Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12577364.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      Rick_Sanchez/Morty_Smith
  Character:
      Rick_Sanchez_(Rick_and_Morty), Morty_Smith
  Additional Tags:
      Sex_Pollen, Dubious_Consent, Emotional_Manipulation, Incest, Grandparent/
      Grandchild_Incest, mild_violence
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-31 Words: 7901
****** Get It Out of Your System ******
by quietprofanity
Summary
     Morty falls into a valley of aphro-spores but Rick has the situation
     under control ... or so he thinks.
Notes
     I still can't believe I wrote this.
     Also, I want to give a huge shout-out to the "nonnies" of
     fail_fandomanon who read along with and enjoyed the previews/segments
     of this I posted there. You guys were all incredibly sweet and I hope
     the ending lives up to your expectations.
The worst thing about this situation was that on a certain level Rick kind of
knew that it was his fault.
Wait. No. Bull. Shit. No way was this his fault. He’d warned Morty right before
they landed on Tau Alpha-42 about the aphro-spores that spewed from almost
every plant on the valley floors of the planet’s largest mountain range. It
wasn’t his fault the stupid kid had fallen right into them … or that the
Zurglequark had managed to knock Morty off the trail at the exact moment Rick
had found the abandoned Pillilium mines. Morty was the one who should have been
looking where he was going.
Whatever -- at this point they’d both lived through a lot worse than a face-
plant into the multiverse’s strongest natural aphrodisiac. Not that Rick would
know from the way Morty kept bitching about it.
“H-H-How long did you say this-this was going to last again, Rick?” Morty sat
on the ground near the front of the cruiser, his legs crossed and his arms
wrapped around himself. They’d returned to the space cruiser after about an
hour or so -- long enough for Rick to blast a laser through the Zurglequark’s
head, Morty to crawl on his belly out of the aphro-spores and Rick to get the
rare metal he needed -- why should he waste the trip?
Rick rolled his eyes as he packed the Pillilium along the floor of the
backseat. “Jeez, I-I don’t know, Morty. Y-You know, you -- you really didn’t
put any effort into preventing re-contamination. You fall into the aphro-
spores, you climb up the way you fell in. Y-You don’t go crawl out horizontally
through the valley and get a whole new batch in your face. Pretty stupid, if
you ask me.”
“The cliff face looked steep!”
“It --” Rick burped through the word “was.” “It was steep, Morty. But y-you
made a decision to crawl through more of it instead of climbing back, and now
you’ve got to live with the extra ten hours of wanting to jerk it or whatever.”
“Ten hours?” Morty shrieked.
Rick shrugged. He left open the “doors” of the space cruiser and went back to
the front of the ship to check the engine one more time. “Ten … twenty. I-
I don’t know. That was a loooooot of aphro-spores you fell into.”
“Aw, jeez. You know, I-I don’t know how I’m going to get through this, Rick.”
Rick scoffed and slammed the hood down. He could see Morty had his head in his
hands. “You just gotta wait it out. Get it out of your system, Morty. Shit
happens. Get in the car.”
Morty moaned and curled tighter in on himself. Rick pointedly stared at his
watches until Morty crawled into the passenger side.
“Ugh, y-you’d think a 14-year-old being horny and unable to get laid was an
actual --” Rick burped, “actual emergency and not the natural order of things.”
“F-Fuck you, Rick,” Morty mumbled, his fingers fumbling with the seatbelt. “You
don’t know what it’s like.”
“Actually, I do. You think I haven’t been on this shit?” Rick lowered himself
into his seat as fast as he possibly could without Morty getting suspicious,
left the windows open as he revved the engine. “You’re not going to die from
not being able to fuck, dummy. So just grit your teeth and try to keep it in
your pants for an hour.”
The space cruiser whirred as it lifted off. The air on Tau-Alpha 42 was a bit
less oxygen-rich than Rick would have liked, but he still waited until the last
moment possible to shut the windows. Morty’s muffled moans and whimpers grew
louder as the ambient noise dissipated. Rick kept his eyes on the vast black
expanse of stars and galaxies ahead, told himself that he had this situation
completely under control.
He hadn’t been lying about being on the aphro-spores before, from orgies with
Unity, to couplings with aliens whose names and species he’d long forgotten, to
... well, let’s just say he could make a mistake once in a great while and get
a face-full of spores when extracting the plant’s properties for smuggling.
Rick intimately knew the way it worked. It would begin with an initial heat
that would flush the cheeks and prickle the hairs on the back of the neck, lead
into a sudden increase in sex drive that would give a guy the most painful
boners of his life and then fry the brain until the user literally couldn’t
think about anything but sex for however long the high lasted. It felt amazing
to fuck on it. It was agony to be alone on it.
It was really, really easy to get a contact high from it.
Whatever. No big deal. Rick had used up the portal gun’s battery on travelling
to the different mountain ranges on Tau Alpha-42 -- level spots to land on the
planet were pretty scarce, but they weren’t far from a wormhole that would
shortly open up and spit them out near Neptune. It’d be a cinch to get back
home after that.
Rick flew as fast as he could without overheating the engine -- dodging a
meteor shower here, flinging the ship faster by using the orbit of a planet
there. He was making good time, things were going well. He tried not to cringe
or twitch at the latest moan coming from the seat at his right. Things were
good, Rick thought. They’d be coming up on the wormhole opening soon ...
“Ferlogian Army approaching,” the ship’s A.I. declared, its feminine voice
stumbling over each syllable.
