Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He keeps glancing at the sex robot in the back seat.

“Would- would you chill the fuck out? ” Rick says. “You can fuck her when we get home.”

“D-don’t say that.” Morty straightens up, flushing. The kid has his hands folded in his lap, fingers interlaced so tight that his fingertips are bone-white. He’s practically vibrating. Like if he doesn’t get his dick wet in the next five minutes he’s gonna disintegrate, his barely contained teenage horniness ripping him apart at the subatomic level.

“Ohh, am I embarrassing you?” Rick says all mock-concern. “Y-you’re the one who begged your grandpa to buy you a sex toy. Th-the least you can do is have some shame and sit still on the drive home.”

Sure, he could have portaled them straight back from the pawn shop.

But this is funner.

More fun. Whatever.

Rick reaches into his inner pocket and pulls out his flask, marveling internally at how fucking easy it is to mess with this kid.

“I- I’m not gonna, that’s not why I-” Morty grumbles into his lap. He’s beat-red and it doesn’t take a super genius to figure out he’s hiding the tent in his pants with those strategically placed hands of his. “I just… she looked cool.”

“She looks cool!” Rick pauses with his flask in front of his face to say: “Y-yeah those tits would look pretty, pretty cool flopping all over the place, huh? Getting in there like…”

Rick lets go of the steering jig and makes a grabby motion at chest height. The ship swerves violently as it’s grabbed by the gravity-well of some unseen, passing object.

“Rick!”

Morty, bless the little idiot, lunges for the controls. Rick bats him away and lets the ship spiral at however many thousands of miles an hour they’re going.

“Rick w-we’re- you’re gonna make us crash!”

“We’re in space, numb-nuts, what are we gonna crash into? More space? Th-that’s what I’m talking about. You need to seriously chill.”

“I am chill!” Morty snaps, still going for the wheel.

“Be chill with your sticky little hands to yourself, then!”

Morty sits back and turns to glare out the passenger side window, hands in his lap to hide his boner once more. Distant stars swirl into loose clusters and sparkle together against the black. Morty lasts exactly two minutes and thirty seven seconds before twisting around to glance at the fucking sexbot again.

“Morty.”

“Can’t we just portal home?”

“Portal? Portal?” Rick squawks. “One, portal fluid doesn’t grow on trees, buddy, a-and two, you can’t wait? You physically can’t wait? A-a-are you that desperate to give her the ole one inch punch that you can’t even enjoy a- a nice ride around the galaxy with your grandpa ? ”

“One inch!?”

“That’s what you’re choosing to engage with?” Rick raises his brow in a I’m-surprised-but-not-that-surprised type of expression.

“Y-you know I’m not-” Morty turns in his seat to face Rick, his seatbelt cutting a painful-looking line across his neck. “I’m- You walk in on me enough th-that y-you’ve seen it! Lots! So don’t give me that ‘one inch’ b- stuff!”

He’s so mad he almost said bullshit and Rick has to literally fight to keep the grin from pulling at his lips. He hides the tell-tale twitch by shoving his flask in his mouth and drinking deep.

“Jeez, Morty.” He sighs, alcohol spilling down his chin. “Dial it back a bit, i-it was just a little bit of ribbing.”

“Yeah, well-”

“If it makes you feel better, I’m sooo sorry for making fun of your little Morty penis.” He tacks on. “Forgot how damn sensitive you are about it. My b, broh.”

“It’s not little!”

Rick breaks character to laugh and Morty flushes redder than ever, his mouth hanging open and eyes going teary. Cue the waterworks.

“Don’t cry.” Rick groans, loving it. Call it petty revenge for the major guilt trip the kid took him on back at the pawn shop. What if you died and I didn’t have a sexbot to remember you by? Ha, ha, ha. “C’mon… y-you gotta loosen up a little if you’re gonna be my, my-”

(Rick almost says partner, but that’s not right. He also almost says number two but that’s not the vibe he’s going for, either.)

“-if we’re gonna hang together you need to grow a thicker skin.” He settles on, the words feeling wrong on his tongue. “Laugh shit off, o-or, if you can’t do that, try owning it every once in a while.”

Morty sniffs into the collar of his shirt, smearing it with snot. It’s a child-like gesture. Rick tucks his flask back into his coat and reaches over to him. Morty shies away but the seat-belt has him trapped, allowing Rick to sling an arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Instead of getting all huffy, you gotta lean into it. Girls hate a whiner, Morty.”

“Lean into it?” Morty mumbles, voice small.

“Yeah!” Rick shoots him a sharp-toothed grin and squeezes his upper arm encouragingly. “Double down, be bold, look the universe in the eye and say Damn straight I’m gonna fuck that robot! She’s hot and she makes my tiny dick hard! I’m gonna pump her so full of my Morty-juice, her pussy’s gonna be oozing for a week!”

Morty makes an awful, high-pitched wailing noise and swings at him, claws out.

“Jesus, Morty, not the face!”

“Stop making fun of me!” Morty whines, in direct violation of Rick’s No Whining advice. Rick ignores him, just fending off the stray swipe with one hand and steering with the other. Eventually the kid tuckers himself out and draws inward, slumping in his seat and sending the occasional, bitter glance into the backseat.

They drive in uncomfortable silence for a while, each mentally licking their wounds. The moon below is a dark one, trapped in the shadow of the gas giant it orbits. Countless skyscrapers extend from its surface impossibly high, penetrating the uppermost layers of the atmosphere like needles on a porcupine’s back. Or like one of those spiky bouncy balls from the 90’s. Rick banks towards it.

Morty sighs.

“I need to pick up some parts to fix this broken defraculator.” Rick grits out. It’s a lie. The moon grows in front of them and Rick adjusts his grip on the steering jig, the tattered pleather squeaking under his palms. “You can wait in the car if you’re gonna have an attitude.”

Morty almost turns his head to glance at the sexbot again, but catches himself. It was barely anything, the slightest tilt of his head, but Rick saw it. Was watching for it.

“I- I could come in… if it’s not gonna be super long.” He says and it’s painfully obvious how hard he’s trying to sound disinterested. Like he doesn’t care if Rick takes him in or leaves him unsupervised, like it’s all the same to him.

“Nah…” Rick accelerates to match the rotation of the moon, hand flickering over the controls without conscious guiding thought. “It’ll be like an hour. You can sit in time out, have a baby nap o-or something, I don’t really care.”

To his credit, Morty restrains himself. He doesn’t immediately look into the backseat, he doesn’t squirm, he doesn’t pump his fist and go ‘Yippee!’ For all intents and purposes he reacts like a kid who isn’t planning on ripping his pants off and fucking a sexbot the moment his grandpa is out of eyesight. He just shrugs and says:

“Okay.”

👄

It’s a smooth entry, the atmosphere is sparse and the ship slips between buildings with room to spare at first. The further they descend, though, the bodies of the skyscrapers get wider and wider. Eventually, there’s barely any space to maneuver as they follow their steep sides down to the surface.

Morty alternates between staring warily at the encroaching walls and sending longing glances over his shoulder at his sexbot.

“Th-this is a pretty sketchy kind of place, Morty. It’s neutral territory a-and an outpost for some big fish.” The ground comes into view, slate gray and craggy like magma pushed itself up from the cement and hardened into jagged fingers of rock. “Gotta stash the ship somewhere out of the way.”

“Jeez, i-is it really that dangerous here?” Morty leans forward to look over the dash at the narrow streets. Dark figures linger in the shadows between rock formations and huddle by doors at the base of those enormous skyscrapers. Rick takes them lower and skims along ten feet above the highest protrusions.

“Just stay in the ship and you’ll be fine.” He answers, dodging the question. “So chill, remember?”

“I’m chill.”

“You sure? If you’re gonna freak out and chew up my seats y-you could always come-”

“No!” Morty cuts in, a little too eager, a little too obvious. He clears his throat and tries to play it off. “Naw, d-don’t even trip, haha. Remember that? I- I’m totally chill so, you know, don’t worry or anything.”

He finds a good alley. It’s tight and dark and secluded and Rick sets the ship down beautifully. He doesn’t bother saying goodbye and neither does Morty, but the kid’s eyes do follow him as he shoulders the driver side door open and hops out.

The ship flashes its high beams twice, making a cool sci-fi beep noise and locking. Rick spares a thought for his AI and the horrorshow she’s about to be subjected to. It won't be the first time she’s been in the splash zone, though, and he built her tough. And if it bothers her too much he can always order her to wipe the video log after he’s done with it.

(“You know, you take me to all these crazy places across the galaxy, and, you know…”)

It’s cold on this moon. Rick stuffs his hands in his pockets as he walks to the end of the alley, his fingers curling around the plasticky shell of the mini Bic lighter he ‘borrowed’ off of Summer. Pink. He holds it between his index and middle finger and goes digging, arm disappearing into his pocket elbow deep.

(“I don't really have anything to to remember all those trips by.”)

He turns the corner and stops, about thirty feet from the ship. Rick parks himself against the wall and pulls out a mini M&M’s tube.

(“It'd be kind of cool, like a souvenir?”)

Rick squeezes the tube until the lid pops open. He tilts it into his palm and a couple roaches fall out. Waste not want not.

(“You know, like, what if you passed away or died or something?”)

Rick picks out the biggest one and tucks it into the corner of his mean little smile. Passed away? The Universe has been trying to do Rick in for seventy years and hasn’t managed it yet. Not even close.

(“I wouldn't even have anything to remember all the cool stuff we did, you know?”)

Rick stops smiling and lights his joint. It’s warm on his lips and in his lungs in a very normal, uninteresting way. Nothing crazy about it. There are all kinds of synthetic alien drugs out there, and Rick is always first in line to snort, huff, and shoot them… but sometimes it's nice to get back to basics. Besides, it’s the last of his own special strain; why grow it if he isn’t going to smoke it?

So he does. One after the other, until the moon starts to spin under his feet. It would be embarrassing if there was anyone around to witness him doing it, smoking them down until they burn his lips and then going back for the next one. But it’s familiar and comfortable and if he’s doing this he isn’t thinking about Morty with his jeans around his ankles and that big-titty robot in his lap.

And he isn’t thinking about Morty thinking about Grandpa Rick dying. He isn’t thinking about the kid sitting in the front row of a fucking funeral wiping his runny nose on the sleeve of his little black suit.

By the time Rick is toasted, he isn’t thinking about anything except how good it feels to be high. The cold air is nothing to him now, his face is flushed and he’s leaning most of his weight against the building. The material, some kind of volcanic stone, porous, catches on the fibers of his lab coat as he slouches. It’s good, it’s good, it’s good. Earth weed with a little Rick twist, a little bit of genetic engineering to make it hit hard enough to knock him on his ass if he isn’t careful. He brings the candy tube up to his eye and looks in. One left.

Am I a fucking genius or what? He tucks it back in his coat pocket for later and pitches forward, stumbling a couple steps into the street before regaining his balance. Gotta get Morty in on this.

He stands there, swaying slightly, skin hot.

Morty.

Right.

Mr. What if you died or something?

Mr. I wouldn't even have anything to remember all the cool stuff we did.

Mr. Probably balls deep in some grody, secondhand fucktoy contracting space chlamydia right now.

Rick pushes a hand through his hair, flattening it against his skull. He leaves his hand there as he thinks and sways and stares at nothing. The shape of the memory gun in his inner pocket presses against his left breast like a promise, the knowledge of its presence sending warmth trickling down his body to pool somewhere deep and black.

“Ruh-roh.” Rick mutters to himself. He runs his hand down the side of his face, his neck, hooks his fingers in the collar of his sweater and pulls on it briefly. It’s been about twenty minutes and whatever Morty wanted to do with the sexbot he’s probably done three or four times already. The thought is almost cute, in the way that over-eager, over-sensitive one-pump-chump types are. He shuts his eyes and pictures it: Morty in the passenger seat staring dreamy-eyed at his own feet, out of breath, skin clammy, the ship smelling like teen-boy sweat and cum.

