Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3808216.
  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:
      Blood, Choking, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Incest, Anal_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-04-23 Words: 2494
****** The Foistock Virus ******
by clevebereave
Summary
     Morty has contracted a weird virus that will kill him if he doesn't
     mate with the first person that he saw at the moment of contracting
     the virus.
Notes
     Wrote this a few months ago and it's on a Tumblr I lost the password
     to. Finally decided to clean it up a bit and post it here. New tumblr
     is clevebereave if you've got some prompts for me.
     I should be sorry, blah blah, you know what you're getting into
It came like a fever. Morty’s body grew hot and he ached down to the limbs. He
woke right up in the dead of night with his body jolting upward rigidly. He
gaped like a fish, dry-heaving between desperate inhales. Despite all of this,
he was achingly hard with the heat of his arousal causing his entire pelvic
region to throb almost painfully.
He planted a shaky foot on the ground and felt a comforting solidness that
assured him it was reality. He stood from his bed, light-headed and his legs
feeling damn near nonexistent under him. He was scared. He was nauseous. He was
so aroused that the air on his skin felt like cruel, teasing fingers and while
everything else seemed to be in a haze, one thought stood out in his mind with
outstanding clarity; He needed Rick.
Rick wasn't hard to find. He had fallen asleep on the living room couch with an
open copy of an unlabeled book resting on his chest. The book rose and fell
with the shallow breaths. Years of dangerous adventures and experiments had
turned Rick into a very light and paranoid sleeper.
The patter of Morty’s bare feet against the wood caused Rick’s eyes to snap
open. They searched, scanning frantically to find the intruder. He only
breathed when he spotted Morty ambling toward him. “Y-you know what, Morty, I-
I’m getting sick of this ‘3 AM Glass of Water’ shit, Morty. J-just bring a
glass with you like any- like- like any reasonable person.”
“I-I don’t know what’s wuh-wrong with me Rick. I don’t know. I don’t. I just n-
need you. I need you right now.”
That was when Rick could make out the outline of Morty’s erection in the boy’s
briefs. Rick nodded a slow nod and went, “Uh huh.” before getting to his feet
and flicking the light. Cautiously, he stepped closer to his grandson. “I got a
feeling about what this behavior is. Open your eyes wide, Morty. I don’t know
if I can risk touching you.”
Morty opened his eyes so wide he felt the sting of the strain. His pupils were
large, irises bordered by a dark red. Rick stood as close as he could without
touching Morty and grunted with a sudden finality.
“Looks like you’ve got- got a variation of the Foistock virus.”
“F-f-foistock virus?” Morty parroted nervously.
“Yup. Red ring around the irises, big pupils, blue blood vessels. We gotta
figure out what the first being you saw was after contracting the virus and
then you’re going to have to mate with them. You touch any other person or any
other person touches you, wham bam, Morty, you d-drop dead. Just like that.”
Morty’s face contorted. “I-I’m scared, Rick.”
“Calm down, Morty. Finding the person who you first looked- first looked at is
easy, because they’ll be completely encoded into your thoughts down to the
location.” Rick had stepped back and seated himself, crossing one leg over the
other. “Who do you've got on the mind, Morty? I just hu-hope it's not either of
your parents.”
Morty thought. He thought hard, and he grew frustrated because he felt like he
had to claw through a billion thoughts of Rick to go deeper into his mind. The
more thoughts of Rick he tore through, however, the more thoughts of Rick
surfaced. The heat in his body raised, along with the pulsing of his needy
cock. Just looking at Rick was making the fever more intense, the arousal
becoming far more pressing. “This isn’t- isn’t working, Rick.”
“C-come on, Morty. What are you thinking of? Who’s on your mind? I haven’t got-
h-haven’t got all night, Morty.”
“I’m not thinking of anyone, Rick. There’s just a lot of you p-popping up in my
head and that’s it. Help me find out who it is.” Morty groaned, rubbing at his
temples to focus his concentration. He looked to Rick for some sort of aid, but
Rick stared for a few moments before pinching the bridge of his nose and
groaning audibly.
“Fuck.” Rick sighed.
“What I-i-is it, Rick? What’s g-going on?”
“Y-you’re really putting me in between a r-rock and a hard place, Morty, you
know that?” Rick reached into his lab coat’s pocket and pulled out his flask.
“W-What are you talking about, Rick?” Once again, Morty pooled all of his
effort and concentration into putting it all together until the implication
dawned on him. He stretched his mouth and began whining shrill and terrified.