“Wh-What?” Morty exclaimed.
Rick frowned and dug his nails into the steering wheel. “How many, how fast and
what direction?”
“Ninety-nine Ferlogian Army ships approaching at 300 million knots from three
o’clock. Due to intercept wormhole’s path in approximately eight minutes.”
“Shit!” Rick said. At the rate they were going they were due to arrive in
twelve minutes. He could kick the engine up if he had to, but he’d risk
overheating it …
He looked over at Morty, saw Morty had breathed on the glass of the space
cruiser and was writing some numbers in the fog. “Train leaving a station …,”
he mumbled. “D-Distance divided by rate …”
Morty breathed more on the glass and started doing the long division that Rick
had already figured out within seconds. Whatever, he guessed the kid wanted a
distraction …
“W-We’re fucked, aren’t we?” Morty asked after about three minutes.
Rick snorted, tried to keep his mind from going to dark places. “Not yet …”
“Four minutes …” the ship’s A.I. droned.
Morty moaned and curled in on himself. “Noooo …”
“Look, w-we can’t overpass them, but the way I see it we’ll baisc-” Rick
burped, “basically be a fly among a herd of cattle. Ferlogians have been in a
centuries-long dick-measuring contest with the jerks who live on their moon,
and so long as you’re not in one of the hundreds of planets that they’ve roped
into the Ferlogian-Krell proxy war they kinda leave you alone.”
“W-wow, Rick. You know, that-that sounds like the premise for a really long
graphic novel saga, or something.”
“Yeah, yeah. Super-fucking clever, Morty,” Rick scoffed. “Anyway, I can dodge
some Ferlogian prick’s itchy trigger-finger. So long as the Krell Army doesn’t
show up …”
“Seventy-seven Krell Army ships at nine o’clock from two minutes away …”
“What the fuck?” Rick shouted as Morty let out a loud scream. “Wh-Where the
fuck did they come from?”
“Space-time rip.”
“Go fuck yourself!”
“I am not programmed to --”
“Oh, you’re going with that one, huh? Y-You pick up that old gag from
Cleverbot? I-Is that what we’re doing here? Is that what we’re settling on?”
Rick felt a tap on his shoulder. “Rick! Rick!”
“Don’t fucking touch me!” Rick thwapped Morty’s hand away. Morty withdrew from
him, his shoulders slumped, but still pointed out the window. Rick could see
the flying-saucer outlines of the Krells’ armada beyond the remnants of Morty’s
(incorrect) math problem.
Rick slammed his foot on the gas. All right, he thought -- trying to ignore the
warm feeling in his cheeks -- come at me, you racist war-mongers.
The Ferlogians arrived right on schedule -- their slim rocketships already
shooting their golden lasers at the Krell, who responded with blasts of energy
resembling lightning. Rick bobbed and weaved the cruiser through the blasts,
trying to keep sight of the wormhole’s mouth.
“Engine overheating,” the A.I. said.
“Yeah, no shit.” Rick suddenly felt himself lurch forward as something knocked
into them. The ship’s interior lights flickered and a siren blared.
“30% damage rear port-side …”
Morty mumbled some combination of “Oh God” and “Oh Man” under his breath.
“Just shut up, we’re almost --”
The cruiser lurched forward this time, and then started toppling over itself in
that direction. Rick gripped onto his chair and kicked on the thrusters, which
righted the car. He pulled the wheel up sharp, avoiding the direct hit of a
Ferlogian laser and a Krell blast smacking into each other. Then with one last
pump of the gas he sent the cruiser the last extra miles into the wormhole. As
the ship thrust through the shortcut to the Solar System, Rick was relieved
enough to feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck ….
~*~*~
When Rick felt himself being shaken awake, the interior lights in the ship were
completely off. He snapped up in his seat and gripped onto the bare flesh of
Morty’s wrists, his chest tightening with panic.
Rick pushed Morty away. “I told you not to touch me!”
“I know! I’m sorry!” Morty backed up, rubbed his wrists nervously as he sat
back down in the passenger seat. “B-b-but you hit your head when we were going
through the wormhole and I tried to drive the car but the-the A.I., the weapons
system, the radar … i-it’s all off.”
“M-Morty, if the ship were completely dead, we’d already be too. It’s on low-
power autopilot mode. I can even hear the engine going. W-We’ll be home in …”
Rick leaned over the dashboard, saw the rate of travel they were going and the
distance they were from Neptune. His eyes widened -- bile burned the back of
his throat.
“ … in twenty-two hours.”
Morty didn’t say anything for a moment. He was breathing hard, and Rick wished
he couldn’t hear the hint of arousal in it. “Twenty-two hours? Two twos?
Twenty-two hours?”
“That’s what twenty-two means, yeah,” Rick said. He leaned back in his seat,
arms crossed and the blankest expression he could muster on his face. Rick
tried to keep his face that way as Morty started to cry out, thrashing in his
seat and tugging on his hair.
“Y-Y-You said we’d be home in one hour!” Morty whined, his voice breaking.
“Yeah, I said that before the Cold War of the Dryad 84 Galaxy took a hot shit
on our plans,” Rick snapped. “Y-You know how fast this ship is going at low
power-level? You know how far a twenty-two hour flight takes you from where we
live? It takes you to Vietnam, Morty. So sorry for getting us back to Earth
from Neptune in the time it takes your average idiot to get to Vietnam.”
