Chapter Text
Morty should have remembered that Rick never did something for nothing, even when the “something” in question was honoring his grandson’s request not to bring up the boner he’d gotten while they were about to die pressed against each other in a literal closet.
“Hey, so...I know you said you didn’t want to talk about this, but I feel like maybe we should. I...guess I was a little harsh...”
“Oh, please no,” Morty whispered, freezing at his desk after automatically hitting the key combo to collapse all of his programs even though he’d been trying to distract himself with work for his World Literature course. “No, I don’t need to talk about anything! Totally fine!”
Rick walked into the room and closed the door behind him. It was probably for the best: it was late enough that the rest of the house was sleeping and Morty’s 9am statistics course would be a bitch. He’d tried laying down earlier to sleep away the embarrassing situation, but he’d lain awake with an equal amount of low grade humiliation and arousal burning in his gut while his mind spun thoughts around too fast to allow for sleep, so he’d finally thrown his blankets off and turned his lamp on to try working on something productive. It hadn’t really worked, and here was Rick in one of those moods, or just drunk enough, to try being supportive, wanting to talk about Morty’s...what, issues with his fetish for dirty talk?
How is this my life?
“Look, Morty, I’m not getting where this shame is coming from, to be honest,” Rick said, settling on the edge of Morty’s bed and propping his elbows on his knees. “You know there isn’t any -- there’s nothing you could possibly think about doing I haven’t already done with a Flemgoor in the back of a police car.”
How? Who did I piss off? Morty closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. “Rick…”
“Yeah, look, let’s be honest: your naughty daddy kink isn’t even surprising.” Rick laughed, dragging Morty’s attention toward him with the force of his attention.
“Not -- wait, why would you say that?” Morty asked faintly, feeling an absurd bubble of laughter fizzing in his chest as he peered through his fingers.
“Yeah, of course it isn’t, Morty!” Rick said, leaning forward with an almost soft expression. “With -- well, I don’t like to bring it up, but with Jerry as your dad, it makes sense you’d want to find a, an alpha type to take care of you now and then. There’s nothing wrong with, you know, wanting someone strong and more experienced to hold you down for a good dicking. ”
“Oh, god,” Morty whispered in horrified awe at Rick’s audacity and his own simultaneously amazing and horrific luck. Now he’d always know what Rick sounded like saying hold you down for a good dicking.
“Look,” Rick coughed and dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m just saying that it makes sense and you shouldn’t hurt yourself because you want to be someone’s bitch.”
“Rick, no...” Morty moaned, dragging his hand through his hair.
“OK, OK, sorry, sheesh. Their...naughty boy, or whatever.”
NaUgHtY bOy. Morty’s dick was thickening with every word in direct relation to his horror. Morty couldn’t imagine what his face must look like after the sustained onslaught his libido had been under all day, and he was only in his boxers. There really was almost no way that the timing could be more horrific. “ Fuck my entire life.”
“Oh?” Rick quirked a brow, eyes narrowing faintly as he smirked faintly. “Heh, you gotta work on that hair trigger, Morty...You gotta work on that for daddy.”
The mockery and tone was familiar enough that habit sparked an instinctive response. “Oh, f-fuck you, Rick. I do not have a hair trigger!”
Of course, Morty’s instincts had frequently fucked him over and this wasn’t one of the times where he got lucky.
Rick snorted. “I mean, evidence from today suggests you do, buddy. It’s either that or you’re even kinkier than I thought.”
Morty felt the blood drain from his face as he realized his instinctive snap had sidestepped a perfectly reasonable, if slightly embarrassing explanation for all of this. “Uh. Oh. You uh, yeah, I just. Guess you’re right.”
Rick’s eyes narrowed faintly. “Morty, are you lying to me right now? Trying to hide...what, that you’re seriously attracted to two dimensional squid people, or that being about to die really gets you off?”
“Ah.” Morty’s throat closed up. “Yes?”
“God, how are we related? You’re such a terrible liar,” Rick muttered. “So, none of those. Then the common thread is…” His eyes widened.
