Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5384345.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      Rick_Sanchez/Morty_Smith
  Character:
      Morty_Smith, Rick_Sanchez
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Alcohol, Underage_-_Freeform, Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot,
      First_Time
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-08 Words: 4285
****** When the Night is Long ******
by Breadalby
Summary
     Morty has nightmares and coping issues. Rick mocks and subsequently
     consoles him the only way he knows how.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Whenever he thought about the corner in backyard, Morty began to sweat, beads
of existential terror slicking his face and palms.
He had a recurring nightmare in which this dimension’s real Rick and Morty
clawed their way out of the soil, and Dead Morty staggered into his room late
at night. Morty could see him through the light cast through his window, his
hair matted with blood and dirt, his skin mottled with decay. He moved with
slow determination as he approached Morty’s bed, and Morty tried to scream, but
his voice came out hoarse and strangled, and the smell of death coated his
mouth like a film, putrid yet faintly sweet. Morty wanted to run but his body
had gone stupid; he was trembling uncontrollably, unable to propel his legs to
wake the fuck up and move.
Dead Morty’s face was blank as he grabbed Morty and twisted him off the bed and
onto the floor. He pinned Morty’s arms behind his back and from the corner of
his eye Morty could see him using his dad’s kitchen twine to bind his wrists -
an idealistic purchase Jerry had made with plans of making a pot roast someday.
The knot cut into his skin punishingly tight.
With his hands secured, Dead Morty dragged Morty out of his room, across the
carpeted hallway, and down the stairs. His limp body thumped with every step,
the sound unsettlingly discordant with the rapid pounding of his heart, and his
arms burned raw with friction. He knew where their destination was before Dead
Morty slid open the back door and deposited him roughly on the lawn.
From his position face down in the grass he could see Dead Rick pumping a
shovel with robotic efficiency in and out of the hole from which he’d came.
Dead Morty joined him, disappearing into the other hole and heaving dirt up
from its depths. Rick – his Rick – lay in a crumpled heap next to the destroyed
gravesites. The sight made Morty gasp, cold air rushing to fill his lungs and
revive his voice. “R-R-Rick? RICK!”
Rick groaned irritably, alive but incoherent, and Morty had the bitter thought
that Rick was likely too drunk to be aware, much less concerned, about what was
happening. Dead Rick ignored Morty and continued to dig, the bared muscles of
his arms visibly contracting through his missing skin. Morty wanted to laugh
almost as much as he wanted to vomit at the absurdity of it.
Once he’d completed his task, Dead Rick tossed aside the shovel and
unceremoniously rolled Rick into the grave. “No!” Morty yelped, his body
finally spurred into action. For an instant he was on his feet, sprinting
towards Rick, but Dead Morty was unnaturally fast. He sprang from the grave and
grabbed Morty by the throat, slamming him to the ground with ease. There was a
sickening crack in Morty’s left arm, his scream cut short as Dead Morty crushed
his windpipe. Meanwhile, Dead Rick flung dirt back into the grave with his
hands and legs, digging furiously on all fours like a dog.
Morty’s vision swam, stars exploding behind his eyes. Rick, you asshole. Wake
up. Wake up and save us.
Dead Morty maintained his vise with one hand, the other fisted into Morty’s
hair. He had to double over to drag Morty this way, their faces close together,
and it was only then that Morty noticed how still and silent Dead Morty was.
Morty was making desperate wheezing sounds, his chest stuttering as it fought
for air, but Dead Morty didn’t need to breathe, didn’t need to blink: he stared
down at Morty with utter focus and intent.
The edge of the grave loomed before him and Morty thrashed, his fingers
scrabbling for purchase on the grass. Part of him thought that he deserved this
for the lives he’d taken - for the whole fucking world he and Rick had
destroyed. He was knocked into the grave face first, his mouth gulping air and
immediately filled with rich, wet earth. He tried to turn his head to the side,
but heaps of dirt rained down on him, Dead Morty wasting no time. Dead, Rick’s
fucking dead.I’m dead. Delirium set in; he shook with laughter in between
suppressed screams.