“I-I-I don’t care about your bit or h-how fucking talented you are right now,
Rick.” Morty let out a loud moan. Rick glanced over, saw Morty leaned back
against the seat and thrusting his crotch against his hands before glancing
away again.
“God, I-I-I’m miserable. Th-This is the worst.”
“Oh Jesus Christ,” Rick pulled out his phone and turned the volume up to the
loudest setting before putting his iTunes on shuffle. “L-Look, just go in the
backseat and do what you need to do, OK?”
Morty’s moaning and thrashing immediately stopped, although his breathing was
still uncomfortably heavy. “Really? Y-You’re OK with me doing that?”
“Yo, the backseat is basically a bunch of throw pillows on top of a hard bench.
I-I-I don’t actually like fucking there, but if you’re just going to cry for
the next t-” Rick burped, “twenty-two hours, then …”
“OK, OK, I get it.”
Morty crawled into the backseat. Rick bit down on the “fuck you” that he’d been
holding back and leaned forward across the steering wheel, laying his left
forearm against the dashboard. This was it, he thought as his dick pressed
against his fly, this shit was really happening. He pushed his forehead hard
against his left arm, reached beneath his lab coat and opened his belt buckle,
tried to undo the button on his pants.
“R-Rick? Rick!”
Rick growled into his forearm. His boner was starting to throb. “What, Morty?”
“D-Do you have any stuff in here? L-Like lube. Or-or maybe a, um,” Morty’s
voice was quiet enough that Rick almost couldn’t hear him over the music. “A
pocket pussy?”
“No, because I don’t need a fucking pocket pussy,” Rick snapped. “I-I-I could
get any piece of tail in the universe. Y-You think I need some silicone tube to
keep me going? You don’t think your grandpa can’t get the real thing whenever
he wants?”
I could use any piece of tail in the universe right about now, Rick thought.
“Jesus, Rick! I get it. Sorry.”
Rick sighed and rubbed his hands up and down his face. “There’s lube and some
vibrators in the trunk. Just open up the interior access latch and get them.
They’re in the bag marked ‘spare parts.’”
“OK, um …” Morty’s voice trailed off. Rick heard shuffling from the backseat -
- the pillows being removed and the bag of Pillilium being pushed further to
the side. “Um, h-how do you open this latch, again? I-It’s been like four
months since I’ve had to use this.”
“Oh, God damn it, Morty!” Rick barreled into the backseat, pushed Morty against
the side of the cruiser with one hand, keeping it on Morty’s chest as he opened
the latch with the other. “I have to do everything for you.”
“I was just asking!” Morty tried to peel away Rick’s fingers but Rick pushed
back even harder, tried to clamp down on the urge to rub against Morty’s chest
or squeeze. “I-I wanted to get it myself.”
Rick found the bag, pulled his hand away as he dug through it. “Yeah, well,
maybe you should try problem-solving more than some crappy long division once
in awhile.” Rick looked in the bag, pulled out a bottle of lube and then -
- after hesitating a moment -- slipped a tiny remote down the wrist of his
right shirt-sleeve before pulling out an egg-shaped flanged vibrator. He handed
the lube and vibrator to Morty.
“Here. Knock-” Rick burped. “Knock yourself out. The egg thing like … responds
to your body heat or something. Just let it do its thing.”
Morty stared a bit dumbfoundedly at the items in his hands. “Th-thanks?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Rick returned to his seat, his heavy breaths getting stuck around the gunk that
constantly sat in his digestive tract. He fumbled in his labcoat for his flask
of vodka, threw his head back and drank the largest gulp he possibly could. As
he wiped the spit and bile off his mouth, he tried to get the image of him
pushing Morty onto the backseat pillows -- of lubing up the egg and watching it
slide up into Morty’s asshole -- out of his head.
These … these aphro-spores. They tended to bring out some dark shit.
The throbbing couldn’t be ignored now. Rick sat quietly, tried to listen after
the re-shuffling from the backseat died down. He waited for the squelch of the
lube, the straining and the final, satisfied gasp as Morty pushed the egg
inside him. Rick wheezed as he turned down his wrist and let the remote slip
into his hand. Honestly, a part of him hadn’t known why he’d picked it up, or
why he’d lied. Maybe because he could. Maybe because he was still kind of
pissed at Morty. Maybe because he wanted to get something out of this without
emotionally scarring Morty any more than he needed to. It could have been all
three of those things, but Rick was thinking the most about that impossible-to-
ignore throbbing when he turned the vibrator onto the lowest setting.
“O-Oh,” Morty moaned. “O-Oh God.”
Yeah, Rick thought. Yeah, you like that you sick little bastard. Rick unzipped
his fly, hocked on his hand before rubbing the spit along his aching dick. He
listened to Morty shift on the pillows, listened as his moans faded into a
satisfied sigh. Rick stroked his cock -- crouched over in case Morty looked his
way. As he listened to the soft slapping of skin on skin, Rick imagined the
sight of Morty with his hand around his cock and his boxer briefs around his
ankles, imagined the egg vibrating inside him.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Rick asked himself. The doubt felt a bit
unfamiliar and unsettling. Most of the time he lived with being a terrible
person and considered any crises of conscience a waste of time. Maybe he was
bothered because in some way this feeling -- this need to do what he was doing
-- didn’t make sense even with the aphro-spores. He’d seen his grandson naked.