Morty shook his head silently, feeling the clamp of a hypothetical bear trap closing in, and glared down at the erection that still hadn’t died.
“Oh, my god,” Rick said, a weird smile curling his lips.
This is all your fault, Morty thought angrily at his dick. “Shut up? Please. Please shut up?”
“Morty,” Rick half laughed, holding a hand out. “I gotta ask. Is it me? Are you...is this a me thing?”
“I hate everything,” Morty groaned, dropping his head into his hands.
“Holy fuuuuuuck,” Rick whispered, staring at him with a sort of baffled, sadistic awe. “Talk about bad fucking ideas, Morty, this is...wow. Might even top some of my own bad ideas, I have to say.”
“Fuck you.” Morty dug his knuckles into his eyes and then leaned back in his chair, dropping his hands into his lap and hopefully obfuscating his obviously hard dick.
Rick straightened and very obviously looked down before his eyes, pale blue and cybernetic gray, refocused on Morty’s face deliberately. “Ooh, poor choice of words there, huh?”
Morty rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks.
“Look, despite the part where I’m your mother’s father, I can’t really fault your taste. They say the brain is the most erotic organ (for humans anyway, not like...Nifpariks, their dicks are fucking massive) and I am the smartest man in the universe.”
“OK. OK, yes, for...whatever reason, I might have some totally inexplicable a...attract -- maybe I’ve been thinking about you inappropriately.” Morty swallowed. “I’m -- I’m pretty sure any attraction to you is some level of inappropriate no matter -- no matter who it is, so. Yeah, it’s weird, but I’m owning it. I wasn’t going to... do anything about it, since, you know, I didn’t want to weird you out or -- or whatever.”
Rick shifted to pull his flask out of his pocket and took a long pull. “No, seriously, all jokes aside. Incest is a little fucked up. I’m impressed, I have to be honest...and my eyes are up here, kiddo.”
Morty reluctantly raised his eyes from Rick’s throat back to his face and licked his lips. “Yeah, I get that, Rick...uh. You aren’t mad, right?”
Is this too much? Will you disappear again?
Rick’s smirk softened faintly and he met Morty’s eyes directly, without the shade of mockery for just a moment. The sort of expression Morty saw rarely, and one he didn’t think anyone else saw ever.
Rick and Morty forever. For a hundred years.
But Rick, of course, was still Rick so once he observed Morty’s dread lifting slightly, he immediately returned to tugging on the new toy he’d discovered. “Is that what you want, Morty? Want grandpa to be mad, to punish you?”
“Rick,” Morty hissed, shifting and trying not to think about it. The thing was, he had thought about it in the year since he’d realized how fucked up he’d become. Rick was really fucking strong and he could -- no. God, fuck this whole cliched, shitty mess.
“Yeah, looks like you like that idea, Morty,” Rick said, and jerked his chin down toward Morty’s dick. “You sure about that hair trigger? Not making things too hard for you, am I?”
Morty groaned, wrapping his arms around his middle since it was what he wanted to do and he was clearly failing to do anything to hide his erection. God only knew how red his cheeks were -- they felt like they were on fire. The only reason he was capable of speaking at all was his long history with moving past public humiliation. “Look, yeah, I, I get it that I’m a walking cliche here, OK? I’m sorry. Can we just. Can we skip the part of this conversation where you stroke your own ego and get to the part where we pretend this never happened?”
“Something else you, uh, you want to stroke for me, Morty?” Rick asked, waggling his eyebrows.
Morty snorted, rolling his own eyes and pointedly kept his gaze focused up. He couldn’t really do anything about his burning cheeks.
Rick was quiet for a moment, long enough to draw Morty’s attention back to him. He was spinning his flask between his fingers, staring down at it thoughtfully. “Huh. OK, I’ll be honest, not something I’d thought about too much, but...I could be into it.”
What ? What's too much? Morty’s mouth dropped open but he could speak for a moment, temporarily lost for words until his brain rebooted. “You could be...are you being serious? This isn’t a weird way to fuck with me, right? I’m already, you know, pretty aware that this is weird. No need to open my eyes, there.”