                                      ---
Morty bolted upright, an animalistic shout caught in his throat, his sheets
drenched and twisted around him. He yelped when he heard Rick’s voice boom in
the darkness near his head.
“J-Jesus, Morty! Why don’t you – just, just wake the whole neighborhood
screaming like a little bitch!” Morty couldn’t see Rick, but he could smell the
alcohol radiating off of him in waves, stronger than usual, and it made his
stomach churn.
“You’re drunk,” Morty said stupidly.
Even without seeing him, Morty could tell Rick was rolling his eyes as he
responded. “Yeah, no shit, dumbass.”
The glowing face of Morty’s alarm clock read 3:28 AM. He groaned and buried his
head in his arms; school was just a few short hours away, and he was already
dreading a day spent shuffling from class to class in a haze, pretending to
listen to teachers and his peers drone on about nothing while secretly
daydreaming about alien planets, about the smell of space and careening through
the stars with his crazy, brilliant scientist grandfather. “Get outta here,
Rick. G-go pass out in your own room.”
Rick shifted closer and Morty could see him more distinctly now, his hair
disheveled, his lab coat gone in exchange for boxers and a stained white tank
that was wet around the collar with booze and drool. He held a flask with the
lid off in his hand, the container canting precariously toward the ground. Rick
scrutinized Morty for a moment, ignoring what he’d said by sinking down onto
the bed beside him. “Alright, Morty, let your old – your grandpa knows exactly
what you need.”
“R-really?” Morty asked tentatively, lifting his head to peer up at Rick.
“Yep. You just need to relax, dawg.” Rick waved the open flask beneath Morty’s
nose, the burning stench causing him to recoil.
“No way! It’s a school night a-a-and Mom would be pissed if she found out.”
“Don’t worry about school, I’ve gotta couple… got ways around that. Your mom,
too. You think she’d let you go on adventures with me i-if she knew even half
of what we’ve done?”
Morty smiled a little bit at Rick’s use of the word ‘we’. He liked feeling that
their relationship was a conspiratorial one; it made him forget about “genius
waves” and “Morty waves”. “I guess t-trying it can’t hurt.”
“That’s the spirit.” Before he had time to protest, Rick grasped Morty’s chin
with dry, rough fingers and tipped it back, then upended the flask in the boy’s
gaping mouth.
Immediately Morty reeled away, coughing and spluttering, clutching his throat.
“Wh-what-what the hell is that, Rick!? I-I feel like I just drank lighter
fluid!”
Rick laughed. “It’s good shit, Morty. I keep the better part of a species
employed manufacturing this stuff. You’re just handling it like a pussy.” To
affirm this, he took a deep drink from the container without expression.
Morty scowled, but when Rick handed the flask back he managed to swallow it
down with a silent grimace.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, passing the flask back and
forth. Rick took long, certain pulls, and Morty did his best to choke down sips
without embarrassing himself too much. At some point Rick shifted so that he
was propped against Morty’s pillow, his long legs stretched out in front of
him. Morty could feel the warmth of Rick’s bicep brushing against his own.
Logically, Morty knew that based on Rick’s consumption rate and the size of the
flask, it couldn’t have been more than 20 minutes, but it felt much longer. The
alcohol created a soothing heat that curled its way up from his belly and
spread outwards to blanket his body. His head swam and his eyes were leaden.
Morty thought that he’d have no problem sleeping like this, drunkenness
deadening his nervous system into blissful surrender. He understood why you
might want to spend your entire life like this.
Rick interjected into Morty’s thoughts, causing him to stir. “It-it feels like
you pissed the bed. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Morty giggled and pressed his face into Rick’s shoulder. “I can’t stop
thinking… we – we died, Rick!” It wasn’t funny – shouldn’t be funny – but his
cheeks were flush, his synapses firing lazy and chaotic. He felt a strange
dissociation from reality, like he was watching events unfold on a TV. “I have
these dreams where… It’s like one of those history channel shows, y’know? Where
we’re the u-u-usurpers.”
“Whoa, M-M-Morty, using your big boy words, huh?” Rick belched and took another
slug from the flask before handing it back to Morty. “I told you not to think
about it.”