He’d overheard him boinking a sex robot. He hadn’t even been too far away when
they went after those mermaids. None of that had brought this out of him.
Shit, the kid wasn’t even that cute. Beth had been cute; Beth had grown into a
beautiful woman. Morty and Summer always had too much of Jerry in them.
Rick’s ears caught Morty straining. He seemed to be moving a lot, maybe turning
over. Rick snorted despite himself. “You restless?” he whispered, then kicked
the setting up a few notches on the vibrator.
“O-O-Oh,” Morty cried out. “Oh God. What-What the hell?”
Rick snickered. “Getting a little loud back there, aren’t you?” he asked, and
this time he made sure Morty could hear him.
“Sh-Shut up, Rick. Th-This egg suddenly just --”
Rick thumbed the switch to the highest setting and Morty let out an ear-
piercing screech. He brought the setting down half-way, let Morty take a few
breaths before kicking it up again. Rick struggled not to laugh. Morty sounded
so flustered, so overwhelmed. This was great! He kept fucking with the setting,
enjoying hearing Morty whimper and squirm.
I control you, Rick thought. It was a thought that sent a vicious little thrill
through him before he remembered the circumstances in which he first said it.
Maybe that should have shamed him but right now he was on the good part -- the
“I’m flying and don’t give a fuck” part -- of the aphro-spore high. And God, he
couldn’t remember if he’d ever gotten here without sticking his dick into
something. This … this fucking ruled.
Rick kept the vibration near the highest setting, then clicked it up and down,
making the egg pulse. He could tell Morty was about to lose it. Morty moaned
with every pulse, not even trying to be quiet.
“It’s too much,” Morty whimpered. “I-I-It’s too … W-Why is it acting like this?
I can’t -- errfff! I-I can’t ...”
Rick bit the sleeve of his own coat as Morty came -- all wails and begging and
desperation -- kept biting harder as he felt his cock twitch and let out
another spurt of pre-come. It was so hard not to scream, not to completely lose
it himself. He imagined himself opening Morty’s mouth with his dick, of fucking
Morty’s mouth and then pulling out at the last second to come all over his
face. He let himself buck twice into his hand, then bit down harder as he let
go.
The song Rick wasn’t listening to at all began to fade out. He suddenly
realized he couldn’t hear any sounds coming from the backseat. No panting or
even heavy, satisfied breathing. No shuffling or straining to remove the egg.
Rick took the sleeve out of his mouth, winced as he tucked his dick back into
his pants and turned off the phone. He hadn’t been that loud, right?
Rick turned to look in the backseat. Morty had removed the egg already, placed
it on the throw pillow next to where he sat. He was wearing his T-shirt and
boxer briefs, but kept his legs bent against his chest, maybe as if still
hiding something. His eyes were dark as he glared at Rick over his knees.
“You did that to me.”
Fuck. Rick tried to keep his voice even, tried to look calm and reasonable as
his brain scrambled for some way out of this. “M-Morty, listen to your grandpa
for a minute …”
Morty flew at Rick with a wail, pushing him against the side of the cruiser.
“You did that to me! You did that to me!”
Rick tried to catch Morty’s wrists as Morty scratched and slapped at him.
“Knock it off, dipshit! You want this thing to go off-course?”
Morty shoved Rick a final time before pulling back, biting his lower lip in
anger. “W-Was this your plan all along, Rick? D-Did you bring me to that planet
so you could drug me and trap me here?”
“H-H-How stupid are you?” Rick rubbed the back of his head where it had hit the
window. “Did I push you into those plants? Did I tell the Ferlogian and Krell
armies to have their slap-fight on our flightpath? Did I put that fucking egg
up your ass? B-Because you were the one who asked for it, Morty!”
“You …” Morty faltered, his expression briefly softening before he glared
again. “Y-You could have arranged it all somehow. You’ve done crazier shit than
this for less. You know you have.”
Rick took a deep breath. He couldn’t really stand up straight in the cruiser,
but he had enough space to grab Morty by the upper arms and push him down to
his knees. Rick loomed over him as he spoke.
“Listen to me, you little shit,” Rick dug his fingernails into Morty’s arms,
shook Morty as he tried to pull away. “If I wanted to I could find a thousand
easier ways to fuck you -- ways that don’t involve the both of us nearly
getting mauled by a cave-dwelling monster or stranded in space. Do you know
why? Because you’re malleable. You’re the human equivalent of a can of Play-
Doh. You wouldn’t even be worth the effort to build a love potion or a hypnosis
ray because I could talk your horny little ass into anything and make you think
it was your idea.”
Morty stared up at him. He seemed to be trying to keep his resolve, but his
breath grew heavier. “Bullshit!”
Rick leaned in toward Morty, paused when he was almost an inch from Morty’s
face. Then he swooped to the left and licked -- almost slobbered all over -
- Morty’s shoulder, delighting in how Morty tried to pull away in disgust
before eventually leaning into it. Rick pulled Morty close enough that their
chests were up against each other. When he sucked against Morty’s shoulder,
hoping to leave a mark, the kid actually tried to hug and rut against him.
“O-Oh God,” Morty moaned into Rick’s neck. “Oh God, w-why am I--? What the
fuck?”
That was enough for him. Rick grabbed the top of Morty’s hair, holding him in
place as he looked him dead in the eyes.
“One more thing.” Rick took Morty’s hand with his free one, pressed Morty’s
hand against his growing erection. “Aphro-spores cause contact highs, Morty. I
didn’t trap you. You trapped me. I did everything I could to avoid this, but
you just can’t seem to resist turning yourself into a living roofie, can you?”
