Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11615304.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      Rick_Sanchez/Morty_Smith
  Character:
      Rick_Sanchez, Morty_Smith, a_cameo_from_Summer_haha
  Additional Tags:
      5+1_Fic, Massive_amounts_of_fluff, watch_Morty_just_fail_at_everything,
      just_some_straight_up_shenanigans_and_sexy_times, Rick_is_so_done_with
      Morty
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-26 Words: 4960
****** Five Times Morty Tried to Seduce Rick and One Time He Didn't ******
by rickandmortygetschwifty
Summary
     Morty tries to get into Rick's pants with varying levels of success.
     One ice cream pop, several gallons of pancake batter, and the bruised
     dignity of (1) Morty Smith will be sacrificed in pursuit of this
     noble goal.
Morty started off subtle.
Subtlety was key. Rick was smart; he’d take the hint. If Morty came on too
strong, Rick would get scared away and Morty probably won’t be able to go on
adventures with him anymore. It won’t dawn on Rick soon that his own grandson
was hitting on him, but Morty was sure that if he played his cards right, Rick
would eventually warm up to the new status quo.  Then Morty could start with
step two of plan Get Laid by His Ridiculously Hot Grandfather.
He had to start by chipping through Rick’s emotional defenses. Which, Morty
mused, would probably be like chipping through a hundred feet of solid rock,
another fifty feet of solid titanium, and another ten feet of solid diamond.
With a spoon.
While being chewed on by a pack of wolves.
Maybe getting on Rick’s good side would help? It would be easy. All he had to
do was shut up, help his grandfather, and agree with all his batshit insane
schemes to screw over the rest of the multiverse. Maybe if he was a bit more
agreeable with Rick, he’d give Morty a chance.
So on his latest adventures with Rick, Morty did just that.
 
 
1.       Complacency
Plan Get Laid by His Ridiculously Hot Grandfather was a go.
All Morty did was go on as many adventures with Rick as he can, trying to be as
helpful as possible. Sure, his grades suffered, and his parents would ground
him until kingdom come when they see his report card, but it was a small price
to pay to get a piece of that sweet Sanchez ass.
“M-morty, could-could you hold this egg sac for me?” The scientist said
distractedly one weekday afternoon, peeling a wet and slimy pouch of colorful
jellylike eggs from a stalagmite. He passes the gelatinous sac to Morty, who
scrunched his eyebrows in disgust but otherwise didn’t protest.
“Sure thing, Rick,” Morty uttered for what felt like the thousandth time that
week. He was already starting to get sick of it. In the days following the
enactment of plan Get Laid by His Ridiculously Hot Grandfather (God, why did he
think up of that name???), he had already agreed to being burned, zapped,
frozen, shrunk, disemboweled and stitched back together.
And it was only Wednesday.
“…don’t touch the casing of the pink egg in the middle!” Rick warned.
“Okay.”
“I-I-I’m serious, there will be disastrous consequences if-if you do!”
“I’m not an idi— I mean, y-y-yeah, alright.” That was close.
“Huh. Hey Morty, I-I-I noticed that you’ve been mister agreeable for-for some
time now,” Rick observed, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “Have you hit your
head on something lately, or did you reaUUURPlize the insignificance of your
life outside of any association with me?”
“N-no, Rick,” Morty mumbled, batting his eyes and trying to look as innocent as
possible. “I-I-I just wanted t-to show my appreciation for-for everything
you’ve done for me. I-I just wanted to return the favor.”
Rick laughed. “Y-you’re just buttering me up. You want something from me,
Morty?”
This is my chance! “A-actually, now that you mention i-it, yes, I do.” Morty
sidled up to Rick, eyeing him expectantly. He ran a hand across Rick’s bicep.
His grandfather looked at him in confusion. “W-well, what is it, then?”
Morty was momentarily thrown off-balance by Rick’s obliviousness. Should I…
just grab his junk and get it over with? “W-why don’t you take a guess, Rick?”
Rick just looked at him. Morty was starting to wonder if he said anything wrong
when Rick pointed at the package in his hands. “Y-y-you’re touching it, Morty.”