Morty blushed, but didn’t drink again, instead fiddling with the cap. “I know
it’s easy for you to forget. B-b-but it’s not easy for me. I’m not like you.”
He mumbled.
Rick snatched away the flask. “W-well, excuse me, for not being a - s-some
delicate, wilting flower like you.” He tilted his head back and drank the last
of the flask’s contents before hurling it at the floor across the room.
Normally Morty would’ve backed off, cowering from Rick’s temper, but being
drunk emboldened him. “Sorry for being h-human, Rick!” He sat up on his knees,
prepared to continue his tirade, but his body revolted against him. The room
wavered in his drunken state and Morty swayed, overcorrected, and toppled
sideways, catching himself with his palms on either side of Rick’s head, his
torso bridged over Rick’s chest.
It took Morty’s vision a moment to catch up to its new surroundings, but when
it did, Morty noticed that he liked Rick from this angle. He looked sort of
vulnerable and uncertain, eyes half crossed to stare back at Morty, his brow
furrowed at their proximity. “H-hey, Rick…”
“What?” Rick’s voice came out huskier, less angry than he’d intended.
“You-you look nice like this.”
Rick scowled. “G-get the fuck outta my face, Morty.”
Morty didn’t move. It was partially because his ability to synthesize what Rick
said, process it, and then acting accordingly was currently compromised, and
partially because a faint flush had crept over Rick’s face and Morty was
utterly fascinated by it.
He was suddenly aware of the heat pouring off of Rick, enveloping Morty’s body
and pooling low in his groin. Rick’s scent was overwhelming from this distance,
booze and sweat and machine oil and something else that Morty couldn’t describe
except as masculine. Morty shifted slightly and when he did he was surprised to
realize that he was half-hard, his dick brushing Rick’s hip.
“Morty…” Rick’s tone was a warning, but it came out as a whisper, and the only
thing Morty could focus on was Rick’s mouth.
Heart throbbing in his chest, Morty darted his tongue across Rick’s dry,
chapped lips. Rick went rigid but didn’t fight him, and Morty pushed further,
nudging open Rick’s mouth and licking his sensitive palate.
“Oh, shit.” Rick shuddered, his thighs subconsciously falling open. Morty took
it as a sign of encouragement and lifted his leg to climb on top of Rick, but
Rick caught his thigh.
He flipped Morty onto his back and straddled his hips, surprisingly deft for a
drunk man; his hand closed around Morty’s throat in a way that made Morty’s
breath hitch, remembering Dead Morty’s chokehold in his dream. He brought his
mouth to Morty’s ear and snarled, “This is some real fucked up shit you’re
playing at, Morty. You gotta-gotta understand the ramifications of what you’re
doing, Morty. Once this train boards i-i-it’s full steam ahead.”
The room was silent for a moment except the sound of their labored breathing.
“Puh-please,” Morty whispered.
Rick groaned and crushed their mouths together. “You’re making a mistake,” he
panted between Mory’s slobbering attempts at making out, the kid alternately
salivating into Rick’s mouth and trying to powerwash Rick’s teeth with his
tongue. “You’re thinking with your dick. Not smart - never turns out well.”
Rick’s moral compass was lax at best, and his sense of propriety waned even
more beneath the haze of booze, but for this - for this he needed Morty’s
explicit consent.
“I - just - tonight, okay? Just tonight?” Morty’s pupils were blown, his lips
swollen and glossy. His erection jutted desperately from his underwear and he
looked possibly on the verge of tears. Any remaining resolve Rick had crumbled
instantly.
He grabbed the back of Morty’s head and tilted it back, exposing his neck, and
pressed a hard kiss to his nervously bobbing Adam’s apple. A low noise came
from the boy and Rick continued a trail upwards, swirling his tongue from
Morty’s throat to his earlobe. He breathed hot into Morty’s ear, licked the
shell, and sucked his earlobe, his cock swelling as Morty gasped and moaned.
Morty felt Rick responding and tentatively reached between them, grasping Rick
through his boxers. Rick grunted, thrusting into the ring of Morty’s hand.