“Oh. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no.” He shook his head rapidly, but once he was
aware of his conflict deviant thoughts about his grandfather flooded into his
head.
“I’m gonna have to-” Rick paused and took a long swig from his flask. “I-I’m
going to have to fuck you if you want to live, Morty. Do you want to live?”
Exasperated, Morty began shouting. “I-I don’t want to die, Rick. I don’t want
to die! H-how can you even ask that?”
“Then I’m going to h-have to- I’m going to have to fuck you, Morty. I’m going
to have to fuck you until I expel my-” Rick paused, belching. “My semen inside
you. The moment I touch you, you’re going to lose all of your rational thought.
You’re going- going to become a masochist, Morty. Y-you’re going to ask me to
do some really weird shit to you.”
“I can’t-” Morty paused, shaking his head. “I won’t- I can’t believe-” His face
flickered through an array of different expressions, ranging from distress, to
horror and ultimately to defeat. “If-if it means I-I won’t die, f-fine.”
“Let’s get,” Rick belched and wiped a trail of saliva from his chin. “Let’s get
into the garage, Morty.”
Every step was an agonizing tease to his arousal. Morty walked behind his
grandfather and became fixated on Rick’s gait. Every step was matched by his
shoulders. To Morty the strut was masculine and powerful. It commanded his
focus and made him feel frail and childish next to Rick. He had to swallow back
the saliva that pooled in his mouth.
Rick had shut and locked the door that led from the house into the garage. He
fished for a device in the drawers of his work desk, finding a disc-shaped one
with a big green button on top. He tapped it and set it down. “Sound proofing,”
he said flatly.
“A-am I r-really going to be that loud?”
“You’re already loud, Morty. Foistock is going to make it worse.” Rick had his
lab coat to slide off his shoulders. He draped it over the chair placed in
front of his desk, but not before taking another gulp of the scotch he kept in
his flask. “I’m going to- to touch you now, Morty. I’m going to put my hand on
your shoulder and we’ll work from there.”
There was a scent unique to Rick that Morty had only noticed in that moment,
and with every inch closer the two got, the more overwhelmingly desirable the
scent grew. And then Morty felt a hand on his shoulder. The point of contact
had grown so hot that the boy believed the skin on his shoulder was going to
burn right off.
Morty groaned out. His worries were lost, melted into a haze of one command his
brain kept hammering out: Fuck. That’s what Morty wanted. Yeah, he wanted to
fuck. He wanted to use his body and grind and sweat and let out every little
sound he could make until he was hoarse and and gasping.
He pulled and tore at Rick’s clothing. Rick was forced to slap the prying hands
away to remove his own clothing. Morty had stepped out of his own briefs and
pressed his body against Rick’s, bucking against his grandfather's thigh like a
horny little dog. Morty ran his hands along Rick’s torso. He palmed gray
nipples, trailing his hands down further over the ribcage, the stomach, the
pelvic area. He tightened his hand around the shaft of Rick’s cock, feeling it
limp in his hand. He looked up at Rick’s face, who had his gaze fixated at
something in his periphery.
“I need you to fuck me,” Morty begged with a fervor in his voice that was
foreign to the both of them. “I need it so badly.”
Rick stuck his fingers into his mouth and demanded that Morty bend over for
him. The boy compliantly folded himself over the desk and spread his legs. A
spit-greased finger wriggled into his tight ring. A soft, pleased noise sounded
at the back of Morty’s throat.
“Wait a second, Morty. I gotta find- gotta find some lube.” He withdrew his
finger.
Morty began whimpering. “Touch me, Rick. Please, just keep touching me. I don’t
care about lube, Rick. It’s okay if it hurts. It’s better if it hurts.”
Rick settled his hand between the shoulder blades. Under his hand, Morty had
writhed. His back arched so that his ass jutted out, wiggling and pleading for
attention. Rick’s hand had moved down to Morty’s ass. He stuck a finger in dry
and was met with a bit of resistance. “You gotta push out a little bit, Morty.
Push out and it’ll be easier on both of us.” Soon after he was able to sink his
index finger down to the knuckle.
After some jerks of his first finger, he eased his middle finger alongside the
pointer finger. Morty’s hole tensed briefly before relaxing around the added
digit. His free hand fumbled with his own cock in a haphazard attempt to get
himself hard enough to properly fuck.
Morty turned his head, saw Rick struggling to keep his cock hard. “Let me help
you, Rick.”
