Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4978249.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      Rick_Sanchez/Morty_Smith
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, Watersports, Bed-Wetting, Desperation, Underage_Sex,
      Grandparent/Grandchild_Incest, Humiliation, Blow_Jobs, Developing
      Relationship
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-10-11 Completed: 2015-10-20 Chapters: 3/3 Words: 5928
****** Desperate Measures ******
by yiffymorty
Summary
     Damage to the mattress is minimal. Too bad the same can’t be said
     about Morty’s innocence.
Notes
     OH BOY HERE I GO SINNING AGAIN
     Thanks to doctor-who-now for proofreading!
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Chapter 1 *****
Morty is jolted awake in the middle of the night by the dull ache of a very
full bladder. The alarm clock says 3:36 AM. Morty groans; maybe if he lies here
long enough, the urgent feeling will go away. It doesn’t, but he knows if he
gets up to use the bathroom, he’ll never back to sleep.
The pressure in Morty’s abdomen intensifies as the minutes tick by. The more
urgent the need, the more frequently his muscles contract, reflexively clamping
down on his urinary sphincters and sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout
his body and eventually pooling in his groin. Morty rolls onto his back, trying
to relieve some of the pressure, but movement only agitates his bladder. It
dawns on him that he might not make it even if he darts for the bathroom now,
and his fear is confirmed when a hot spurt soaks a hole through his boxers.
Morty remembers many times when Rick would piss in empty bottles while flying
the ship, and he curses himself for recently taking all the empty soda bottles
out of his room.
Morty squirms, squeezing his legs together and panting from the effort of
keeping himself from pissing the bed like a goddamn baby. He whines at the
thought and turns his head sideways, as if the pillow will absorb some of his
shame because, despite his growing anxiety, Morty is desperately turned on. The
boy had nearly peed his pants on several occasions throughout elementary school
and his body never reacted like this. But right now, Morty doesn’t know whether
he needs to cum or pee. It’s too hot; he’s burning up like he has a fever,
sweat dripping down his forehead and stinging his eyes.
It’s his curiosity that finally does him in, consequences be damned. Morty
trails his fingertips down his torso, one hand resting on his abdomen and the
other palming his semi-hard dick from inside his boxers. He gives it a firm
squeeze, and at the same time he presses tentatively on his bladder and, oh,
god. Morty throws his head back and hisses through his teeth as the pang of
urgency resonates throughout his entire body. He jerks off to the frequent
twinges of pain and pleasure—easing off when he gets too hard—and alongside the
fear of being caught, Morty decides then and there that nothing compares to
edging with an overfull bladder.
Morty curses when he feels the liquid dribbling down his thighs and wetting a
large spot under his butt. He moans and throws an arm over his closed eyes;
even in complete darkness, his embarrassment is overwhelming. What if Rick
finds out? Morty winces; he doesn’t want to think about Rick right now, but he
can practically hear his grandpa’s voice in his ear, mocking him endlessly for
days. It shouldn’t be so hot, and that doesn’t help his situation one bit.
This isn’t the first time Morty has fantasized about the old man while he
masturbates. This time, he visualizes Rick walking in, seeing Morty writhing in
bed, hopelessly turned on and drenched in piss. He wants Rick to tell him how
disgusting he is, how only freaks get off on this kind of stuff, and how Rick
is so disappointed in him. Morty moans softly and imagines that it’s Rick’s
hands on him instead of his own. One presses on his bladder with increasing
pressure while the other explores his groin. He visualizes those long, bony
fingers dripping urine, and he just about loses it. Morty pulls his cock out
into the open, one piss-and-precum slick hand pumping up and down the shaft.
Eventually, his edging method exceeds effectiveness and Rick’s disembodied
hands retire. The more he pees, the harder it is to stop the flow, and finally
Morty gives in with a sob. He starts pissing at full force, soaking his boxers
and quickly ruining his shirt. Morty’s stream arches from the tip of his cock
with a sharp hiss, aiming so the hot liquid hits him square in the chest. As
the warmth spreads over his shoulders and down his back, Morty pictures Rick
standing above him, pissing down on his filthy grandson. He has to grit his
teeth and hold his breath to keep from screaming; Morty can’t vocalize his
pleasure at a reasonable volume, and he can’t guarantee it won’t be Rick’s name
tearing through his vocal chords.
