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Lying back on his bed, Morty’s bare skin is flushed and smooth. It’s tan and rich like clay, and Rick can imagine dragging his nails over it and carving it up. Rick has two fingers in Morty. He sits with his back against the wall, one leg hanging off the end of the bed. Morty turns his head into his pillow, lips parted and eyes dark, but he isn’t opening up.

“You gotta relax, Morty. Don’t you want it?”

“I do,” he says with some urgency. At seventeen, Morty’s voice has deepened to a honeyed tenor, having lost most of its crackle and waver. But at times like these, the old brittleness is bound to come out.

It’s been just over half a year since they first hooked up. Half a year since Morty asked for a lock on his door. He said he was old enough to need it, and Beth had laughed in what she thought was understanding. But Morty didn’t want it to keep Rick from barging in. He wanted it to keep everyone else out.

Rick slides down the end of the bed. Morty has moles on his thighs and torso, and Rick kisses one on his left thigh, then licks, then grazes his teeth against the skin. Morty breathes, hums, and opens up for Rick. Goose bumps rise on Morty as he watches Rick tear open the condom pack with his teeth. The room is chilly, but he knows Rick will remedy that soon enough.

When Rick is lubed and ready, he removes his fingers and settles onto his knees before Morty. He lifts Morty’s legs onto his shoulders. Morty has barely grown three inches since he met Rick, a point of some discontent for Morty, but his skinny little legs tense now to reveal the fruits of their more physically taxing adventures. Rick loves how they feel against him. Firm.

When Rick pops his head in, they both groan. Morty grips his pillowcase. “I – haa – I can’t,” he says against the pressure in his stomach and lungs at being folded over. He’s pushing against Rick with his left leg, so Rick lets that leg fall to the bed and that seems to be all Morty needs because now he’s watching past their bellies expectantly.

Shallow bobs push Rick past the second ring, and Morty swallows him with a deep moan. To Rick, Morty sounds like he’s been dying for this, which is good because he plans on really giving it. He’s slow at first, hugging Morty’s leg with both arms as his hips roll for full, deliberate strokes. He watches the red grow first on Morty’s cheeks, then his chest. Morty moans like he’s trying and failing to keep quiet: broken, half whispered, and cracked.

Rick removes one arm from around Morty’s leg and runs his hand up Morty’s chest. His fingers tease Morty’s hard nipples, moving from one to the other and studying each bump like he’s reading Morty’s arousal in braille. Then Morty wraps a tight hand around his wrist, pushing his hand down. Rick’s hand brushes Morty’s erection, which twitches off his belly, precum running out.

“The lube,” Morty says.

Rick picks the tube up from against the wall, pops open the cap – “Anything you want.” – and pours it over Morty’s cock.

Morty gasps. “C-cold.”

“I’ll warm you up.” Rick pumps Morty’s slick cock. “Gonna take real good care of you, baby.” He speeds his thrusts, just a little. “Gonna – haah – gonna make you feel so f-fucking good, baby. Good like you’re makin’ me feel.”

Morty covers one of his eyes with the back of his hand and whimpers. Although he’s never admitted it, Rick knows he’s a sucker for the sweet talk.

Morty’s toes are curling, his vision is blurring, and he’s burying his babbles in the half of the pillow he’s folded up to his face. When Rick groans, he finds it has just as much to do with watching Morty as it does his own pleasure. But he keeps himself steady, holding back from orgasm. His mind is trained for lasting. Although, the task does prove to be especially difficult when Morty looks deep into Rick’s eyes, his own dark, pupils blown wide, and says through gritted teeth, “Harder.”

Rick’s hips buck faster. His hand pumps quickly. More precum drips down between his fingers. He smells Morty’s musk, and when Rick licks his lips, he drools. Their eyes are locked.

“Rick, I-” Morty squints. Between words, his mouth hangs open. His face is pinched and glowing. “I- hohh. Rick, I-”

Rick breaks his gaze away. “Fuck, Morty. Shut up. So tight. If you don’t come, I will.”

Pressure is building in Rick’s gut. Morty’s sack is drawn up so tight that his balls are barely a knot at the base of his cock.