After a moment, Morty adjusted so that he could rut himself against Rick’s
cock, his shaking hand wrapped around both of them, rubbing furiously.
Rick tolerated it briefly.
Goosebumps raced across Morty’s skin as Rick hooked his thumbs into Morty’s
ridiculous tighty whities and deftly shimmied them off of him. “What the hell,
Rick?” he squeaked indignantly, drawing up his legs and arms self-consciously.
Rick stood up and pulled off his shirt, then dropped his boxers to the ground
without hesitation. “I’m not some high schooler, I can’t get off on you chafing
my dick skin into oblivion.”
Morty looked him up and down, drinking in as much of Rick’s naked body as he
could given limited lighting. Rick’s erection bobbed beneath a thick patch of
silvery curls, as long as Morty’s, but thicker. The trail of white and gray
hair continued up Rick’s stomach, encircling his belly button. His chest was
largely hairless, and although Rick was old, although his skin was wrinkled and
not as taut as it used to be, he was still made of lean muscle, his stomach
flat and firm, his legs and biceps strong and shapely.
Rick noticed his staring and huffed with amusement. “You like your grandpa’s
old, saggy body? That-that get your dick hard?” He kneeled between Morty’s legs
and pulled them apart, exposing the evidence that, yeah, it did. His thumbs
pressed into the hollows of Morty’s hips and the boy sucked in a breath.
“You’re gonna like this more,” Rick murmured, and then his mouth engulfed the
entirety of Morty’s cock.
Morty shouted incoherently and tried to buck, but Rick’s fingers held him down.
He could feel his pulse throbbing on the underside of his erection as Rick’s
tongue made wet, hot circles there. All rational thought fled, going from What
the fuck, your grandpa is sucking your dick, to Fuck, Rick is sucking your dick
and it feels incredible. Rick tried to saying something, and he sounded
annoyed, but the words were muffled and the reverberations of his voice just
made it harder for Morty to focus. “H-huh?” he panted.
Rick popped off of him with a wet smack, leaving drool dribbling down his chin.
“Keep your fucking voice down - you want your parents to come in here? S-see
what kind of depraved shit you’re into?”
“No…” Morty mumbled with embarrassment.
“Didn’t think so.” Rick stroked Morty’s cock slowly with both hands, lubricated
by saliva and pre-cum. The hand on Morty’s shaft squeezed tightly and the hand
on Morty’s head was loose, thumb swirling circles over Morty’s leaking head
each time his fists crested before corkscrewing back down. Morty dropped back
on his pillow, his toes curled. He whimpered quietly. “Y-you’re a serious
little pervert,” Rick said. “Wet as a goddamn virgin on prom night, and we
haven’t even - I’ve barely touched you,”
Morty covered his face with his hands. “J-jeez Rick, do you have to say stuff
like that!?”
Rick smacked away Morty’s hands and caught Morty’s bottom lip with his teeth.
He bit just hard enough to draw blood and then viciously sucked the tiny wound,
all the while jerking Morty off. “If you wanted kiddie stuff you-you’re barking
up the wrong tree,” Rick growled, his breath tinged with copper.
Morty glared up at him stubbornly. “I’m not a kid. I can h-handle wha-whatever
you’re willing to dish out.”
“Y-yeah, Morty? Think you can handle your grandpa’s cock?”
“B-b-bedside table,” Morty sneered with much more confidence than he actually
felt. He didn’t want Rick to back down, didn’t want to give him too long to
contemplate how inexperienced and insecure Morty was. He needed Rick to stay
like this, brain addled by arousal and booze.
Rick leaned far over him to rummage through the nightstand drawer, his chest
poised over Morty’s mouth. The boy nervously trailed his fingers over Rick’s
nipples. When they hardened at his touch, he leaned forward and took one into
this mouth, inexpertly sucking and rolling his tongue. He heard Rick’s breath
catch in his throat as the man pulled back, a small jar in his hand.
“C-coconut oil, Morty? Your dick just t-too luxurious for the cheap stuff?”
Rick opened the jar and swiped two fingers around the rim.