“What?”
“The-the casing of the pink egg. I-i-it’s hatching prematurely. RUN!” Rick
sprinted off in the other direction, leaving Morty to shriek and drop the egg
sac that started to glow ominously. Morty ran for his dear life when a hairy
proboscis ripped through the pink shell of the egg.
Well. That didn’t go over so well.
 
 
2.       Surprise hugs
Morty needed a new plan. Obviously he needed to get more creative if he wanted
to snag Rick. Morty paced around his bedroom, trying to come up with a way to
grab Rick’s attention. Why did he fail the last time? What did he miss? Where
did he go wrong?
Morty stopped pacing. He got it. Rick was too used to bossing Morty around.
So of course he wouldn’t be grateful for Morty doing things like that for
him! Of course it wouldn’t seem like a come-on! Morty facepalmed, cursing to
himself for not thinking it through. Rick may be a mad scientist, but he wasn’t
a mind reader. Morty needed to up his game. Morty needed to do something more
drastic. Something more tactile.
Something like… a hug?
That’s it!
The next day, Morty tiptoed around the garage, trying to be as quiet as
possible as his grandfather worked on whatever disassembled contraption sat on
his worktable. Rick’s eyes were completely fixated on two loose sheets of
metal, soldering iron in hand as he worked to stick the two metal sheets
together. Morty’s mouth watered as he watched his grandfather’s quick and
dexterous fingers work on piece after piece of his machinery.
I wonder how those fingers will feel in my mouth… Or better yet, in my—
“M-morty, where’s the wrench?” Rick’s grandfather called, snapping Morty out of
his increasingly inappropriate daydream. He had moved on from soldering the
metal sheets and was now wrangling an uncooperative wire into place with ease.
“I-I-I need it real bad, li-like right this fucking moment, this thing I’m wo-
working on will—”
Morty didn’t reply. When Rick turned around in confusion, Morty took that
moment to lunge at him, his arms wrapping around his grandfather’s startled
frame.  Rick’s hands jolted in surprise and the device he was holding slipped
out of his grasp.
It hit the floor with a deafening clatter.
“W-w-what do you think yoUURPu’re doing, Morty?!”
Morty buried his face against the crook of Rick’s neck in embarrassment. “Hey
Rick, I-I-I just felt like-like hugging you, okay? I-i-is that so bad?”
“Y-y-yes, it is, because the thing th-that I broke when you hugged me is an
antimatter generator! The-the excess antimatter i-i-in its storage is going to
mix with the atoms i-i-in the air in about ten minutes i-if we don’t get rid of
it!”
I-i-is that a bad thing?” Morty whimpered.
Rick glared at him as he gestured to the broken device that now lay in two
pieces on the garage floor. “D-d-do you count the annihilation of-of everything
in a forty-mile radius bad?”
“OH GEEZ!”
 
 
3.        Making him breakfast
After the antimatter generator fiasco, Rick didn’t talk to him for hours.
Morty’s attempt had set him back and there was little he could do about it.
Rick had left some time earlier without him to pick up some supplies at the
Citadel. According to Rick, Morty “w-w-would just fuck up everOOUURPything just
by being present.”
So Morty was stuck in the house, on a weekend, with nothing to do but twiddle
his thumbs to pass the time. He was just contemplating on rummaging in his porn
magazine collection for something to get off to when the idea hit him.
There wasn’t anything he could do to get Rick to stop being mad at him… except
maybe apologize?
Everyone knew that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Rick
wasn’t any different, considering the vast amount of sweets and pastries he
regularly consumed along with his alcohol binge. And what did Rick love to eat
most? Pancakes!
And so Morty stood in the kitchen, battered cookbook in one hand and a wooden
spoon in the other. He was dead set on making those fucking apology pancakes.
His poor libido depended on it. Rick had left hours earlier without him to pick
up some supplies at the Citadel. According to Rick, Morty “w-w-would just fuck
up everOOUURPything just by being present.”
When he told his parents about his idea, Beth only giggled and ruffled his hair
while Jerry rolled his eyes and told him his time was better spent on studying.