Or maybe, Rick thinks, slipping his hand down his chest, stomach, stopping to cup his half-hard cock through the thin material of his slacks. Maybe he’s not done yet, maybe he’s still at it.

His mouth is too dry, he’s suddenly too hot, too high. Something moves on the other side of the street but Rick ignores it. He’s the most dangerous thing on this shithole rock, in a lot of ways to a lot of different people. He’s death to the alien lurking in the shadows, if it decides to fuck with him. He’s something worse to the boy waiting back in the ship, though.

“...fucked up.” More muttering, more swaying, is this whole moon spinning? Yeah. All things spin, that’s one of those… truths… of the universe. Things spin. Small things spin around big things, big things spin around bigger things. We’re all falling, spiraling, into something bigger and meaner than ourselves and it’s just waiting to crush us between the teeth of its incalculable mass. It’s fucked up and it’s not fair but it happens everywhere all the time.

Like here, where a man is stumbling back into a dark alley.

Rick keeps one hand on the wall, the textured stone biting at his palm as he walks. His other hand stays cupped over his crotch. He can see the faint glow of the ship’s running lights further down the way, but the ground is uneven and still spinning under his feet so he’s careful, keeping his eyes locked on the outline of the headrests through the domed window.

Is something moving in there? Is the ship rocking on its landing gear, just a little?

Or is that just wishful thinking mixed with the weed sinking its sticky little compounds into the folds and wrinkles of his brain?

His mouth is so fucking dry and he stops, teetering on the edge of some metaphorical ledge. The ship is still ten feet away, half hidden in the shadows of impossibly tall skyscrapers. There are no doors, no windows, no people around to see or hear what might happen when Rick gets to the ship. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his flask, struggling with the cap before it suddenly jerks free. Alcohol spills out, some sprinkling over Rick’s shoes, some wetting the sleeve of his lab coat. He throws his head back and swallows over and over.

Morty was so scared last time.

The drink sloshes sickly in the pit of his stomach.

Scared. Crying. Sitting beside him on the couch and cumming in his pajama pants like the stupid kid he is. Rick puts his flask away and stares at the ground for a second as he waits for his guts to settle the fuck down. His cock strains against his zipper grotesquely, basically screaming: Let me out! Let me out!

Let me rape my hypothetical grandson again!

He could go do something else, fuck off and find a bar and wait another forty minutes. He told the kid he’d be gone an hour, which was a lie from the very beginning, just another fucking scheme to get what he wants because God forbid Rick make the kid cry again. Can’t do that, that’s too mean, that’s too much. Have to manufacture a situation where Morty’s too desperate to say no to it.

Rick should patch into the ship’s security feed and jerk off to the video and leave it at that. Get this sick shit out of his system that way.

Hell, he could’ve portaled them home and then got off to the security feed from Morty’s bedroom.

“But y-you didn’t wanna watch.” Rick whispers to himself, bitter, sick of his own shit. “Come the fuck on.”

He pats the memory gun through his jacket and makes up his mind to cross the line one more time. Because he’s a Rick, and the only thing Ricks love more than science and adventure is ruining every good thing they have.

👄

“I wasn’t- th-this isn’t-!” Morty yelps as the interior light comes on. “You said an hour!”

Rick stares dumbly through the open door.

The sexbot is wedged between the two front seats, its generous hips stopping it from coming all the way through. Its arms stick out from its shoulders weirdly straight, like a barbie doll, and its head is twisted toward the passenger seat. It looks like Morty was trying– keyword trying – to pull its face into his lap, but the robot was too heavy or awkward for him to maneuver. His jeans are pushed down, just like Rick knew they’d be, but he hasn’t wriggled out of his tighty-whities, yet. Morty lets go of its head and crosses his arms over his bare thighs.

“I can’t turn my back on- on you for five minutes-”

“I wasn’t doing anything! I-I was just- Get out!”

Rick leans into the cockpit (to Morty’s horror) and (to Morty’s much greater horror) grabs the sex robot by the throat and starts pulling. The kid presses himself against his door, his pants sliding down further as he draws his newly bare knees to his chest.

“S-stop! You’re gonna break- Rick!” Morty cries, wide-eyes peeking over the tops of his knees. Rick ignores him and yanks harder. “J-just push her back into, into th- AAAA!”

 Something gives and the ship falls hard, hitting the ground with a teeth-rattling crunch. Ship makes a short alarm sound that cuts off as soon as it starts and Rick swears, face down in his seat and hanging half-in half-out of the driver side door.

“Jesus Christ.” He groans, trying to get his arms under him as everything spins and spins and spins.

“A-are you okay?”

He did it, the torso of the sexbot is now in the footwell between the two front seats, its ass and legs sticking straight out, extending past the center console and into the back seat. It’s as stiff as a surfboard and Rick pushes himself up on his forearms so he can check on the kid. He looks like a baby rabbit about to get shredded by a lawnmower.

“It was stuck on the E-brake, Morty.” Rick says, slowly, careful not to spook him. “W-w-we just lost the landing gear.”

“Oh man…”

The silence stretches on way longer than it should, with Rick staring up at Morty and Morty pointedly not looking at Rick or the sex robot he was trying to facefuck moments ago.

“Y-you smell like you got sprayed by a skunk, Rick.” And Morty’s the one to break the awkward silence, ever-eager to fill up the quiet with his self-righteous bitching. “D-did you, did you seriously leave me here so, so you could go get high?”

Eyes on the prize, Rick.

“Alright… y-you caught me, buddy.” Rick sighs and climbs all the way into the ship, pulling the door shut behind him. He nudges the robot out of his space with his foot and sits back with a tired groan. “Grandpa just wanted to stop by his dealer n’ get a little space weed. I guess we all have our vices.”

He nudges the sexbot again and Morty eyes flick over to it and then snap away.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” Morty mumbles, hunching his shoulders and curling in on himself even more. 

“Well, your pants are still down, but more importantly; I didn’t buy you a sex doll so you could take it bowling, buddy. Fuck it, cum in it, do whatever you want with the thing, i-it’s yours.”

“Jeez, Rick, d-don’t say-” He starts, shrinking with embarrassment, but Rick cuts him off before he can finish.

“You’d probably have an easier time if you turned it on first, by the way.”

Morty shifts, making his seat creak. He opens his mouth to say something, closes it, opens it again and says:

“...Turn it on?”

“I mean just look at it, i-it’s obviously a robot. It probably has a preheated pussy and twelve different vibration patterns. Can’t believe you were gravity-booting it.”

“You can’t make gravity-booting a verb.” Morty snips back but he’s starting to uncurl, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. Rick wants to tell him he can make anything a verb, because he’s awesome and can do anything, but in a rare moment of restraint he just shrugs and leaves the comment unaddressed.

Eyes on the prize!

The sexbot is face down and Rick settles a hand on its ass, testing the material absently, as casual as an old woman squeezing fruit at the grocery store. The panties are part of its body, whatever holes it has are only covered by the swell of its soft, squishy curves.

“Fuck, that’s nice.” He murmurs, running that hand down its thigh and pinching the synthetic skin there. “Whoever built this built it durable. Like they were planning on throwing it into a goddamn gorilla pit.”

He slips his hand between its thighs and notes the way Morty’s eyes follow the action. It’s small, but it’s something.

“H-how do I turn it on?”

Yahtzee.

“Fancy dinner and a backrub?” Rick grins cheekily and Morty cracks the smallest smile in return.

“Shut up.”

Rick removes his hand from its thighs and stretches, twisting his neck one way and then the other. The sexbot is just as heavy as it was when he carried it out of the pawnshop, but with the tight quarters of the cockpit it's a real struggle to drag it off the floor and into his lap. Morty leans forward as he watches Rick run his fingers around the back of the robot’s head, scratching at the machined pieces, looking for any gaps or hidden panels.

Click!

“Am I good? Or am I good?” 

A small, rectangular recess at the base of its skull pops open to reveal a circular hole. Rick rummages around in his pockets and pulls out a ball-point pen.

“Wh-what’s that for?” Morty asks. Rick bites down on the pen and shatters the plastic, ripping the small ink-tube out with his teeth. He spits the shards out onto the floor between his feet. “Jeezus, Rick.”

“Now I- I don’t want you to get your hopes up, buddy. Who knows how long this thing’s been gathering dust at that hockshop-”

Morty frowns, eyebrows pinching together with worry.

“-but if the batteries are dead, o-or if it’s busted, I can fix it up with what I got in the ship. Sound good?”

Morty nods enthusiastically.

“Alright, and awaaaaay we go!”

Rick jams the ink-tube into the hole and pushes until he feels a click. Nothing happens immediately so he holds it there like he’s trying to reset a router. Morty’s attention is locked on the doll and Rick thinks he’s not the only one with his eyes on the prize, here.

Five seconds go by.

Ten.

Morty’s shoulders sag and he takes a breath to say something when the sexbot beeps. He freezes, mouth hanging open, and looks up at Rick. A perfect understanding passes between them.

Did you hear that too?

A lot of things happen very fast.

The sexbot goes limp, its legs hitting the floor of the ship with two loud thumps. Morty startles and Rick pulls his hands away from its head, the ink-tube falling forgotten between his seat and the center console. Then the sexbot starts to shake and flail.

Its legs kick in the backseat and its arms lash out randomly, its head spins on its neck 180°s one way and then 180°s the other way. Its visor flashes green, scanning from side to side as its head continues to twist violently.

“H-holy hell, Rick! I-i-it’s having a seizure!” Morty yelps, throwing himself against the door when one of its arms comes too close for comfort.

The robot stops moving.

Rick and Morty watch, terrified, as the robot seems to process something, a waveform pattern zigzagging across its visor in an endless loop on its backwards-facing face. Rick slowly reaches into his coat pocket. His fingertips make contact with the grip of his plasma pistol.

He is too high to be dealing with a sexy killbot right now.

But machine guns don’t erupt from its breasts, its arms don’t split apart to reveal embedded katanas. Instead, its head slowly turns on its neck until it’s facing forward again. It puts its hands on the edges of the seats and pushes itself upright in one graceful motion. All the unnatural, barbie-doll stiffness is gone. It climbs into the cockpit fully and turns around like a cat until it's kneeling in the space between Rick and Morty’s legs.

It crouches in the cramped space and tilts its head like a puppy, looking first to Morty and then settling its eyeless gaze on Rick.

“Wh-what’s it doing?” Morty whispers. Rick lifts a finger to shush him, his other hand still on his gun.

“It’s scanning us.” Rick whispers back. “It's using ultrasonic waves like, like some kind of sexy bat.”

“Is that bad?”

The jagged digital line on its visor flattens and flattens and Rick and Morty stay very, very, very still.

“Rick?”

“Yeah buddy?”

“I-I’m kinda scared.”

“Yeah, and I am way too fucking high to deal with this.” He reaches out towards it slowly. “M-maybe it got pawned because its program is all corrupted… maybe I’ll… take a look at it back home.”

It tracks his hand, rotating its face to follow as it gets closer. Its O-shaped mouth makes it look surprised. Me? Broken? Couldn’t be.

“Be careful!” Morty frets as Rick passes the six inch mark. “Sh-she’s, she has a crazy look in her eyes. Uh, in her sci-fi ski goggles.”

“I think I know a thing or two about deactivating evil robots, Morty.” He says, leaning forward just a little bit more.

There.

His fingertips brush the side of its face.

She nuzzles into the palm of his hand, pressing her lips against his wrist in a too-familiar, loving way.

“Oh, okay.” Rick mutters. “That’s- h-hey!”

The robot pushes past his hand and crawls between his legs, resting her breasts on the edge of the seat between Rick’s knees. Empty bottles clink and empty cans crunch as she settles in.

Then she grabs Rick’s crotch.

“Woah!”

“R-Rick!” Morty says, scandalized. The robot strokes him, bunching and unbunching the fabric of Rick’s pants in smooth but firm motions.