Morty’s cheeks flushed. He wasn’t looking directly at Rick anymore, but he
still strained against Rick’s touch. “I … I-It’s not like that.”
“Oh no?” Rick pushed Morty back onto the throw pillows, climbed on top of Morty
and pinned him down by the shoulders before he could react. He kissed Morty
like he was trying to gross him out, pushing his tongue down Morty's throat and
licking every surface he could. Morty made muffled noises of protest, but a few
times he couldn’t help but thrust up against Rick, eventually wrapped his legs
around Rick’s waist.
“You know you’ve got a taste for this,” Rick purred, let one of his hands
explore the skin beneath Morty’s shirt as he held himself up by his other arm.
“Y-You know, I never asked you what it was like to lose your virginity. I-It
only took removing your conscience and insecurity for you to immediately turn
yourself into jailbait, huh?”
Morty shook his head even as he shuddered against Rick’s touch. “N-No. It-It
wasn’t like … I didn’t mean to … It wasn’t right.”
Rick had to laugh at that one. “And you always seem to care soooo much about
right and wrong until your dick gets involved.”
“Oh, stop it!” Morty shoved Rick off him, pushed himself further back on the
bench as Rick scrambled to right himself on the other side. “Y-You know what,
Rick? I’m fourteen. I-I’m supposed to want to fuck hot women and look at foot
fetish porn a-and I don’t know … mind and body meld with the interdimensional
flying triangle who visits my dreams.”
Rick squinted at Morty and raised an eyebrow. “Um … what?”
Morty shook his head and waved his hands. “Whatever. You’re the adult, OK? Y-
You’re the one who’s supposed to step in and stop this.”
Rick took a deep breath, thought for a moment how inconvenient these vestiges
of guilt were when he still (Rick took a moment to look over Morty -- actually,
when the both of them still) had an erection. Fuck this. Why did it have to
take aphro-spores for him to realize there was some fucked up, subconscious
sexual element to him teasing Morty?
Then again, if Rick hadn’t known …
“OK,” Rick said. “Sure.”
Morty’s mouth snapped shut. His eyes widened. “‘Sure?’”
Rick shrugged dramatically. “I can stop this. I can go up to the front seat,
leave you to the back. We can jack ourselves raw for the next … I-I don’t know,
21 hours now? Then we never speak of this again. Is that what you want?”
“It’s …” Morty gulped. “I-It’s what we should do.”
Rick smirked. Oh, this was going very well. “That’s not my question, Morty.”
Morty’s breath hitched as Rick climbed back over him, his legs seeming to open
wider without his realizing it. Rick let his left hand roam over Morty’s shirt,
whispered in Morty’s ear. “Do you want this? Yes or no?”
“I …” Morty bucked -- actually, it was more like full-body spasmed -- beneath
him. “Rick, I-I can’t say ‘no’ like this.”
“Hmmm …” Rick nipped Morty’s ear, “You wanna say ‘yes,’ then?”
Morty bit back a cry, shut his eyes so tightly it looked painful. He shook his
head.
Rick chuckled. “You little shit.” He straddled Morty, put a hand on either side
of his face as Morty opened his eyes and looked up at Rick. “You just don’t
want the responsibility, do you?”
Morty licked his lips nervously. “Oh, man …”
Coward, Rick thought. He reached underneath Morty’s shirt, and it wasn’t a
surprise when Morty lifted his arms to help Rick pull it off. Rick would have
loved to lie down next to Morty to do this, but they didn’t have the space. He
sat on the poorly-cushioned bench and pulled Morty up onto his lap, bit his ear
again before whispering into it.
“Maybe this is the way you want it?” Rick traced the waistband of Morty’s boxer
briefs, reached around to squeeze Morty’s ass. When Rick spoke again, his voice
was loud and sarcastic. “‘Aw, noooo. W-Why are you touching me like this,
Grandpa?’”
“Oh, come on, Rick!” Morty said. “Don’t … I-It’s embarrassing.”
“Oh yeah, it’s soooo embarrassing.” Rick started kneading Morty’s butt,
shuddered as Morty thrust back against him in response. “‘W-Wow, Grandpa. I
really, really hate this. But d-d-don’t stop or anything. Wh-What would I do
about this boner I’m pushing against you if you stopped?’”
Morty let out a loud whine. “Rick, th-this isn’t fair!”
“‘This isn’t FAIR?’”
Rick pulled Morty closer to him, pulled violently if not very effectively at
Morty’s underpants to the point that Rick actually heard them rip. Morty
gasped, muttered something that sounded like “What the fuck?” Rick responded by
pushing Morty hard on his back on the makeshift bench. He yanked off the
remnants of Morty’s underpants. Morty moaned uncomfortably as Rick wrapped a
hand around his cock, but relaxed a bit, clearly started to enjoy himself, as
Rick kept stroking him. Rick tolerated it for a bit … then he squeezed. Hard.
“Ow! Rick, stop it!”
“Oh, now you can say it?” Rick loosened his grip a bit, but didn’t let Morty
go, palmed the ground until he found the lube with his free hand. “You wanna
admit you want this, already? Or are we going to keep playing?”
Morty’s eyes darted to the lube. “Rick, what are you doing?”
“‘Wow, what’s that, Grandpa?’” Rick let go of Morty, squirted the lube onto the
fingers of his now-free hand. “‘Oh no! You’re not going to put those inside me,
are you, Grandpa? O-Oh no, how horrible! But it would feel soooooo good,
Grandpa!’”
Morty let out a strained growl, pushed himself up on the bench. “God damn it,
Rick! I-I-I don’t fucking sound like that!”
“Then don’t fucking act like that!” Rick pulled Morty closer to him by the
ankle, felt vindicated when Morty fell back into the pillows. He rubbed his
lubed fingers along the crease in Morty’s ass, listened to him moan. “You like
this. You want this. You just also like to say you don’t. M-Maybe it’s even
sexier to you that way, huh? M-Maybe you can only get hard for me if you can
see me as your evil, molesting grandpa.”
“ENOUGH!”
Morty kicked him in the chest, almost in the sternum, and Rick was shocked at
how much it actually really fucking hurt. Before he could process what was
happening, Morty was back on top of him, had his hands wrapped around Rick’s
throat.
Shit, Rick thought. Shit, shit. I didn’t mean to get him to this point. Shit.
Morty leaned in close to him, a murderous look in his eyes.
“Y-You want to know what I want?” Morty screamed at him. “Y-You want me to take
what I fucking want, do you?”
Rick gulped through Morty’s grip. “Mmm … mmm-hmmm.”
“It’s ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ bitch!”
This fucking kid and his fucking bullshit, Rick thought with a resigned
exhaustion. “Yes, Morty.”
Morty let go of Rick’s neck, pushed him away. “Lay down on the bench.”
Rick tried to obey, but before he’d fully gotten there Morty leaped on top of
him. He tore somewhat effectively at Rick’s clothes. When he had Rick’s shirt
half-way up his chest he attacked him again, biting and scratching at Rick’s
torso as he humped his leg.
OK, Rick told himself as he winced at a particularly hard bite. Just let this
play itself out for a bit. You probably deserve this, anyway.
Morty moved down Rick’s body with his mouth, fumbled at Rick’s belt when he
reached it. He pulled Rick’s pants down around his thighs, didn’t hesitate to
give Rick’s balls a long, slow lick and then wrap his mouth around Rick’s dick.
Rick inhaled sharply. Morty sucked hard and way too fast -- the blowjob of a
teenager who didn’t yet know not to treat sex like a video game speedrun. It
kind of hurt but … Rick was somewhat charmed, in a way that even he knew was
fucked up.
“Being kind of hard on this old man’s dick, aren’t you?”
Morty raised his head. “Shut up! I-I-I don’t want to hear anything out of your
mouth unless it’s ‘yes’ or ‘more’ or ‘good job, Morty.’”
Ugh, his grandson could get so stupidly transparent when he was angry and
horny. “OK, so can I tell you how to do a good job? I mean, th-this is your
party and shit, but I’m not going to come unless you slow down a bit and cover
your teeth.”
“Fuck you,” Morty grumbled, but when he took Rick’s cock back in his mouth it
felt a lot better. Rick leaned back and closed his eyes, tried to enjoy the
sensation. It actually wasn’t that difficult. Even with Morty’s occasional
slip-up or desperate break to breathe, Rick was starting to feel that aphro-
spore high again.
Rick opened his eyes when he felt Morty shift beneath him, pull harder on his
pants. Rick tried to knock one of his legs against Morty’s shoulders to get his
attention, but Morty kept pushing him away. Rick rolled his eyes and clapped
his hands. Morty still ignored him, pulled Rick’s pants off completely. Rick
groaned in exasperation and started snapping his fingers.
“What do you want, Rick?”
Rick reached into his coat and pulled out what he was looking for, throwing it
to Morty. Morty fumbled a bit as he tried to catch it, had to press it against
his chest to get a hold of it.
“What is--?” Morty looked down and saw the condom in his hands. “Oh. Th-Thank
you.”
Rick gave him a thumbs up. Morty actually smiled a bit. Whatever, Rick thought.
At this point two-thirds of the galaxy had space HPV or inter-dimensional
Herpes but it wasn’t going to be his responsibility to deal with Morty’s sores
if that shit turned out to be not dormant. He was doing this for himself.
Still, as Rick watched Morty momentarily struggle with the packaging, as he
watched Morty pull out the condom and roll it out a bit, trying to figure out
which way to put it on, Rick couldn’t help but think that maybe somewhere down
the line he really, really had fucked this -- fucked absolutely everything -
- all up.
“Good job,” Rick said as Morty positioned himself between his legs.
Morty smiled again. Well, Rick thought as Morty squirted the lube onto his
fingers, as he winced as Morty first pressed a finger inside of him -- at least
Morty had chilled out.
It had actually been awhile since Rick had specifically done this. The last
time he’d done it with a guy had probably been … fuck, it had been during that
weekend with Unity, hadn’t it? He couldn’t actually remember if he took dick
from any of its male selves then, either … a lot of that shit was a blur that
he didn’t like to think about at this point. Still, he’d been around and had
gotten a lot of toys and mega-seeds and tentacles stuffed up there over the
years. So if Morty wasn’t that gentle or adept at getting him ready Rick
figured he didn’t need much of that shit anyway.
Morty stood poised over him, his own dick in his hand, for a few moments. Rick
wondered if this was the moment when the second thoughts would derail this
whole thing. Maybe if they both weren’t essentially poisoned it would have
been. Instead, Morty attempted to push his cock inside of Rick, managed it on
the third try.
