Story For:
Rikitikitavibitch
(Based off of a comment on 'The Diary')
Content:
Rick/Morty
(Mature Content)
Rick's in for a surprise when he thinks he's alone.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Morty knew something had been bothering Rick for a while. His grandfather had been vastly different, not taking the brunet on any more wacky adventures in a while, nor giving snide remarks to those that totally deserved it.
Currently, the man sat in his garage, locked away again.
Morty sat up on his bed, having been waiting to see if maybe Rick had gotten his shit together and was going to show up at any minute to take him on an adventure. Going on hour two of his thinking, Morty was convinced Rick's shit was, in fact, not together.
The brunet slipped from his room with ease, everybody else being asleep as his clock flashed 11:30 PM. Morty was one of the few individuals, a total of two (or three, depending on the evening), that would stay up after everybody was asleep to do things he didn't have time for in the day.
The garage door was within reach as Morty approached slowly, hearing faint shuffling sounds from behind the door. It was very obvious that Rick was still awake as Morty heard faint cursing, though there was something off about the tone.
Carefully, the brunet pressed the door open. He peered in, finding Rick hunched over at his desk, not fully leaning on the furniture as he sat in his chair. From where Morty stood, a few things were obvious. Rick sat in his desk chair, pants to his hips, legs open, his hand working slowly around his own cock. A short, muffled soft string of profanities flew past his lips as he kept working, his shirt held between bared teeth and away from his lower stomach as his free hand lowered his pants further to allow him to open his legs more.
Morty's cock lurched from where he stood, brought to life in an instant. This had to be the most erotic thing he'd ever personally witnessed, the most human he'd ever seen his grandfather be. The brunet's hand flew to hover above his erection, screaming in its confines as his pajama bottoms grew tighter by the minute. He watched as Rick's hand moved at a faster pace, the man's eyes scrunched shut tighter still as Morty saw him moving his hips into his hand now
The teen slipped back through the house after witnessing his grandfather groan lowly, coming in thick spurts along the garage floor. He didn't want to be caught, to be labeled as the family pervert, though really he already was. He just didn't want to hear everything Rick would say, would call him, if the man found out what Morty saw, what the brunet sat through, lazily palming himself through his pajama bottoms.
He wound up staying awake even later into the night, images and memories flashing through his mind and quickly becoming all he could think about.
*~*~*
It had become a somewhat regular thing for Morty to slip off and peer curiously into the garage, catching his grandfather only two more times over the next week, before Rick began locking the garage door behind himself like he felt paranoid. He felt guilty, sitting next to the man at the dinner table, knowing he'd watched him get off in his garage, and had later gotten off to the memory in his room. It seemed to be the most dominating thought, his grandfather in a vulnerable state, squirming in his desk chair as his hand pumped almost unforgivingly around himself. The way Morty saw it, it was almost like Rick was both punishing and pleasuring himself, as though he was as guilty about something as Morty was when he watched, like Rick was getting off to something he shouldn't.
According to Rick himself, even he hadn't gone on adventures lately. He'd come home one day and asked Morty if he 'was a simulation' several times, going almost insane, and the brunet wondered what the hell he was talking about. His grandfather had seemed almost guilty ever since that adventure, almost avoiding Morty entirely.
Now, Morty had been doing a lot of thinking lately. Dangerous, really, the second the thinking process starts for the teenaged brunet.
He couldn't stop thinking about his grandfather, almost completely unable to get it up unless his thoughts consisted of the man now. All it was anymore was Rick. So, the brunet pieced together a small plan, just enough to get a teensy bit closer to him.
Currently, the brunet was slipping past the living room, his grandfather up late, watching Ball Fondlers on the couch with his mother and sister. Morty, upset as he was to miss the season premiere, crept past silently, a hand-held game at the ready to ward off any boredom from waiting. He also had a watch, just to be sure he wasn't wasting his time any further than he wanted to.
The garage door was unlocked, to his appreciation, and the brunet slipped into the area with ease. He shut the door silently behind himself, creeping across the floor and wondering where he was to hide. The shelves would be obvious, and the boxes would probably have things thrown into them, if there weren't already things in them.
Morty looked all around, his eyes eventually settling on the desk. It was almost a rush, seeing the chair and knowing his grandfather sat there a few times, possibly more than Morty knew of, indecently exposed and groaning, cursing as he worked himself.
The space between the piece of furniture was somewhat smaller than most would appreciate, but Morty was young, fourteen, with an awkward, small body shape. He could fit almost anywhere, given enough time to settle in and get somewhat comfortable.
And that's just what he did.
The brunet carefully set his game on the floor, crawling beneath the desk and sitting as far back as he could. If Rick sat at the desk, his feet would come close, but they would grow too near the teenager.
Content, and a bit anxious, Morty grabbed his game, checking the time on his watch before he set the volume down completely and began to play a round of pixelated bowling.
