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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
yee it's a rickmorty roleplay

Submitted: October 14, 2016

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Submitted: October 14, 2016

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Head down, tears leaking from his already puffy eyes, a bottle clenched tightly in one fist as the other desperately tries to chop the Krystal Kalaxian powder into fine enough dust that it doesn't make him cough and choke and wheeze when he snorts it again. This is how Morty Smith copes with the crush that he's had on his grandfather for the past year and a half, ever since the old man had first come into the Smiths' lives. Usually, he makes sure Rick's going to be gone long enough, and he's even been a decent enough actor that it doesn't seem like he's just trying to get rid of his grandfather, but that he's worried for the other's safety, and wants to make sure he'll be back within at least two weeks. 

This time, however, is different. He doesn't know when (or if) Rick will ever be back. All because he had to say that stupid thing, that stupid revealing thing. His hazy, coming-down-off-its-high mind takes him back to that moment, making him cringe and chop faster, less accurately but at least it's getting closer to the powdered state it needs to be in for him to get high enough to forget it again.

Morty's finger jabs into Rick's chest, a scowl on his bright red face. "You know what, Rick?! I-I- maybe I DO care about you, m-maybe I love you, maybe I actually give two shits about you, y-y-you know that?! M- Maybe I- fuck, f-fuck you, leave, go ahead, it's not like I NEED you or anything!" And with that, he turns on his heel, tears already rolling down his cheeks as he storms off to his room to try and cry out his feelings. It never works, but he tries anyways.

He shakes his head, hands quivering as he throws the card away. "F-Fuck it, I'll snort the shit in its solid state. A-All the powder does is make it hurt less," he mumbles to himself, wiping away his tears with the now-free hand before taking another gulp of Rick's horrendously strong alien alcohol, then leaning down to the metal work desk he'd so often watched his grandpa working at, and taking a big snort of the rather messy, choppy lines of K-Lax on the table. Big mistake.

His lungs burn, his nose aches, more tears stream down his cheeks and this time he lets them, this time he doesn't care enough to wipe them away and act like nothing's wrong, because so what if someone walks in on him? Beth won't give a shit, she's seen him like this before, she thought he was just drunk. Jerry will just act like nothing happened, walking out like the coward he is, instead of talking to his son. Summer would probably do the same, though she'd at least ask why he's crying before walking off. 

But if Rick were to walk in...

He shakes his head; no, he's not going to think about Rick. It's done, it's over, Rick's probably never coming back, and he doesn't even care why is he crying harder, why can't he stop shaking-

All of a sudden, he hears the familiar sound of a portal opening, and in his hazy, blurry, warped vision, he can see a green oval opening up in the wall. He freezes, hand still clutching the alcohol and purple powder dusting his nose.

 

 

A broken sob echoed through Ricks brain - so real he thought he’d heard it out loud too, but no. It was Mortys. His watery eyes that threatened to spill over as he screamed at Rick relentlessly over all his unspoken hurt and anger towards Rick. All he wanted was to be loved and appreciated by Rick, but his grasp to have a stronger relationship only fueled Ricks bitterness. He knew it was wrong.

He knew the feelings he had towards Morty were more than wrong. But damn, he didn’t know the little shit shared the same feelings. And he couldn’t shake it, he couldn’t shake knowing he hurt the one person who loved him unconditionally. Every inch of Rick ached to reach for him, to hold this boy Rick could’ve lost a thousand times over. It was a feeling he had shaken off so many times before. But this time was different, he had looked at Rick as if he was lower than sewage when he let it all out, he looked at Rick the way Rick had always expected him to. To hate and mistrust him because that’s the way Morty SHOULD have felt after a year of neglect. Rick stared at his thin legs clothed in slacks and knew he had to face Morty at some point. After a day or two of getting sloshed in the same alien bar, Rick knew it was time to face the confrontation that was waiting for him at home, Morty. He slapped a bill on the counter before taking a deep breath and shooting a portal back home. Rick didn’t know what to expect. He stepped out of the green blur before it disappeared behind him. His feelings about the sight lingered somewhere between sadness and major annoyance. “M-Morty, what in the fuck, what w-would make you do something so S-STUPID?” He demanded from the boy directly in front of him with purple dust and crystals smeared under his nose. “You fuck-fucking dipshit, y-you have no id-idea what you just did.”

 

His eyes widen as he hears Rick's voice, the man's face a blur as he desperately tries to stop crying, to maybe even suck the tears back into his eyes, but he knows the hope is pointless. He angrily scrubs the back of his hand across his eyes, unable to meet his grandfather's gaze. "Y-Y-You- you can't, c-can't say shit, Rick," he stammers out, his voice sounding croaky and awful and crackly, his nose stuffed to all hell as the K-Lax's crystal, awfully-chopped form takes its toll on his mucous membranes. "Th-The- The way you, y-you cope with shit is, getting drunk, s-so why can't I? It's not like th-this is anything new or wh- whatever," he mutters, his voice filled with spite, but it's a weak sort of anger. He can't put any soul into it, can't be assed to sound legitimately angry at Rick, because he doesn't know how to feel anymore. 

