Chapter Text
Summer knocked on her brother's door. She usually left him alone, especially lately, since he seemed different. She just shrugged it off, giving him some space, more space than usual. But she was supposed to ask him something for mom.
"Morty! Open the door, mom wants you." She knocked lazily, glancing down at her bright phone screen, too bright for seven in the morning, anyway. But mom had woken her up early this morning, and wouldn't tell her why until Morty came down for breakfast. It wasn't even a school day, either. It was spring break and Summer had plans for it.
She groaned exasperatedly, knocking again. "Morty, open the fucking door, asshole." Irritation seeped into her tone.
Morty exhaled quietly, slowly pulling his fingers out of his wet, slicked up pussy, leaving a string between his fingers. He tilted his head back against the wall, sighing. "Coming! Give me a minute.." He trailed off. It was too early, and he was usually asleep this early, according to everyone in the house. Except for Rick.
Truth was, Morty had been fucking himself for two consecutive weeks. He rarely wasn't. He'd like to argue it wasn't obvious, but it drained him, and everybody knew something was up, even Jerry. Which really meant Morty had an issue, if his dad noticed.
The only thing that had possessed him these past couple weeks was simply his grandpa. He had to distract himself from his needy thoughts somehow, so he instead got off to the idea of Rick fucking and creampieing him, and not the act of it. Which was better, until it wasn't. Now he couldn't stop, but it had gotten so boring. He craved Rick more than anything.
He didn't really have much to say as to why he felt such a way about Rick that was always viewed as disgusting to the masses. He knew the morals, the logistics he was supposed to have. But he lacked that, and substituted it with a victim complex and masochism. Which was obviously the worst possible substitution, but what could he do about it? Act on it? Never would he be bold or ass-backwards enough to act. Ever.
Morty zipped his pants, sliding them up his hips a little and sliding off the bed. He shuffled to the door, opening it to be greeted by a very pissed off Summer. "What the fuck, dude??? Could you be any more slow??" She scoffed, stalking off and down the stairs. Morty followed, eyes heavy. He was just bored and the world seemed more mundane than usual this morning. Nothing had excited him lately.
They both met Beth in the kitchen, who was sipping a glass of wine and leaning against the counter. "Morning, kids." She greeted with her usual somewhat forced tenderness. Morty glanced away and rolled his eyes. He wanted to get this over with so he could go back to fucking himself.
"Why'd you wake me up so early, mom?? I don't have to be at the hotel until three, and it's not like Morty has anything to do other than do god knows what up in his room like he has been lately." She glanced at Morty as she accused him of literally anything, because it could be literally anything to them.
Morty sighed. "Anything I do in my room isn't going to be anywhere near as bad as what you're going to do this week." He mumbled, clearly expressing his disinterest for this conversation. He didn't even stutter once.
Summer scoffed. At least Beth and Jerry knew what she'd be doing, or atleast had an idea. Morty was another story. Beth narrowed her eyes as she looked at her son, either exhausted or unamused. Could be both, with how he's been lately. She sighed loudly, taking another sip of her wine.
"God, Summer... you're acting like I woke you up early for an intervention or, fucks sake, your execution or something. I just don't like you guys sleeping around all day, even with no school. Don't even think about going back to sleep, Morty." She narrowed her eyes at him. Morty just rolled his.
"Wow. You score all the parenting points this morning yet? Give me a break, just sit there and drink your third cup of whine of the morning and get off my back, Summer's too." He glanced at Summer, who looked just as shocked as Beth did. Summer sighed. "Yeah... you can deal with that, mom... I'm going back to bed, thanks for wasting my time, though." She retorted, walking off presumably back to her room. That was confirmed when a door shut upstairs a few minutes later.
Beth stared at Morty, glaring. "Excuse me?" Morty glanced away impatiently. "You're excused. Seriously? That's all you got? The responses are coming at me like candy." He was pressing all her buttons, much too early in the day. Her eye twitched.
"Okay, whatever. I don't feel like hearing it right now, especially from what used to be my sweet daughter. Just go back to bed." She pinched the bridge of her nose.