“Eh,” Rick shrugged, tapping his flask against his thigh and then planting his elbows on his knees again. “Not like I can get you pregnant. But even then, this is the sort of thing I can see getting real fucking sloppy, so I need to know up front: what are you actually after? You want a one time taste or what?”
“Rick!” Morty swallowed the lump in his throat. “Come on, you can’t mean it. You might not give a shit about the whole incest thing, OK, not a surprise to me. If I could move past it after we soul fucked, with my planetary mindset, god knows you could.”
Rick snorted. “I mean. Yeah, it’s still fucked up, but we all know I’ve done worse and it’s not like you’re a fourteen year old virgin getting the bad touch from grandpa.”
Morty scowled. “Don’t be gross. I just. Look, I know I’m not...that I don’t really measure up to your usual. Uh, conquests.”
“You had to expect the jokes, Mort,” Rick shrugged, taking a swig. “But yeah, fair enough -- pretty low hanging fruit, I g--EUGHss you’re right. Ugh. For your shit self esteem, I probably only have my -- myself to blame there, huh? I knew ignoring it would bite me in the ass someday, but damn. Look, we...we already spend more time together than I have with anyone I’ve actually dated. You know I couldn’t give two fucks about ninety-nine percent of the entire galaxy, so you’re, you know. On the right side of the numbers.”
Morty swallowed. “Rick...”
Rick rolled his eyes faintly, eyes shifting in habitual discomfort with emotional honesty, fingers tapping at his flask. “Whatever. Look. I just need to know if this is something you actually want to try for real, or if it’s just like...a filthy fantasy that gets you pounding hard when you jerk off in that shitty twin bed at c- EUGH -llege?”
Morty took a breath and tried to ease himself through the absurdity that was the entire conversation,then he opened his eyes and found Rick smirking knowingly. “ Rick. ”
“Sorry...” Rick snickered.
It was a little unfortunate but Morty found that even though he was the butt of the joke, Rick’s honest laughter was still...nice.
Rick didn’t seem to notice the shift in Morty’s mood. “That was a real question, though. Are you like...is this just a kink you like to think about when you jerk it? That wouldn’t be as weird as you might think, to be honest.”
Morty swallowed, looking down and clasping his hands together over his knees. Thankfully the irritation and emotion was doing what determination hadn’t, and he was back down to a persistent, but ignorable half chub. “Are you asking if I want to...go steady? I know you. You hate the idea of monogamy. The closest you ever got to love or whatever was Unity, and they were a hivemind.”
Rick tipped his flask up and apparently finished off the contents judging from his faint frown as he swallowed. “Eh. This isn’t about me, it’s about you. What you want, what you’re asking for.”
“Rick…” Morty frowned. “I’m not...I don’t need anything.”
Morty shifted. Paused. Then swallowed and continued: he got up and made his way to the bed, minding Rick’s faintly wary look but still folding one of his legs up on the bed and leaning in to sit near him. “Yeah, I’m...attracted to you and it’s unfortunate. Not because you’re my grandfather, but because you can be such an arrogant jackass. Well, and also because you’re my grandfather. But like you said, that isn’t even the most fucked up thing that’s ever happened to us, and...I do. Love you, I mean. I’ve felt like this for a while, and just...it took some time to figure it out. I love you and it was fine, you know, not being a thing. I don’t need more from you to be happy with how much of you I have in my life. I’m still happy being Rick and Morty if you are.”
Rick’s face had gone unreadable halfway through Morty’s little speech and when he stopped speaking, they were both quiet for a minute holding each other’s eyes before Rick licked his lips and forced a faint smirk. “Damn, bitch. That was...that was pretty gay.”
Morty rolled his eyes and dropped back to lay flat on his bed, draping an arm over his eyes. “Whatever, Rick. Yeah, I love you. No, I don’t think you did anything to me, like this isn’t your fault or whatever. Yes, I definitely still think you’re an asshole. No you don’t have to like...pimp yourself out to me to make me feel better about this. It’s fucked up, but I’ve been doing OK. Had a few relationships that started and ended without you b-butting in at all.”