He's ashamed he's been caught, he's upset with Rick, he's sad because he knows he's fucked up and something's desperately, desperately wrong with him, he's angry because Rick is so oblivious for a man so smart, and- 

Suddenly, something seems to click and he looks up, the whites of his eyes a light cerulean shade as he abruptly stands up, staggering a little as his world flips upside-down from the sudden standing motion. After he steadies himself, he manages to half-stumble, half-walk to Rick, gripping at the front of his labcoat with shaking hands, the bottle of alien liquor dropping to the ground and breaking with a loud crashing sound. It doesn't phase Morty, however, as he looks up at Rick, eyes still watery and blue and tinted red around the edges. He stays like that for what feels like forever, though it's likely just a few seconds, and suddenly he's leaning up, pressing tear-damp lips to Rick's alcohol-tinged ones.

 

 

The sentence bounced around in Ricks head. But he wasn’t wrong. Of course. Rick was no shining example as far as reckless behavior was concerned, but this was Morty he was talking about, he knew better. 

And he couldn’t shake that feeling, knowing he drove Morty to this point, this horrible point. Rick wanted nothing to seethe in his anger, Morty deserved a violent outburst after this stupid trick of his. But all that gripped him was guilt when Morty threw the words at him. He swallowed thickly, his throat feeling dry. He had nothing to say this time. No sarcastic reply, no rude remark, nothing. 

He snapped back to reality when the sound of the bottle shattered across the floor, it rang heavy in Ricks ears. The sound that thundered in the room was dull and quiet. He looked to see Mortys small hands grasp for his coat. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t do anything, he just watched in resignation as Morty looked up. Those brown doe eyes that Morty had been flashing Rick for too long, the same ones that trusted Rick to the bitter end. 

It happened as if the moment lasted years, Morty’s lips were soft and too hot, pressing in just a bit too hard into Rick’s slightly colder and rougher lips. Rick hesitated before returning the action. Morty aimed too high, catching most of Rick’s upper lip. Rick’s mouth was a bit more skilled in all of this, so Rick worked to correct the angle a bit, leaving his head down. 

Rick pulled away what seemed to be all too soon. He stared at Morty, reaching his cold slender fingers to cup Mortys soft pink cheeks.

 


He's tense when he first kisses Rick, brows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut, but they snap back open as soon as he feels the other moving. He flinches, jerking away and breaking the kiss briefly as he assumes that Rick's going to bitch slap him away, so hard that his jaw breaks, because he's seen the man's power and he knows that Rick won't hold back. Or at least, that's what he thinks he knows. 

Instead, rough lips are moving, pressing against his own, and he nearly melts into the action with a blissful sigh and a slight loosening of the death grip he'd had on Rick's front. Wrinkled fabric settles back into place somewhat as his grip becomes less of a desperate attempt to keep his grandfather close, and more of a way to keep the man close, to pull him nearer, to feel more of him against his body, because all of a sudden he can't get enough of Rick and he can't get enough of Rick's touch. 

It doesn't really register in his mind what Rick's doing until the other's pulled away, and while he flinches again, it's brief, much less violent than the first one, and he tilts his head as Rick's clever hand touches his flushed, damp cheek. "R-Ri- hic- Rick?" He's panting, having forgotten to breathe during the mind-numbing, bliss-soaked kiss, but now that he's not busy taking a crash course in kissing from his grandfather and yearlong crush, he's more focused on the fact that his lungs are aching and he has to pant to recatch the breath he'd lost. 

He takes a few more moments to breathe, and it eventually settles into a calm, steady pace, his heart still racing but now it's not as painful, his chest feels a pleasant thrumming and he can feel a happy smile starting to curl across his spit-slick lips. It contrasts oddly with the tightening sensation of tears drying on his skin, and despite everything he's done (or maybe because of it), he starts laughing, little giggles bubbling up out of him in the form of awkward, cracking hiccups and sputters.

 

 

“Jesus, M-Morty” Rick let out a snort after observing Mortys gasps for air. He glanced down at Morty with that famous shit-eating grin. Together they laughed at something big and awesome and terrifying and wrong. 

He leaned in to kiss Morty this time, grabbing the corner of his lips and then his cheek and then forehead and then lips again, getting them a little easier this time. He didn’t have the will to tell himself no anymore, all he wanted - needed was this. This moment where nothing mattered anymore, no rules, no morals, just him and Morty sharing this unescapable moment that was so pure - it was almost innocent. 

Rick kissed him like he had no point to prove, nipping his lower lip, licking the back of his molars and the roof of his mouth, hands trespassing up under his shirt to lie warm on his back - until he stopped and pulled away. He looked at Morty, hesitating again, not sure if this is what the fragile boy wanted.