Morty let out a dry laugh. "Strange, you don't usually become this transphobic when you're irritated into oblivion. See you later, mom." Morty left the kitchen, walking up the stairs and disappearing into his room again.
He's never like this. He never says shit like that, especially not to get such a response on purpose. He was just pent up every hour of the day and the one thing he desperately wanted he couldn't have. Nobody talks about how mundane that feeling makes the world feel.
Okay, they do talk about it. But Morty's desire was much, much less conventional than convertibles and marriage. He just needed his grandpa to creampie him into the next universe over, until he was screaming for him to do it again, and again, and again. He wanted his cunt bred until the only thing he ever thought about was giving Rick kids and grandkids all at once.
Yeah, so the rough sex part might be a little more conventional than the incest babies part. Morty was never good at thinking realistically, always had to be extremely hypothetical. He guessed that played into his kinks and fetishes.
Morty fell onto his bed lazily, slipping beneath the covers. He slowly closed his eyes, attempting to drift back to sleep.
That didn't last long.
Irritatedly, Morty huffed and flipped his covers back, sitting up and pressing his back against the bedframe. He ran his hand through his short brown hair. He glanced at the wall, and then down. He could fuck himself again, that was an option... but it sounded so boring to him now. It had progressed to that point. He knew how fucked he was, literally and figuratively.
He definitely wasn't getting anymore sleep, so he weighed his options. He could go downstairs and pretend like he wanted to be here for awhile, he could watch something, or he could write in his journal. He hadn't done the latter in awhile, so he might as well.
Morty slid off the bed, lazily dragging his feet to his dresser. He opened the top drawer, slid his hand in, reaching further until he grabbed his journal in the very back, behind all of his shirts. He walked back over to the bed and slid back onto it, mumbling to himself.
Morty opened to a new page, pulling his pencil out from between the wired side, whatever it was called, and pressed his pencil to the paper. He wondered what he could possibly have to write about, especially with how absolutely nothing ever happened lately.
He pushed away the routine thought that journaling was the corniest shit ever, and wrote whatever came to mind. It ended up like this.
๐ถ๐๐พ๐ ๐๐บ๐ฝ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ป๐พ๐ผ๐๐๐พ ๐๐ ๐ป๐ ๐พ๐บ๐, ๐๐ ๐๐บ๐๐๐ฟ๐๐ ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐พ. ๐จ ๐๐๐พ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐บ๐ ๐๐ ๐ฝ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ผ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐บ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐พ ๐พ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐พ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ผ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐บ๐ , ๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐บ๐๐ ๐ฟ๐บ๐๐๐บ๐๐ ๐จ ๐๐บ๐๐พ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐พ๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐พ๐พ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐พ๐๐. ๐จ ๐ผ๐บ๐'๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐บ๐๐ฝ๐๐บ ๐บ๐๐๐๐๐๐พ. ๐ข๐บ๐'๐ ๐ป๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐พ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ป๐๐ฝ๐ ๐๐พ๐๐๐พ๐๐บ๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐ฝ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐พ๐บ๐ผ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ผ๐ ๐บ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ฟ๐๐ ๐๐บ๐ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐๐๐ป๐บ๐ป๐ ๐ ๐๐พ๐พ๐ฝ๐ ๐๐ ๐ป๐พ ๐๐ผ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐ฟ๐๐ผ๐บ๐ ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ฝ๐๐พ๐ฝ. ๐ฌ๐บ๐๐ป๐พ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐บ๐ ๐บ๐ ๐๐๐พ๐๐๐๐บ๐๐พ๐๐พ๐๐, ๐ป๐๐ ๐๐๐บ๐'๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฟ๐พ๐พ๐ ๐. ๐จ ๐ผ๐บ๐'๐ ๐๐บ๐ ๐ ๐บ๐ป๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐พ, ๐๐'๐ ๐พ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐พ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐พ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐บ๐๐๐๐๐พ ๐จ ๐ผ๐๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐-๐พ๐๐ฝ๐๐๐ ๐ฟ๐บ๐๐๐บ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ฝ๐พ๐๐๐๐บ๐๐ฝ ๐๐ ๐พ๐๐พ๐ ๐๐บ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐บ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐บ๐ ๐จ ๐๐พ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐'๐ ๐บ๐ป๐๐๐ ๐ฑ๐๐ผ๐. ๐จ'๐๐พ ๐บ๐ ๐๐พ๐บ๐ฝ๐ ๐๐บ๐๐๐พ๐ฝ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐พ ๐พ๐๐บ๐ผ๐ ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐พ ๐บ๐๐ฝ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐จ'๐ฝ ๐๐พ๐ ๐ฟ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฟ๐บ๐๐๐ ๐. ๐ก๐พ๐๐, ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐พ๐, ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ ๐ป๐พ ๐ผ๐๐๐ผ๐พ๐๐๐พ๐ฝ, ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐บ๐ ๐๐พ ๐บ๐ ๐๐ฟ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐พ๐๐พ ๐๐บ๐๐๐๐ ๐บ ๐๐พ๐บ๐๐ ๐บ๐๐๐บ๐ผ๐, ๐บ๐๐ฝ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ ๐ป๐พ, ๐๐๐๐ผ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ผ๐บ๐ ๐ ๐. ๐ฉ๐พ๐๐๐, ๐๐ ๐ฟ๐บ๐๐๐พ๐, ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ ๐บ๐ป๐๐๐ ๐๐๐พ๐ ๐ ๐๐บ๐๐๐ผ. ๐ง๐พ'๐ฝ ๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐ฝ ๐ป๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ฟ๐ฟ ๐บ๐ ๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐'๐ ๐๐บ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐พ๐บ๐ ๐บ๐ป๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐ฝ ๐ฟ๐บ๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐บ๐ ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ป๐พ๐ผ๐บ๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐พ๐๐พ'๐ฝ ๐ป๐พ ๐บ ๐ฟ๐๐ฟ๐๐-๐ฟ๐๐ฟ๐๐ ๐ผ๐๐บ๐๐ผ๐พ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐'๐ฝ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐, ๐ป๐๐ ๐บ ๐ฝ๐พ๐ผ๐พ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐พ๐ฝ ๐ผ๐๐พ๐พ๐๐พ๐ป๐๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฉ๐พ๐๐๐ ๐๐, ๐๐ ๐๐'๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐พ๐บ๐ ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐. ๐ฒ๐๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ ๐ป๐พ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ป๐ ๐ ๐บ๐๐ฝ ๐๐พ๐๐ป๐บ๐ ๐ ๐ ๐ฝ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐พ๐ฝ. ๐ฒ๐๐พ'๐ฝ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐๐, ๐บ๐๐ฝ ๐๐๐บ๐๐พ ๐๐พ ๐ฟ๐๐ ๐พ๐๐พ๐ ๐ผ๐๐๐ผ๐พ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ผ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐บ๐ ๐บ๐ ๐ . ๐ฒ๐๐๐บ๐๐๐พ๐๐' ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ ๐บ๐ ๐ ๐ป๐พ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐บ๐๐พ: ๐๐๐๐ผ๐, ๐๐๐๐๐บ๐๐พ, ๐ฝ๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐ผ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐พ ๐ฒ๐๐๐๐พ๐, ๐ป๐๐ ๐๐๐ผ๐ ๐ ๐พ๐๐ ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐บ๐ . ๐ฅ๐๐๐พ๐๐ฝ๐, ๐บ๐ผ๐๐๐บ๐๐๐๐บ๐๐ผ๐พ๐, ๐บ๐๐๐๐๐พ ๐จ ๐๐๐๐ ๐พ๐๐พ๐ ๐บ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐พ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ ๐บ๐ ๐๐ ๐๐พ๐บ๐ผ๐ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐บ๐, ๐ป๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐บ๐ . ๐จ ๐บ๐ ๐ป๐พ๐๐๐๐ฝ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ฟ ๐ผ๐บ๐๐๐๐ ๐บ๐ป๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐ ๐๐ฟ ๐๐๐บ๐, ๐ป๐๐ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐ฝ๐๐พ๐๐'๐ ๐๐พ๐บ๐ ๐จ'๐ ๐๐๐ผ๐ ๐๐๐พ๐ฝ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ฟ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐ฟ๐๐๐๐ ๐บ๐๐๐๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐. ๐ฉ๐๐๐ ๐๐ฟ ๐๐ ๐๐พ๐๐พ ๐๐บ๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐ ๐ผ๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐๐, ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐บ๐, ๐จ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐'๐ ๐ป๐พ ๐บ๐ป๐ ๐พ ๐๐ ๐ฟ๐๐๐ฝ ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐พ ๐๐ ๐ผ๐บ๐๐พ. ๐ ๐ ๐ ๐๐ฟ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐พ๐ฟ๐๐๐๐๐พ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ฟ ๐ผ๐๐บ๐๐บ๐ผ๐๐พ๐ ๐ฟ๐๐ ๐๐พ, ๐ผ๐๐๐๐๐ฝ๐พ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐บ๐๐ฝ๐บ๐๐ฝ ๐จ ๐บ๐ ๐ป๐ ๐ฌ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐พ๐๐๐. ๐ก๐๐ ๐๐พ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐ฟ๐๐๐๐๐๐บ๐๐๐๐ ๐ผ๐บ๐ ๐ผ๐๐บ๐๐๐พ ๐บ ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐๐บ๐'๐ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐๐ ๐ฟ๐พ๐พ๐ ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐พ, ๐บ๐๐๐๐บ๐. ๐จ ๐๐บ๐ ๐บ๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐พ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ผ๐๐พ๐บ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฝ๐๐๐ป๐ ๐๐๐บ๐ ๐จ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐พ๐๐พ๐ ๐ป๐พ ๐๐บ๐๐๐๐ฟ๐๐พ๐ฝ, ๐จ ๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐บ๐๐พ ๐๐ ๐ฟ๐๐๐ฝ ๐๐๐พ ๐๐๐๐พ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐พ๐ ๐๐๐พ๐ ๐๐ ๐บ๐๐ฝ ๐๐พ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐บ๐ ๐ผ๐.
Morty sighed, closing his journal and returning the pencil to its spot of origin, slipping off the bed and returning the journal itself to its place in his drawer. He dragged his feet back to bed, slipping beneath the covers and deciding he could probably get another hour or two of sleep in before he went and saw Rick so he could unknowingly edge his grandson for a few hours, or several, it really depended.
Morty shut his eyes, covers pulled up to his shoulders, shimmying out of his pants lazily beneath them, settling into his usual position. Sleep soon overtook him, and the thoughts would subside, for now. And that was unless he were to dream.
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A few hours later, Rick expectedly stumbled into his grandson's room. "Morty, Morty- w-wake up, we- we gotta... gotta go on an, uhh... adventure!" Morty fluttered his eyes open, drowsy and confused. This was routine, though. "Wh-what? Where are we going, Rick??" He muttered, yawning. He was trying his best to hide his excitement, and his sudden arousal, but his grandpa didn't know that part.
"I'll explain on the way, c'mon! We- we gotta, ouhhh Morty quick! Hurry up Morty!" Rick babbled, wiped the corner of his mouth. He had already had a few drinks today. Morty checked the time on his phone. 12pm. Noon wasn't that surprising for Rick, actually.
Rick dragged Morty down the stairs and pulled his portal gun from his labcoat pocket, aiming it in front of him. A green portal appeared in front of him, to which he ran straight into, a very confused yet thrilled Morty close behind. He opened his eyes and focused on his surroundings.
They were... in a weird alien strip club. Great. He'd probably have to stand around awkwardly while Rick fucked alien chick after alien chick, back to back. He shuddered at the thought. He imagined the gross, slimey alien pussy, their clits spotted and all colors of the rainbow. Or, maybe they didn't look like pussies at all. Maybe this species of alien girls had weird gentials. Morty almost threw up. Why was he such a creep? He forced his brain to shut off while he looked around.