For the first few minutes, it actually kind of sucked. Morty didn’t know what
the fuck he was doing and didn’t seem to give much of a shit about it, either.
He snapped his hips hard on the first few thrusts, occasionally hitting
somewhere unpleasant, then seemed to immediately exhaust himself and he laid
himself across Rick’s chest. Rick ran his fingertips gently along Morty’s spine
and actually started to wonder if crossing this particular moral threshold was
worth it. Then he felt Morty’s full-body shudder.
“Oh, man. Keep … Keep doing that.” Morty propped himself up and started fucking
Rick again. He was slower this time, kept his thrusts in time with Rick’s
touches. It was good -- Rick was actually able to find the rhythm of it, to get
his body to the place where it could enjoy the intrusion rather than just want
to push it out.
“You feel it now, don’t you?” Rick asked -- Morty hadn’t actually withdrawn his
weird little Christian Grey rule but Rick figured he didn’t give a shit right
now. “You feel that aphro-spore high? It’s good, isn’t it?”
Morty nodded. He was breathing so heavily now, his mouth open and panting. “I-
I’ve never felt anything like this before.”
“Yeah, this shit can be amazing if you actually get to fuck on it.” Rick moved
his hands down to Morty’s sides, felt Morty shudder again. He was starting to
thrust harder again, but more fluidly. Rick wasn’t expecting Morty to find his
prostate or anything but if he did Rick probably wouldn’t have taken much to
fall apart. “You think it’s worth everything to feel like this?”
“I-I don’t know. Probably not. B-but …” Morty bit back a cry. “I-It’s like
everything feels like that last minute before you come, you know? But I know
I’m not ready yet ... Oh God, I want to fuck on this forever. I want to fuck on
this forever, Rick.”
Rick had to laugh. “We’ve got a looooong way home, you know.”
“Y-Yeah.”
“What do you want to do with all that time, baby?”
“I … I wanna fuck.”
“Oh wow, real creativity, Morty,” Rick grunted as Morty thrust into him a bit
harder -- sheesh, this kid. “C’mon, work with me here. Y-You want to ride my
cock? Want me to eat your ass? Or how about some real nasty shit? I could piss
on you. I could stick my whole fist inside you. I could suck your dick dry and
snowball it back in your mouth.”
Morty started clawing at Rick desperately as he spoke. “I want it all. God, I-
I-I want it all, Rick.”
Rick could tell Morty was close, was so wrapped up in waiting for that moment
when Morty just lost it that Rick was surprised when he felt himself coming
before Morty did.
When they were done, he held Morty in his arms. It … felt nice. Nicer than he
should have been comfortable with. Rick found his eyes starting to blink
closed.
Then Morty started fidgeting.
“Fuck …” Morty whispered. “Rick, I-I’m sorry but it’s starting again.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rick ran his fingers through Morty’s hair. “Y-You know,
it’s all good. We’re on this bullet train to hell together. Okay, dawg?”
Morty climbed up Rick’s body to kiss him, and it bothered Rick how sincere it
felt.
~*~*~
“H-Hey Rick, can I have some of your vodka?”
“Pfft! Fat chance.”
“J-Just a sip? C’mon, I’m thirsty.”
“Yeah, that’s not --” Rick burped. “That’s not how alcohol works.”
“Please?”
Rick sighed and pawed around where he was sitting on the dirty back floor of
the cruiser for his labcoat. He took out the flask and handed it up to where
Morty was lying on the bench. “Go easy on this, OK?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Morty sat up on the bench and started unscrewing the cap.
Rick turned around so his arms were resting on the bench as he looked up at
Morty. “Also, y-you know, all this shit we just did? Th-This isn’t some sort of
‘Get Whatever I Want from Grandpa’ card, OK? I-I don’t give a shit about any
future guilt trips you pull on me. And if you ever tell anyone --”
“Why would I do that?” Morty took a sip and then immediately gagged, handing
the flask and cap back to Rick. “Ugh! H-How can you drink this all the time?”
Because I do shit like this, Rick thought. “Not my fault your pussy tastebuds
can’t handle it.”
“Summer let me try some gin once. I like that. I-It’s better than this.”
“Cool. You can buy it yourself when you’re 21 and I-I’ll beg off some of that
and complain about it,” Rick took a heavy swig of the vodka. “Y-You ready to go
again?”
Morty shrugged and rubbed his arms. “Not really. I-I-I don’t know. M-Maybe I’m
done.”
“Oh yeah?” Rick pushed himself up onto the bench. “You sure about that? B-
Because I may not be …”
Morty curled in on himself and blushed. “Aren’t you tired? H-How long was all
of this? Ten hours? Like you said before?”
“Who gives a shit?” Rick pulled Morty closer to him and laid himself on top of
Morty. “Hey, where would you want to go if we had more spores and the cruiser
wasn’t jacked? I know a lot of planets with some grade-A, classic anime
tentacle monsters. The good shit.”
“I …” Morty tapped his index fingers together. “I guess that could be fun.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. That shit’s too basic. Oh! I could get a bunch of
Ricks together and we could switch you and some other Mortys off, huh? Maybe
I’ll put some goofy little dog collar on you so nobody else leaves with you
when the night’s over.”
Morty looked away from Rick, started staring at the floor. “Ehhh … I-I-I don’t
know.”
“Not much for other Ricks, huh? How about some other Mortys? You ever thought
about fucking yourself?”