 

 

When Rick gives him that smirk, he feels his stomach drop, though this time it isn't the usual, pain-filled sort of sensation, something like falling off of a cliff into a pit filled with needles and broken glass. Instead, it makes him feel like he's floating, like his head is swirling with happiness and amazement that Rick Sanchez, his grandfather, the one that tears people apart with a single sentence, just kissed him back, kissed him back with such tenderness and love that, for a moment, he doubts whether or not his crush really was so one-sided after all. 

His jumbled thoughts are broken when cool lips press against the soft, pink skin of his face, his lips quirking back up into a grin, much larger this time as he gets out another fluttery, breathy little chirp of a laugh. He opens his mouth to say something, though he doesn't really know what, and it melts into a soft sigh anyways as suddenly Rick's lips are over his, except this time it's Rick that kissed him first, and it's Rick that's encouraging this, letting it happen, even indulging Morty in this, and the very thought of it makes him feel warm and fuzzy, like being drunk but without the nausea and self-hatred blooming up within the darkest parts of his mind. 

The teen doesn't realize his eyes have slipped shut until suddenly Rick stops, those wonderfully cool hands slipping away from his warm skin and that sinfully skilled tongue leaving his mouth - which he realizes in a semi-aroused state, had been exploring his mouth, and he'd been responding without even realizing, though probably fairly sloppily - and a soft whimper leaves him. The sound would make him blush if he was sober, but as it is, he simply whines again, eyes slowly blinking open and damp lashes fluttering as he tries to focus on Rick's face. The dim lighting of the garage mixed with the drugs and alcohol coursing through his system don't help much, but he can see that expressive unibrow, the wrinkles in the other's skin, in his concerned face, and he can see the sharp angles and jawline of the man he's wanted to touch for so long. 

Almost jerkily, but just smooth enough to be obviously intentional, he reaches up, pulling Rick down and kissing him hard, doing his best to repeat what his grandfather had just taught him with motions of his tongue and soft lips moving against the other's. One hand eventually leaves Rick's jaw, the other still resting on his face just barely as the one that had moved goes to gingerly wrap around the other man's waist, fingertips digging in slightly as he subconsciously squeezes and unsqueezes the fingers on that hand.

 

 

Rick become all too obsessed with the taste of Morty, he tasted the alcohol on his ripe lips and pulled away. Rick nuzzled his nose against Morty’s before letting his lips brush lightly over Morty’s cheek. He felt the boys earlobe with his lips before softly sucking on the smooth skin.

The sounds Morty was making and the way he moved his hands on Ricks hips was getting all the blood to rush South, leaving Rick light headed with desire. Without fully realizing it, Rick moved his hands and rubbed Morty’s small hips, applying light pressure as his nimble fingers rubbed circles into Morty’s hip bones, pulling him until Rick finally got friction where he needed it. He grinded against the boy as he continued lightly biting down on to Morty’s neck.

Although Rick loved taking more than giving, nothing aroused him more than knowing the soft moans that escaped Mortys lips were from him. “Fuck.. M-Morty.. Just l-let me..” Rick breathlessly let out without even thinking, he grinded harder and the friction drove him insane, it wasn’t enough.

 

 

His breath hitches as Rick mouths at his ear, cheeks flushing bright red but for a completely different reason this time. He just barely manages to keep from outright moaning as Rick's hands settle on his hips, his jeans suddenly feeling much tighter and his breath coming in shorter, faster puffs of hot air, his eyes half-lidded with the sheer pleasure that Rick is touching him like this, that Rick wants to touch him in such a way. 

The daze he's in doesn't let his mind register what Rick's doing until suddenly he realizes he has a painfully hard boner and it's being ground against by Rick's cock, and it's through four layers of cloth but it brings pleasure so strong that it very nearly hurts, his eyes watering slightly. It doesn't take him long to recover, however, and he chokes out a weak moan, leaning up to kiss Rick once more, slobber drooling down his and Rick's chins as the kiss grows even messier. The fact that Morty's wasted off his ass certainly doesn't help this at all, but oddly enough, he doesn't really find himself minding. 

This is probably most likely due to the fact that he's grinding back up against Rick, and once again his movements are out of sync with the other's, his hips are jerking more than rolling, and he can't stop from squeaking out breathless whimpers of Rick's name every time the kiss breaks. 

However, even though he's a constantly horny teenage boy, and a hair trigger to boot, this just isn't enough. Maybe it's whisky dick, perhaps he's just too turned on, and maybe it's some other side effect of a drug he didn't bother trying to decipher the label of, but he can't get off, he won't cum with just grinding, not even with Rick Sanchez's cock pressing pressure and delicious heat onto his own. He gasps out one more moan of Rick's name, then he looks up, eyes wide and shining with the tiny tears having gathered in his eyes from the pleasure and slight pain of such intense friction. 