"Yeah-hah, babyy! Look Morty, look! This place has the best liquor. I don't know what it's called, but it's- it's fucking amazing. C'mon, I'll- I'll buy you alien alcohol. Even get you a cute little umbrella and silly straw in it. He dragged his grandson to the bar, sitting down on the barstool. Morty climbed up onto the one beside him, apprehensive. He'd never had a drink before, never dared to ask, even though Rick would've probably said yes. He found himself excited, like he was stepping into the unknown.
Rick said something weird to the bartender, who was a mass of a solid slime-looking substance. The creature slithered away to the back. Rick must've ordered something special. He tapped his hands on the counter, then turned to Morty. "You're gonna love it, buddy. Aliens make the best shit." He seemed a little more sober than earlier, but it would be shortlived.
Morty swallowed thickly, glancing up at his grandpa. "This is the adventure you wanted to go on?" He asked. Rick burped. "Awh, c'mon. Don't interrogate me, you little shit. I just wanna buy my grandson his first drink, and it's gotta be- gotta be the best." He ruffled Morty's hair with his knuckles, slinging his arm lazily around his shoulder, pulling him into the crook of his arm. Morty beamed a smile, glancing down. He hoped it wasn't obvious how he was reacting to the contact.
The slime-like bartender appeared behind the bar again, sliding the drinks towards Rick. He slid the second cup to Morty, that had a tiny umbrella and blue silly straw in it. Rick's cup was much taller. Morty stared down into his drink. The substance was clear, but foggy, with spots of color in it. He swallowed down all of his fears, and took a sip. Rick was already gulping his down.
The drink tasted pretty great, though Morty had nothing to compare it to. He liked it. Minutes later, he'd already finished his cup, and Rick was ordering more. And more. He just wouldn't stop. Morty felt very dizzy, and Rick just got more drunk. Was Morty drunk? He didn't really know how it felt to be, but he was certainly wobbly and unable to form intelligent thoughts. He didn't do much of that before anyway.
Hours and hours later, Rick stood up from his barstool, and put his hand on Morty's shoulder. "C'mon buddy, we're gonna go watch some alien freaks strip." Morty just nodded, he didn't really know much of what was going on, or what he was agreeing too. So he just let Rick drag him across the bar again.
Rick led him past some multi-colored lace curtains and beads, into a wide open area with aliens on stripper poles, giving creatures of all kinds lap dances and aggresive makeouts. The air was humid and there were fog machines. Aliens took people into rooms. It was like Morty was in a movie or something.
"M-Morty, c'mon- let's go into one of the empty rooms." Morty didn't ask any questions, just followed. Rick led him into an empty room, shutting the door behind him. He locked it, his back to the door. Morty didn't know that part, though. Morty turned around. There was a comfortable, fuzzy couch against the wall that looked like it folded out. The walls were decorated with erotic, naked girls, some aliens and some human. Morty was turned on again.
Rick burped loudly, disrupting Morty's thoughts. He walked over to the couch and sat down, leaning into it. He manspread, and lit a cigarette. The room suddenly felt much hotter. Morty had never felt more turned on in his life. He had to be dripping. Had to be. Especially with his grandpa in front of him, his legs spread... he wondered how big his dick was. He definitely was a creep.
"M-Morty, Morty... c'mere." Morty complied, walking over to him until he was standing right in front of him. Rick moved his hands to his pants, unzipping his fly and pulling his dick out from his boxers. Morty's jaw dropped. He squeezed his legs together, nervous. "U-um..." He muttered, stuttering. It was bigger than he expected. "C'mon, Morty... give your grandpa head." Morty swallowed. He felt lightheaded, but he blamed it on the alcohol.
Morty lowered himself to his knees, scooting forwards until Rick's dick was right infront of his face. He sat up, waiting for Rick to tell him what to do. "Hurry up, M-Morty..." The old man babbled, holding the base. Morty leaned his head forwards, taking the tip into his mouth. He licked and swirled his tongue around it, wondering if this was correct. He figured it was when Rick groaned, rather quietly. So Morty continued. He took more of it into his mouth, sucking and pressing his tongue against the tip. He drew back, then went further again, slowly.