“Yeah, you...you’re all grown up, huh,” Rick said quietly. Morty uncovered his eyes to look. The lamp cast deep shadows over Rick’s face. It was pale and his wrinkles were cutting even deeper lines than normal from the angle. The bags under his eyes from little sleep were obvious. His cheekbones were so sharp that they made the skin covering them seem even thinner. His mouth was damp with alcohol and spit but no obvious signs of vomit, though that didn’t mean it wasn’t coming.
It was Rick. Stupid, brilliant, insane, engaging Rick. The guy who mocked him and pulled him close, who showed him things nobody else could ever hope to see, who trusted him and wanted him around even though Morty wasn’t ever going to be able to keep up with him and his intelligence. He was just...Rick. Morty’s friend, his family. His partner.
“I’d irritate the fuck out of you,” Morty offered, because he had thought about it. “I’d want to hold hands on adventures sometimes, and I’d want...you know, I’d want you to be nice to me sometimes not for something I did right, but just because. And I know you can get it up way more than a normal 75 year old, but I’m horny. Like. All the time. Yeah, I’d want to...you know, at least know when you’d want to screw around, but honestly...I’d want to fuck way more than you would, probably. Not even sure you’d be able to get it up to fuck me as often as I’d want it, let alone anyone else.”
Rick snorted. “Wouldn’t be so sure about that, you smug little shit.”
Morty propped himself up on one elbow. “Oh yeah?”
Rick tossed the flask he’d been fiddling with to the side without looking and it slid right off the bed to the floor. “Yeah, Morty. ” He glared at Morty, brow furrowing faintly with insult. “I could go toe for -- mano a mano with you any day of the week and come out on top. You ever tried viroxian stimulants? No side effects on their own and you can fuck for days. ”
Morty swallowed at the way Rick was leaning in, his voice gone gruff and smooth. Familiar, even if Morty had only rarely seen it up close. Seduction by intimidation. “Rick.”
He’d been trying to give Rick an easy out from the topic. This was almost sounding like Rick...didn’t want one. It was going to his head, and the atmosphere was going to his dick.
Rick’s mouth quirked up and his eyes narrowed with a focus that left Morty feeling a little vulnerable in a way that got his heart pumping. “Just letting you know, Morty, not trying to get your motor going, sweetheart.”
SwEeThEaRt. The heat that had faded to a low grade burn surged back over Morty’s throat and cheeks and he let out a small sound, eyes widening.
Rick sat up and leaned further in, taking in the response and licking his lips. “Heh...so when you said you wanted me to be nice to you, what exactly were you thinking?”
God damn it. Morty swallowed, squirming faintly. “Fuck off, Rick,” he said, voice shaking. Damn it. His last two relationships had each lasted longer than they should have because of Morty’s weakness to words, sweet and filthy alike.
Rick stretched out along the bed, parallel to Morty’s torso, propped up on his elbow. “But if I leave, I couldn’t tell you how good you look, b -- baby. Red all the way up your throat: not everyone flushes pretty like you.”
Morty sat up, staring at Rick with his thoughts whirling. He was mocking Morty, sure, but Morty was familiar enough with Rick’s bullshit to recognize the kernel of truth lending his voice a rough edge as he tried to hide it. Fucking sloppy, Rick had said. God knew that was the truth. It didn’t matter, though, Morty realized. Not when he wanted and knew Rick actually might as well.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, surging over to Rick and tangling his fingers in his familiar faded blue shirt.
Rick, with his custom cybernetic enhancements and his bioenhanced musculature could have stopped him. He had to see it coming with his cybernetic eye (and his, you know, regular one), and his IQ that outclassed the next 20 smartest people in the universe combined. This was the man who’d collapsed a galactic empire on a whim, and he just watched Morty approach, blue-gray eyes fixed in fascination as Morty wriggled closer.
“I hope you’re happy, asshole,” he muttered, and pulled him down until he could reach his mouth and kissed him. His partner in crime. His friend. His grandfather. His Rick.
Fuck.