The stream finally tapers off to a trickle. His chest heaves while Morty
catches his breath, feeling his cock go soft and the tension in his groin
uncoil. He lies there stunned and drooling and riding wave after wave of
endorphins, but when his clothes turn cold and stick to his clammy skin, the
gravity of the situation rears its head and slams Morty in the gut. If he lies
here any longer, his pee will soak through to the mattress and then he’ll be
fucked.
The boy peels his trembling body from the bed and strips off his boxers, t-
shirt, and the bedsheets. He throws on yesterday’s clothes and bolts through
the dark house towards the laundry room, reeking of piss and praying that no
one else is awake. Morty loads the washer —he cringes when the machine turns
on—then drags himself to the bathroom. Christ, the kid needs a shower. It’s
only 4:00 AM but since he’s awake for the day, he figures he might as well take
one.
Morty turns on the water as hot as it will go. He sits down in the tub under
the shower spray with his eyes closed, hugging his shins and resting his head
on his knees. He feels emotionally drained but more satisfied than cumming has
made him feel in a long time; only now does he realize that he technically
didn’t get off. While he washes himself, he idly wonders if he’s just damned
himself to an eternity of pissing orgasms. Morty sighs, mentally checking
another square off his personal Pervert Bingo.
He stays in the shower until the water runs cold, then steps out and wraps
himself in a large, fluffy towel. He’s about to go back to his room, but when
he opens the door, he freezes. The real Rick is slouching against the wall
facing the bathroom door.
“It’s about time, M-URRGH—Morty. The hell were you doing in there, taking the
world’s largest dump?”
“Uh, s-something like that....yeah,” says Morty, defeatedly. He feels strangely
self-aware about being naked under the towel, as if his dark secrets will be
exposed.
“Well, get ou-EUURGH—outta here. I’ve been drinkin’ all night a-a-and I got—I-
I gotta piss like a—like an alcoholic racehorse.”
If anyone asks, Morty’s cheeks are red from the hot water and definitely not
the invasive imagery he gets when Rick alludes to the volume of liquid in his
bladder. “S-sure thing, Rick,” he grumbles, pulling the towel tighter around
himself. He shoulders past the old man and hurries back to his room. Morty
throws a clean sheet haphazardly over his bed and flops on it. He lies face
down, wishing he didn’t have to get up in two hours to get ready for school. At
least damage to the mattress is minimal. Too bad the same can’t be said about
Morty’s innocence.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     After a humiliating accident, Morty can't keep his secret any longer.
Chapter Notes
     *SLAMS THIS DOWN ON THE TABLE* GOD this update took longer than I
     expected and I'm sorry
     enjoy you fucking sinners ❤
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Morty slouches at the breakfast table with bags under his eyes and his hair
disheveled from lying down with wet hair. His stomach still hurts and he’s
mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. He looks just as ill as he
feels.
“You were out all night with Rick again, weren’t you? And on a school night,
too,” accuses Jerry, speaking to Morty but glaring at Rick. Morty is about to
protest that he wasn’t, but Rick steps in first, giving his whole spiel about
how school is where stupid people go to waste time.
“What could be more educational than a—than an intergalactic field trip?” asks
Rick, facetiously, “I-I-I hate to point out the obvious, but look at whe-
ERRRGH—where Earth school got you, Jerry.”
Jerry looks wounded. He opens his mouth but Beth puts her hand on his shoulder.
“Just let him stay home, Jerry,” she says, and Jerry backs down. “Fine. Just
don’t expect us to pay for your college tuition if you keep this up.”
“Shut the fuck up, Jerry,” barks Rick. That was a low blow, even by Rick’s
standards. The conversation dies when Beth, Jerry and Summer get up to clear
their plates and finish getting ready before rushing out the door. Rick doesn’t
bother to wipe the smug look off his face.
“Gee, thanks, Rick,” says Morty, his face alight, “Y-you really stuck it to my
dad back there. Where are we going today?”
“Nowhere,” Rick says, plainly, “We ain’t doing shit today, Morty! Y-you and me,
we’re gonna sit on our asses and watch TV.” He goes into the living room and
starts digging behind the couch cushions for the remote.