“It’s awkward - it’s easier to buy…” Formulating words was becoming
challenging. Morty closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He was drunk, horny, and
Rick was crouched between his legs, preparing to take his virginity. He opened
his eyes to see Rick watching him intently, his lubed up hand frozen near
Morty’s balls.
“Yeah?” Rick asked.
Morty met his gaze and nodded. “Y-yeah, Rick.”
Rick lowered his mouth and tenderly kissed the inside of Morty’s thigh. He
swallowed the head of Morty’s cock and stroke the shaft with one hand, while
the other traced a wet path from Morty’s balls down the cleft of his ass. He
circled the pad of his index finger around the pucker of skin there, his tongue
rhythmically laving Morty’s cock. Morty humped him in time to it, shoving
himself down Rick’s throat while bearing down against Rick’s finger until the
tip of it breached him. Rick swiftly sank in down to the knuckle and Morty
hissed, fisting his hands into Rick’s hair. He sucked Morty soothingly, trying
to distract him from the intrusion.
“Ahhh, it-it f-feels weird. Like I’m gonna-gonna you know…” Morty squirmed
uncomfortably,
“T-take a shit?” Rick rubbed his middle finger on the back of Morty’s stretched
entrance, dipping it shallowly in and out alongside his index finger. “It’s
normal - g-go with it, Morty. Push down, it’ll feel better.”
Although terrified that Rick might be overly trusting in his suggestion, Morty
did as he was told, and as he did, Rick pressed in a second finger. Morty
panted, struggling not to tense up again.
“Hang on, G-Grandpa Rick’s gonna make it a-alllll better.” He stroked his
fingers experimentally inside the boy until he found a spot of skin slightly
more raised than the rest, then curled his fingers into it.
Morty arched beautifully, emitting a deep, guttural moan. “Ohhh, shit, Rick,
wha-what is that?”
“T-that -” Rick curled his fingers for emphasis, causing Morty to writhe, “- is
your prostate. I’m surprised you’re not an expert with all that - a-all the
porn you watch.”
Morty wanted to come up with a retort, but Rick finger fucked him consistently
now, hitting his prostate, and it was impossible to think straight. His hands
fumbled for his cock, knowing that it would only take a few strokes for him to
finish, only to have Rick bat him away.
Rick looked straight into Morty’s eyes, and Morty shuddered at the intensity.
“You’ll cum when I say you can. Got it?”
Morty nodded, humiliated by the fact that the demand and authority in Rick’s
voice made his cock twitch and his insides ache that much more sharply.
Rick slid his fingers out of Morty and directly onto his own cock, coating it
in a mixture of pre-cum and oil. “Le-let’s get this party started.” He aligned
himself with Morty’s entrance, pressing in the the head of his erection, a grin
that was more predatory than comforting overtaking his features.
Even though he practically oozing lube, Morty was painfully tight, his hole
squeezing Rick even harder with each tiny press forward. “Su-such a virgin,”
Rick grunted, “gonna snap my dick off.”  
Morty’s fingers twisted into Rick’s back, his thighs clamped hard on Rick’s
waist. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts,” he whined.
Rick smoothed his hair, surprisingly gentle and affectionate. “I know, baby.
Just relax for me.” He pumped Morty’s cock gently while his asshole clenched
and unclenched around him, adjusting to his girth. Morty exhaled short, shaky
breaths, his eyes screwed shut in concentration. He focused on just the feeling
of Rick’s palm wrapped around him and slowly the tension drained from his
muscles and Rick slid in, coaxing Morty with his hands and words of
encouragement whispered hotly in his ear. “Tha-that’s it, Morty. You’re taking
dick l-like a champ.”
Eventually he was fully seated, his pubic bones flush with the back of Morty’s
thighs. Rick cursed and pressed his face to Morty’s shoulder, biting and
sucking every inch of skin he had access to. All this carefulness was trying
his patience, when what he really wanted was to fuck the kid raw, but he kept
perfectly still until finally Morty breathed out a quiet, “Okay.”