Rick’s lips were chapped, but soft under Morty’s, and the smoky taste of his whiskey seeped into Morty’s mouth. His stubble was a little rough against Morty’s cheeks and chin, but softer than his last boyfriend’s had been. Steve had been Italian on his mother’s side and he’d always ended up with a fierce 5 o’clock shadow no matter how closely he shaved in the morning. In comparison, Rick’s was a light, pleasant friction, and his mouth was soft under Morty’s, momentarily banishing the ability to think.
Morty tilted his head slightly, adjusting so he could suck gently on Rick’s lower lip through the loose seal of his own, not quite daring to press forward with his tongue but tasting the overwhelming whiskey flavored humid press of their mouths and feeling it shiver through his body. He pulled back after a moment, breathing a little more heavily than the kiss accounted for. His eyes opened and locked onto Rick’s mouth immediately, and a new flush of heat went through him at the new color he’d pressed into them. Redder and wetter than they’d been. Softer looking, maybe. He darted a look up at Rick who was observing him with that same lazy half lidded stare from earlier, and licked his lips automatically, chasing the taste of Rick’s mouth.
Then, finally: I kissed Rick. Morty’s eyes jumped up to meet Rick’s, trying to get a read on him. Rick was staring straight back at him, gray-blue iris starting to disappear into the pupil, the intensity of the look giving him an element of a predator he didn’t really need. The thought of Rick evaluating his prowess -- being able to evaluate his prowess first hand, even -- sent a weird squirming mix of excitement and shame through his gut.
Rick’s mouth quirked, the crow’s feet around his eyes and the lines around his mouth deepening. “You kiss your grandfather with that mouth?”
“Fucking --” seriously? Morty swallowed his own complaint, the fear fading as he leaned forward again and dragged his lips over the corner of Rick’s mouth. “God, you -- why do I have such shitty taste...”
Rick snorted, turning his head so their mouths slid together again. “Sounds -- sounds like a you problem, baby.”
Morty wanted to reply but Rick was done being nice apparently: he leaned in, and Morty felt the burn of anticipation roil in his gut as he let himself fall back into the bed with the weight of Rick’s hand as Rick pressed in assertively, hand settling on Morty’s ribs.
Morty’s thoughts were going hazy as he focused on the sensation of Rick’s teeth gently biting his lower lip, then the renewed pressure as Rick moved in and brushed his tongue over Morty’s lips and then into his mouth when Morty’s jaw went soft and open for him. Morty found he was just taking in the sensations now. The faint rub of stubble, the slick soft press of Rick’s lips, the lush rub of Rick’s tongue pressing to his own. Rick’s palm on the bare skin of his stomach, dry skin and a little rough where his shirt had rucked up. He wanted -- he wanted more, and pulled Rick in to take it, wrapping his arms around his back and tugging him forward, folding his legs up to cradle him.
He could feel Rick smirk against his mouth, but it was just another sensation as Rick settled over him, slotting between his thighs and leaning in, his pelvis a pleasant rough textured weight against Morty’s dick through his boxers. The sensation of his hand sliding under Morty’s shirt and around his back, between Morty and the bed, almost like a hug, was warm and dry and so good. The calluses Morty had tried not to imagine felt even better than he’d thought they would and the blunt nails scratching gently as Rick kneaded his lower back were a pleasant surprise Morty hadn’t predicted.
Rick pulled away, breaking from Morty’s mouth with his lips curling into a familiar fond smirk. “Yeah, you -- you’ve definitely got the engine of a twenty year old.”
Morty licked his lips, chasing the flavor of whiskey instinctively, pressing his heels into the bed and grinding, his breath coming fast as his heart tried to beat out of his chest. “So -- so turn the key, you old son of a--”
Rick snickered, his fingers flexing, scratching gently as he slid his over hand into Morty’s hair and pulled, smirking down at Morty with equal condescension and fondness. “Uhp, uhp -- you want me to be nice to you, you better be good.”
Oh shit. Morty took a sharp breath through his nose, mouth hanging open as his heart hammered. His thoughts were clattering, recalling every klaxon he’d heard in his life as a dimension hopping sidekick.
“That’s right,” Rick crowed, leaning closer. “I’m only nice to good boys, Morty.”