“Seriously?” says Morty, “On a school day?!”
“Ugh, shut up, Morty, y-you’re starting to sound like a Jerry. Besides, there’s
a Ballfondlers marathon on—can you honestly say that’s not worth staying home
for?” Rick finds the remote and flips on the TV.
“Jeez, fine,” sighs Morty, too tired to argue and infatuated with the old man
to say no. “But, you know you can just, like—you can just rent them on-demand
any time you want.”
“Jesus, M-OURGHH-orty, th-th-th-the fact that you feel you need to tell me how
on-demand works is—it’s insulting.” After hitting the lights, Rick flops down
on the couch. “If I knew I would be playing twenty questions over this, Morty,
I would’ve sent your ass to school. Now, shut the hell up and go get snacks.”
Morty obediently goes back to the kitchen, glad to have a moment to collect
himself. He finally has Rick all to himself, but what if he can’t relax after
taking his filthy obsession to the next level? He leans his forehead on the
fridge door, spacing out while appreciating the cool surface against his hot
skin. He only snaps out of it when Rick’s voice beckons him. Morty grabs some
junk food and soda and returns to the living room.
Rick is lying down and taking up the entire couch with his stupidly long body.
He dumps the food on the coffee table and shoves Rick’s legs aside so he can
sit down. When he does, Rick stretches his legs again and crosses them over
Morty’s lap. “Oh, come on!” Morty complains, knowing the old man is just being
obnoxious, but Rick shushes him and turns up the volume. Morty rests his
forearms on Rick’s shins—he’s so warm. Morty’s heart strains, longing for the
heavy pair of legs in his lap to have been Rick’s head.
The two of them sit with their eyes glued to the TV, not wanting to miss one
frame of the action. Morty has to admit, it doesn’t matter how many times he’s
seen this show, it never gets old. But after two and a half hours into
Ballfondlers and three cans of soda, Morty feels the familiar pressure starting
to build inside his bladder. Rick’s legs are like a deadweight in his lap. What
if Morty strokes his sick little fantasy for a while? He knows he shouldn’t—he
really, really shouldn’t—but he reaches for another soda anyway. At the three
and a half hour mark, Morty struggles to pay attention. He is slowly losing
composure and soon he starts to fidget, shifting positions every couple of
minutes. It’s the frequent tensing and un-tensing of Morty’s thighs that has
Rick curiously side-eyeing him.
“I know what you’re doing, Morty,” he says, “Not that I give a shit, I’m just
putting it o-OUGH-ut in the open. Makes things a lot less awkward for both of
us.”
Morty jumps at the sound of Rick’s voice, squeezing a few drops of urine out in
the process. His stomach just about drops out his ass and through the floor. He
knows Rick can feel him trembling. “I gotta pee so bad!” Morty wails, one hand
darting between his legs as a sharp twinge of urgency sends shockwaves of
pleasure coursing through his entire body. His bladder threatens to overflow
while he desperately rocks against his hand.
“No shit,” smirks Rick, “What are you, six?” He swings his legs over the edge
of the couch and sits up. He isn’t surprised when the boy tries to get up but
falls back onto his seat with a whimper of defeat, unable to stand and hold it
at the same time.
“I-I can’t—I’m not gonna make it!” sobs Morty, his eyes stinging with tears.
His abdominal muscles are still weak form this morning, so one more pang of
desperation is enough to send a tiny stream dribbling down his thigh. Rick
places what is meant to be a comforting hand on Morty’s shoulder, but the boy
jumps at the sudden contact and forces out even more hot liquid. He stares in
horror as a dark stain soaks through his jeans. Morty rocks back and forth,
bent over with his arms wrapped around himself and his face contorted in
distress. “This is so fucking embarrassing—please, Rick, do something.”
“Wh-wh-what the hell am I supposed to do? Just go, Morty—j-j-just get it over
with. You think I haven’t seen things grosser than your piss?”
“On the couch, Rick? Are you nuts?! I-I’m not gonna make a mess in th-th-the
living room!”
“C’mon, Morty,” Rick murmurs into Morty’s ear, “Y-you’re gonna hurt yourself.”
“I-I want to go,” wheezes Morty, “Bu-but I can’t, my muscles are all cramped
and i-i-i-it won’t come out.”