"R- R- Rick, please, p-please, I n- want, need m- ah!- more," he wheezes out, both arms now slung over Rick's shoulders and clasped behind the other man's neck, and at this point he's relying almost entirely on Rick to keep him up. Thankfully, he's light, lighter than he probably should be, so he's not too worried about putting too much strain on Rick, but he wants to get into a more horizontal position for more than just the reason of not wanting Rick to have to practically carry him while they grind like there's no tomorrow.

 

 

Rick glanced down and, without a doubt, a bulge grew in Morty’s pants. He could feel the warm rush of blood to his cock when the slurred pleads of ‘more' came from Morty. “Shhh, baby..” Rick practically purred into his ear, sliding his cold, calloused fingers under and passed Morty’s buckle. Slowly, the hotness of Morty’s cock warmed Ricks hand as he palmed it painfully slow. He met a gaze with the boy, seeing the welled up tears from the teasing moments before. Just as fast as Rick started, he stopped, slowly reaching his hand out to meet the cool garage air. 

Rick didn’t notice how much of Morty’s body he supported until he broke their contact. “M-Morty, baby, l-lets go upstairs, hmm?” He lowly growled into the crook of Morty’s neck. Without wasting the precious time they had to themselves, Rick guided Morty out of the bitter cold garage and upstairs. Rick’s room bordered on claustrophobic, with only enough space for an army green cot and a couple desks. The walls were covered with hand drawn pictures and blueprints, all of the red and blue strings making mysterious connections no one but Rick understood. 

He continued kissing at Morty’s neck, letting out fevered sighs. “Don’t ever drink my shit again.” He muttered with a slight chuckle. His drool-chapped lips broke from his neck and he stared into Morty’s eyes, his lightful excited eyes, that Rick couldn’t help but smile wryly. “Is.. Is this what you w-want, Morty?” He asked, although he knew the answer would be influenced by the drugs and alcohol, Rick needed to know he wanted this, and he wasn’t forcing his wishes upon the small boy.

 

 

As soon as Rick's hand slips down his pants and wraps around his cock, he keens, bucking his hips hard and gasping, nearly choking on his spit from how quickly he inhales. "R- Rick, oh, god-!" He has to bite down onto his lip to keep from moaning too loudly, though a half-stifled groan of loss still manages to make its way past his lips as the other's hand is pulled away. "Hhn, Rick, p- please, I want-"

And then suddenly there's a pair of rough lips on his neck and hot breath fanning out over his skin, causing goosebumps to prickle up on his skin and his breathing to hitch lightly. "Up- Upstairs?" He barely has time to repeat the words before Rick's pulling him upstairs, a wave of heat enveloping him. Normally, this would cause him to feel drowsy, maybe even pass out right on the threshold of the garage once more like he did that one time, but instead it wakes him up, makes him realize that he's really here, Rick really wants to do this with him. 

When they reach Rick's room, it takes him a few moments to register that they're in Rick Sanchez's room, the one room that not even Morty had been allowed into for so long. He doesn't really take the time to look around, however, not like he would if he was sober, not like he would if he was here because he wasn't allowed to be. Instead, he whines and tilts his head to the side, his dick throbbing at each touch of Rick's lips to his almost embarrassingly sensitive neck. 

"Oh, o-oh, god, Rick! R-Rick, please, ah, I- please I want it so bad!" His voice cracks on 'please', his eyes as wide as they can go and his whines almost constant now. It's almost a good thing that the Smiths are so used to hearing weird sounds coming from Rick's room; they surely won't worry (too much) about hearing Morty's screams (or moans) coming from there either. 

His hips buck up against Rick's, his dick painfully hard and his eyes watering a little more, though this time it's more out of sheer desperation than from fear, and when Rick stops kissing his neck, he very nearly does cry. "Please, Rick, I-I want it, I want it so bad, Rick, I-I've- wanted, w-wanted it for- s-so bad, for so long," he babbles out, back arching up off of the cot slightly. "I-I won't touch your, y-your alcohol, I, I-I want your p- prick, w-want your dick in me," he gasps out, whimpering still but trying (and failing) to keep it down.

 

 

 

Rick lifted his brow at Mortys begs and a grin spread across his face showing his amusement. He discarded of his own lab coat, tossing it aside for later use. He began kneading Mortys hips again, encouraging him to relax with little shushes and light touches. "Good boy, shh, yeah, that's it. You - I'm just - I was just making sure, baby " 

His rough hands travelled to Mortys yellow stained shirt and commanded "up", pulling off the layer that separated Rick from his smooth undefined chest. Immediately Rick wanted nothing more than to strip Morty completely, to fuck him dry and make up for a years worth of time lost from playing it cool. But he knew that wasn't the way it should be, so he took his time with light butterfly kisses down Mortys collar bones, chest, ribs and stomach, tenderly showing each bit of skin as much attention as he could. 