Morty felt like his brain was caught in a vice, unable to fully process anything beyond the sound his blood was making as it rushed through his ears and the burn of arousal that hitched a little as his thighs clamped more tightly around Rick’s pelvis. “You’re never nice.”
“I could be nice to you if you wanted,” Rick murmured. “Couldn’t I, baby? For a certain definition of -- of nice.”
Morty licked his lips and leaned up, aimed for a kiss and pressed his mouth to Rick’s throat when he pulled back. “You’re. God, you’re awful. Fucking kiss me, damn it. Please. ”
“It’s a good thing I like desperate sluts,” Rick muttered, rolling his hips into Morty’s. “You’re just my type, huh?”
The pressure felt so good Morty’s head snapped back into the bed, into Rick’s hand -- pulling his own hair with the move and not caring as he squirmed, heels pressing into the back of Rick’s thighs. “Fuck -- fuck you!”
“Yeah,” Rick muttered, pulling back to watch Morty’s face as he rocked into him. “Show me -- show me what you look like. I’m right here, Mort -- you can. I want to see.”
I want to see. The words cut through Morty with lethal efficiency, somehow wrapping around his heart and fueling the urgency pumping his hips as well and he sobbed through his next few breaths, digging his heels in so hard Rick would probably have bruises.
“Look at you,” Rick muttered, locking his hips in place and not doing anything but let Morty grind up. “Fucking vice around me, shit. Been hitting the gym at school? Those thighs, baby…”
Morty could masturbate almost totally silently, but sex was usually loud and messy and fun. He had the feeling sex with Rick (holy fuck ) was going to be at least two of those, but being loud should be out of the question while fucking in his childhood room (and that shouldn’t be hot but it was, it was ) and Morty found the last thread of his sanity was twisted around that one command: don’t wake up mom and dad.
It was sick and hot and absolutely ridiculous, and it had a straight line to his goddamned dick.
“Rick,” he sobbed into his grandfather’s arm, not close enough to cum but close enough that the finish line was in sight and with the desperation to chase it and get his mouth on any part of Rick that he could, needing the taste of skin to ground him in the overwhelming wash of sensation and help him keep his mouth shut.
Rick tasted like skin, the initial burst a flash of salt from the sweat he’d worked up on their adventure before that faded away to the texture of skin and the only flavor Morty could chase was mint baja blast from his own toothpaste.
“That’s it, ba -- baby,” Rick muttered over him. “Just, just go ahead and get there. I want to see it, Morty. Show me -- show me what it looks like when you use me to get off.”
Oh fuck. The idea of using Rick -- that anyone could, but least of all Morty of all people -- was enough to short circuit whatever was left in his head like a bolt of lightning that ran from the top of Morty’s head to his toes and shot out of his dick to erupt in an embarrassing mess in his boxers.
“Fuck, you’re wet,” Rick mumbled, pressing his face into Morty’s throat and dragging his mouth over his pulse. “That’s so -- god, I’m gonna dick you down in every inch of this shitty suburban nightmare, Morty. Every inch. You won’t be able to shit without remembering how you begged for -- begged me to fuck you in Jerry’s fucking half bath. ”
Morty’s dick was starting to soften in the cum slick mess he’d made of his boxers, but Rick was rolling his hips into his hip anyway and Morty found his fingers clawing into his back with the sensation. God, the feeling was riding the edge of too much, but the idea of Rick being so into it that he wasn’t even going to unbutton his fly was so hot that Morty felt the aftershocks jolt back to full strength. “Fucking -- fucking do it, Rick, you feel so good, I love you so much --”
“Fuck --” Rick jerked against him, disrupting his own choppy rhythm before he went still, and his mouth went slack against Morty’s neck. “You -- you little shit,” he whispered into Morty’s neck an eternity later. “You’re the best thing in my goddamn life. Don’t -- you can’t -- ”
“I’m not,” Morty whispered, pulling Rick in tight again where his hold had gone loose after he'd cum. “I won’t. You -- you don’t gotta worry about me, Rick. I’m. I’m for you. I’m a sure thing, OK? I'm for you.”