“You’re that full, huh?” Rick teases, but his low, growly tone sends a chill
down his spine. It’s the same voice, saying the same words, that Morty imagines
when he masturbates. He takes a deep breath and tries with difficulty to relax.
He gasps when his muscles spasm and then lock up again.
“D’you trust me, Morty?” asks Rick, one hand hovering over Morty’s stomach.
Morty nods, and Rick presses down on Morty’s tender abdomen, causing the boy to
groan and dig his fingernails into Rick’s arm.
“Good, Morty, thaaat’s it...” encourages Rick, wincing through the pain while
he palms Morty’s stomach.
Morty tries to push and a little comes out, but stage fright has his bladder on
lockdown. His eyes dart from Rick to his own crotch, then back to Rick, who
gives him an approving nod. “Y-y-you’re doing great, Morty.”
The praise on his grandpa’s lips has Morty’s head swimming with lust and
affection; he almost doesn’t care that he’s pissing himself on the couch in his
living room anymore. He lets out a shuddering wail and finally pulls his legs
apart, jerking with every rapidly increasing spurt until he’s pissing non-stop.
When the stream finally ebbs to a trickle, Morty’s pants are soaked to the
knees. He sinks into the slippery wet couch, sweaty, panting, and stinking like
urine.
“Feel better?” asks Rick, and Morty can’t help being disappointed when Rick
pulls his hand away.
“No,” says Morty, covering his face with his hands, “I’m so fucking
embarrassed, I-I-I-I can’t believe I just—I’m gonna die.”
“I-it’s alright, Morty, go clean yourself up. I’ll deal w-with—with your mess.”
Morty slinks off to the bathroom after stripping off his pants, the air wafting
cooly on his bare legs. He washes up quickly and once he’s dressed again,
shuffles back into the living room. He has half a mind to go to bed and hide
forever, but decides that it’s best to be honest, no matter how embarrassing it
is. Morty plops down on the couch and nervously rubs the back of his neck. “Uh,
Rick, can I tell you—I-I gotta tell you something. That wasn’t really—th-that
wasn’t an accident. I mean, it sorta was, but I kind of, uh....I like holding
it in, y’know?”
“I do know,” says Rick, unwittingly. He gulps down the rest of whatever was in
a heavily tinted brown bottle. He looks up at Morty, wiping his mouth. Morty
chokes on his own breath. The world starts spinning around him and the kid
doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until Rick grabs his arm. “Morty!” Rick
cries impatiently, “Get your shit together, Morty, it’s gu-UUURGH—i-i-it’s
gonna be okay.”
“H-how could you tell?” pleads Morty. Even after all the embarrassing shit he’s
done, Morty is certain that he’s never felt more humiliated in his life.
“One, you’re not being ve-EEEGH-ry subtle about it. Like, what, am-am-am-am I
not supposed to notice, Morty? You’re—y-you were sitting right there. You think
I wouldn’t notice you getting off right in front of me?”
“You know what, Rick? Maybe I w-w-w-wanted to get caught! I know I’m f-fucked
up b-but you have no place to judge me, okay?” Morty glares at his lap, barely
keeping his emotions under control.
“Whoa, wh—urrrrp! Take it easy, Morty. You didn’t let me finish. Y’know, your
grandpa doesn’t settle for—for vanilla shit, either.”
“Wh-what?” stammers Morty, “You’re not like, disgusted with me?”
Rick twists sideways to face him, flinging one arm over the back of the couch.
“You got me all wrong, dawg. Normalcy is a social construct, Morty, arbitrarily
drawn by societies that used to drink their own unfiltered feces because they
didn’t believe in bacteria. Now that’s fucked u-hurrr-p Morty. I-i-i-if you
want me to take you to—there’s an Earth dimension where all showers are golden
showers, Morty.”
“F-fuck you, Rick, I know you’re just making stuff up now.”
Rick snorts; Morty can be so hopelessly naive that it’s kind of adorable. “S-so
you’re the type that likes to hold it, huh?”
“Yeah,” admits Morty, bowing his head, “A-and I liked it when y-you pushed on
my stomach and watched me piss myself.”
Rick stares at him, finally, finally speechless. Morty holds his breath,
waiting for Rick to get up, to leave, to never talk to or look at him again.