Then finally, the one thing that craved Ricks lips the most, and begged for attention. Rick smirked and beamed with arrogance. He kept eye contact, staring at Morty with a grin as his limber fingers fumbled with Mortys button. As soon as the waist was loose, Rick grabbed the sides of his jeans and slowly slipped them down his thighs and legs, his cold fingers scraping past Mortys bare skin. As soon as he discarded the pants, Rick redirected his attention towards the tint in his boxers. "Beg for it."

 

 

The pet name and hip touches make him quiver, his eyelids slipping shut in pure bliss for a moment as the touches send jolts of pleasure straight to the quickly-growing pit of heat in the center of his belly. He leans up to kiss Rick, and it's sloppy, filled with too much tongue and too much spit, but he doesn't find himself minding or being self-conscious about the slobber; he loves this, he loves Rick's very presence too much to be assed to worry about whether Rick's grossed out by him or not. 

His 'intoxication' on Rick's lips and hands clears the haze from his mind just enough that it doesn't take him ten seconds to register the other's commands. Thin, shaky arms lift, and as soon as he feels semi-rough lips pressing up against his ribs, he gasps out a little giggle and a sputtered 's-stop, t- ticklish, Rick!', but then the kisses move further down onto his stomach and the giggles cut off into whines and breathless moans. 

As soon as his jeans are unbuttoned, he groans, hands clenching and unclenching at the sheets and his eyes half-lidded as the pressure on his painfully hard dick is finally relieved somewhat. It takes him just a moment to realize what Rick had just said, and he whimpers as the touches stop, but then he opens his mouth and it's as if he can't stop talking. 

Spine arching up off of the bed once more, his eyes watering slightly from how hard he's been for so long, he babbles out, "R-Rick, please, I-I-I want you, y-your mouth on my, hhn- on, m-my cock, want you to suck me, m-me off, want you to fuck me u-until I can't breathe, can't even remember or say my name fr- from how much I'm screaming!" He pauses to whine, and quiver again, just barely resisting the urge to buck his hips up and grind his throbbing hard cock up against Rick's face. 

"I-I wanna suck you off, I wanna make you feel good, a-and I want- I want to- t-to make both of us feel good, w-wanna get fucked by you," he breathes out, hands clenched into tight fists in the sheets now, wrinkling the fabric there.

 

 

He leaned up once more to kiss Morty, Rick’s lips still foul with whiskey. He chuckled a little at the sounds Morty made, entertained by his pleads for mercy. His tongue danced in the others mouth expertly and made the quick kiss worth while. When the other pulled away for air, Rick pulled the edge of his own shirt up and over his head, throwing it to the side. The hair on his chest was thin, but present with a wonderful blue-grey color. He bent back down, finishing the kiss with a peck, but the sensation of their bare chests pressed together was maddening, and Rick ground against him urgently, his groin aching for contact. The zipper of Ricks pants was half undone and a large bulge showed through the fabric of his pants. Above the zipper, a thick tuft of hair trailed all the way up to his navel. 

He then moved down to the bed, his teeth scraping down his chest and down his stomach, finally making contact with the soft skin on the inside of Morty’s thighs. His cracked lips trailed back up Morty, but the journey halted when it reached the seam of his boxers. His sedated eyes peeked toward the boy, who writhed with begs. Without warning Rick glided his leathery hands on to Morty’s hips, jerking his boxers down his legs and over his ankles. His eyes were ablaze with lust, he panted heavily, hungry for the boy underneath him. This was it, the moment he had craved for months, the moment he had fisted himself over for a year.  

Reaching down, he took a hold of Morty’s erection and passed a tantalizing thumb over the tip. Pre-cum leaked from the other and Rick scooped is up, swirling the discharge between his two fingers, and grinned devilishly. “So eager.. all for me.” He growled, the low sound of hostility echoed in his throat. His face moved down, letting out a hot breath before finally making contact with his cock. His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue dancing skillfully over Morty, and he risked a glance up. 

A tingly feeling of disbelief and awe moved from Ricks toes to his stomach as he watched Morty squirm in intense pleasure. He wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, dragging it up to meet the place where his mouth stopped. Saliva dripped over his knuckles, creating glistening puddles in Mortys pubic hair which he raked his graceful fingers through.

 

 

As Rick's torso is exposed, he whines, eyes wide and desperate as he looks over Rick's body. He can feel his cock jolt as his gaze travels downwards, first over Rick's chest and the hairs flashing tantalizing colours in the dim lighting of Rick's room, then his stomach, and then the thick happy trail leading down past the line of Rick's pants and boxers. 

He's broken out of his awed staring at his grandfather's body as Rick grinds against him once more, a sharp squeal of a moan leaving him as all control leaves him for a moment. His cock is nearly bare, just the thin fabric of his boxers separating him from the hard, rough fabric of Rick's pants, and the friction is just hardly painful, but all the pain does is make everything feel so much better. His hips buck up hard, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he pants hard and desperately tries to wrap his shaking arms around Rick's waist. 

