Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11993580.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty, Pocket_Mortys
  Relationship:
      Miami_Morty/Morty, Miami_Morty/Miami_Rick_(Pocket_Mortys), Morty_Smith/
      Morty_Smith
  Character:
      Rick_Sanchez_(Rick_and_Morty), Miami_Rick_(Pocket_Mortys), Miami_Morty_
      (Pocket_Mortys), Morty_Smith
  Additional Tags:
      selfcest, frottage???, cumming_in_pants, im_sorry_god, References_to
      Drugs, Drug_Dealing, tags_will_be_updated_when_more_chapters_are_added,
      title_will_prolly_change, spanish_speaking_rick_n_morty
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-04 Chapters: 1/? Words: 2124
****** The Magic City ******
by anti_piss, midnightVision
Summary
     Miami Rick visits the C-137 boys, and Miami Morty is a thot. (Stay
     tuned for somewhat weekly updates of a fucked up and/or self-cesty
     variety)
Notes
     No rickmorty yet but like ay lmao selfcesty 14 year old boys
See the end of the work for more notes
It was basically your average summer day for Rick and Morty. They were working
on some random and complicated project, something most likely for Rick’s
benefit, in the Smith family’s garage. Well, in reality, Rick was working on
this project and Morty was taking orders like some advanced service dog. Rick
sat uncomfortably hunched over his work table, and Morty spun around on a tall
spinning stool, and let his legs dangle. Everything was calm and ordinary,
until a green portal appeared from one of the walls. Rick instinctively shot
up, paranoid as to what could want him now, and Morty stopped spinning out of
fear and froze up, back tensing in fear.
Then out stepped a Rick, similar to the one of this dimension, despite the
strangely tauter face and attire consisting of douchey white pants and a pink
button down with a popped collar. Morty couldn't recognize who stepped out with
him, but what he assumed was a she, was gorgeous. She had obviously fake long
blonde hair, and wore a cheetah fur coat, a loose crop top, and panties. Her
tan skin glistened, even in the shitty lighting of the garage, and her long
legs were accented by the blue platform wedge sandals she wore.
For lack of a better term, she looked a stripper. An expensive one too.
“C-137, I need you, my clients like what you gave me last time and they want
more without the shitty side effects” ordered the foreign Rick. Whatever he was
saying went over Morty’s head, but Rick seemed to understand.
“At least say Hello, goddamn,” said Rick, putting down the random gadget parts
onto the table before walking towards the open portal.
“W-w-wait Rick ? You're just gonna leave me?” Stuttered Morty, this time from
being a little peeved instead of his usual stutter.
“Y-urp-eah Morty, Rick business” Rick responded, “You can hang out with this
other Morty to keep you busy, just don’t do your usual stupid shit” he
finished, stepping through the portal with the pink shirt Rick, his final
gesture towards the blond fading away as green portal closed.
“You’re a M-M-Morty?” Morty stuttered again, voice cracking as he stared at the
taller version of himself.
“That's what I was told” answer the now identified Morty, without a stutter. He
looked around the garage nonchalantly, giving his bubblegum pink sucker a slow
lick. His eyes slowly darted across the room, swimming through the pink lakes
that were his shades.
Morty found himself staring kinda hard at… at himself? This Morty looked
nothing like him. He was tall, at least six feet tall with the platform he
wore. His skin was bronzed unlike his pale ass skin, and had long and fake
blonde hair. Extensions, maybe? He didn't have much more time to dwell or feel
jealous at the fact he was so fucking short before his alternate self shot him
a glare. He blushed before looking away.
“U-uh you wanna c-c-c-come inside?” Morty asked, looking down at his feet.
“Sure, but most guys take me to dinner before they ask me that” The taller
Morty joked, punctuating the innuendo with a seductive suck of his lollipop.
“T-T-T-That's not what I m-m-meant!” Morty almost yelled out in embarrassment,
only earning a soft laugh from the taller.