Beth shushed Jerry and shooed him out of the kitchen, throwing Morty a smile
while she followed.
Morty now had free reign of the kitchen, all the ingredients he needed to make
a perfect batch of pancakes, and the approval of (one) of his parents. Morty
scratched his head as he ran his finger down the short list of ingredients.
“O-o-kay, so….  One egg, one and a half cups of flour…” the boy murmured. “I
can make this in my sleep. H-h-how hard could it possibly be?”
The answer was hard.
Very hard.
Almost impossible, as Morty would find out.
Three hours later, an exhausted Morty slumped over the kitchen counter. He had
so far made twelve attempts to make pancakes, all of which ended up in complete
disaster. There were egg shells all over the floor, flour caked in his hair,
dried maple syrup on every exposed piece of fabric in the kitchen, and pancake
batter stuck to him in places he didn’t want to think about.
“AAAAAARGHHHHH!”
Summer poked her head into the kitchen when she heard the sound of Morty’s
frustration. “Morty, you okay in there—oh.”
“I-I-I was able to bake a pie before. How did I go wrong?” Morty wailed.
Summer surveyed the damage Morty was somehow able to inflict on the room. “How…
did you get flour on the ceiling?” Summer asked, pointing to the large stains
currently coating the Smiths’ kitchen ceiling.
“I don’t know!”
“Did you mix up the salt and the sugar in the recipe?” Summer said in horror,
dipping her finger in a half-full cup of a powdery white substance and taking
an experimental taste of it.
“N-n-no! I mean, yes…” Morty winced.
“And is that syrup stuck to mom’s favorite mittens?” she questioned, gesturing
to the aforementioned pair of beloved mittens that was now stewing in a puddle
of brown goo.
“Y-y-yes, okay? Could you quit asking me stuff?”
Summer stared at Morty for a short beat before breaking into fits of
uncontrollable laughter.
“I—ffffff— didn’t know it was possible to—snort— mess up this badly!” she
guffawed. “I need to take a photo for this,” she said while pulling out her
phone, snapping a quick photo of Morty’s miserable face, and skipping out of
the kitchen.
As Summer left the room, the front door opened, signaling the arrival of one
blue-haired scientist.
“Hey, hey Morty! L-l-look what I got here, I-I-I have some crystals that w-w-we
could—What the fuck happened here?!”
Morty sighed, defeated. “N-nothing, Rick. I-I was just trying to make
something.”
“I-If you were trying to engineer a hURPPrricane in the kitchen, you
succeeded.” Rick looked around the scene of destruction. Morty sighed, picking
up a plate of his latest rejects to throw in the trash.
“I-I’m going up to my room. I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Wh-what are those things o-on your plate, Morty? Choco-chocolate cookies? Were
y-y-you making cookies?” Rick said. To Morty’s horror, his grandfather’s eyes
had strayed to the plate in his hands.
Morty looked down at the burned black crisps stuck to his plate. Before he
could warn Rick, the scientist reached out to snap off a piece of Morty’s toxic
creation and pop it in his mouth.
The reaction was immediate. “PFFFFFFFFFTTT!” Rick spluttered, spitting out the
black rock. “W-w-what the hell was that, Morty?!”
“Uh. Pan—pancakes.”
“… I’m going out to buy mouthwash.” Rick hurried out of the room, hand clapped
over his mouth.
Morty was going to write that down as a failure.
At least Rick tried his pancakes.
 
 
4.       Licking ice cream
Morty was starting to run out of ideas. So far, Rick has been completely immune
to all his advances. One week later and he still wasn’t anywhere close to
successfully seducing Rick.
Well, it didn’t actually help that all his attempts were so laughably pitiful.
Maybe if he wasn’t such a colossal fuck-up, he would’ve escaped the
embarrassment of having Rick (unknowingly) turn him down on three separate
occasions with a tiny portion of his dignity still intact. Morty buried his
face into his hands.
God, yesterday was such a disaster.
“—and y-y-you have to pour out the chemicals in e-equal amounts, Morty,
otherwise the oxygen particles w-will…” Rick was droning on beside him, one
hand on the steering wheel of the ship and the other on his flask. His
grandfather didn’t seem to notice Morty’s predicament one bit. The boy slumped
even further into his seat.