Nearly twenty minutes into his little exhibition, Morty cracked his neck, stopping abruptly when he heard feet shuffling to the door. The entry way swung open, abruptly shut again, and footsteps dragged along the floor. Morty held his breath, worried he might be instantly caught as he saw his grandfather's spindly legs carry around to the chair, seeing the man sit with a huff.
He heard a lot of movement on the desk above himself, Rick grumbling to himself before Morty could hear him very obviously working on something without him. Though it was upsetting that Rick hadn't asked him to help with anything in a while, Morty decided not to let it get to him right now. He already had his mission, he already had something to focus on. He didn't need to get side-tracked.
A short while later, light knocks carried through the open area. "What?" came him grandfather's rough response, all tinkering sounds coming to a standstill. "Dad?" Morty heard as the door opened. "Have you seen Morty? Did he go with Summer?"
"H-How the urp hell am I supposed to know? They-They-They're spontaneous eugh spontaneous teenagers, Beth, sweetie. I- No, I haven't urp seen 'im."
"Ok. Summer's just not answering her phone, and I didn't know if you had him in here with you."
"Nope." Rick grumbled. "Ok." The door shut again and Morty released a light breath, glad he hadn't been caught yet.
"Morty."
The brunet's breath caught in his throat now as he froze. "Shit," he heard, turning cautiously, wondering if he would meet Rick's hard stare, a disappointed glare, hateful eyes.
Instead, the brunet was met with the image of Rick's hand slipping over his crotch, his fingers flexing as he groped himself lightly. "Morty," he heard again, and something clicked.
That was why Rick was acting so funny, why he hadn't taken the brunet anywhere, done anything with him. He couldn't be around the brunet, who now understood that his grandfather shamefully got off to him now.
Morty stared, watching as Rick growled and quickly pulled his hand away. "Pervert," he heard Rick berate himself. "Sick fuckin' pervert," he spat.
"Son of a urp bitch." Morty watched his grandfather stand from the chair, shifting beneath the desk slowly before a crick could build in his neck, and heard the lock on the door click into place before Rick's footsteps shuffled back. Morty saw him sit back in his ragged desk chair, relaxing as though contemplating something.
Fingers moved back over Rick's crotch as Morty saw the man palm himself once again. "Sick fuck," he growled, and Morty came to realize the grumbled curses he'd heard before were from Rick beating himself up about this.
Morty's eyes were wide, his game tossed to the side carefully as he focused on Rick undoing his belt, already able to see the hefty bulge in his slacks as the material pulled from the buckle. The man undid his button, the zipper lowering echoing through the room. Morty almost shook with adrenaline, with the anxiety of his very dangerous hiding spot, with the proximity as he saw his grandfather's slacks slide down his hips, taking his boxer shorts with them.
Holy shit. Morty absolutely gawked, sliding back momentarily when Rick almost kicked him, his foot sliding out as the man lowered his slacks and trousers to his ankles, his legs pressed apart and cock dancing around, waiting for his hand to trap it again. The man was huge, Morty's wide eyes unable to pull away from the fucking vision before him, the beauty, danger, perversion, all of it just adding to the moment as the brunet trembled beneath the desk, already hard in his own jeans. His mind was absolutely blank as he saw his grandfather give a few slow pulls on himself, a foot and a half away from the brunet now.
Morty watched in astonishment as his grandfather retracted his hand momentarily, the sounds making it apparent that he had just spit into his hand. "Fuck.. Morty.." the brunet heard as the man brought his hand back, slick with his own saliva as he brought his palm over himself in an almost unforgiving manner.
Both forms jumped when more knocks rang out through the room, Rick pulling his hand away and yanking his shirt down to cover himself, even after locking the door. "Summer answered. Morty's not with her," Beth's voice carried through the garage. "Shit," Rick growled. "I'll go urp fi-find him, i-i-in a minute, sweetie, don't eugh don't worry." There wasn't much of a verbal response, other than a very soft 'ok' that carried past the door. Morty saw Rick pause a minute, obviously contemplating something before he brought his shirt back up, Morty wondering if it was trapped between his teeth again.
The teen almost writhed, wanting to get off on his own but not wanting to give this up, to risk the name-calling if he shot out and ran from the room. Rick brought his hand back to himself, his cock still somewhat wet with his spit, and gave a few more pulls. "Just a minute," Rick grumbled. "Then I'll go find him." He seemed to be reassuring himself more than anything as he gave a few more slow pulls to his member, his hand moving tantalizingly over the thick length. Morty was practically drooling, staring like a kid in a candy store.
"Son of a bitch," Rick growled as a fairly loud, obnoxious string of knocks rang out through the room. "Rick, Beth says Morty's missing. Is he in there?" Morty pouted as he saw Rick's hand retract from himself, though he didn't pull his sweater back down.