“I’m not doing this on purpose, Morty! It’s, i-it obviously scanned us and found out I have the juiciest cock, how’s that my fault?”

Morty gags. The robot rests her other hand on his inner thigh, in the join where leg meets hip.

“Alright babes, i-if the genders were reversed here I’d be President already. Hands off.” Rick grunts, grabbing her wrist and trying to scootch away from her touch at the same time. His ass hits the back of the chair and she only pushes her way deeper between his legs, hand still moving along his cock despite Rick’s attempt to stop her.“Hmm…”

“What? What?”

Rick shoots Morty a hopefully convincing grimace and says:

“She’s strong.” And it’s not a total lie.

Rick tries tugging her off of him again and her arm locks, the fingers clamped around the shape of his cock going rigid and digging their points into his thigh. It sends a dangerous pulse of arousal through him.

She might rip it off before he could force her to let go.

Morty makes a worried, high pitched noise in the back of his throat. Like the family dog used to when Beth pulled out the vacuum.

“What do you mean she’s strong?” He says, voice tight. He’s trying to not look directly at the situation in Rick’s lap. “Make her stop!”

“Wh- Morty, do you really think I’m- that I’m here intentionally getting the over-the-pants Prom special in front of my grandson?”

Morty looks away.

He’s wedged himself against his door, his knees pressed together and his hands tangled in the open fly of his jeans, thumbing the button nervously. The robot runs her hand up to the base of Rick's cock and starts to mess with his belt buckle.

“Tsss! No! Hey!” Rick barks and the robot looks up at him. A line twitches across the dark screen of its visor as if it understood something he said. “Yeah, y-you got the wrong guy. You belong to him.”

He points over at Morty and the robot follows his finger silently.

“Yup, he’s- he’s the one who, who saw your crusty, second-hand pussy and thought, ‘Aw jeez, I gotta have her!’”

“Th-they probably cleaned- they wouldn’t sell a dirty…” Morty grumbles and then abruptly stops when the sexbot– still staring at him– removes her hand from Rick’s crotch and pivots her whole body in the kid’s direction. “Um, that was kinda creepy.”

“You’d know.” Rick reaches into his coat for his flask. “Little- lil’ creepy, creeperson. You’d be th-the expert on that topic, hang your Creep Diploma next to your sexy beach girl poster.”

“I- I don’t like the way she’s lookin’ at me, Rick.” Morty says.

Bottles rattle under the bot’s hands and knees as she starts to crawl. She’s fixated on Morty, who cringes against the door like a cockroach under a bright light when her breasts brush against his shins. She reaches toward his lap.

“She’s really freaking me out, Rick.” He covers himself and lifts his knees defensively, jeans falling to his ankles. He tries to plant a foot on her collar bone to keep her at bay but it doesn’t even slow her down. Rick untwists the cap to his flask and stares into the dark circle of its mouth. “R-Rick, Rick do something!”

“Do what? I-isn’t this what you wanted?” Rick says, not looking up from his drink. It’s half empty already and he knocks it back, ignoring the sounds of struggle coming from the passenger side.

“W-wait, wait wait waaaait!”

Rick shuts his eyes. Liquor rushes down his throat and he drinks until he’s full and the flask is empty. He ignores Morty and tosses the flask to the floor.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’ll never a-ask for, wait!” Morty yelps, voice cracking pathetically as he tries to beat the sexbot off. “I’m sorry for asking, I-I’ll never ask for anything ever again, just- shes- Rick!!”

“Yeah, y-y-you said that about, after I made you that rape-potion, and yet here we are.” Rick pulls the lever on his seat and reclines aaall the way back, horizontal, and folds his hands behind his head. “You know how hard that was on Grandpa? How much work I had to do to set us up over here?”

“Wait, she’s- sh-she’s- my pants! Rick I’m s-s-soorryy-”

“All you had to do was keep your head down a-and be good while I handled everything.” He continues evenly. Liquid warmth spreads from the core of him to his extremities, weighing him to his seat like someone’s been turning the gravity up when he wasn’t looking. “Mmmaybe it’s poetic, y’know? What goes around, comes around. Y-you tried to science that poor girl into fucking you…”

Rick trails off. The ginger girl Morty thinks he’s so smitten with rises to the top of his thoughts. And with her is Prime’s world, burning to ashes all around them. The both of them standing in the back yard with dirt under their nails and Morty promising to never ask for anything ever again. Him reaching out with blisters on his fingers for Rick’s coat.

And then here and now, the way Morty watched as he slipped his hand between the sexbot’s thighs. How the bot had grabbed him through his pants, tracing the outline of his obvious semi while Morty sat barely two feet to his right. That thought is fuzzy, humming and crackling at the edges like a hundred tiny live wires. Rick runs his tongue over his teeth, thinking that’s good. That’s good.

“Rick?” Morty says, small, breathless, scared. It feels wrong to hear the kid say his name like that. “Sh-she won’t let go.”

For the briefest moment Rick considers calling the whole thing off, disabling the bot with a mini EMP and convincing the poor kid it was all one big, stupid, mean, sick joke.

Then Morty moans, quietly, because he doesn’t want his grandpa to hear him, and Rick’s uncertainty drowns in the liquor churning in his gut and the drugs collecting in the dark crevices of his mind. Rick cracks open an eye and peeks.

His view is blocked by the seat, but he can see the sleeve of Morty’s shirt, bright in the low glow of the ship’s interior lights. And he can see an elbow, and a bare outer thigh, his Fruit of the Looms pulled down just enough. Just enough.

The robot is between his legs. The back of her head rises and falls over the top of his visible thigh, her visor shining greenly in the dimness. Morty tries to close his legs– to push her away or to pull her closer is hard to know –but the bot is stronger than he is.

Rick reaches for his flask, fingertips slipping under the lapel of his coat before he remembers he already emptied it. That he already threw it on the floor by his feet and now he has nothing to do with his hands.

“Th-this is fucked, Rick.” He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears.

Yeah. Ten-four, big guy, Yahtzee, Bingo, Gin Rummy. Read you loud and clear, chief, this is mad fucked.

“You wanted it, buddy.” Rick says. His lips are numb and his voice is too low in his chest and he blames it on the drugs. Discomfort squirms alongside the arousal in his stomach and he blames that on the drink. “Y-you wanted to buy it, you wanted to stay in the ship with it, y-you wanted me to turn it on for you. Just don’t start dirty talkin’ her, th-ughh-”

Rick pukes in his mouth, just a little, and swallows it back down.

“Guh… fuck, man th-thats the last thing I need in- in my head.”

Rick stares out the domed glass roof at the skyscrapers and the deep red curve of the gas giant this moon orbits. His reflection is warped and indistinct, the white of his coat a blurry streak against the spinning stars. He takes a breath:

“Oooh, y-y-you like that? You like my little Morty-cock?” He says, doing his best Morty-voice. It’s pretty good. “Y-yeah, suck it, bitch. Play with my little Morty-balls.”

“Rick!”

Rick laughs and reaches over to pull the lever on Morty’s seat. The mechanism gives and the seat reclines fast, Morty yelping as he falls with it. Now he’s on his back and shoulder to shoulder with his tormentor.

“RICK!”

Rick laughs harder and Morty scrambles to cover himself, first with his hands and then by grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over the sexbot’s head. The shape of her smooth dome going up and down under the fabric makes Rick laugh so hard he breaks into a coughing fit.

“Aw jeez-” (cough, cough) “-I-I’m gonna shoot my Morty-cuuuum!”

Sudden blows rain down on him and Rick raises his arms to block.

“Hey! Hey, damn! Ch-chill!”

“You’re-” (Smack!) “So-” (Smack!) “Gross!”

Rick catches his arm mid-swing and holds it.

“Y-you’re the one with his dick out right now.” Morty tries to pull free from Rick’s grip but the angle is too awkward. “And wh-what did I say? Earlier? Girls hate a whiner a-a-and they definitely hate insecure little weirdos with anger issues!”

“I don’t… have anger issues.” Morty grumbles, tugging again but weaker this time.

“Uh-huh. Okay.”

Rick turns on his side, keeping a secure hold around the kid’s wrist. His pulse is fast and it makes Rick think about baby bunnies under lawnmowers again.

Morty is laid out in his seat, body tense, his free hand still pulling his shirt over his lap to preserve his modesty. He has his legs drawn up like a girl, sandwiching the sexbot’s head between his pale thighs. Quick, panicky breaths stutter in his chest and the boy’s eyes are screwed shut.

He looks like he’s getting tortured, not blown.

“You are a whole ‘nother level of pathetic, kid.” He says. “What are you gonna do when Jessica finally sucks your dick?”

 Morty takes a sudden, shaky inhale.

“Alllright, Grandpa’s coming to save the day, as per yewsh.”

Rick grabs the hem of the kid’s shirt and yanks it up. Morty squeaks, pulls his knees higher to shield his lap from view but Rick shoves his closest leg flat to the seat. He places Morty’s hand on the sexdoll’s head and holds it for a moment, communicating that Morty should keep it there. When Rick lets go, he does.

“There, y-you get your dick sucked like a woman. Put this one down too.” Rick stretches across, arm brushing the robot’s forehead, and smacks Morty’s other thigh. “Down. Atta boy.”

Morty lets out several distressed noises of varying volumes but eventually does as he’s told, sliding his socked foot along the seat until his heel falls over the edge. He bars an arm over his face, his flushed cheeks peeking out from beneath his wrist. The robot continues her slow and steady up-down, up-down, up-down, now with Morty’s other hand resting gingerly on top of her head. Rick swallows but his mouth is dry.

Everything about this scene is wrong, fucked. 

Rick thinks of one bad night, what feels like forever ago: Driving Morty out of town, over the desert, bomb in the backseat where the sexdoll just was. The way the kid fought. He’d hit and kicked and grabbed the wheel and refused to back down.

He was expecting a bigger fight over this, more screaming, more crying, but here they are. Rick watches the way her lips slide over the kid’s cock, getting dizzy every time she almost bottoms out before pulling back at the last second. That’d drive him crazy.

“How’s it feel?” Rick aims for a casual tone as he casually palms his erection through his pants. Morty has his eyes covered. Morty has more distracting things to focus on. Morty won’t hear the sound of Rick unbuckling his belt over his own desperate, rabbit-like breathing. “C’mon, i-it’s just us guys here, Morty. How’s she doing? Good?”

“Rick-” It’s strained, the faint shadow of his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to control his voice. “I- I don’t thi-”

“Yeah, you don’t think. But nobody thought you were the brains of this operation.” Rick puts his hand over Morty’s and pushes the robot’s head down, hard, watching her lips meet the skin around the base of his dick. Morty whimpers and bucks, stomach muscles flexing under a layer of baby fat. Rick whistles appreciatively and reaches into his own pants to take his erection in hand. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, Morty, let’s see what she can do.”

“W-wait-” Morty tries to pull his hand out from under Rick’s and can’t. He can’t do anything but writhe in his seat and gasp and whine from behind the barrier of his arm. Rick pushes harder, grinding her face into his crotch and stroking himself at the same time. Morty arches off the seat and sucks air through his teeth.

The sound goes straight to Rick’s cock.

“Rick…”

“I could turn her off if you’re gonna complain the whole time.” Rick hums. The kid’s hand is small and hot under his and it twitches. “After I bought her for you, a-after I spent my own money on- don’t you wanna get my money’s worth? Or are you gonna lie there like the world’s sweatiest pillow princess and wait for it to be over?”

“Don’t-”

Morty grabs Rick’s sleeve in a shaking fist. He turns his head to look at his grandfather for the first time since this began. His eyes are soft and watery with fresh tears, set in a deeply flushed face. The spit coating his bottom lip shines under the ship’s interior lights.

He looks fuckable in the ‘you could do anything to me right now’ way.

“Don’t, what?” Rick says, spiraling, jerking himself off in small, unnoticed strokes. Morty takes a shallow breath and says:

“D-don’t turn her off.”