“…Then y-you— Morty, are you listening to me?” A heavy hand landed on Morty’s
shoulder. He yelped and met Rick’s questioning gaze.
“W-what?”
Rick sat back and rolled his eyes. “Figures. Y-y-you have the attention span of
a gnat, M-morty, just like your dad— HOLY FUCK YES!” Rick slammed hard on the
brakes, causing the ship to screech to a stop. Morty’s head hit painfully on
the dashboard and the liquid in Rick’s flask splashed all over the seats.
“F-fucking OW, Rick! What was that for???” Morty complained, rubbing his aching
temple.
“Look, Morty!” Rick grabbed his cheeks and forced his head sideways. “Y-y-you
see that planet over there? The one with UUUUURP the red-orange atmosphere and
the blue ice rings? I-i-its what the people from the local star systems call
the-the ice cream planet! They-they serve the best ice cream, Morty! The best
i-i-in the whole galaxy! They-they’ve got flavors that’re illegal in thirty
interstellar empires!” Rick proclaimed, shaking Morty’s shoulders. “W-w-we have
to try it!”
“I-I got it— let go!”
“We have to go there, Morty!”
“Alright! I said yes!”
Rick released Morty from his stranglehold. “C’mon, Morty, l-l-let’s just take a
detour and buy some ice cream!”
Thirty minutes later, they were sitting in an abandoned parking lot, the sweet
treats in hand as they gazed admired the view from the hood of the space ship.
It was serene and tranquil. The forest that surrounded the abandoned parking
lot casted a comforting shadow over the pair. The chitters and chirps of tiny
winged and rodentlike creatures rose in in a melody that lulled them to a
soothing trance.  A seemingly infinite expanse of stars was laid out over them
in all its splendor, illuminating the sky in a plethora of colors. Above them,
the silvery white rings of the planet divided the sky in two like metal bands
over the night sky. The lonely ice cream shop that sat at the lot’s edge had
closed a few minutes ago, the blinding lights that illuminated its interior
finally dimmed.
Morty closed his eyes, feeling at peace for the first time in days.
“Y-y-you know Morty, this is—this is nice,” Rick admitted quietly. He was
thumbing the empty wrapper of his ice cream sandwich absentmindedly, staring
off into the distance. Morty, for the life of him, could never figure out what
his grandfather was thinking.
“I-I know, Rick,” he agreed, taking another lick at his chocolate creamsicle.
“A-a-and you’re right, this ice cream i-is pretty good.”
“See? I-I told you…” Rick’s voice trailed off as he pried his gaze away from
the darkened forest. his eyes dropped down to Morty’s mouth.
Oh.
Morty took a few more slow and methodical bites of his ice cream, watching the
expression on Rick’s face. When his grandfather’s gaze slipped to the fly of
his pants, Morty had to suppress a smile that threatened to break out onto his
face.
Gotcha.
“M-my eyes are up here, Rick,” Morty teased. “W-w-what are you looking at?”
Rick started to laugh.
“W-what? Huh?” Morty scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “W-what’s so funny,
Rick?”
“L-look at your damn face, Morty!” Rick snickered with tears in his eyes. He
pulled out a pocket mirror from the inside of his lab coat and flipped it open
to show Morty.
Morty’s face was liberally coated in chocolate from cheek to chin. The
creamsicle in his hand continued to drip, creating an even bigger mess.
“A-a-and the best part is that y-y-you even dripped some on your pants, d-damn
you look like you had explOOUGHHHsive diarrhea!”
Morty was almost too afraid to look.  Warily, he directed his gaze downward to
find a growing brown stain at the center of his pants. Morty grimaced and
placed a hand over his jeans.
Rick passed him some tissues. “W-w-would you clean that up, M-morty, I don’t
want my coat to-to get dripped on!”