However, more whimpers of loss leave him as Rick kisses down his body, slipping out of his grasp, and he's just about to groan and beg and plead for the other to come back up, he wants, he needs more kisses, more of that filthy sinner's tongue in his mouth teaching him to kiss like his life depends on it, but suddenly there's warm lips on his thighs and he very nearly slams his legs shut. Instead, he spreads them as wide as they can go in such a cramped space, his hips quivering with the need to buck up, yet still he manages to resist giving into such primal desires. 

As his cock, aching and in pain from being so incredibly aroused, bounces out into the air, he keens, the coolness of the room making him moan and shiver. It doesn't last long, however, and as Rick touches his almost too sensitive slit, he nearly screams, one hand coming up to grasp at his own curly brown locks and pull, and the other going down to grip at Rick's hair, seeming like he's doing his best to keep from tugging too hard but still managing to pull out a few thin blue strands from the force of his tightly-clenched fist. 

The touch to the tip of his cock had already been overwhelming, he doesn't even know why he's responding so strongly, he's jerked off plenty of times, but his hazy mind doesn't allow him to think about it and as soon as Rick's tongue and mouth start to work over his cock, he doesn't care why. It's amazing, it makes him scream with pleasure, and he can feel pre very nearly gushing from the tip of his pulsing, achingly hard dick. He can't resist bucking his hips this time, a few tears falling from the corners of his eyes as Rick starts to jerk him off, using his spit as lubricant to do so and very nearly driving him insane. 

He pulls harder on Rick's hair, though it's not in any particular direction, and it's really more of a (failing) attempt to keep himself grounded, to keep from simply passing out from pure pleasure. He starts talking again, eyes wet and cheeks damp once more, but this time for entirely different reasons as he stammers and whimpers out, "G- F- G-Grandpa Rick! O-Oh, oh my- Rick, Rick, you're so, y-you're so- good, I l-love, I love this, I love you," and now he's nearly sobbing from how good he feels, but still he keeps talking, his voice warbling and breathy and nearly indecipherable; he's given up on keeping quiet, or perhaps he's simply unable to at this point.

 

 

Ricks hands slyly made their way to his pants and boxers, and as he slid it off of his own form and onto the floor, a heavy sigh escaped him, his cock no longer confined in the cloth. Breaking contact between his mouth and Morty’s cock, Rick silenced him with his rough lips, mixing the pre with Morty’s saliva and coolly inviting his tongue inside the others mouth. But then he was putting his hands on Morty’s knees, opening them wide to kneel back in between, pulling Morty’s thighs on top of his and pressing forward until their cocks were brushing. “F-Fuck baby.. Christ I-I, god “ Rick groaned, unable to find a grip. Rick dug his forehead into Morty’s neck, eyeing his own veiny length going against his grandsons. 

“So good- so good for grandpa, Morty, my good boy.” Rick mindlessly breathed on to Morty’s neck with his voice liquor rough. The sensation of it was so heady he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, he had to whisper and ramble on about it. Rick grabbed him under the knees and hoisted him higher, angled him so their cocks slid against each other with each thrust - Rick was hard and wiry and so much stronger than he looked. 

Electricity sparked wherever their skin touched, Rick wasn’t even inside him and already this was so much. Rick dropped his upper body to crowd Morty further into the cot, stroking their cocks harder together. He needed to - fuck - he need to feel himself inside Morty, he needed more. Rick caught him by the small of his hands and ground down full force, groaning right in Morty’s ear. “This is what I want. Let me - fuck, Morty, let me show - I’ll make it good, baby, please.”  Rick was nearly begging.
 

 


The kiss makes him moan and return it eagerly, his own taste lingering on his grandfather's tongue and making him kiss back all the harder when he realizes what the hint of saltiness is. It makes him calm down just slightly, his chest still heaving slightly, but he jerks and squeals out another muffled moan into Rick's mouth as soon as their cocks touch. His thighs ache from the strain slightly, his legs opened and bent in ways he's never had to before, but all it does is remind him that this is new and that he's doing this with Rick, someone who clearly knows how to make this feel good. 

Shocks of pleasure run up his spine as Rick starts to grind with a pattern, his own hips shakily bucking up in messy, circular motions as he tries to copy what the other's doing. He succeeds fairly well, up until the point that Rick uses the strength that Morty so often forgets he has to lift the teen bodily, and it makes him shudder with arousal. The man above him, pressing their cocks together and stroking each other so wonderfully with that mind-scrambling friction, is so powerful, he could tear Morty apart and put him back together in the time it'd take to shoot a portal and come back through with alcohol, and it makes him whine and moan that much louder. 