"No, he's- wh-what the urp hell?!"
Morty, in a heroic moment of stupidity, moved forward and lightly wrapped his hand around Rick, annoyed with having to wait through the interruptions though absolutely red-faced with shame and embarrassment. "Rick?" Morty heard, his grandfather's piercing blue eyes pinning him to his spot. "He's not in here!" Rick ground out, snatching Morty's hand away. "I'm gonna go help her look," Jerry announced, his footsteps carrying away.
"What the fuck are you doin'?!" Rick demanded, now holding both of Morty's hands up as the brunet had reached with the other. Morty stared away from Rick, his eyes going anywhere but to his, knowing there was nothing but hatred in them. "How urp how long have you been down there?" Rick hissed, his grip around the brunet's wrists tight as he remained as he was, exposed, hard, and now pissed. "A while," Morty mumbled. "What the fuck for?!"
Morty gave no verbal response, his eyes looking around until they came to settle on Rick's hard-on, fucking presenting itself, calling to the brunet. The teen's mouth watered heavily and he moved on instinct, his lips suddenly around the tip of Rick's cock, his tongue lavishing the slit almost dumbly as he put everything he'd ever read into action now.
"AH!" Rick called out, releasing the brunet's wrists and trying to pull him off now as Morty slid further down. "What the fuck are you doing?!" he demanded, squirming and trying to pull from the brunet who simply wasn't having it. Morty used his now free hands to stop Rick from pushing the chair backwards, being too damn stubborn to give up on whatever the hell his body had just made him do. "G-Get of-offa me," Rick stifled the groans separating his words, putting up less of a fight as Morty slowly sank lower on him, tasting the alcohol from the spit his grandfather had used as a cheap lubricant, just enough to get off. It was like kissing him and sucking his dick at the same time, as the brunet thought. Mildly gross, but then again Morty was the one that got himself here, was the one that sat through the few times he'd watched his grandfather touch himself, found out Rick was getting off to him.
"Morty," Rick panted now, barely pushing on his shoulders anymore in an attempt to get Morty to pull off. "Jesus." The brunet gave it his best effort, bobbing halfway down, his hand working at what he couldn't reach as he fucking drooled all over Rick's cock, eyes screwed shut as he fought to pull his fat dick down his throat, gagging several times before he finally got it, before he managed to slowly draw more still into his throat. His lips felt like they would split, stretched over the thickness of Rick's dick almost wrecking his throat. God if it's that hard to take, how hard is it to sit on? Morty dumbly wondered, his own cock lurching in his jeans as he felt the heavy weight of one of Rick's hands in his hair now, Morty's face absolutely buried in his lap as he finally reached the base. "Fuck," Rick ground out, his fingers lost in the brunet's curls as he pressed lightly, keeping himself buried in Morty's throat until his eyes were watering and his nose began to leak.
The brunet pulled off for a moment to catch his breath before he was darting his tongue once more over Rick's tip, dragging the muscle along the length of his underside until he reached the man's furred balls. Morty was ready to pull out all the stops, his hand now wrapped so deliciously around Rick, vigorously pulling on him as he drew a sac into his mouth. He decided not to dwell to hard on it, sucking on the flesh and running his tongue all along it, tasting the sweat before he let it fall from his mouth with a wet pop. He ran his tongue along Rick's balls before he made his way to the other, drawing the near neglected sac past his lips in the same manner before he was licking his way back to the tip, hearing Rick pant silently above him, biting his knuckles while the other hand was back in Morty's curls the second his mouth wrapped hotly around his cock. "Son of a bitch," Rick growled as Morty wasted no time in drawing his entirety back down his throat. "Where'd you- shit- wh-where'd you learn that? Huh, babe?"
Morty absolutely preened with the realization of what his grandfather had just called him, listening to him cry out softly. "F-Fuck, Morty, gon- Fuck!" Rick growled, his hips twisting as Morty toyed with his balls, flattening his tongue along his underside and pulling up. Morty was barely halfway back down when Rick slammed his cock back into his mouth completely. "Sweet fuck!" he cried, his hand placed heavily upon Morty's head again, holding him in place as the brunet felt his viscous seed shoot down his throat in heavy spurts. Morty, the hormonal little shit, could barely contain himself. One slight touch, barely palming himself, had Morty coming in his jeans. He could feel the stickily wet spot forming on his front, breathing heavily as he finally pulled from Rick, sitting beneath the desk once more as he caught his breath.
Morty wiped the drool and residual come from his chin with the back of his hand, grabbing his game before he stood from beneath the desk, Rick's lazy eyes following him the entire time.
Morty, feeling like he just won the fucking lottery, approached the door to the garage now, Rick moving and slowly putting himself back together. "Maybe next t-time I'll say I-I'm at the li-library," Morty commented, slipping from the garage and preening, though his first stop was the shower.