 
 
5.       Just straight-up telling him, dadgum it!
Jesus. Fricking. Hell. On a stick. Morty has had enough of this bullshit. If he
didn’t get banged by Rick by the end of today, he was going to rip off his
clothes, slather his whole body with lube, and lay on top of Rick’s cot until
the scientist had his way with him. His mind firmly set, Morty stomped off to
find Rick and settle the matter once and for all.
Rick was in the living room, his feet planted on top of the coffee table and
his eyes firmly glued to the TV. Morty stopped beside the TV and crossed his
arms, a pout adorning his face as he waited for Rick to acknowledge him.
“M-m-morty, I’m busy.” Rick said, waving him off.
“You’re literally just watching TV,” Morty said irritably.
“Y-y-yes, but it’s the season finale of Ball Fondlers! Do-do you hear me,
Morty? I-it’s a season finale!”
Morty moved directly in front of the TV, blocking Rick’s view. “This is more
important, Rick!”
“W-what could be more important than Ball Fondlers?” Rick questioned, craning
his head to the side to catch a glimpse over Morty’s shoulder. He was clearly
uninterested in anything Morty had to say.
Well. Here goes nothing. Morty took a deep breath, steeled himself, and said,
“Rick, I want you to sleep with me.”
“Are-aren’t you a little too old to want to sleep with someone? Do y-y-you
still run to mommy and daddy when youUURP have nightmares?” Rick snorted. “Do
y-you want me to-to read you a story, too?”
“No, no, no!” Morty corrected, shaking his head wildly like a wet dog. How do I
make him understand? “I-i-I mean I want you to bone me.”
“M-Morty, i-if that’s a joke Dr. Xenon Bloom told y-y-you to tell me, I’m—”
Morty threw his hands up in the air. “Rick, y-y-you really test my patience,
you know?”
“Same goes to you. Can I watch TV with some peace a-a-and quiet now?”
Oh good fucking fuck. I’m just going to say it.
“NO, BECAUSE FOR FUCKS’ SAKE, RICK, I WANT YOU TO FUCKING FUCK ME!” Morty
growled exasperatingly.
For a long moment, the only sound that could be heard was the tinny voices
coming from the TV speakers. Morty waited, heart thumping loudly as he waited
for Rick to answer.
“Y-y-yeah, go join the list of the hundred or so people w-w-who also want to do
that,” Rick finally replied.
Huh? “Huh?”
“I’m not an idiot, Morty.”
“So…you know what I actually mean?” Morty asked, dumbfounded.
“Yeah, yeah, I-I know plenty of people want to fuck me. There are also a lot of
people who want me to-to fuck them. What’s new? B-but that’s not what y-y-you
really mean, Morty.” Rick said dismissively. “W-wow, you are an open book to
read, M-moOOUUGHrty. Can you at least try a little harder to hide the fact that
y-y-you want something from me? Tone down the flattery.”
“What the— I wasn’t trying to flatter—I-I-I don’t want something— I mean, I do,
but—” Morty spluttered. Rick didn’t even wait for Morty to finish his sentence
before turning his attention back to the TV.
FUCKING RICK!!!
“Y-y-you know what, Rick?” Morty shouted. “I-I-I don’t even care anymore! So-so
what if I-I-I think you might have a fucking donkey dick packed in your pants?
So what if I-I-I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk for weeks? So wh-what
if I-I have to picture your naked body every time I-I jerk off, a-and now I
have to live with the fact that I-I’m going to be in a—in a perpetual state of
blue balls around y-you? It isn’t fucking worth it!”
Rick’s eyes were the size of dinner plates. He had muted the TV halfway through
Morty’s rant, letting the boy’s voice echo throughout the room. Morty was
thankful that the rest of the family was out, but he couldn’t give less of a
rat’s ass about it now.
“Y-y-you want to know why, Rick? Because fuck you, that’s why! I-I’ll just find
another outlet for my hormones! Y-y-you’ll see! Y-y-you’re not that great
anyways! I’ll—I’ll make sure y-you’ll regret—I-I swear you’re never gonna get a
piece of this in y-your lifetime!” Morty gave one last death glare to Rick, and
for good measure, slapped his own ass as he sauntered out of the room.
Damnit, you old man…
 
 
+1.  FUCK.
Morty gave up.