His spine aches slightly, bent into a strange position, same as his legs are, but he doesn't care, he doesn't care at all all he knows is that Rick Sanchez is grinding against him with such a ferocity that it's making him weak in the knees and he can't stop moaning and begging and stammering out broken phrases and sentences of pleas for more, more, more

He's broken out of his desperate begging and pleading, quieting down just enough to hear Rick's words, and it makes him even harder, eyes watering slightly from the intense pleasure coursing throughout his body. It's still not enough, and he was just about to start pulling at Rick, try to make him realize through body actions that he wants to get fucked, but it seems he doesn't have to and he nods eagerly, desperately, as Rick speaks. 

"Y- Yes, god, Rick, I-I-I want, want you to f- fuck me, R-Rick, fuck-! Fuck, Rick, I want you to f-fuck me, I know you, y-y-you'll make me feel, feel good, ah- I- ahh!- I want it, I want it so bad," he gasps out, hips bucking up without pattern and in a manner that makes it clear he's seeking more, he needs more, but he can't get off, he needs Rick's cock inside of him, stretching him out.

 

 


“There we go - show me - show me your face Morty, baby” Rick bore down with his hips, trapping their cocks against their stomachs and grinding until the Friction was almost unbearable. He chuckled at Morty’s attempt to match his rhythm. Rick kissed thoroughly, smacking and sloppy wet and it was good - god, it was good in a way he couldn’t make sense of. Rick needed no more encouraging, he didn’t have the will to wait any longer. He distracted Morty with the his chapped lips as he slipped his fingers into the crevice of Morty’s ass to pull him apart, his fingers still slick with pre, and his fingers slid easily just inside his rim. 

Rick moved his right hand and dropped blindly on the table for the jar of lube he usually left there without shame. He must have left the top off, because he brought his hand back and his fingers were coated with cream, he slicked up his cock and angled it to slide up against his left hand, still prodding two fingers inside Morty’s ass. Rick eased into lingering pecks before removing his left hand and leaning back just enough to adjust his cock, to line it up with Morty’s hole. “Cm - cmon baby, look- look at me” He pleaded in a tone, dark and insistent, hewn from need. Then, Rick stared down him unflinchingly as he held Morty’s hips and pushed his cock in, in, in - and Rick’s face when he did, god. It was bliss he could only compare to drunken stupor - like this was the best drug he had ever experienced, like it was something transcendent. Like nothing else could compare. 

“Fuuuck, damn - ahhh” Rick sighed out,he held himself still but dragged Morty farther on to him by the hips. “Breathe, sweetie, breathe for me.” Rick encouraged, pressing down into it. He guided him with sure hands until he was flush, seated fully inside - teetering on the good side too much - and it was too much, it really, really was because Rick was euphoric, eyes half lidded, a dusky red lining his cheekbones, drool sliding over his lower lip as he groaned lowly.

 

 


He very nearly sobs into Rick's mouth as the grinding continues, because even though it isn't nearly enough, it's still pleasure, molten hot like lava running through his veins with each frantic pump of his heart as Rick's thick cock grinds up against his own achingly hard length. He's about to continue begging, whimpering and teary-eyed from the overwhelming pleasure that's somehow much too much and not even close to being enough, but suddenly he feels two fingers spreading his never touched, virgin entrance, and he arches, bucking his hips with a shrill yelp, almost a cry, of shocked pleasure. 

He can feel the hole twitch weakly, clenching down hard for just a moment before Rick's words relax him just enough that the older man's fingers can sink further into his almost too sensitive ass. "R- Ri- Rick, oh m-my g- ahhh, god, p-please- hhn, h-hurt, hurts- keep going," and suddenly he has to stop speaking because now Rick's fingers are sliding in deeper, but they're covered in some sort of slimey-feeling substance and now they slip into him, the dull ache of being stretched so quickly making him tense up once more and moan at the foreign sensation. It makes him feel strange, almost dirty, and he can't get enough of it, doing his best to relax and let Rick possibly prod a third finger into him, but suddenly his grandfather's fingers are out of him and he feels his throat ache as yet another whimper flutters from his swollen, spit-slicked lips. 

Rick's gravelly tones float into his ear, nearly begging him to look up at him, and so he does, doe-brown, tear-filled eyes gazing up at Rick, and he has to struggle to keep them in focus because the way Rick looks at him as he sinks that rock-hard, almost too thick cock into him makes him shiver and wail out in pleasure just as much as the feeling of his ass being stretched further, further, just a little bit past his limits. It hurts, of course, and he stammers out a request for Rick to pause just for a moment, but the arousal of feeling Rick's thick length very nearly splitting him open makes him gasp and writhe, pushing his hips back down against the other's cock. 

His eyes are half-lidded, but he manages to keep them open just enough to keep eye contact with Rick, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes as the pain temporarily overwhelms the pleasure once more. Despite this, he doesn't once ask Rick to stop, wanting the older man's entire cock in him until he stops to let the teen readjust. 