“Jesus christ, Morty.” Rick’s voice is barely above a whisper. He can’t admit
that he had liked it, too—talk about fucked up. If it were anyone but his
underage grandson, he could roll with it. But that isn’t the case, and Rick is
suddenly faced with the moral dilemma of choosing between preserving the kid’s
innocence at the risk of breaking his grandson’s little heart, versus giving
Morty what they both want very much.
“I can’t do this shit with you, Morty,” says Rick, his voice obviously
strained. The look of defeat on Morty’s face tugs at the old man’s heart.
“I’ve wanted this so bad, I-I can’t stand it anymore!” cries Morty, his voice
cracking. “I can’t even be around you without thinking about it—what it’s
like—”
“Y-y-yeah, Morty, I—” Rick groans and scrubs his hands through his hair. “Me
too. That’s why we can’t do this again.”
Morty glares with an intensity that Rick has never seen before. “You wanna know
what I was doing this morning? I pissed in my bed, Rick, and I was touching
myself a-a-a-and thinking about you while I did it. How’s that for invasive
imagery, huh?”
Rick’s cock stirs at that. He knows first-hand how good pissing himself feels,
he’s been doing it for years. But he hates that he feels more than platonic
love for his grandson. He hates how easy it is to break down and give in. He
hates himself the most for what he’s about to do.
“I’ll give you one more warning,” says Rick, his voice hoarse from a mouth gone
dry. “One time is all it takes, and I will ruin you, Morty. If we do this, it-
it’s not something I can use the—th-that I can undo.”
“I don’t care, Rick. I’ve wanted this—I’ve wanted you—f-for so f-f-fucking
long. Please, Rick. I know what I want, alright?” Before Rick has time to
respond, the kid boldly leans forward and kisses him. It’s clumsy, off-aim, and
it drives Rick wild. Morty gasps when the man kisses back with unbridled
hunger.
With gunshots blaring from the TV in the background, Rick tugs Morty closer and
coaxes the kid’s tongue into his mouth. The boy moans into the kiss, obviously
thrilled with this development. He climbs into Rick’s lap, facing him, his
excitement accentuated by Rick’s hands coming to rest on Morty’s hips. The boy
rocks forward until their chests are pressed together, and Rick’s breath
hitches when he feels Morty’s erection against his belly. The idea that he can
turn this kid on so much and so fast is terribly, sinfully arousing, and soon
enough he knows Morty can feel his cock stiffen as well.
“L-look at what you made me do,” Rick pants against his grandson’s lips.
“W-w-we have about an hour before Summer gets home,” says Morty, glancing at
the clock.
“Y-yeah? What do you wanna do, Morty?”
“I-is there enough time to—” the kid can’t bring himself to say it, so he
wiggles his hips suggestively.
“You tell me, M-Morty. You’re a budding teenager, i-i-it’s not like you’re
gonna last long, anyway. Y-you can’t even ask me—tell me to fuck you.”
He feels Morty’s cock twitch at that. “Oh my god, Rick!” Morty whines. Rick
smirks.
“Y-you know, Morty, I haven’t pissed since this morning,” Rick cracks a
devilish grin. “You need to get off my fucking stomach, Morty. We shouldn’t do
this here.”
“F-fuck, Rick, can we—can we go to your room?” Morty asks, trembling with
excitement.
“Nah,” says Rick, “It’s gonna get real messy, M-Morty, so get your ass into the
garage.”
Morty practically leaps off Rick’s lap, and from there it’s a literal race to
the garage.
He almost doesn’t believe this is really happening. This morning, he had been
sure he would have to keep his disgusting secret to himself for the rest of his
life, but even with all the embarrassment, it had been surprisingly easy; maybe
all he ever needed to do was try. He doesn’t know what Rick is planning, but
whatever it is, Morty wants to be a part of it. He wants it all, everything
Rick is willing to give him, and more.
Chapter End Notes
     I'm actually really proud of this chapter, I loved writing it and I'm
     so happy you guys like my fics!
     when will chapter 3 be done? aw heck I dunno, maybe in a year in a
     half or more ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     Rick is gross and Morty gets what he wants.