Not that he wanted to, obviously. He didn’t know how it was possible, but Rick
had to be the most obtuse genius in the entire multiverse. Only his Rick would
be able to accomplish such a paradox. There wasn’t anything in any reality that
could get Rick to spare even one look at him.
Although, to his credit, Rick had been giving him odd looks lately. Whenever
the scientist thought Morty wasn’t paying attention, he sneaked glances at him
with an undecipherable expression on his face. There were also several times
when Rick would open his mouth as if to say something, then close it as if he
had changed his mind just as quickly. Morty didn’t know what to make of it.
Which, in retrospect, must have been caused by his strange and uncharacteristic
outburst. He had just managed to alienate his grandfather. Again. At least Rick
tried to act as if nothing happened between them.
Colossal fuck-up of fuck-ups, he was. And also, did he mention pathetic? After
all that talk with Rick, he still couldn’t get off in the shower without
picturing Rick’s lips around his cock.
Morty sighed, reaching for his towel to dry off his hair. He frowned as his
hand met empty air.
The boy’s head thumped against the bathroom wall in exasperation. “Great, j-
just great. I-I-I left my towel in my room…”
Morty cautiously cracked open the bathroom door, carefully watching for any
sign of the other Smiths. When he deemed the coast to be clear, he fluidly
slipped out into the hallway, gripping his used clothes to his groin as he made
his way quickly to his bedroom. The boy darted into his bedroom without being
seen and closed the door with relief.
“M-Morty, good timing! L-l-let’s go out, there’s a plant on Flermin-9 i-in
dimension C-137 that only blooms every hundred million years, th-this is our
only chance to get it—” an uninvited voice said.
Morty let out a small squeak of terror when he discovered that his grandfather
had let himself into his room, his back turned to Morty as he fiddled with the
portal gun. Rick froze as he turned around to meet his sopping wet and naked
grandson.
“…h-hi Rick…” Morty said awkwardly. “I-I-I just forgot my towel… I-i-it’s not
like y-you haven’t seen me—hooooh geez please don’t kill me!”
Rick had dashed forward with the speed of a predator chasing its prey,
cornering the boy against the wall. The scientist’s calculating eyes met Morty
with the full force of its gaze. The boy shivered, unused to being scrutinized
and taken apart so thoroughly with a single stare.
“I-I-I’ve had enough of this, Morty.” Rick’s poison-honey smile was all teeth.
“E-enough of what?”
“This thing y-you’re trying to do to me.”
“W-which is?”
A palm slammed on the wall behind Morty. Rick’s eyes glinted dangerously.
“Enough games, w-w-with me, Morty! I-I mean trying to seduce me every chance
you get! That game!” Rick’s spittle was flying everywhere. “I-i-it’s driving me
crazy! I-I can barely think straight!”
“I-I told you, I stopped!” Morty tried to protest. “I-I’m not doing anything
anymore!”
“M-morty y-you’re such a fucking liar! Y-y-you haven’t let up since you went
ballistic i-in the TV room!” Rick’s face was dangerously close to Morty’s.
“Ever since y-you tried to-to come on to me, I-I’ve been noticing these little
things y-you do that no one else notices, but they-they really should. If
there’s a pornographic way for y-you to do something, youUUURP’d figure it
out.”
“Huh??”
“Like-like that time when-when you kept dropping y-your pencil while you were
doing homework, a-a-and every time you bent down to get it I-I got a full view
of your ass, o-or that one time y-you got a little strawberry syrup on y-your
cheek, and you used your finger to wipe it off, then proceeded to suck the
syrup off your fingers—”
“I—”
“O-o-or how about that time when you wandered around the house i-i-in nothing
but y-your shirt and boxers? A-a-and now I’m supposed to think this wasn’t an
accident?”
“But I wasn’t even trying those times—” Rick quieted him with a finger to the
boy’s lips.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Rick whispered mockingly. “Let me finish. All I want to say, is,
y-y-you win, Morty. I-I’m going to show y-you a good time.”
Morty was about to ask him what he meant until his grandfather’s hand dove down
to grip his length and glide his finger over the slit. Rick proceeded to slowly
pump him in fluid strokes.