“N-Not really … ” Morty suddenly blushed again. “Well, maybe one of the girl
versions of me …”
“Woah-ho,” Rick teased, “way to get homophobic about fucking yourself.”
“I-It’s not that!” Morty scratched the back of his head. “I just know what I’m
like. The girl me would be … you know, different. I’m curious.”
“Heh. Well, the gender parity is pretty fucking screwed, there. You might have
to fight off twenty versions of yourself first.”
Morty shrugged. “Have you ever done it?”
“Fucked a version of myself?”
“Fucked a girl version of yourself. I mean. A-are there girl versions of you?
There have to be, right?”
Rick cringed. He sat up on the bench, reached for his vodka as Morty sat up
too. “Yeah. I-I’ve met a couple here and there. They’re … kind of bitter. You
take the leash off the smartest man in the universe and he turns into an
entitled narcissist. You do that to the smartest woman in the universe and
she’s carrying around a whole jetpack of resentments and persecution complexes
along for the ride. There’s a reason none of them ever joined the Citadel.”
“Jesus …”
“Yeah. I-I think I met one whose Summer ran away from home and found her, but
generally they don’t tend to have grandkids with them. For some reason their
Beths tend to take their leaving a lot harder.”
Morty sighed and rested his head against the side of the cruiser. “That sounds
pretty sad.”
“Yeah, well, d-don’t feel too sorry for your interdimensional grandmas. They’re
still me, after all. Also, every one I’ve met has chewed me out for being some
sort of easy-riding misogynist who doesn’t deserve half of what he gets, so
like, whatever. Fuck ‘em.”
Morty still made a little sympathetic noise. Ugh, this conversation had really
killed the vibe. Granted, maybe the vibe should have been killed about eleven
hours ago ...
God, what the fuck was he going to do after this?
“S-Say Rick. I’m … I think I’m ready to sleep, now.”
“Fine. Th-That’s cool.” Rick got off the bench and dug around for his clothes,
throwing Morty’s t-shirt back at him when he came upon that. (He thought about
doing it for the briefs, too, but they were pretty shot at this point.) He
started to get dressed, figured he’d try to see how comfortable he could make
the front seat for the back-half of this shit-show of a flight.
Ugh, who the fuck was he kidding? Rick knew he loved every minute of it.
“Um, R-Rick …”
He looked back at Morty. His grandson had put back on his t-shirt and jeans,
was sitting up on the bench. His hands kneaded at the pillows like a cat as he
spoke.
“I-I was just, um … thinking a lot about moral relativity, y-you know? I-
I mean, you and me … w-we’ve seen a lot of shit. A-and we’ve done some really
bad shit, too. Like, really, really terrible things. A-And some of that shit I
haven’t wanted to think about but you told me I couldn’t actually forget that
they happened because … w-well, I couldn’t actually follow your reasoning at
the time but you said it involved dasein and Sartre and something about
personal facticity. A-Anyway, what I think you were getting at was if you took
those memories away I wouldn’t be me. Do you remember that?”
Rick did, although he also remembered being really drunk at the time and
wanting Morty to shut up about something or other. “Y-Yeah, I remember.”
“So, like,” Morty sighed and gripped harder onto the pillows. “I-I’m just
saying that I … I guess this changes that facticity. A-And I don’t really want
to be the Morty-in-himself who, you know, feels this way about you and has done
these things. B-But since I’m already the Morty-in-himself who asked for the
love potion to Cronenberg the world and the Morty-in-himself who killed a lot
of cat-people in a purge or the Morty-in-himself who …”
Rick rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You can just say ‘Morty’ or
‘me’ -- I get it. Y-You’re not actually in a philosophy class.”
“Right. Well, I-I’m almost done, anyway. I’m just saying the first thing isn’t
bad as the others. So try to think about that if you want to do something I
don’t want you to do. Do you understand, Rick?”
I understand you could have used 90 percent less words to say that garbage,
Rick thought. “Y-Yeah. I … I hear you, Morty.”
Morty still kept his eyes on Rick as he settled down on the bench to sleep.
Rick finished dressing and by the time he was done Morty’s soft, sleepy
breathing filled the enclosed space of the cruiser. Rick moved into the
backseat, then took off his labcoat and laid it over Morty’s shoulders.
Maybe I should sleep on this, Rick thought as he went back to the driver’s
seat. He propped his feet up on the dashboard and closed his eyes, but found he
kept thinking too much. He stared at Jupiter in the distance. He opened and
closed some apps on his phone. He took another large gulp of vodka.
Can you look at Beth every day knowing you did this? Rick asked himself, but
then he immediately thought that he already looked at Beth every day knowing he
had done a lot worse to her and everyone else. He’d always resented anyone
appealing to family ties to try to change his behavior -- there was no reason
he could make that trick work on himself.
Anyway, affection was mostly just a chemical reaction, even without aphro-
spores. There wasn’t anything actually special about that moment with Morty, it
was just some plant fulfilling its biological imperative to get big, dumb
animals to concentrate on each other and leave it alone. If anything, tonight
should matter significantly less than every other interaction they’d ever had.
And not that he gave a shit, but Morty would be OK, right? Rick tried to laugh
at that one. Tried.
Rick reached beneath the driver’s seat and pulled out the amnesia-ray. He
briefly pointed it at his own eyes, then laid it in his hands and looked at his
reflection in the metal. Eleven more hours. He had a long time to think.
The End.
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