It’s all too much for Morty. He shuts his eyes and sees white. He spurts, crying into his pillow, wetting it with his gaping mouth as he paints his tummy, Rick milking him inside and out. Rick feels Morty squeezing him, trying to push him out as he comes. Rick won’t let him.

But then Morty spasms and says, “I came I came I came,” which is Rick’s cue to get out.

He does. Morty lies spent, eyes half-lidded and arms over his head. But as Rick slides the condom off, Morty looks down at him and says, “Your turn?”

“You look like you’re gonna conk out any moment. No, Morty. Ah- I got too much shit to do.”

“Aw, come on, Rick.”

Morty raises himself onto his elbow and licks his lips. Very naturally, he pushes his tongue out. It’s fat and pink, leaving his lips wet and glossy. Rick’s dick throbs. He wasn’t even trying to be sexy, and it kinda pisses Rick off.

“It’s gonna take me longer than the four minutes it took you.”

“Jeez, Rick.” Morty frowns, but scoots back to the wall to make room for Rick nonetheless.

Rick sits on his knees by Morty’s head, then pulls Morty closer, pulling his head into his lap. Morty slips his nearer arm around Rick’s thigh, and Rick strokes himself while Morty presses his tongue to his head. Then Rick pushes his hips forward, and his cock glides past moist lips. He moans and rocks, cradling Morty’s face in his hand. His cheek is smooth and warm. His eyes are large and brown and sweet. Rick slows to a stop.

“What are you watching me for?”

Morty lets Rick fall out of his mouth. His eyes dance about before peeking back at Rick. He gives a lopsided shrug with one shoulder. “Y-you look nice when you feel good.”

With pursed lips, Rick rubs his thumb up and down Morty’s cheek. Tugs Morty’s wet, swollen lower lip down then lets it fall back in place.

Morty takes him in his mouth again. Rick thrusts. He feels a flip in his gut. He moans, and when Morty moans back, Rick moans even louder. He’s about to eat his words. He won’t last another minute. Trying to cool down, his eyes fall on the come on Morty’s belly.

“Feed some to me,” Rick says.

Morty follows Rick’s gaze and his eyes go wide. Rick nods a little “go on,” so Morty takes his right hand, scoops some up with his middle finger, and brings it up to Rick’s face. Rick darts forward, taking Morty’s finger into his mouth. He suckles, swirls his tongue around Morty’s digit. It fills his mouth with Morty’s taste. He keeps the finger in his mouth as he resumes humping into Morty’s.

“Ah fuck,” Rick sighs, and Morty’s hand falls. “So close.”

He groans Morty’s name, then quickly pulls out, pumping himself while Morty pants, mouth wide and tongue shoved out. Rick’s come streaks across Morty’s open mouth and down the cheek Rick had been cradling. Rick grunts, squeezing out the last drops. Then Morty takes his head back into his mouth, but it’s too sensitive, so Rick pulls away, sliding down the bed. He hovers over Morty, pressing their foreheads together.

They breathe deeply.

When Rick pulls back, he looks at Morty’s mouth. He can’t tell what’s jizz or spit or sweat, but damn he wants to kiss him.

“Rick, I-”

But Rick doesn’t kiss him. Instead, he stands. He walks to Morty’s desk. Pretends he’s not winded. “Damn, Morty. Here I thought I was doing you a favor, but if I knew you were just cock-hungry, I woulda skipped all the ass fucking and just let you suck.” He grabs his pants from the desk chair and shoves his leg into them.


“You coulda – urp – just sat under my workbench so I could get some work done at the same time. Woulda been- woulda been way more efficient.”

Morty sits up while Rick throws his shirt on. “W-where are you going?’

Rick pulls his coat on and walks to the door. He turns to Morty, but his eyes linger to the side. “I do have a life outside of feeding you cock, Morty.” He turns away, unlocks the knob. “But uh, d-don’t be shy. It never hurts to ask for it.”

With that, he’s out of the room, door closed behind him. A ways down the hall, he hears the door lock again. He thinks that Beth had the better idea for the lock. He hopes and fears that Morty will one day think so too.