And he shuts his eyes, licks his lips, tightens his grip on Rick’s sleeve and adds:

“Please don’t turn her off, I’m… g-gonna cum s-soon.”

Rick’s cock throbs in his hand and he wants to take it out. He wants to do more than that, but he can’t, he can’t or he’ll scare the kid off. He can’t do anything except lure him deeper into this trap, one soft-spoken crumb at a time.

“Oh, so you are enjoying yourself, th-this is the first I’m hearing about it.” Rick says, not meanly.

“Because it’s weird, Rick!” Morty sniffles and doesn't let go of the man’s sleeve. “Th-this i-is gross. I don’t know… I don’t- can’t do it with you-”

“Chill out, broh, how many times-” Rick leans closer, painfully aware how Morty tenses up when he does. The robot’s head goes up and down under both their hands. He lowers his voice and smooths out all the sharpest edges. “Listen to me, Morty. You listening?”

He hesitates before nodding his head yes.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird, Morty. Y-you know what’s gonna happen, here?” Morty shakes his head no, sweat beading on his forehead. His brow is furrowed like he’s concentrating very hard on what he’s hearing. Rick leans even closer, hanging into the empty space between both their reclined seats, and says:

“You’re gonna fuck the robot, however you want, what-whatever way you wanna, I’m- there’s no judgement here, Morty. Fuck her throat, cum in her mouth, nut on her face if- if facials are what you’re into. Then when you’re done, I’m gonna fuck her.”

Morty goes still. He holds his breath, suddenly paralyzed, and Rick tries not to think about how small animals sometimes die from shock alone. He slides his hand off of Morty’s and tugs his sleeve out of the boy’s frozen grip.

“I paid for her, after all.” Rick thumps the kid on the chest hard enough to make him grunt. “Jesus- breathe, Morty.”

He can feel the kid’s racing heartbeat through his shirt, thanks to several suprasensory body-mods. “The word of the day is chill, s’all good. Noth- nothing weird about it, nothing weird about a couple of guys sharing. Y-you ever heard of a puck bunny? “

Morty shakes his head again in a small, twitchy way. His heart thumpthumpthumps against his ribcage.

“There’s these girls who- who come out to hockey games hoping for some athlete dick. They’ll pass her around in the locker room, the whole team, one right after the other. Fuck hockey, it happens in every sport, every frat, every trap house- i-i-it’s just something guys do. Grandpa’s done it a hundred times, it’s fine. You’re good.”

“...Y-yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Morty swallows thickly and shifts, taking it all in, and Rick can imagine the hamster working extra hard to spin that little wheel he’s got up there. And then finally, finally the kid relaxes, sinking into the seat. Rick pats the kid’s chest again, softer this time, before pulling away.

Too easy.

And the robot keeps pace, a mechanical up and down accompanied by the faintest wet noise of her lips sliding over his dick. It’s actually amazing the kid hasn’t busted yet, considering his hair trigger.

“Rick?”

“Hm?”

“I-it’s hard to, to do it with you watching me.” 

“Then get over it.” He had been watching– leering, even – and Morty brings his leg up to try to block Rick’s view. “You’re already getting your dick sucked in front of me, and-”

“But-”

“-and you were already planning on fucking her while I was out. So tell me something, brainiac, what was the game plan after that? Y-you were just planning on sitting there like your cum wasn’t leaking all over my backseat the whole ride home?”

Morty doesn’t answer. And Rick waits, the hand down the front of his own pants momentarily still. The silence enters a tailspin, getting deeper and faster the longer they let it go. He could press it, get grosser with it, slam on the accelerator and turn this tailspin into a nosedive. If he pulled his cock out right now and showed the kid how hard he is, how hot this is, how good he’s being for going along with it? That could work.

Or, it would work in the short term, the cheap thrill of seeing the shock and unprepared horror on Morty’s face is always a treat. He might get a blowjob out of it, might get to see his semen sliding down the kid’s face. But there would be crying, confusion, fear… followed by a long night distracting himself with projects, trying not to think about how good the back of his grandson’s throat feels. How easy it would be to have that all the time– whether Morty wanted it or not with the memory gun in his back pocket.

It’s pathetic. Rick can turn blackholes into stars and stars into crystals and those crystals into an energy source for weapons that could destroy entire planetary systems, but he can’t convince one kid to want to fuck him? It’s infuriating, it twists him up, tearing at his insides and leaving weak places for the alcohol in his system to burn holes big enough to fall through. All his poisoned guts spilling out, Rick himself spinning out of control before finally crashing, burning. He can feel it happening.

He curls his fingers around his cock and starts to pull it free. He’s going to force it, a square peg to a round hole, a small thing breaking under the weight of something bigger, meaner than it can ever know. The teeth of his open zipper bite into his wrist and he can already feel the kid’s lips around his cock.

“It doesn’t- I think… they made her mouth too big.” Morty mumbles, snapping Rick out of his fantasy. “Like… it’s loose?”

“Loose.” Rick echoes, flatly. Morty keeps his face angled away as his breath hitches in his chest, like he can’t get all the air he needs to say what he wants to say. “Whaddya mean, your dick’s too small?”

Morty shoots him a quick, sulky glare.

“It felt-” He presses on like he didn’t hear that, taking another shaky half-breath. “It felt b-better when, when you pushed her… when you pushed her head down.”

Morty pats her head awkwardly to demonstrate what he means. Rick runs his tongue over his teeth.

“Sh-she’s too strong for me to, to push her- ah-” He gasps as Rick bats his hand away mid-sentence, settling it on the back of the sexbot’s head like before. Morty clears his throat. “I- I mean, you don’t have to do- I’m not, I just meant it’s taking longer, ‘c-cause-”

“Already on it, boss.” Rick pushes down. The robot resists, to a point, before giving in, understanding that he isn’t trying to interfere with her directive. She sinks onto the kid’s dick until her lips hit the base and Rick continues to push, grinding her face against his body. He moves her head side to side, making sure there’s good contact, and watches the way Morty starts to fall apart.

The muscles in the boy’s stomach go tight, his back coming off the seat involuntarily when Rick gets it just right. His thighs tense and relax, tense and relax, knees hugging the robot’s shoulders. And Rick keeps going, playing with angles, watching how Morty’s fingers dig into the tattered pleather seat by his hip as his breathing goes ragged and uncontrolled and out of rhythm.

And then Morty moans.

It’s barely anything. Just a short, tight sound, and he slaps a hand over his mouth after, body rocking in the seat.

He’s trying so hard to be quiet. It’s cute.

“S’just you and me here, buddy.” Rick says, letting up on the bot for a second. Her head bobs under his palm, up down, up down, shallow and unsatisfying. “Remember what I said? No judgment, no shame, you don’t haveta hold back a thing. That feel good?”

He shoves her back down and Morty moans against his palm, back arching and thighs quaking. Rick runs his fingers down his own cock, knuckles touching the slick places where his precum has soaked into his pant leg.

“Looks like it feels good.” Rick murmurs, jerking himself off. “Can’t wait t' fuck her, after. You gonna break her in for me, Morty?”

Morty shakes his head no in the teen ‘you’re embarrassing me’ way.

“You’re doin’ a good job, though. Being really good.”

Morty lifts his other hand to cover his cherry-red face.

“You close? Tell me what you want me to do, Morty. You wanna cum down her throat? On her face?” Rick pushes hard and Morty makes a strained, high pitched whine from behind his hands and bucks his hips into it, kicking something on the floor with a glassy clink. “You gotta tell me when, buddy, i-if you wanna pull out you gotta let me know when you’re cumming.”

“Now-” He squeaks, breathless. “N-now, Rick, now now now n-”

Rick wraps his fingers around the sexbot’s neck and jerks her off of him. 

“Riiick-” Morty lifts his knees as his dick flops free, hard and wet and heavy against his stomach. He reaches blindly for the robot. “Put h-her back o-on, put-”

“I thought you said now.” Rick hums, playing dumb. The bot struggles against his grip, searching for her owner’s dick with her O-shaped mouth. A mix of lubricant and pre-ejaculate shines on her chin and she pitches forward mindlessly.

“F-fuck you.” Morty whimpers and it’s so sudden and out of character Rick actually laughs. “Don’t laugh!”

“Fuck me? Fuck me, Morty?” Rick turns his face into the seat, stifling the worst of his laughter against the backrest. Morty sniffs and before he can really get whining, Rick releases the robot’s neck and says: “Hey, sexbot.”

She lifts her face, her eyeless gaze shifting from Morty’s leaking dick to Rick. A green, digital line see-saws across her visor as she listens for instructions.

“Fuck him.”

“Wh-wha-?” Morty snaps his legs closed but the robot is stronger. She snakes her hands between his thighs and spreads them wide, making his left knee brush Rick’s right leg. “ Um-!?”

She ignores him, climbing up onto the seat and carefully arranging herself in the kid’s lap, pinning him down with her weight. He puts his hands on her hips to push her away but she doesn’t budge.

“Would you look at that…” And Rick can’t help himself. He grabs a handful of her thigh, squeezing the synthetic flesh there before going deeper. His sleeve drags across Morty’s dick and the kid doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound other than the heavy in-out of his breaths. Rick coaxes her up on her knees so she’s hovering over his lap. “I think you’re in luck, buddy.”

He sinks his fingers inside and groans. She’s soft and wet and tight and-

“There’s a hole.” Rick says, withdrawing by tracing the slit between her legs all the way to the front. He rubs his fingers together before pulling them apart, showing Morty the wet strings of lubricant stretching between them. “You never know with aliens, even the humanoid ones. Come check this pussy out.”

Rick takes Morty’s wrist before he can react and brings his hand between her legs.

“There, i-it’s right there.” Rick murmurs and guides him, palm up, to the opening.

“J-jeez.” Morty flinches, still panting, and Rick holds him steady.

“It’s okay, buddy, she was made to be touched.” He relaxes slightly and Rick encourages him to go deeper, to touch more. “There, how’s that feel?”

 “Sh-she’s so wet, Rick.” He says, cautiously pressing the pads of his fingertips against her before getting bolder. He slides his index finger along the long, alien slit, no longer relying on Rick to guide him. Rick lets go of his hand so he can explore her on his own.

“There’s o-only one hole.” Morty whispers, penetrating her in a slow and cautious movement, his hand disappearing in the narrow gap between her thighs. “O-oh, uh-”

“You’re good, Morty.” Rick reaches in and spreads her pussy, letting them both see what he’s doing better. It’s smoothly featureless, missing all the messy flaps and foldy holds a biological creature might have, and colored the same hot pink as her faux-panties. Morty’s pointer finger is inside her, gone to the second knuckle, his other fingers curled against his small palm. “You can do two.”

“Huh?” Morty glances at Rick, confused, before getting it. “Oh, y-yeah, two.”

He pulls out and uncurls his middle finger to join the first, pushing slowly and carefully until they’re both seated all the way inside. The robot moves her hips forward– reacting to his touch –and Morty lets out a shivery breath, his hard dick twitching where it leans against his lower stomach.

“Do-” He licks his lips and lowers his voice. “Do y-you think it, it feels good for her, Rick?”

“Mmm… She’s pretty advanced for a sexbot.” The robot moves again, grinding herself on the kid’s fingers. “She looks like she’s having fun, see? Sh-she’s trying to fuck herself on you.”

“Yeah…” Morty breathes, in awe. Rick spreads her wider and elbows him gently.

“Go on, buddy. She’s all yours.”

He expects more stammering, whining, kicking. Maybe a ‘don’t look’ or ‘not if you’re watching’. But they’ve gone so far over the line at this point that Morty only nods and pulls his fingers out, smearing the wetness over his dick in practiced little motions. Rick keeps her pussy open and when Morty takes himself in hand his knuckles brush against Rick’s. The light touch sends a dangerous thrill through him.

It’s happening.