“Ooooooh!” Morty squealed as he collapsed bonelessly against Rick. The
scientist effortlessly picked him up and deposited him on the bed, a hungry
grin on his face. His grandfather’s eyes seemed to glaze over as he took in
Morty’s prone form, hand still expertly pumping the boy. Morty only looked back
at Rick with an awestruck look, unable to believe what was happening.
“R-rick—” Morty whimpered. “I-i-is it really the right time for-for this? I-
I mean—”
“O-oh no, you don’t,” Rick purred. He looked as if he wanted to devour Morty
whole. “Y-y-you don’t get to tease me like-like that and not deliver the goods,
bucko.” The pad of his thumb swiped over the mushroomed tip of Morty’ cock,
wiping away the drops of precum that had collected.
Morty watched as Rick’s head dipped lower and lower, his eyes never breaking
eye contact with Morty.  The scientist paused, as if to assess his next action,
before giving one slow, experimental lick along Morty’s shaft, from root to
tip. Rick smirked when he felt Morty shudder, clearly pleased at the reaction
he had managed to elicit from the boy.
Then… Rick just licks. Over and over, his grandfather licked, creating a film
of saliva over Morty’s cock. The boy’s toes curled as he let the feeling of
pleasure wash over him. The warm and sticky fluid around his member felt
undeniably fantastic.
The mere fact that Rick was touching his body so intimately sent electrifying
tingles all over the boy’s body. His head rolled back, and he gripped his
grandfather’s hair like a lifeline. Rick still continued to lick across the
slit of Morty’s dick like he was a dying man in the desert and it was the last
drops of rainwater.  
“Rick, don’t stop,” Morty sobbed. His hands were now on his grandfather’s back,
raking lines along his skin.
“Y-y-you’re such an eager little bitch,” Rick replied, sitting up and smirking
at the boy. A trail of saliva connected Rick’s mouth to his own dick. “D-don’t
cum just yet.”
Morty’s eyes widened as Rick bent down again and swallowed his cock without
gagging. Rick’s nose was tickling the boy’s pubes and his breath blew over
Morty’s groin.
His grandfather’s hot mouth was an experience of euphoria that Morty couldn’t
hope to name.  A light tongue grazed over the length of Morty’s cock. And when
Rick started bobbing his head up and down Morty’s shaft, the boy’s mind short-
circuited.
“Aaaahhhh… Rick…” Morty moaned, unable to hold back the pleased shivers rolling
throughout his body. It was too hot, too wet, too good. The warm feeling that
pooled across his belly was an overwhelming fire that threatened to consume
him. “I-i-it feels too good…“
Rick paused and freed his lips from around Morty’s cock. “C-can’t you just shut
up for a moment, M-morty,y-your sister is in the next room, and y-you’re too
fucking loud,” he complained, and resumed the relentless sucking on his dick.
Rick quickened his pace, seemingly aware that Morty was close. The warm fire in
the boy’s belly was now an uncontrollable blaze. Morty almost screams as he
came harder than he ever did in his life, and the orgasmic high that he
experiences made him see stars. Rick gulped down his cum almost greedily,
lapping up the pearly-white drops with ease.
Morty flopped back onto the bed, speechless and unable to comprehend what had
just happened. Rick just sucked me off. He. Sucked. Me Off. And I didn’t even
have to do anything stupid to get it.
“I-I hope you’re happy, now, Morty,” Rick said, wiping his mouth with the
sleeve of his coat. “L-l-look, I-I even cleaned up y-your fucking mess for y-
you. Your cum tastes horrible.”
“Bluhhh…” Morty croaked.
Rick rolled his eyes. “Morty, when y-y-you stop making that stupid post-orgasm
face of yours, I-I want you to get dressed. Those Flermin-9 plants w-won’t pick
themselves.”
Rick stood up, smoothing the wrinkles on his lab coat and trying to hide the
obvious tent in his own pants. “D-don’t think I’m finished with y-you just yet.
When we get back, I-I expect you to repay my favor with that sweet ass of y-
yours.”
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