licked a tear off of his cheek that he even realized he was crying.
At first Morty thought Rick was giving him time to recover, but he came back from his reverie to his grandfather binding his wrists together with his belt. Morty groaned at the pleasure of the leather biting into his skin as Rick pulled it tighter and tighter. Uselessly, Morty struggled against the belt, just to prove to both of them that it would hold.
That done, Rick rearranged Morty, sitting him up against the headboard with his arms above his head. The wood was shockingly cold on Morty’s bare back, and he pressed into it. It felt like heat was dissipating from his body in rhythmic billows like dust stirred by a broom. Lost in these thoughts, Morty didn’t notice Rick kneeling in front of him until he had snatched up a handful of his hair and tilted his head back.
“I said pay attention to me.” Rick shook him by the hair and he whined and scrambled to press back against his hand for a little relief. “I’m about to fuck your smooth little brains out, I’d say that’s an inappropriate time to daydream, Morty.”
“Sorry! I’m sorry! I-I-I-It’s the drugs, Rick! I-I’m high, ow! Let go!”
“The fucking least you can do is look at me while I ruin you.” Rick let go with an apologetic brush of his fingers. His hand trailed down, and he cupped Morty’s jaw, forcing his head back farther until they were making intense eye contact. “And I’m going to ruin you, Morty. I promise you that.”
“Yes yes yes,” Morty pleaded.
“Open your mouth.”
Morty was eager to obey. Rick knelt up tall and took his cock out of his trousers. Morty only caught a glimpse of Rick’s full, impressive length before he was contending with it up close and personal. The silky glide of him across his tongue was one of the best things Morty had ever felt. In an echo of his orgasm minutes ago, Morty could count off Rick’s pulse in his thick veins. He began to suck enthusiastically on the hot, salty head of Rick’s cock.
“Jesus, not so hard! What the fuck, Morty?” Rick started to move his hips, nudging his way farther into Morty’s mouth. “Relax your jaw. Mind your teeth.”
With his hands bound, Morty couldn’t slip them between their bodies to try and wrest some control of the situation; he had to just struggle to accommodate the depth of Rick’s thrusts. They were coming faster, now, wilder. Rick’s hand was braced above Morty’s head. Morty’s feet pushed against the mattress, trying to push himself back, but there was nowhere to go; he was pressed against the headboard which was slamming against the wall in time. He was choking. His throat fluttered, and saliva poured from his mouth in streams. At first his body jolted and fought, but at some point the fight went out of him and he stilled, crying quietly.
Then suddenly Rick was pulling back. Morty's hands fell to his lap. Once again taking Morty by the jaw, this time Rick squeezed his face painfully tight. He tilted his head first one way then the other, examining him in the light. Morty blinked up at him dizzily. The afterimages were back, the world a blur that seemed to orbit around Rick's still, flashing eyes.
"Rick," he cried, "Rick, Rick, don't go a-away."
"You freaking out again, baby?" Rick shoved his thumb in his mouth. Morty instinctively began to suck the salt from his skin.
"I th-think so," he said when Rick took his hand away again.
He could hear the air vibrating all around him, and it filled him with anxiety. He felt Rick's fingertips under the corner of his jaw and he let his head be tilted back again, this time gently. Rick trailed his fingers down his own chest and stomach, captivating Morty. The old man gripped his cock near the base and held it against Morty's cheek. Morty tried to turn his head and mouth at it, but Rick cupped his chin again and held him still. He stroked himself slowly and looked at him with such calm self-assurance.
"You were made for this, Morty." Rick touched his hair, soothing him. His cock twitched against Morty's cheek."You're exactly where you belong, baby. God's in his heaven and all's right with the fucking world. Just close your eyes and feel it."
Morty's come was cooling, sticking his underwear to his skin. He whined, nuzzling against Rick's pubic hair and breathing in the rich scent of him. Rick was safety and heat and sex. A sense of deep assurance grew in him like a blooming fractal. His cock began to fill, reawakening. He sought blindly until he found Rick's balls, and ran his tongue over them. Rick shuddered and groaned. The old man pushed him back gently, emptying a few inches between them. He deftly undid Morty's fly and moved down the bed as he yanked his jeans down. Morty’s dick stood erect, and the world had become so shiny that he didn't even care that his own offering couldn't measure up to Rick's 10 inch cock.
"Fuck," Rick breathed, and Morty felt it like a warm wind. "I need to taste you."
Rick laid between Morty's thighs and touched his lips to the head of Morty's sex in a tender kiss. Morty sobbed while Rick licked every drop of semen from Morty's skin. The wet heat of Rick's tongue was the best thing he had ever felt. He pulled against the belt around his wrists, mindlessly seeking agency, but he was bound tight. Rick's mouth engulfed him, and it felt so good that he forgot that he was alive. He rutted up, ramming himself down Rick's throat while he tugged at his hair. Saliva ran down his balls and into the cleft of his ass, slickening his entrance. Rick wriggled his hand into the space between them and then there was a flash of white in Morty's mind because suddenly he was so full , and it was so much better than when he used his own fingers. Rick's touch demanded Morty's attention, rough and insistent. A second finger entered far too soon, before Morty had adjusted to the first. Rick choked and swallowed around him. He bawled and humped Rick's face like an animal.
This time orgasm hit him like a shotgun blast, knocking the wind right out of him. Rick sputtered as Morty pumped his load down his throat. His toes twitched, and his right leg trembled uncontrollably. He cried.