Morty makes a fist around his dick and tilts it towards her body, pausing, panting quietly as he psychs himself up to do it. It would be so easy to help him in, an excuse to actually touch him, but Rick holds himself back.

“You got it, Morty, whenever you’re ready.” He says instead, knowing that he sounds too eager and hoping the kid is too far gone to pick up on it.

“Rick?” His voice is unsteady, he adjusts his grip on himself and a bead of precum wells on the tip of his dick. He has to be able to feel the heat coming off her.

“Yeah buddy?”

“Promise…” He trails off, even quieter somehow, like this is a secret being whispered under the blankets at a sleepover. “P-promise you won’t laugh at me?”

“Laugh?” Rick cups his hand over his aching cock. Morty sniffs.

“I-if I, you know, if I finish too… soon.” He mumbles. Rick snickers. “H-hey-”

“Yeah, yeah yeah, sure, o-okay, y-you’re just so fucking funny, sometimes.” Rick leans into the space between their two seats, speaking into Morty’s ear. “Fine, whatever, no hyucks, n-no more hee-haws, you little kill-joy. But you know-”

Morty tightens his fist, knuckles going white, precum oozing from the head of his swollen dick. It has to hurt.

“You can cum as fast as you want, buddy. Fuck her, cum in her, let me have her. When I’m done you can go again, how’s that sound?” He whispers, not missing the little gasp Morty tries his best to suppress. “We can go back and forth un-until we’re both satisfied. We got all night.”

“Y-yeah?” 

“That’s right, s’just you n’ me.” He tilts his head towards the robot. “And her.”

The robot waits patiently, beautiful and ready.

“... n’ I- I can put it in?” Morty asks breathlessly and Rick nods, massaging her pussy shut and then spreading it open again. Lubricants drool out in thin strings that drip onto the kid’s thighs. He strokes himself once, careful not to overdo it. He looks like he could explode. “I- I’m gonna cum inside her, Rick.”

“Yeah you are, you’re gonna fill her up full for me, Morty.”

Morty braces one hand on her hip and lines himself up with her slit, hesitating before pressing the head of his dick against it. He slips between and starts to jerk himself off, rubbing his dick against her hole, spreading the lubricant around, making a mess.

“You’re doin’ good, that’s really good.” Rick whispers.

“I-it’s so-” Morty pushes it against the opening, watching the way it expands to take the head of his dick inside. “O-oh my god.”

“Thaaat’s it, Morty, shove it in her just like that.”

He lets go of his dick and lifts his hips off the seat. His thighs are shaking.

“Oh m-my g-god.” He moans like it’s so good he could cry. He grabs her by the hips and thrusts, bottoming out, sandwiching Rick’s hand between her body and his. His eyes slip closed, mouth falling open, face flushed, hair sticking to his face with sweat. He pulls her tight to him and holds her there as he arches off his seat. “ Oh- oh sh- shit-”

Rick finds where their bodies connect and slots his middle and ring finger on either side of Morty’s dick, he’s touching it, and his own cock aches against the cage of his pants. It’s wet and hot and his whole hand buzzes, the small, desperate noises Morty’s making swirling in his head. 

“Y-you can be louder, buddy.” Rick says, grabbing himself roughly, not caring if Morty sees him doing it now. It’s too late to worry about that. “If it feels good, you can-”

“It f-feels good.” Morty says, sniffling, arms shaking as he strains to hold on. “O-oh my g-god, I can’t- i-it feels too-”

Tears well in the kids eyelashes and break free, leaving shiny tracks down his red cheeks.

“Th-thank you.”

Rick stares, uncomprehending, cock throbbing and head pounding as he tries to understand what the kid could possibly mean.

“Her pussy is s-so good, Rick, oh my g-god, ohmygod.” He moans openly, crying and twisting towards Rick, hips shaking now. “I- I’m gon’cum in h-her.”

Morty sobs and pushes hard, pinching Rick’s hand between her and the firm curve of his pubic bone, trapping the man’s hand there as his orgasm tears through him. And Rick feels it, he feel’s the kid’s dick pulse between his fingers as he pumps his cum into the sexbot’s cunt.

“Fuck.” He hisses as Morty breaks, crying and whimpering, his hips finally starting to move as he tries to fuck his way through it. “There, Morty, th-that’s perfect.”

“O-oh- my god-” He gives one more desperate push before collapsing back into his seat, slipping out of her. His dick twitches weakly, leaking cum onto his own stomach as he gulps down air.

Rick cups his hand over the sexbot’s pussy and makes a seal, trapping what semen isn’t already running down her thighs inside.

“Fuck, y-you made that look good, buddy.” Rick says, blood roaring in his ears, feeling less in control that he manages to sound. Morty doesn’t react, still coming down from the peak and trying to catch his breath. “C’mere, babe. My turn with you.”

The sexbot comes to him, planting a hand on the center console and crawling into Rick’s lap, his hand between her legs the whole time. She’s hot and wet and some fluids manage to seep between his fingers and run down his wrist. Rick leans back and spreads his knees.

“You ready for the real deal, baby?”

Rick fishes his cock out of his pants, watching Morty from the corner of his eye as he does. Catching Morty peeking through his eyelashes, his eyebrows pinched together with childish worry.

Because Rick’s cock is big, bending painfully as he drags it out of his pant leg and through his fly. His precum glistens wetly under the ship's interior lights, and he strokes himself from base to tip, massaging his foreskin over the head. He presses it against her stomach, giving Morty a show. Look, look what I’m gonna do to her.

But first.

“Up, baby, little higher for me.” Rick pushes upward on her pussy until she lifts herself on her knees, high enough that he can get his cock under her. “Good girl.”

He positions himself between her thighs and then slides his cupped hand out of the way.

Morty’s cum drools out of her, landing on the head of his cock and sliding down the length of it, over the backs of his knuckles and pooling around the base to stick in his pubes. Semen pools on his balls and oozes deeper between his legs, wet and hot, and he moans in a long, soft exhale.

“Fuuuck, y-you came so much, buddy.” He starts pumping himself, hand sliding through Morty’s sperm and smearing it over his cock. He grabs the sexbot by her hip and pulls her closer, rubbing himself against her hole like Morty had, using his cock to gape her open until every last drop of cum comes leaking out of her. He can smell it.

He wishes he could have eaten her out, should’ve done that. Should’ve told her to sit on his face and sucked the kid’s cum out of her pussy right in front of him. Next time.

Yeah.

Next time.

There could be a next time.

Rick glances over at his passenger, at Morty sprawled half naked and spent in his seat, his shirt dark in the chest and under the arms with sweat. He’s watching Rick jerk himself off with his eyes barely cracked open, one hand creeping up to cup his own still-hard dick. If Rick plays his cards right, there could be a next time, this could become a part of Rick and Morty. The robot could be the acceptable stand-in, a dirty secret, some off-color fun. No messy feelings, no complicated relationship, just a fucktoy he and the kid can drag out when they need to and stuff back in the closet when they’re done.

Rick drags his hand up his cock, Morty’s cum collecting on the collar of his fist in a thick ring. Morty follows the movement and Rick’s cock throbs under his attention.

There could be a next time, if he does this right.

“You ready, baby?” Rick says and Morty startles and looks at him. He looks dazed, eyes glassy like he just woke up from a daydream. His lips are parted slightly. Rick grins across at him and winks, moving his hand to the base of his cock and holding it steady. “Don’t get jealous, now.”

And to the robot:

“Ride me.”

Chapter Text

The sex robot tilts her head.

The green, digital line zig-zags across her visor as she processes Rick’s order. Churning it around in her head, running the words and context through her unknown, alien circuitry until finally…  the line flattens into an understanding, steady stripe. The sex robot lowers her hips and spears herself on Rick’s cock.

“Oh, yeah-”   She takes him in and she’s wet and hot and tight, tight, tight and Rick moves his hand to her other hip so he can watch himself disappear into that heat. “Atta girl, l-like you were made for this.”

She settles into Rick’s lap, her arms hanging limp at her sides, staring at him like she’s expecting him to tell her she did good. Then she raises herself up on her knees and drops back down. Rick swears, feeling it in his balls, stomach twisting with it.

It’s good, really good, but even as she lifts herself again he can’t stop a thought.

Morty’s ass is tighter.

“Faster.” Rick grits out, pulling his sweater up to his chest. It’s getting hot in here, the ship’s glass dome is starting to fog over. The robot obeys and builds into a rhythm, her breasts bouncing and her ass smacking against his thighs on every downstroke. Rick pushes her until she leans back, giving them both a good view of his cock sliding in and out of her body. “Fuck, look at that, M-Morty.”

Morty flinches at the sound of his own name. He had his hand subtly curled around his dick but now he lets go, probably hoping Rick hadn’t seen him touching himself. Rick tilts his head towards the kid again and Morty pointedly tries to avoid eye contact.

“You can jerk off if you wan’t, buddy.” He says, every other word punctuated by the sound of his and the robot’s bodies slapping together. Morty’s hand twitches, but that’s it, and Rick gets an idea. “W-wait, no, th-this is better- get up”

Rick grabs him by the collar of his shirt and tugs.

“R-Rick?”

“Trust me, buddy. Sit here, sit right- yeah.” Morty struggles up, bringing his legs over the side of his seat until he’s perched at the edge, his feet on the floor and his knees brushing Rick’s backrest.

He frowns down at the man, lost, maybe even a little scared now that he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be doing. Rick takes one of the robot’s hands and brings it over to Morty’s lap.

“C’mon, Morty.”

“O-oh.” Understanding filters down his body and he relaxes. He doesn’t shy away or complain. He spreads his legs and watches, mouth open slightly, as her fingertips brush the side of his dick.

“Yeah, l-let her take care of you, buddy. That’s it.”

The robot wraps her slender fingers around the kid’s erection and makes a gentle fist. Morty stares down at his lap with wide, dopey eyes.

“How’s that?”

Morty doesn’t answer at first, only breathing shakily, watching not the robot’s hand, but Rick’s hand where it’s wrapped around her wrist.

“...H-harder.” He whispers finally, not looking up. Rick whistles, the robot slams herself down on his cock and something sick pulses low in his stomach.

“You heard the kid.” Rick folds his hand around hers, showing her how to tighten her grip. “He likes it hard.”

She squeezes, the head of Morty’s dick going a dark red where it pokes out of her fist. Rick guides her hand down, back up, down, in agonizingly brutal strokes. Morty’s breath catches in his throat and he digs his fingers into the seat at his sides.

“Hard enough, Morty?” Rick says, like it’s normal to help a robot jack off your grandson. “Feels better than doin’ it yourself, doesn’t it?”

The kid nods, keeping his head down. Precum leaks down the underside of his dick and his thighs shake, his shoulders climbing up to his ears the longer this goes on.

“Morty?” Rick releases the robot’s hand and she keeps the slow, punishingly tight pace on her own. He places his hand on Morty’s thigh and the sudden skin-on-skin contact startles him. “Look at me?”

It takes a moment, but he does it.

His eyes are lidded and dark and every time the robot pulls on his dick his eyelashes flutter. He’s breathing shallow and fast. Rick squeezes the boy’s leg and grins up at him.

“Y-you’re fuckin’ rocking this, broh.”

A wobbly little smile tugs at his mouth and it makes the kid look half his age.

“O-oh, thanks, you know. I’m j-just… doing my best?”

Rick laughs and smacks Morty’s leg, forcing a small whimper out of the poor guy.

“Yeah you are!” Rick pulls away and gets comfortable in his own seat again. “Th-this rules, this- this might be the best robo-cunt I’ve ever had.”

“Sh-she was pretty great.” Morty sighs wistfully, slumping a little, relaxing into her touch.

Rick shuts his eyes and lets himself get lost in the heat of the sexbot’s pussy. Letting it mix with Morty’s steadily-growing-bolder moans and gasps. Mixing the two up in his head, keeping one hand crossed over his exposed stomach and the other dangling down in the space between the two seats, brushing Morty’s foot. This can be good enough, he thinks and snaps his hips up to meet the robot’s ass. His cock hits some soft, interior wall and it sends a shock through his body.