“I know kid, chill out. I'd love to go inside” said the taller Morty, walking
towards the garage door. The other followed and closed the garage as he walked
behind him confused, despite this being his own house. They entered one after
the other, trekking to the couch. The foreign Morty sat sprawled comfortable on
one end of the couch, long limbs settling awkwardly, and c-137 Morty sat
stiffly on the other end of the couch
“So, uh… What does your Rick want with-”
“Drugs.” Miami Morty cut off c-137, biting his lollipop clean off the stick,
throwing the trash across the room, “Your Rick makes some hard stuff.”
“O-oh… Do you guys like… Sell?”
“Yeah, mostly on Earth, but occasionally intergalactic. We run the drug rings
in our dimensions Miami”
Morty struggled to comprehend all of that, but still nodded anyways. He sat
awkwardly still, fumbling with his hands in his lap.
“Are there any differences from here and your dimension?” Morty asked,
wondering how drastic the changes could be besides the wardrobe and body.
“Well, in our dimension, the ‘Sanchez’ last name is a bit more appropriate
considering everyone but Jerry is at least a fourth Spanish, I ditched school
and became a part time Go-Go dancer, part time beach rat, and Summer got her
tits done 2 years ago, which if that family picture on the wall indicates
anything, that hasn't happened here”
“Oh that's… W-w-wait do you s-sp-speak Spanish? Also gross, I don't want to
hear about my sister's b-b-boobs”
“Primero, sí, hablo español. Segundo, si llamas a las tetas "boobs", las únicas
tetas de las que vas escuchar son las de tu hermana.”
Morty sorta ate his words with that question. He understood the first half,
confirming that this Morty indeed spoke Spanish. However, what he didn't
understand was the second half, only picking up the words “two”, “escuchar”,
“you”, and “hermana”, only because of the few times he payed attention in
Spanish class. Another awkward silence passed, and the other Morty simply kept
busy by checking out the room and/or himself.
Another thing about the response that Morty pushed to the back of his mind, was
the slight arousal he got from hearing his alternate speak the language that
was engraved in his head as the language of love.
“Do you want anything to eat?” Morty asked, breaking the silence by falling
back on the tedious hospitality he picked up from his mother.
“Sure, do you guys have popsicles?” Miami Morty asked, glancing up from a
decked out phone Morty never realized he pulled out, considering his gaze was
either on his fumbling hands or around the room.
“I'll go check?” Morty said, sounding more like a question than statement. He
walked to the kitchen, checking the freezer half of the fridge, scoping around
for the All-American Bomb Pop™ he knew they had left from the fourth of July.
He luckily found some in an almost empty box, grabbing one for each of them. He
stepped back into the living room, watching the other Morty tap away on his
phone while his acrylics were making a satisfying tapping sound on the screen
and little key chains dangling with every movement.
“Here you go uhhh-” Morty paused, unsure what to call his counterpart.
“Just call me Princess,” answered the taller Morty, grabbing the popsicle from
a slightly reddened Morty.
“O-oh geez… Okay...” Morty said, sitting down and opening the popsicle wrapper.
He grabbed the remote from the coffee table, balancing his licking with his act
of turning on some Ball Fondler rerun to help calm the awkward silence.
At least 5 minutes pass before Morty looks over at his counterpart, and his
heart stops. The popsicle is entirely sheathed into his mouth, small amounts of
juice leaking down the sides of his lips, the rest falling down into his
skinny, tan throat, adam's apple occasionally and gently bobbing as he
swallowed.
Morty would be lying if he didn’t feel any arousal from this sensual
exhibition.
Miami Morty glances over and smirks in response. He slowly pulls the ice pop
out of his mouth, making a show when it makes an audible pop out of his lips.
“Something wrong?” he asks, contorting his facial expression into something far
too innocent for his actions, and Morty shakes his head, looking away. His
popsicle has started melting, cold, sugary juice running down his hand. He
lifts his hands to his mouth, licking around the closed fist and popsicle
before resuming his vision to the TV.
As he watched the rerun of Ball Fondlers, he couldn’t help himself about
thinking about the arousing scene from the tan teen. He glances over again,
only to see the teen giving his popsicle kitten licks, before completely taking
the thinning icicle into his mouth, deepthroating it, and using his teeth to
pop it off the stick and slide down his throat whole.
Morty couldn't even lie about his dick now. He was hard.
The trap Morty glances over again, and gives a look of fake worry.