Chapter Notes
     the is the final and grossest chapter! it is pretty gross even as far
     as watersports goes, lol oops
     thanks again to doctor-who-now for proofreading!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The second they arrive in the garage, Morty has Rick pinned against the wall,
kissing him, all teeth and tongue. He grinds his erection into Rick’s thigh,
moaning softly when he feels how hard Rick is. Morty’s hands travel down the
old man’s torso and stop when they reach his abdomen. Rick feels almost
swollen.
“Oh man, Rick, you’re r-really full,” says Morty, grinning and not even trying
to hide his excitement. He presses down lightly, but Rick’s breath hitches and
he swats the hand away. “Knock it off, M-OURGH-rty, y-you’re gonna make me piss
myself—I bet y-y-y-you’d love that, huh? Sorry, Morty, I’ve got other plans for
you this time.”
Morty’s eyes light up. The fact that Rick took him to the garage—open space,
cement floor—gives the kid a pretty good idea of what Rick has in mind. Without
warning, Rick flips their positions so that Morty’s back is now against the
wall. Rick kisses up the side of the boy’s neck and growls in his ear, “You
wanna get pissed on, M-Morty?”
“H-h-holy shit, yes, Rick!” pleads Morty. Rick’s voice sounds so fucking hot;
Morty’s dreams are literally coming true. This is better than anything he’s
dreamt or imagined, because it’s the real Rick standing in front of him this
time, the real Rick who wants to do this to him—with him. The kid has to focus
on keeping his shit together, least he turns into a babbling pile of mush.
He can’t help feeling submissive, though, especially when Rick’s strong hand
closes around the back of his neck and steers him towards the middle of the
garage. Once facing Morty again, he holds the kid by the shoulders and looks
him in the eye. “I need you to promise me something, Morty,” he says, “Y-you
gotta promise me you’ll speak up i-i-if you want me to stop or do something
different, alright? Promise me, Morty.”
Morty nods enthusiastically. “O-of course, Rick, I promise.”
“Good boy,” says Rick, that sultry tone returning to his voice. “Kneel down,
Morty.”
Morty does as he is told. He sinks to his knees, but when he starts to take his
shirt off, Rick stops him. “Keep it on. I want to—I-I’m gonna ruin your outfit,
Morty.”
Morty shivers, breathing hard through his nose. “Can I at least take my dick
out? I-I’m gonna fucking bust my zipper.”
“Go ahead,” says Rick, “But no touching.”
Morty nods and sighs in relief once he frees his erection. He looks up again to
see Rick smirking down at him. “Impressive, Morty, y-y-you really do take after
your grandpa.”
As if to demonstrate, Rick unzips his own pants, revealing the massive bulge in
his briefs.
“Jeez, Rick! I didn’t know y-y-y-you were so fucking big,” Morty stammers in
awe, “B-but I want to see it—sh-show me your cock, Rick.”
“Shiiit, dawg, you got a real dirty mouth on you,” says Rick, but his hands go
for the waistband of his underwear and slowly peels them down. His cock bobs
out, and Rick chuckles at the wide-eyed, hungry look on Morty’s face. “D’you
like what you see, M-Morty? You want this cock? Y-you want your grandpa to soak
you with his piss?” growls Rick, “Let me hear you say it.”
“O-oh man, I-I-I-I want it, I want you to p-piss on me, grandpa Rick,” He draws
the last two words out, making them sound even filthier. Rick has to keep
himself from groaning, but hearing his own name in that tone makes his cock
throb.
“Haha, Rick? A-are you....are you blushing?” Morty teases, watching the man
turn even redder.
“Sh-shu-UGHH-t the hell up, Morty. Blushing is all you ever do, so c-cut me
some slack.”
Morty snorts. Since when has it been so easy to rile him up? Even while
kneeling obediently in front of him, Morty feels like he holds power over the
old man in some roundabout way. Morty can feel his heartbeat pounding through
his entire body, all of his cells aflame with anticipation. “S-so, you gonna do
it, or what?” he says, impatiently.
“Close your eyes, M-Morty,” says Rick, taking his cock in hand, “And k-leep
your head up.”
Morty turns his face towards the ceiling, focusing on the amber glow the
florescent lights make when they shine through the skin of his eyelids. For a
few moments, the room is silent but for the ambient sounds of the garage.