“Fuck, sh-she’s good.” He groans, driving himself into her. “Nn… gonna want this again, M-Morty.”

“Mmhmm…”

“Bet w-we could get away with fucking her in the garage. I could make like, a hidden compartment or something.”

“I wanna keep h-her in my room.” Morty says, quietly.

“Yeah you do.”

“A-and fuck her all- a-all the time.” Morty adds dreamily, watching her hand move up and down on his dick. “Wanna cum in her again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… a bunch.”

Rick laughs.

“Better watch out you don’t knock her up.” He says with a soft groan. He traces his fingers up her thighs.

“Wh- you don’t, she couldn’t-” Morty worries and Rick slides his hands up the sexbot’s stomach, continues on to cup her breasts.

“Chill, I’m just- we’re just talking” They’re heavy and firm and they barely even jiggle when she bounces. “S’posed to be hot. Biologically, sexually, you’re s’posed to want to fuck your baby into her.”

“Ghh- don’t say it like that.”

Rick pulls her down to lay against his chest, fitting her head over his shoulder and tucking her cheek against his neck. She’s taller than Morty is, heavier, too, and Rick thinks it’s been a long time since he’s fucked anything resembling an adult, human woman.

The thought makes him dizzy. He shouldn't’ve smoked that weed. Or emptied his flask. Or fucked Prime’s grandson in the first place, if we really wanna get into the weeds of Rick's poor life choices, here. The sexbot can’t ride him in this position but she’s still trying to follow her orders, humping his cock in shallow, pathetic thrusts. Rick grabs her ass and tries to remember what porking his actual fucking wife felt like.

He can’t.

“Rick?” Morty says and Rick hums, noncommittal. The robot’s breasts are too firm, pressing hard against his chest, her bald head is cold where it touches his jaw. He pulls her up his cock and brings her back down, grunting as he bottoms out. It’s good, it’s good, but it’s not- “Um…”

“Yeah, buddy, s-sup?”

“H-her arm… the angle?”

Rick cracks an eye open. The sexbot is still jerking the kid off but he’s right, the angle’s fucked now. Rick pushes the bot up and slams her down. The loud clap of their bodies coming together makes Morty flinch.

“Not to be the Kinda Busy Here Guy, but I’m kinda busy here, buddy. A-and my hands are full of juicy robot ass, so unless you want me to suck it, y-you’re gonna have to wait.” Morty stammers something that sounds like ‘so grody.’ Sounds like a word he picked up from Summer. Rick sticks his tongue out. “Aw, c’mon, Grandpa’s been around the block, you know. I bet I could do a better job than this cumbucket of bolts.”

He raises her up and slams her pussy down on him again for emphasis. Morty kicks the back of his seat.

“Sh-shut up.”

“Okay, damn, my head game’s out of this world, but that’s your loss, Mortyyy… ”

A beat of silence and then Rick glances around the ship, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper:

“Fine, you wanna fuck her again? Now?” Rick grabs her wrist and pries her off of the kid’s dick. It bobs heavily, precum dripping off the tip.

“Really?” 

“Really, really. C-come here, get behind her.” Rick wriggles up to make room, grabbing the sexbot under her knees and dragging her with him. Morty stares uncomprehendingly. “I-if you can’t wait for me to finish, eh? How about it?”

Slow realization dawns on him and Rick grinds himself against the back wall of her synthetic hole, drinking in Morty’s expression, watching him process what just got put on the table.

“I-I can wait.” He mumbles, averting his eyes and covering his dick with both his hands self consciously.

“You sure? I’m an old man, Morty. I can really drag it out, could fuck her for hours if I wanted to. Get my money’s worth.” He says before the kid can whine about how she’s technically his. Rick rocks against her again, filling her out, wishing she was Morty. “And you could sit there crying over your blue-balls, or…”

“I-it’s like you want me to- to do… that.” Morty says suddenly, the words falling out in a quiet rush to land in his own lap. The kid doesn’t need to look at him to see right through him. Rick swallows.

“Little aggro there, buddy. Don’t you think? Defensive, maybe?”

“Rick, I- I’m not gonna…!” He can’t even say it. “That’s-”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird.” Rick repeats and Morty looks up, sharply, nose wrinkled with a mix of annoyance and disgust.

“I was gonna say gross!”

“Okay, okay, s-sorry for offending your delicate sensibilities. J-just thought it’d be hot.” Rick shrugs.

“She only has one hole!”

“And?” Rick says, serious now. He crosses his arms around her lower back and crushes her against his body like the object she is, pinning her so she can’t move, so he can use her at his own pace. And he does, keeping his gaze trained on Morty while he fucks her, the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of her body loud in the confined space as he waits. Morty shifts under the man’s even stare, the single hamster wheel he was blessed with turning and turning and turning in his head.

“Y-you think it’d be… hot?” Morty echoes, eyes skittering over the scene in front of him like water on hot oil. He cups his hands tighter around his dick, letting it rest against the barrier of his fingers. He’s teetering on the edge of something and Rick wishes he had a drink, or anything to swallow that isn’t his own bile.

Rick huffs.

“Would I offer it if I didn’t think it was hot, Mort? You think I’d even bring it up?”

“Uhm-”

“Th-that really so shocking, does it blow your mind, Morty? That grandpa’s a sick sonofa?” He keeps his tone light, playful. Morty doesn’t answer, doesn’t move, a small creature frozen under the shadow of some deadly predator. “And ssssomething tells me you’re a little freak too, buddy. Saw you watching earlier, watched me pull out my cock, huh? You liked that?”

“J-jeez-” Morty breathes, high pitched, his face is red.

“Yeah you did. Fuck, was good, Morty, feeling your cum sliding down my cock like that.” Rick laughs quietly. “Y-you know, there’s not a lot of people out there who’ve passed Rick Sánchez their sloppy seconds.”

Silence again, and it’s the waiting that Rick can’t stand. That there’s anything to consider, that he has to lie here and beg for what he wants and he might not even get it. That Morty might puss out, after everything, after all this fucking work.

“Fuck, c-can just imagine you cumming right on my cock, Morty.” He has to be able to hear the desperation, how weak, weak, weak Rick is when there’s blood in the water. His stomach twists and its bitter contents come corkscrewing out of his mouth as word vomit. “If we both fucked her- i-it could be pre- tty good. C’monnn… fuck her tight robo-pussy with me, Morty. Call it a bonding experience.”

Morty shuts his eyes and rubs at his face with the back of his hand.

“And hey, s’just us here, buddy. Just me n’ you…” He drags his hands down to her ass again and grabs it, keeping his eyes on the kid, the kid, the kid he wishes he was fucking instead of- “...and her, duh.”

This sucks the big one.

“Whataboutit?” 

He’s begging.

“Rick?” Morty whispers.

“S’up?”

“Is this a- a trick?”

“...Wha?”

Morty shifts, the pleather seat squeaking under his bare ass.

“A trick?” Rick presses and Morty shrugs with one shoulder in a jerky motion.

“It feels like you’re, you’re fucking with me. Like I’m gonna try t’do this and- and you’re gonna… it’s gonna be something you- man.”

He curls in on himself, lowering his chin to his chest. His shoulders start to shake.

“Whoah, now.”

“I- I just don’t know what I did.” Morty says, voice cracking pathetically. “Wh-what did I d-do?”

“Wh- if, if- if you’re implying that I’m– very graciously, might I add –inviting you to DP this robot puss with me as some kind of prank-” Rick starts but Morty cuts him off before he can build up any momentum.

“Th-this isn’t f-funny, Rick.”

“That’s what I’m- what’s funny about-”

“Y-you want me to, to rub m-my dick all on your dick, Rick?” Morty sniffs and then wipes his nose violently. “‘C-cause I want to, right? Oh, Morty’s s-s-such a pervert, let’s mess with Morty. Y-you’re a jerk, Rick, a real- a real-”

“Oh my god.” Rick groans, pushing the sexbot off his chest so he can prop himself up on his elbow. “Holy shit kid it- it’s not that deep.”

Morty tries to suppress his ragged breathing, to mixed results.

“Okay, let’s think this through, let’s just-” Rick scratches his head and looks down at the sexbot. She’s staring back at him, green line twitching across her visor at even intervals. “I can… accept that, that maybe I might be the kind of guy to take things a bit too far. Sometimes. But i-if this was gonna be my big Ashton Kutcher moment, wouldn’t the cameras’ve popped out by now? There’s a point of no return here, buddy, and- and I think we passed that… around the time you asked me to help you face fuck the robot and- and instead of pointing and laughing at your nasty ass, I did it.”

“I… I didn’t ask…”

“You heavily fuckin’ implied.” Rick scoffs. The sexbot rests her cheek against his chest and he cups the back of her head more out of habit than anything else. “If this was all some big joke, you- do you seriously think I’d get your cum all over my balls to Punk you? How does- how is that even, in your mind, tell me how that works.”

Morty sniffs again and this time when he shrugs it’s slower and with both shoulders.

“Yeah, exactly. That dawg don’t hunt, broh.”

“Then what is this.” Morty says, spent, sagging. Rick chews on his inner cheek until he tastes blood. This is bad, is what it is, and Rick thinks of the memory gun and the room in the sub basement– that shrine to all the things the dead Rick decided his Morty shouldn’t know about. And the new additions, mixed in like it’s all the same shit. What is this?

Rick reaches out again, slowly, and Morty doesn’t notice until his hand is already touching his upper thigh. He flinches and presses his knees together, holds his breath, refuses to look. His skin is hot and his dick is still hard somehow, peeking over his cupped hand.

“Wh-whatever it is, it’s not what you’re thinking it is, buddy.” Rick says finally, searching for some clue in the way Morty reacts. “We’re just having some fun, Rick and Morty style. A little bit of fucked up fun out here in space, doing it our own way. No big deal. Don’t turn it into something it doesn’t have to be.”

“But it’s-”

Rick squeezes his thigh to stop him.

“Morty.”

Morty turns his face away. Rick slides his hand up the poor kid’s leg to his hip until his fingers slip under the hem of his shirt. He watches the way Morty starts to fidget, to breathe harder, how the tendons stand out on his neck as he tenses up.

“Y-you know when, when I brought all this shit up? I just wanted to cum.” Rick says, talking slow. “Figured you’d get that, out of anybody.”

And he says:

“You’ve been doing a really good job so far.”

And he says:

“You’re freaking out on me now cause you’re thinking about it too much.”

And he pushes Morty’s shirt up a little, the fabric bunching on his wrist, and says:

“It’s hot in here, buddy. Take this off for me.”

And Morty does it. Silently. Not looking at Rick. He reaches over his shoulder and grabs the collar, peeling the sweat-soaked shirt away from his body, over his head, and then he drops the thing in the backseat. He waits naked and with his hands in his lap for what he has to do next.

“I was serious earlier, Morty.” Rick says, petting the kid’s hip with his thumb. “Consider this ship an honorary Planet Fitness, cause this is a judgment free zone, yo. We’re gonna do what feels good, zero shame, sow our wild oats with reckless abandon. And something tells me you’re gonna really like it.”

“Y-you’re not… gonna make fun of me?”

“Not today.” Morty grimaces and Rick forces a soft laugh. “C’mon, don’t-”

“Rick?”

Morty looks down at him for the first time in a long time, his green eyes muddy in the low light. There’s a snot bubble in his left nostril.

“I-is there something wrong with me?”

Yeah, buddy, there is. I fucked you up good. Got my hooks in you and then cut the lines, good luck ever fishing those bad boys out, Rick thinks but doesn’t say. He creeps his hand higher, feeling the kid shiver under his palm.

“Nah. You’re just a little horndog.” Rick says. “You’ll feel better after your nuts are empty. Now get your dumbass over here. Behind her.”