Rick was beautiful, face shiny with spit and pink from exertion, his eyes bright as coals. He didn't give Morty any respite, instead pushing Morty's knees up to his chest and diving back in to pry Morty's hole open with his middle fingers and plunge his tongue inside. It was beautiful torture on his overworked, over-stimulated nerves. His cock stayed hard. It was maddening. He wanted the relief of coming down, but Rick was licking and sucking at his hole and his climax stretched out until he had settled stably on a new level of arousal. He moaned, and his voice seemed to light up the air around him.
Eventually, Rick seemed satisfied. He nipped at Morty's inner thigh as he pulled back and once again knelt over him. Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out a condom. He started to open the packet, but Morty stopped him with his bound hands. Its appearance felt weighty with symbolism that echoed through his distorted mind. He was immediately entranced. He touched the packet and looked up at Rick, plaintive.
"I wanna d-do it," he said.
"Oh yeah, baby. You wanna serve me?"
Morty could only whimper and nod. Rick passed the condom over, and Morty tried to open it, struggling with the sudden test of dexterity.
"Tell me you want it," Rick said, playing with his own cock as he watched Morty like a hungry wolf.
"I want it!"
"Beg me."
Morty wasn't sure that he could do two things at once, but he trusted his hands to continue on while his tongue ran away from him.
"I've wanted you for so long, Rick, I-I need you please, I need you to love me, I need you to fuck me, please!" Morty's gut ached with his need, his dick pulsed with it. A golden glow hung in the air.
"No one else! Ever!" Rick snarled.
"No one else!"
The condom wrapper came open. Excess lubricant spilled over Morty's fingers. When he touched Rick below his navel, Rick laid back his head and groaned.
Morty had learned how to put a condom on a cucumber at school, and he carefully repeated the action now, rolling the condom onto Rick's cock just a little at a time. It felt so smooth and slippery, and Morty could feel the heat of Rick's sex through it. He finished and let his hands fall away, and watched with fascination as Rick rolled it down just a fraction further. They both breathed raggedly. Morty could sense Rick moving through a weighty moment of indecision.
"You'll never leave me," insisted Rick.
"I'll never leave you."
"Say my fucking name!"
"Fuck me, Rick, please. I can't take it, I can't take it!"
Rick roughly lined himself up, and then he was inside of him, and Morty knew that this was right. This was the way it was supposed to be. Rick owned him. There was nothing for Morty to keep for himself, no place Rick couldn't reach. The man's huge cock sank into him until they were seated flush together. The pleasure was unbearable. Their eyes met. Rick looked stunned, like he didn't know how he had found himself here.
"Kiss me," begged Morty, and he did.
Covered by Rick's body, with the man's tongue in his mouth and his cock in his ass, Morty was complete. Rick started to roll his hips. Morty scrabbled at Rick's sparse chest hair, his hands squashed between their bodies. His pleasure swept him away as Rick pounded into him wildly.
"You're all mine, you sick, twisted little shit," Rick hissed. He sucked at a spot on Morty's neck. "I'm going straight to hell for this."
"Harder!" Morty gasped.
"What, not good enough for you? I'll show you harder."
Rick pushed himself up by gripping the backs of Morty's thighs and folded him in haIf. He pounded into him hard and fast. Morty could feel every inch, in and out and in and out. Rick was breathing hard. They were both slick with sweat. Morty's body was jostled by every thrust.
"You like that, bitch?" Rick seethed. He fucked into Morty at a brutal pace. "I'm gonna come on your face and fucking make you wear it to breakfast."
Morty babbled nonsense, praying in tongues to Rick, the only god he had ever known. Rick spit in his hand and fisted Morty's cock. Morty dug his heel into the small of Rick's back. Everything was fading away, replaced by dancing rainbows.
"Fuck this." Rick pulled out just long enough to rip off the condom, then plunged back in. There was triumph in his heady moan. "You feel so good, fuck!"
Morty couldn't count time. He was lost, floating in ecstasy like a jellyfish in a tank. When his third orgasm came, it was a sudden sea-swell that overflowed him and left him empty in its passing. Rick kept moving inside him, but everything was turning grey and vague.
When Rick finally finished with Morty's limp, twitching body, he let his weight fall on him. Morty liked the way that it felt to breathe against one another.
Rick hid a kiss among Morty's sweaty curls. "I do," he whispered to him. "I do love you, baby."
Morty had never been so happy. He fell asleep.
Morning was not a welcome development. Morty's mouth was dry, and his head was pounding. He opened his eyes to take stock of himself. Last night's memories came back to him along with the ache of finger-shaped bruises on his thighs. He sat bolt upright. Oh god…
Rick had fucked him. He had actually fucked him! How was he supposed to feel about that? Rick had given him drugs and then fucked him! That…that wasn't right. Morty knew it wasn't right. He felt a trickle of cold fear in his chest. What if Rick had drugged him on purpose? Worse, what if Rick had just taken his virginity and then flown away to space, never to return? Morty gazed stupidly at his wrists, bruised from Rick's belt. Rick had fucked him. Rick had fucked him.
The house was still and quiet, empty when Morty went downstairs. His terror grew with every hurried step, until he opened the door to the garage and found Rick sitting slumped at his workbench. The old man turned towards him. He was outrageously drunk, slack jawed and swaying.
"Go 'way," Rick slurred, making a loose shooing gesture.
"Oh thank god," Morty said. He could breathe again.
"Not thank. Fuck god! There's no god." Rick turned away again, back to his flask.
Morty didn't have to ask why Rick was so drunk at 9 AM. He just went to him and put his arms around his neck, holding him warmly. Just as Rick had done to him, Morty hid a kiss in his hair.
Rick was a monster. But Morty was worse. Morty was an addict.
"I love you, too," Morty murmured.