“Oh, Morty! Your popsicle's melting all over you and your jeans!” he gasps,
exaggerating his movements before sliding off the couch onto his knees. “Don't
worry, I'll handle it.”
Before Morty could react, his alternate put on a smug face and was finding his
way in between his legs.
“W-w-w-wait y-you-” Morty stammered, but Miami shushed him by putting a finger
to Morty’s lips, beginning to lick the now juice-soaked stains on Morty's
jeans. He grabbed at his hand, licking that clean before moving his arm by his
wrist, positioning the hand holding the popsicle in front of his now growing
crotch.
The blonde licked a stripe up the popsicle, making eye contact with a blushing
Morty as he wrapped his lips around the tip and began sliding his head down. He
took off his fur coat as things began to heat up and tossed it near the TV.
Morty blushed harder than ever, staring down at the sight of himself. It's not
an activity to far from what be does nightly; he’s technically given himself
handjobs before! But the morality of the situation left the minute he first
felt his dick twitch.
Miami Morty began moaning around the melting phallic object, slowly wearing it
away and earning a soft ‘oh geez’. He can feel his other-self hardening from
his show, and swells with the strangest pride knowing that he could pleasure
his shorter self. He goes down for one low, slow, suck before grabbing the base
with his lips and pulling off, swallowing the rest of dying treat whole. In a
quick motion, he kneels up, pressing a sticky sweet kiss to Morty's sadly
virgin lips.
Morty’s eyes opened wide, and he sat in shock, allowing himself to be kissed.
He slowly began melting into it, attempting to follow his experienced self’s
pattern, falling almost endearingly. He felt a tongue brush on his bottom lip,
and a hand brush against his bulging crotch, causing a quiet moan. His opened
mouth was quickly filled with a tongue that was still technically his, and he
went slack jawed, allowing himself to be explored and toyed with as the other
rubbed through his jeans.
Miami Morty quickened his rubbing pace, knowing he could get the poor boy to
cum in his pants from past experience. He knew his body awfully well,
considering it was technically his own, and he knew all his sweet spots. He
used his free hand to tweak one of Morty's nipples through his shirt, earning a
squeak from the smaller, and he arched his back into the pleasure. His
breathing quickened, and the tan teenager pulled away from the kiss and squat
back down between Morty’s legs.
“C'mon kid, I know you're close, finish for me Morty. I want you to cum in your
pants,” The more experienced teen said, mostly to himself, before he began
using his mouth to add wet friction to Morty's clothed erection.
That did it for Morty, and he cried out, grasping the back and rest of the
couch. He creamed his jeans and the blonde llicked whatever he could through
the thick, limiting fabric.
Almost as if God himself planned this cockblock, the telltale sound of drunk
conversing and Ricks could be heard from the garage. Morty, too tired to move
watched as the teen between his legs sat up, putting on his fur coat and
plopped himself back on the couch, and casually picked up his phone. Out of
some act of decency, he handed Morty a pillow to cover his crotch with, and
Morty lazily took the hint. He only had a few seconds of post-orgasm bliss
before the two Ricks entered the house.
“Okay pri-urp-ncess let's go” Miami Rick commanded. His Morty obeyed his
command and went towards him with a quiet “Yes, papí”.
“Bye Morty,” The departing Morty winked, blowing a kiss before his Rick shot a
portal, and the pair vanished.
“What the-urp-fuck happened to you?” Rick asked, drinking from his flask, nose
wrinkling at what he suspects is the faint smell of sex in the air. Morty
stares at him, almost nervous but tired. Rick doesn't want to know, and doesn't
really care, and redirects his attention to the TV.
Morty thinks Rick is talking about how it's a new episode of Ball Fondlers, but
Morty doesn't really pay attention. He's got a lot to think about.
End Notes
     Miami morty says basically "i speak spanish and if you say boobs i
     stg the only titties youll hear about will be your sisters" but idk
     my spanish is weak
     -anti_piss
     Edit: Thank you for "Gata~" for correcting our Spanish!
     -midnightVision
     Edit 2: Me and anti_piss are going to be affected by Hurricane Irma,
     so there will be a delay. Thank you!
     -midnightVision
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