“O-okay? Okay what, Morty?” Rick rocked slowly, barely moving at all, and for a
moment Morty tensed, but then his mouth fell open in a soft moan and his hips
moved to meet Rick’s, his body trembling, aching for the feeling of fullness he
got when Rick’s balls cupped his ass. “I’m not sure what that means, exactly.”
Morty groaned in frustration. “Do you have to h-humiliate me the entire time?”
Rick withdrew from Morty almost entirely and then snapped his hips forward in
one sharp motion, driving straight into Morty’s prostate. He moaned Rick’s
name, rutting himself mindlessly against Rick’s belly. “Be careful what-what
you wish for, Morty - you don’t know the first thing about humiliation.”
Morty panted as Rick teased him again, brushing over his prostate with tiny,
circling thrusts that let the head of Morty’s cock scrape Rick’s chest
sporadically, and it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. “Move, please, Rick. Fu-
fuck me.” Morty’s face burned red, but he looked Rick in the eye with as much
confidence as he could muster.
“G-good boy.” Rick kissed him lightly on the lips and began to thrust in
earnest, folding his body over Morty’s, drawing up his knees so that his lower
back left the bed. His motions were quick and fluid, pulling out so that just
the tip of his cock remained and then plunging back inside, his balls slapping
Morty’s ass. Morty’s dripping erection ground against Rick’s belly with each
thrust and he clumsily jerked into each movement, stifling his moans against
Rick’s chest.
All of Morty’s desperate little movements went straight to Rick’s dick, and he
could feel his sense of control waning. “Goddammit, Morty, you little shit.”
Rick’s voice was broken and the pace of his thrusting became uneven. He laid
his forehead against Morty’s, sweat making them both slick and sticky. “B-
begging me to fuck you -” He fisted Morty’s cock, pumping him frenetically.
“Fuck, Morty. Fuckin’ t-tight little ass -”
“R-R-Rick,” Morty sobbed between Rick’s ramblings, “Rick - I can’t, I’m gonna -
gonna cum.”
“It’s okay,” Rick purred, “c-cum for me, baby, s’okay.”
Rick’s approval was all he needed, his body going rigid and convulsing almost
painfully as he came across his and Rick’s chests. His mouth was filled with
Rick’s knobby fingers to keep him quiet and he sucked hard through his orgasm,
whimpering and twitching helplessly.
Between the noises Morty was making and the wet sound of Rick pounding into
Morty’s soaking, convulsing ass, Rick knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.
He stuttered his hips in short, deep thrusts, staying buried inside Morty as
much as possible. He was dimly aware that he was saying things to him - sweet,
sentimental things that he’d regret and deny later, but in the moment he
couldn’t be bothered to care. The knot of heat coiled low in his belly burst
and he groaned, pulsing his release deep into the boy.
They laid there for several minutes, panting, Morty letting his shaky legs fall
back onto the mattress while Rick gingerly pulled out of him. Morty whined at
the loss and grimaced at the wetness seeping out between his legs, dimly
concerned his mom would notice the scent of sex and semen when he threw his
sheets in the laundry tomorrow morning.
Rick rolled off of him so that they lay side by side, cramped together on
Morty’s twin size bed. For a long moment they laid in silence, something like
dread beginning to seep into the edges of Rick's conscience. 
However, now that he was laying still, Morty noticed that the room was spinning
unpleasantly. He tried to shut his eyes against it, but that made it worse. His
stomach churned. “I don’t feel so good, Rick…” Almost as soon as he said it,
Morty rolled away and pitched his face over the side of the bed, vomiting onto
the floor. He heaved and gagged before throwing up again, and Rick sat up
beside him, hesitantly stroking Morty’s damp curls away from his forehead.
“Fuck,” Rick said quietly, nausea welling in his own gut that had nothing to do
with liquor.
 
End Notes
     First time writing in a couple years, first Rick and Morty fic, and
     first time writin' smut.
     This fic was written in bits and pieces over 2 months, so I'm a
     little worried about sloppy pacing and characterization. Feedback on
     either would be much appreciated.
     I do have a couple ideas for other R&M fics kicking around, so if
     this is well received, expect to see more.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!