Morty crawls over the center console and onto Rick’s seat, the mechanism creaking under the extra weight. It’s an awkward arrangement and Rick stares at the domed roof of the ship while he waits for the kid to settle in. There are no stars, no gas giants haunting the sky, the glass is all fogged over and Rick can’t even see his reflection in that milky white surface anymore. Morty straddles his thighs, fitting their bodies together like one of those sexy gag puzzles they sell at Spencer’s. 100 pieces of intergenerational incest, great for stag parties and prank gifts, $14.69. 

“Sh-should I sit?” Morty asks, still hovering on his knees with one hand pressed to the driver’s side window for balance.

“Wait, let's flip her over. Sexbot?” Rick smacks her buttcheek. “Up, turn around so, so the kid can see what he’s doing to ya.”

She processes for an extended moment, the green line flickering, before slowly pushing herself off of Rick’s chest. She raises her hips and Rick feels his cock start to slip out of her.

“Oh, f-fuck, wait-” He grabs her waist but he isn’t fast enough, the heat of her body retreats the last couple inches and he flops free. “Shit, Morty don’t, don’t freak out.”

He can’t see past the bot but he can feel the cool air on his exposed cock. He can imagine it bobbing between Morty’s spread thighs, dripping with synthetic lubricants mixed with his and the kid’s mess. Over the sexbot’s shoulder he can see Morty looking straight down.

He’s staring at it.

“Whoops.” But Rick doesn’t try to cover himself. Whatever’s wrong with the kid is wrong with him too, started with him, probably. “W-was soaking in there for so long I- I kinda forgot.”

He waits but Morty doesn’t say anything, he just stares and stares, hovering over Rick’s cock like it’s a piss-soaked truckstop toilet seat. All the while the sexbot continues her clumsy turn-around; she’s slowing down, her movements more jerky than they were when they first powered her up. Battery low, Rick guesses, but she eventually collapses into the requested position, her back to Rick’s chest and her legs spread for Morty.

“... I-it’s okay.” The kid says after what feels like a very long time. And then almost to himself he mutters: “No… no judgment, right?”

And Rick feels a small hand wrap around his cock. Morty glances up, something defiant about his expression. Like he’s challenging Rick to tell him he’s going too far.

“Yeah, no- no judgment.” He tries to keep his voice steady but he can’t, and Morty looks away from whatever he sees in Rick’s face. “Whatever you wanna do, buddy.”

Morty squeezes experimentally. It’s just a pulse of pressure before he relaxes his grip again and Rick bites back a groan. That little jolt felt better than the sexbot’s fake hole ever could.

“I’m down to clown.” He adds, quieter, scared to scare the kid off. Wanting to know where the fuck this is going.

A second hand joins the first to encircle Rick’s cock.

“I- I just… I don’t know. I-” Morty says, voice thin. “-s-shouldn't be doing this.” 

“Probably not, but there're no rules out here, big guy.”

And because he can’t resist:

“You wanna touch grandpa’s cock, y-you can touch it.”

Morty shudders and sinks down to sit on Rick’s knees. Rick lifts his hips, pushing himself through Morty’s hands in silent encouragement. It’s okay, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon. He tells himself if this is all the kid’s idea then it’s not too far, it’s not too much, they can still laugh this off on the drive home. Morty lets out a shaky breath and starts to masturbate Rick in long, double handed pulls.

“I- I can barely- is that good enough?” He whispers.

“Y-yeah, it’s good, Morty. Th-that’s really good.” Rick wraps his arms around the sexbot's waist and it is good. It’s slick from the robot’s cunt and the kid’s own cum and if anyone knows his way around a handjob, it’s Morty Smith. “S’all you.” 

Morty slides the foreskin over the head of Rick's cock and adds a little twist, slowly growing more bold, more comfortable, staring at it like he’s in some kind of hazy, far-away trance. He explores it the way he explored the sexbot's pussy: awkward but eager.

"I just… just let me for a little bit, okay?" Morty says softly, retracting Rick's foreskin so he can run his thumb over the slit. Touching everyplace he can, while he can. “I just want to- j-jeez. I’m s-so gross.”

"Yeah, y-you're a sick puppy. Told you. T-told you you’d like it.” Rick grits out, mentally cursing the fucking robot for blocking his view. Morty runs a hand down his cock and reaches between the man’s thighs, fingers brushing Rick’s sack carefully before grabbing it. "Shit! Be careful with that, M-Morty."

"Did I hurt you?" He asks, sounding too young to be doing what he's doing. Rick swears under his breath and shuts his eyes.

"You know what, y-you can hurt me if- if that’s what gets you off, Morty.” He says, panting already, reaching his limit already. “Free reign, mi cuerpo es tu cuerpo."

But Morty doesn’t seem to want to hurt him. He only squeezes Rick’s balls gently before cupping them, weighing them in his palm. There's a kind of innocent curiosity there that's really starting to drive Rick crazy. The hand still around his shaft starts to move again and Rick bucks into the touch like he's the sex-starved 14 year old loser, here.

“I, uh, I was watching, Rick.” His hands, his hands, his hands. “Wh-when you, when you put it in? It looked… man, I dunno…. Rick?”

“Mhmm?”

“It j-just looked like, like it felt good.” He puts his weight into it, tightening his grip and forcing Rick’s cock through the tunnel of his hand, rolling his sack in the other at the same time. “For her. When you were, y-you know, and it was stretching her out so much.”

“Yeah? You liked that?”

Morty nods.

“It’s just… it’s like a porn star’s…” He whispers and heat pools magma-hot in Rick’s stomach. Morty has said that before. The same words said in the same terrified, awe-struck way… not that he himself can remember. Everything is spinning again, the kid’s tiny confessions spiraling off of him like blood off the blades of a ceiling fan hanging over a crime scene. It spatters the inside of the ship, every word running down the walls to leave damning trails behind in the fogged up windows. I was watching and aw man oh jeez, it sure looked like it’d feel reeeeally good to get fucked by your massive, porn-star cock, Rick. Yeah, yeah the kid isn’t so good at subtext yet, that’s just text, and this handjob is becoming less awkward and more deliberate, more like Morty is trying to measure the width and length of Rick’s cock with his hand. To get a feel for what it would feel like.

“Y-you’d know all about porn star’s cocks, you addict.” Rick tries to keep it light while rocking his hips, pushing himself through the kid’s fist, fucking it. He hugs the robot’s waist hard to keep himself from doing what he really wants to do.

(Like throw her into the passenger seat and pull Morty down on top of him and shove his tongue down his throat and rub his cock against the kid's ass and ask if he’d like to find out how the robot felt when he fucked her.)

Morty is watching his own hands, completely focused until he suddenly looks up. Almost like he heard what Rick was thinking just now and shame actually manages to twist in the pit of Rick’s stomach.

“What’s up?” He asks and Morty presses his lips together into a thin, anxious line. Rick’s almost afraid of what he might say, but if he let being afraid stop him he never would’ve successfully invented a fuckable blender. “What, Morty, spit it out.”

"I know it’s w-weird, but-" Morty says, voice breaking. "I kinda… w-want to- to put it back in her for you. I-is that cool?"

Fuck the robot.

"That’s what we’re here for." Fuck the robot! “If you don’t, I’m gonna end up busting on your chest, the way- th-the way you’re manhandling my whole business like that.”

"Y-you’re close?" Again with that voice. Young, hopeful, desperate for validation. Did I jerk you off right? Did you like how it took both my hands to hold you? What else can I do to make you tell me how good I’m doing.

"Yeah, Morty."

“Oh…” Not a word but a breathy moan that stokes all the right fires for Rick. That’s the kind of sound the kid makes when he’s on the edge, all it’ll take to push him over is a few pats on the back and a well-placed good job, buddy.

“N-nothing like a wholesome handy between bros, eh?”

“Rick.”

“Pff, you love it.”

Morty doesn’t answer… or doesn’t know how to answer. And who would? But his eyes flutter closed for a second and his hand pulses around Rick’s cock in a reluctant goodbye-squeeze. He lays the man’s sack back down so carefully it’s almost funny. Rick hooks his hands under the sexbot’s knees and spreads her legs wider.

“Showtime, buddy.”

So here they are. Morty takes Rick’s cock in both his hands again and holds it so it’s pointed toward his own bare stomach. He bends down as close as he can and drools on it, a glob of saliva breaking off of his lips and landing on the head of Rick’s cock with a quiet, wet splat. Rick twitches in the kid’s hands and Morty looks up, mild worry on his red face, spit still clinging to his chin.

“S-sorry I- I didn’t- s’just a force of habit.” He says. Rick shakes his head slowly, breathing heavy.

"You're killin' me, kid."

Morty uses both his hands to press Rick's cock against the robot's pussy. He holds it tight, near the head, and watches transfixed as he bends it toward her. She's already dripping wet and the head slides along her slit before catching on the rim of her hole. Rick grabs the armrests on either side of his seat.

"That's right, M-Morty, she's right there." He pants, voice strained. "I'm n-not gonna move, okay? It's all you."

"I can-" Morty applies a little more pressure. "I can see her- i-it's starting to stretch her open."

"What is?" Rick breathes through his clenched teeth. “Y-you can say it, buddy.”

"Your cock, Rick.”

Rick groans, arms shaking with the effort of holding himself back. He can feel her, the heat, the wetness, the way her hole engulfs the head of his cock before-

 Morty pulls it back out.

He's doing it on purpose: pressing hard enough to penetrate her before popping it out again. Because why? Because he’s an idiot, a little shit? Because he wants to watch it go in over and over, he wants to see how her body has to deform to take in something so big and he wants to draw it out as long as he can because he’s just as greedy and sick as his grandpa is, when push comes to shove? It’s all of the above, baby, and it's almost too much for Rick, too intense, too good.

"Gonna make me cum, M-Morty." He warns, squeezing both armrests until plastic creaks from the abuse. Morty makes a soft noise to show he heard, he understands, he doesn’t stop doing it, though.

"Th-then we’ll be even." He whispers, pressing a little harder, shoving Rick's cock inside her a little deeper. He starts to jerk him off again, pumping the shaft in short pulses that send hot sparks through the man's body. It leaves him buzzing, aching, and Rick tilts his hips up, desperate to sink all the way inside. Morty braces his palm flat on Rick's pelvis and uses his full weight to pin him down.

"M-Morty, c'mon, y-you're being a literal fuckin' cock tease, here." He tries to thrust up again but Morty won't ease off.

"Y-yeah, I know, but th-that feels good, huh?" He says, voice shaking with excitement or nervousness or probably both. "I'm almost done, just let me-"

He slides his hand down and takes Rick's balls in his palm again, using his thumb to pet and roll them in the sack.

"Never- n-never thought I'd-" He swallows hard, working himself up to another little confession. "I just wanna touch it, okay? Let me- I'm almost done with it. I- I’m not ready yet."

“You’re the boss, Boss.” Rick says. “But you keep this up a-and I really am gonna bust, fair warning.”

“The Rick Sánchez c-cumming from, from a little h-heavy petting?” His voice quirks up at the end in a cautiously playful way.

“From the heavy petting champion himself? I never stood a chance.”

“I’m just doing all the, the same stuff I like.” He mumbles, embarrassed, and then wraps his fingers around Rick's sack and pulls with even, gentle tension. Rick hisses and a shudder wracks his body.

“Man!”

"Y-yeah-" Morty says quietly. "I really like th-that, too."

“Christ, Morty, i-if you’re trying to get a bigger tip outta me-”

Morty laughs suddenly. Just a small, dorky giggle that has him snorting through his plugged nose. It’s a good sound.

“Y-you? Tipping? The last time we went to- to Shoney’s, you pretended to explode so I had to pay, Rick! And the waitress wouldn’t even take my money ‘cause she was too busy crying.”

“I’m just sayin’ maybe if she tugged on my balls I would've left her a fiver, maybe even a ten-spot.”