Morty starts to feel warmth spreading across his chest and realizes that Rick
has started urinating. It quickly soaks his shirt and the splattering of liquid
on wet clothes seems to echo throughout the room, along with the sound of
Rick’s heavy breathing and the occasional whimper from Morty. Morty fights to
keep his hands by his sides while Rick aims lower and lower until he’s pissing
directly on Morty’s exposed cock. The boy gasps and vocalizes his appreciation,
throwing his head back and arching up into the stream.
Rick pisses a trail up Morty’s torso again, and the kid groans when the warmth
returns to his already cooling chest. Judging from the forceful pressure in
his, Rick isn’t nearly done, and he’s running out of dry places to aim. Morty
realizes this; a grin blooms across his face. That’s the only warning Rick gets
before the kid ducks his head under the stream.
“Shit!” hisses Rick. His hands shake, and Morty fears that he might stop or try
to aim somewhere else, but the hot liquid soaks Morty’s hair, trickles down his
forehead and the back of his neck. Morty’s curls are soon a sopping mess, so
there’s no reason why he shouldn’t go all the way. Fuck it, he decides,
scrunching up his eyes and clamping his lips together. Morty takes a deep
breath and raises his head so that Rick is now pissing right onto his face. He
has actually grown to enjoy the stench of his own piss, but knowing that it’s
Rick’s gives him reason to breathe in lungfuls of the intoxicating odor.
“Morty,” growls Rick, arousal and disbelief both present in his voice, “Y-y-you
should see yourself right now, Morty. I-I-I didn’t think you’d be such s-such a
slut—such a piss slut. I-it’s a good look on you, M-Morty.”
Morty basks in Rick’s praise, hanging onto every dirty word. He feels his
orgasm starting to build up before he touches himself at all. He focuses on the
hot coils while they continue to tighten in the pit of his stomach, trying to
chase the feeling, to catch it, to ride it out—
Morty comes hard, his hips bucking wildly on their own, seeking contact that
isn’t there. The orgasm rips through his body, his screaming muscles
threatening to give out. Morty’s cock pulses rhythmically while he splatters
the floor with his cum. He can’t see how much, but knows it has to have been a
lot.
“Fuck yeah, baby,” groans Rick, jerking his own cock a few times at the sight
of Morty jizzing on the garage floor.
Morty sits back on his heels, exhausted, wondering how much more Rick has left
in him. His jaw has gone slack and, before he realizes what he’s doing, the kid
lets his mouth hang open. Urine splashes onto his tongue, dribbles over his
lips and down his chin. Morty spits and scrunches up his face at the bitter
taste. “Not gonna drink it, huh, Morty?” Rick teases, but he lowers his aim.
Morty shakes his head. He’s not sure he wants to do that....yet. Eventually,
Rick’s stream tapers off and the two are left panting in the quiet garage.
Morty wipes at his eyes but with wet hands, he only smears it around. Rick
appears by his side with a damp rag to pat down Morty’s face with. Morty blinks
until Rick’s concerned face comes into focus. “How was that?” asks Rick,
running a hand through Morty’s piss-soaked hair.
“F-fuh...fucking incredible,” rasps Morty, still weak from the sheer power of
his orgasm. He wipes his face and neck clean and hands the stained rag back to
Rick. “I never came like that before. I-I-I knew it was possible, b-but...”
“Yeah, Morty, it’s called a hands free orgasm. I am pretty fucking incredible.”
“A-alright, Rick, but I think some of the credit goes to—”
“Sh-shut up, Morty. I just made you cream yourself like a little bitch. A-a-a-
are you a little bitch, M-Morty, or are you gonna return the favor? Y-you gonna
suck my dick?”
Morty nods eagerly. “I-I’m not a little bitch, y-you—you big asshole! Y-yeah,
Rick, I am gonna suck your dick!”
“Good boy,” coos Rick. He stands, his cock swaying before Morty at eye level.
The size of it is sort of intimidating—what if he can’t fit the whole thing in
his mouth? Morty pushes himself to his knees and, with his hands on Rick’s
hips, cautiously licks a stripe up the underside of the man’s cock. It still
tastes faintly like pee, but the sound of Rick’s shaky breath above him
encourages Morty to continue licking up and down the shaft. He puts his lips
around the head of Rick’s cock and sucks gently, poking at the slit with his
tongue.