Rick moaned, taking his free hand and grabbing Morty's hair into his fist. He held it there a moment, until he got impatient and jerked Morty's head forwards, lips touching the base. Morty gagged around it, trying not to gag so much. He prayed his reflex wouldn't ruin this for him. It would be so, so embarrassing if he threw up right now. He shut his eyes tight, letting Rick bob his head back and forth, until he got the hang of it himself. Rick loosed his grip a little, letting Morty keep at it.
Morty shut his eyes tight, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Drool formed at the edges of his mouth, but he kept going. He didn't want this to ever end. It had been all he'd ever hopped for. Rick continued to moan and curse quietly, until he jerked Morty's head back and off his dick. He didn't wanna cum, just yet.
Morty frowned, panting. He was a little disappointed, and his mouth felt empty. Rick sighed. "T-Take your pants off." He stuttered hoarsely, letting his cigarette out on the couch, tossing it in the corner of the room with a lazy arm. Morty gulped loudly, complying as he weaseled his way out of his jeans. Rick raised one side of his unibrow. "Boxers too." To which Morty reluctantly did. His clit was red and swollen, though it hadn't been touched.
Rick stared down between Morty's legs, and it seemed like he somehow got more hard than he already had been. "Sit on my- my lap." He rasped, and Morty did, climbing onto his lap, his thighs straddling Rick's hips. Rick grabbed Morty by his waist, his small, girlish waist, and lifted him up slightly, slowly easing him down on his dick. Morty gasped, grabbing onto Rick's shoulders. Rick let him adjust, then he moved his hands to squeeze his ass.
Morty bit his lip. It was everything he'd ever imagined, everything he'd ever fucked himself to, and he didn't know why it was happening. "C-c'mon, Morty. Help me out." Rick whispered. Morty slowly lifted himself up, and then down again. Rick groaned lowly, tightening his grip on Morty's ass. He was definitely going to leave marks. "C'mon, Morty. Be a good boy and pick- pick up the pace." Morty braced himself, and then lifted himself up, and then down. Much faster this time. He whined when his pussy tightened around Rick's cock, to which Rick also moaned rather loudly.
Morty whimpered, like a dog, lifting himself up and slamming back down again in what seemed like a fluid motion, like it was muscle memory. Rick didn't even try to keep quiet. He threw his head back, moving his hands up and sliding them up and down Morty's waist. "Ohh, fuuuck... You're so- so tight, Morty- gonna, gonna make your grandpa cum in your pre- pretty, pretty pussy..." Morty lost it. The praise, combined with Rick's dick hitting all of his sweet spots, were enough to make him cum. He lifted himself up, yet before he slammed back down again, he squirted. All over Rick's chest and dick.
He braced himself for disgust, or shock, but it only made Rick groan even louder. "Fuck, Morty... So- so good for grandpa." Morty leaned forwards, pressing his face into Rick's neck, and slammed back down. He bit down harsh on the skin there, and Rick seemed euphoric. He dug his nails into Morty's hips, eyes closed, and filled Morty up. Morty whined loudly, panting and ceasing the motion of his hips.
He also felt euphoric. It was the so much better than the orgasms he used to have by himself in the darkness of his room after hours. He never wanted this moment to end. It had to be a dream, had to be. Never would he have imagined Rick would've felt the same way he had. Rick panted, lifting Morty up so he could zip his pants, and then held him to his chest, cum leaking out of him like a whore. Like his grandpa's little whore. Morty eventually fell asleep.
"Grandpa love- loves you, Morty. You did realll good." He whispered into his grandson's hair. He should probably mindblow Morty right now, so he could never do this again. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, especially after how much Morty had enjoyed it. He didn't even ugly cry. He loved it. Instead, he pulled his portal gun out of his pocket, and stepped through the green portal, which led into Morty's room. He set Morty down onto the matress and pulled the covers over him, and then settled down beside him.
Morty would probably assume he had dreamt the whole thing if he woke up and Rick were gone, which would probably be better for both of them, but again he couldn't bring himself to do it. Morty had always been his weak spot. And he couldn't seem to let go of that.