Rick didn’t protest. He withdrew his fingers and stood back, letting Morty
slide off the desk and wrap his mouth around the head of his tool. He sighed
into the wet heat, groaned into the tongue circling around his head. There was
a gentle, clumsy scrape of teeth. Eagerly, Morty sucked and took the length of
the tool into the back of his throat. It didn’t take long for Rick to get hard,
expanding in his grandson’s mouth.
Morty pulled back to cough and suck in a breath. He wiped the saliva from his
chin and went back to licking the head of Rick’s erection, lapping at the
precum. The rings around Morty’s irises had grown in circumference, the red
darkening in color. He sprung to his feet and bent himself over the desk again,
spreading his ass. “I need you inside me. Please, I need you to fuck me.”
Cock slick with spit, Rick pushed himself against Morty’s hole. “Push-push out
for me, Morty. Push out for me.” Even slicked, it was a struggle. Morty pushed
out and Rick pushed in with increased force. He stopped immediately when Morty
cried out under him.
“Keep going,” Morty urged, voice hoarse from his whimpering and grunting. “I
need it to hurt. Please, Rick.”
For a moment, Rick hadn't said anything. His hand gently squeezed Morty's
shoulder. “Hold your breath,” Rick instructed before drawing back. Rick sucked
in a breath before aligning the tip with the pucker and plunging his way in. He
felt the wetness of the blood begin to trail down his shaft after creating a
slight tear in Morty’s hole. Under him, Morty was writhing and bucking and
screaming. Rick had slowed to halt, settling deep inside Morty to allow the boy
to adjust.
“Do it, Rick,” Morty begged. The boy was sobbing, face red and scrunched. “I
want it.”
The boy was so small under him. Rick leaned over his grandson and his body
nearly swallowed Morty’s. Doing what was begged of him, he began thrusting,
rolling his hips until he bottomed out.
Between indeterminable noises, Morty had squeaked, “Touch me.” Rick snaked a
hand around Morty’s erection. Slick from sweat and pre-cum, Rick’s fingers slid
across the head. Morty reacted with gentle moans at the prodding, exhaling out
at the tightened hand around his shaft.
Rick picked up the rhythm of his rutting. He slammed into Morty’s ass with wet
slaps sounding every time their hips met. The blood made it a little easier on
the both of them.
“Choke me,” Morty panted. He reached for the hand that gripped his cock and
guided it up to his throat. The other hand followed around a neck slim enough
to allow him to clasp his hands and squeeze. The boy under him sputtered and
spat up. The noises at the back of his throat no longer sounded human. His body
leaned and tensed into Rick’s cock desperately. It was a race between his
orgasm and his consciousness and the race was close. Morty could feel his face
tightening. From a miserable red, his complexion faded into a breathless
purple.
But his orgasm had won. With a final, violent jerk of his body Morty’s climax
exploded all over the desk. A pool of it had dripped onto the floor. Rick
unclasped his fingers and Morty sucked in short, panicked breaths.
Now Rick had closed his eyes and fastened his hands on Morty’s hips. He pounded
into the boy, exhaling loudly and grunting before forcing his own climax. He
sunk into Morty as deep as his cock would let him and came, shooting his load
in his grandson’s ass.
They held the moment to catch their breaths. Once their heartbeats stilled and
Morty’s face returned to something resembling its original color, Rick had
slowly, carefully pulled out of Morty. A thin trail of pinkish semen followed
its way out. Morty’s hole was reddened and distended. His legs were shaking
under him. He sank onto the ground, kneeling, cradling his head in his hands.
“Fuck, am I-I going to remember all of that?” Post-orgasmic and sleep deprived,
Morty was not as hysteric as he could have been.
“All of that, for the rest of your life. I had Foistock once, myself, Morty.
It’s one of this universe’s many ways to fuck with your mind.” Rick had
scavenged through his coat for his flask before downing a considerable amount.
He bent down level to his grandson and offered the container with a hard stare.
“So you just gotta fuck with your mind more to deal with it all.”
Without even a moment’s hesitation, Morty grabbed at the flask and drank the
remaining contents. Rick handed over Morty’s boxers, and the kid was almost
afraid to look up at his grandfather, but he did. He was relieved to see that
Rick wasn’t looking at him any differently. Through all the trauma, he cracked
a small smile and began laughing nervously. The smile spread to Rick. He patted
Morty on the head before the two let up and returned to their rooms for the
night.
It wouldn’t be alright, but Morty was quickly learning “alright” didn’t really
have a meaning. That was reassurance enough.
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