When Rick does finally stop, he gasps, eyes going wide suddenly as he realizes just how full he feels, having been to overwhelmed with the slick sensation of Rick's thick dick parting his walls to realize that he was being filled. "R-Rick, ohhh, oh Rick, you're, g-good, so good," he chokes out, panting in short, quick breaths up until he realizes that Rick had told him to breathe, so he does so, the pet name causing the flush on his cheeks to redden a few shades darker. 

"Ghh- big, b-b-big, Rick, you're so big," he warbles out, lashes fluttering and allowing more tears to slip down his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. "Kiss- K-Kiss, me," he manages to get out before surging up, clenching down hard as the action moves Rick's cock inside of his still somewhat painfully stretched ass. His wet, pouty lips meet Rick's, and he kisses his grandfather frantically, sobbing from pleasure and pain mixing, only to intensify the pleasure starting to overwhelm both the sting and his senses.

 

 

Ricks heated breath puffed over Mortys throat, his lips forming a grin when Morty commented on his size. The hot sweat slicked between them - it was good, it was so so good. Rick always had his pick of girls, or aliens or shit - even monsters, but this was different from the quick and dirty fucks he was used to - Rick always made it pleasurable for the other, even when he was rough, but this - whatever he was doing right now was on a different level. It wasn't - Rick wasn't fucking him. Rick had fucked plenty of times, and he knew this, was nothing like those times. 

Now, looking down at his grandsons face, his runny doe eyes - he couldn't deny the sincere fondness, the intense desire he saw there - how much Morty enjoyed every second of it - how Morty enjoyed them like this. And for the first time, Rick couldn't think of anything beyond the indulgent affection his grandson was showing him. 

Though, he grinned wolfishly when Mortys breath hitched on the beginning of a sob. Finally after pausing for Mortys comfort, Rick slowly angled his cock out - then in, building his rhythm with each thrust. He could feel his own cock even growing harder, the veins throbbing as he slid his cock out, begging to fill the young boy again. "You're a fuckin treasure, god damn perfect around me - there you go, taking it so well - opening up for me, baby" He purred into Mortys neck feverishly. Rick looked transported, like he had just taken a hit of something so strong it tested his legendary tolerance, and the only way he could express it was with mumbles of running commentary and lewd endearments and obscene compliments.  "What you do to me Morty, you're so fuckin cute - it's stupid - and you don't even know - drive me up a fuckin wall. Had me thinking about this for months - jacked off every night thinking about filling up your sweet little ass, just like this, baby" He muttered, his voice was subvocal, and face buried deep in Mortys neck.

 

 

Despite the almost too-fast pace Rick had set while stretching him out, then pressing that thick cock into his barely stretched ass, it feels much more personal than just Rick indulging him for this one night. He can feel the passion, can feel the emotion in Rick's solid, intense gaze, and he returns it in double without even realizing it, love in the way his lashes flutter and in the way his lips pout, begging for another kiss, though whether it's intentional or not is unclear to even the brown-haired teen. 

The grin curled across Rick's lips registers in his mind just a little too late, and as Rick slides out, he yelps, hips bucking up hard; the sensation of his grandfather's frankly enormous cock sliding in and out of his body is intense, strange, almost too much but this is what he's been craving, this is exactly what he wants, what he needs, and it's so good that he's just on the brink of breaking down into relieved, pleased sobbing as Rick pushes back in, setting a steadily increasing pace of fucking him further into oblivion. 

His cock, which had grown slightly soft with the pain and ache of being stretched so much so fast, springs back up, growing rock hard once more with such speed that it nearly hurts, but all it does is further intensify everything he's feeling as pre drools down one side of his prick. Maybe it's just his imagination, but he would swear that he can feel every ridge, every bump, every throb of Rick's cock in his ass as he's fucked harder, faster, makes him want to beg for more even though even this is nearly overwhelming. So, he does, responding to Rick's dirty talk with an involuntary twitch and spurt of pre from the tip of his flushed cockhead before gasping out, "G-Good, Riii- hic- iick, Rick, Rick oh my g- Rick, you, y-you're s- so, good, I- w-want, more, oh my god Rick," and now he's nearly gagging on pleasure, eyes still streaming big, fat tears out of the corners of his eyes as he rolls his hips jerkily, awkwardly, not a hint of experience in the amateurish way he tries to buck back, but his eagerness more than makes up for it and soon he's rolling his hips as smoothly as he can during his first time getting fucked up the ass by a man as well-endowed as Rick Sanchez. 

He manages to keep this up until suddenly the tip of the elder's cock just barely brushes up against something inside of him that makes him absolutely scream, eyes watering more and hips bucking hard at the burst of pleasure that makes his vision go white and his cock throb, now pushed to the very brink of orgasm within the first ten minutes of getting fucked by Rick. "R-Rick, what- wh-wh-what was- was that, I c-can't," he sobs out, the pleasure truly starting to take over and blink out his senses one by one until all he's really aware of is the deep vibrations of Rick's growls on his oh-so-sensitive throat and the wonderful stretch and pull of Rick's cock repeatedly entering and leaving his body.


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