Rick groans and threads his fingers through Morty’s hair. He forms a tight grip
on the boy’s head, but he doesn’t pull hard. He wishes he could drag this out,
but when Morty boldly takes more of Rick’s cock into his mouth, the old man
doesn’t think he can last long at all. Rick’s breathing speeds up significantly
when Morty starts bobbing his head up and down. He wraps one hand around the
base and massages Rick’s balls with the other. “Not bad, M-M-Morty,” pants
Rick, “K-keep this up and you’re gonna make me cum.”
Morty hums in appreciation, sending vibrations through Rick’s cock. Rick has to
focus on keeping his hips from bucking and choking his grandson, but when his
orgasm sneaks up on him, Rick has to tug Morty’s head back. He frantically
jacks himself to completion. “G-gonna cum, Morty. Wh-where d’you want it?”
Morty looks up, meeting Rick’s gaze. He looks uncertain for a moment, but then
the kid sticks his tongue out. That’s all Rick needs to see. “Y-y-you look like
a f-f-fucking pornstar, M-Mor—rrnnnngh!”
Rick wobbles on shaky knees and Morty tightens his hold on the man’s hips.
Rick’s vision blurs but he forces his eyes open to watch. He had tried to aim
for Morty’s awaiting tongue, but his cum splatters across the kid’s face
instead. Morty tips his head back, eyes closed and pink lips parted. Rick
watches his own jizz cling to the boy’s eyelashes and drip down his cheeks. It
seems endless, but Rick’s orgasm finally ebbs away. He sinks down to his knees
besides Morty, not caring about the wet stains on his pants.
Rick holds Morty in place with a hand on the back of his head, so Rick can lick
his own cum off his grandson’s face. He kisses Morty deeply and moans, tasting
himself on the Morty’s tongue. Rick lowers his head to rest on Morty’s shoulder
and wraps his arms around him, pulling him close. “You—y-you’re a good kid,
Morty, a real good kid...”
“R-Rick...?” starts Morty, uncertain, “This is nice and all, b-but I’m cold,
and I feel gross, and my sister will be home soon, s-so...”
“Yeah, yeah,” mutters Rick, getting to his feet and pulling Morty up by the
hand. “Let’s get you outta these wet clothes. You stink.” Without warning, Rick
scoops Morty into his arms, one hand under his knees and the other supporting
his back. He ignores Morty’s protests—”I-I-I can walk, you know!”—and carries
the boy upstairs.
Once showered and changed, Morty finds Rick in his bedroom, sitting on his cot
with his gaze fixed on the wall. Morty climbs in and sits next to him, leaning
his weight into the older man and nuzzling affectionately under his jaw.
“M-Morty, I—” Rick starts, but Morty shushes him.
“Don’t say anything,” he says, “I-if you’re gonna apologize or something, j-
just—just don’t.”
Rick leans his head atop Morty’s damp, clean hair. “I wasn’t going to, Morty—y-
you’re being a little bitch—y-you’re going to kill the mood with your—with your
little bitching.”
Morty elbows him in the side, then laughs and kisses Rick’s cheek. “Thanks,
Rick,” he says quietly, earnestly. Rick just hums contentedly, too tired to
wonder if he had done the right thing, too exhausted to feel bad about his
decision. Or maybe the guilt he expected just isn’t there at all.
They stay like this, sitting side by side in Rick’s dimly lit room, just
listening for the sound of the front door, for footsteps, for a car door slam.
As much as Morty dreads it, they will have to go back to acting “normal” for a
few hours. But Morty knows—and he knows Rick must, too—that he’ll be right back
in here after the rest of the family has gone to bed.
Chapter End Notes
     thank you guys so much for bearing with me! updating on a schedule is
     not a thing I can do like, at all. And I mean, you should be thanking
     me for not making you wait a year and a half or longer, but, y'know.
     I can't believe how many wonderful messages I got asking when the
     next chapter would be, scolding me for converting them to the pee
     side. you guys are great, seriously.
     I think y'all should know by now that I'm yiffymorty on tumblr, and
     I'm accepting ideas/AUs/headcanons in my inbox!
End Notes
     Chapter 2 is like, 97% finished so it should be up soon!
     I'm on tumblr @ yiffymorty c:
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