Morty snorts, laughter slowly petering out and leaving a ghost of a smile at the corners of his mouth. Rick grins back, easy, big, and says.

“There’s my guy.”

Morty shrugs, ducking his flushed face down and going back to playing with Rick’s cock. He pulls the tip out and slaps it against her thigh, holding it at the base in a comfortable, casual way.

“Now’re you ready?” Rick presses and Morty nods. “That’s what I’m talking about! We-we’re just having some fun, buddy. Some boys will be boys type-shit, hanging out, doin’ it our way.”

“A-and… we can do it again?” Morty glances up, a glimmer of real hope in his face.

“You know it.”

Morty opens his mouth, closes it, opens again.

“What?”

“Uh, th-thank you.” He says. “I know I said it earlier but, y-you, you didn’t have to buy her for me and, I know I was being really annoying and you coulda said no. But you didn’t and, uh…”

He trails off, eyes sliding away to stare somewhere in the middle distance as he struggles for the rest of the words he wants.

“I’m glad it turned out like this. I’m really happy right now.”

“Oh my godddd.” Rick groans. “Shut up! Y-you’re so annoying!”

Morty shrugs again, still smiling.

It could be like this all the time, Rick thinks, outwardly rolling his eyes and inwardly feeling like he’s won. Fuck you Prime, fuck you, eat shit, he’s mine.

Rick slumps back in his seat and stares down the sexbot’s body, running his hands over her smooth stomach. Morty shifts closer, getting a couple more strokes in and fuck he’s really figured that out. Rick is almost disappointed when he feels the slick, wet heat of the sexbot’s slit against the head of his cock.

“This time’s for real.” Morty whispers.

He pushes, ramping up the pressure slowly, letting her take it in a smooth, hot slide. Rick holds her against his body, hands folded over her stomach to keep himself from doing anything he might regret. Like grabbing Morty’s wrist and pulling him down, bringing him close enough to touch.

“Nearing bedrock, buddy.” Rick murmurs, holding on for dear life as Morty guides him in deeper. “Fuck that’s- yeah. Fuuuck-”

Morty releases the base of his cock and lets the sexbot take the last inch. Rick grinds his hips against her ass and his cock hits the furthest wall inside her. She’s not as tight as Morty but that wall.  Rick pushes hard, squeezing her against his body until he feels it.

“I-it’s in.” Morty whispers breathlessly.

He can feel his own cock through the wall of her stomach, it’s pressing against the arm he has looped around her waist and Rick pushes harder, amping up the pressure, the tension, making his cock ache with it.

“D-don’t break h-” Morty starts to say and Rick reaches out and snatches the kid’s wrist. He’d had his hand resting up on the robot’s knee and now Rick moves it over the bulge in her stomach. Morty doesn’t fight him, he’s done fighting, and even when he realizes what he’s touching he only says: “O-oh, that’s…”

“That’s me, buddy, ch-check this shit out.” Rick pulls out so that her stomach flattens before slamming himself back inside, filling her, filling out the cup of Morty’s small hand. “Feel that?”

“Yeah.” Morty sighs, his face going soft, unfocused, feverish. 

Rick arches his back and drives his hips against her and Morty moans like he’s the one getting fucked.

“Oh my god.”  He takes himself in his other hand. “Th-that’s really… you?”

“Say it, Morty, big-boy words for me.” Pushing harder, testing the boundaries, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon.

Morty swallows and takes a small, wet breath.

“I c-can feel your cock, Rick.” And the kid makes a fist around his dick and starts to jerk himself off.

“Yeah, can feel me fucking her, huh?” Rick pushes again and Morty nods, shuddering as the robot’s stomach bulges against his palm again. “You’re really into that.”

“Hn?”

“You think about it.” Rick eases out of her and their hands sink along with her flattening stomach. “What it’s like to get fucked.”

He says and lifts his hips again, filling her out again, and Morty tries to yank his hand back. Rick stops him. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s all good.”

The sexbot twitches subtly, an arm coming up in a brief spasm before going limp at her side.

“No judgment here, buddy, we’re just talking.”

Morty looks away, at the blank nothing in the passenger side window. Not for the first time, Rick wishes he’d installed some kind of thought-reader when he had the kid’s skull cracked open. All he can do is loosen his grip and hope Morty doesn’t pull away.

He doesn’t.

“J-just talking?” Morty asks, turning to face Rick again. There’s something hungry about him. Hungry like a starving animal eyeing roadkill from the safety of a ditch. “A-and… and doing this?”

He moves his hand over the robot’s stomach in a gentle side to side motion; insanely, it reminds Rick of how he used to rub his daughter when she had a tummy ache. The association is dark and awful and Rick sinks his teeth into it, thinking about the Beth back on Earth right now. Wondering where her daddy is, what he’s doing, and when will he bring her baby home?

“Yeah. Just talking.”

And because he’s sick and cruel Rick asks:

“Anyone ever fuck you, Morty?” His voice low in his chest. Morty shakes his head no, slowly, and Rick digs his fingers into the robot’s hip. Hard. “Yeah, y-you’re a little young for that.”

“I’m fourteen.” Morty mutters, offended like all kids get when you insinuate they’re still kids. “A-and I’m not… gay.”

He adds, offended in the way a kid who just jerked his grandpa off has no right to be. Morty shakes his head more forcefully.

“B-but… I- ”

“You wanna talk about it.” Rick says and Morty nods tightly, squeezing his eyes shut again. “C’mere.”

Rick takes the boy's wrist and pulls him down, and he goes, draping himself over the sexbot’s body. He buries his face between her breasts.

“A-am I heavy?” He asks, voice muffled slightly. Rick pats him on the back.

“I’ll survive. Hey, can you still feel that?” Rick arches into the robot and Morty gasps. “Talk to me, buddy."

“I- I can feel you-” He clears his throat softly. “I can f-feel your cock, Rick, through her. Poking me in the stomach.”

Rick takes a moment, wonders how far is too far, how much is too much. And then decides fuck it.

“Ask me what it feels like to get fucked, now.” Rick whispers. Morty hesitates, the muscles in his back tensing under Rick’s hand.

“Y-you’ve…?”

“All the fucking time. Grandpa’s been taking dick since he was a- a little older’n you. You think the only thing I’m shoving up there is contraband? Megaseeds? ” He rubs the kid’s back, careful, gentle, wishing he could touch more. “So ask me, I’m an open book.”

“How does it feel, Rick?”

The question is barely audible. Rick can barely hold himself back.

“Good.” He says, settling his hands on Morty’s sides and starting into a rhythm, fucking the robot but feeling the familiar, barely-there curve of the boy’s hips at the same time. It’s almost what he wants. “It feels good, Morty. Like you never knew how empty you were until he held you down and shoved himself inside you.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah.”

He can feel Morty moving, too, he’s grinding himself against the robot’s soft inner thigh in shy, secretive thrusts. 

“It hurts so fucking bad, Morty. I cried the first time I got fucked, he had me bent over my bunk and when he bottomed out I fell on it.” He can hear Morty breathing fast and he tightens his hold on the boy’s hips, pulling him against the bot tighter, feeling the extra weight of his body through the robot’s stomach as he fucks her. “H-he was older than me, and bigger, and he fucked me face down in my bed.”

“D-did you like it?”

“Yeah.” He did, it hurt and he was scared and Rick thinks back to the first time he fucked Morty and sees all the parallels you could get a therapist to point out for a hundred dollars an hour. “Felt good, full, y-you can feel it in your cock when you get fucked, but it’s not… it’s not just that it’s-”

He runs his hands down Morty’s back to his hips, grabbing them and hissing through his teeth, remembering the way the kid had clamped down on his cock like he wanted to keep it.

“It’s not just h-how it feels in your guts, buddy. Half the fun of getting fucked is knowing that your body’s making him feel good. That you’re hot and wet and tight and he wants to get inside you, th-that you’re worth fucking. And it hurts, a-and it’s hard to breathe, and he’s got his hands on your hips and the bed’s creaking under your face and you can’t do anything except lie there and be good until it’s over.”

Rick brings one hand to the back of Morty’s head and takes the kid’s hair in a loose fist, forcing him to look up. He allows himself to be handled, body soft and hot and drenched in sweat and he’s still humping the robot, sandwiched between them. His eyes are glassy and there’s drool on the boy’s chin.

“And you don’t have to worry about a thing, Morty, not when you’re just the hole he’s fucking.”

Morty makes a noise in response to hearing his own name, and he swallows thickly, seeming to wake up from the daze he’d been in. He watches Rick with a blurry but frantic kind of intensity.

“Oh, wow.” He whispers, “Did… did he make you cum?”

Rick grins down at him, ruffling his hair.

“So fucking hard.”

Morty’s eyes slip closed and he sighs, resting his cheek on the robot’s left breast. Rick still has a hand inches from cupping the kid’s buttcheek and he reluctantly moves it up to safer territory. We’re just talking.

Yeah, right.

“Maybe that’s the next thing I buy you, hm?” Rick whispers. “Something to scratch that itch?”

He waits. For something, anything, feeling the kid’s back rise and fall under his hand as he breathes. And just as he’s about to give up hope, Morty nods, keeping his face hidden between the bot’s titties as he does.

“Fuck yeah, buddy, there you go. We can start you off small, so no pussing out on me.”

Morty nods again.

“Next time, okay?” He says.

“N-next time?” Morty echoes softly.

“Anything you want, I’ll make it happen.” Rick says and Morty swallows down his own drool. “Make it good for you, buddy, you’ve earned it. Any nasty thang you can dream up in that sick little head of yours.”

“O-oh jeez.” He sighs, getting lost in the possibility, the promise. Rick releases his hair.

“But it’s time now.” He says, cupping the back of the kid’s head.

“Time?”

“I want you in her with me, buddy. Remember? Wanted to feel you cumming on my cock.”

Morty shifts, nervously.

“So don’t leave me hangin’ here.”

“R-Rick?” His voice is hoarse, weak, like this is taking a physical toll on him.

“One more question then I’m cutting you off.”

He takes a shaky breath to steady himself before asking:

“Wh-what does it feel like to get cummed in?”

It's Rick's turn to take a steadying breath. Before he does something stupid. Before he fucks this up.

Come here and find out-

"Like winning, Morty." -bend over and find out- "Like taking home the gold."

-let grandpa show you what it feels like.

"I-" Morty turns his head to lay his cheek on the sexbot's breast. "I tried one time."

"Oh yeah?" Rick prods softly, forcing his hands to be still, forcing himself to be still. "How’d you manage that?"

"I… I took… I stole one of Summer's… shampoos…" He's getting quieter, muffling this last big confession against the bot's synthetic body. "And I h-heated it up in the sink… so it'd be hot, like… you know."

"You didn’t." Jesus.

Morty nods because he did. Rick can picture him in the bathroom on his back, his legs hitched over the side of the tub, spread, holding his breath as he tries to shove the spout-end of a bottle of Herbal Essences Cucumber and Green Tea in his ass. Sweaty and shaking and sending paranoid glances across the linoleum at the crack under the door, watching for his sister or his parents’ feet. Filling himself up, feeling that liquid heat oozing deep and pooling in his guts in a way he might faintly remember, like he’d felt it before in a dream, and imagining what as he blasts himself in the face with his own cum? Whose cock is pumping him full, in that little Morty brain of his? Rick thinks he knows.

"How was it?" Rick tries to keep his voice level and his face neutral.

"R-really good, Rick." He says, sounding small. "When I s-stood up and, and felt it running down my legs, I-"

“The fucking best, huh?”

Morty reaches past the robot and grabs Rick’s lab coat in an unsteady fist, like he doesn’t know if that’s okay or not. After all the boundaries Rick has trampled tonight.

“It w-wasn’t enough.”

Rick threads his fingers through the kid’s hair again. It’s a familiar motion to Rick but Morty moans softly like he’s never been touched like that before. Christ.

“I know, buddy.” Rick says. “I’ll figure something out for next time, deal?”

“There really is gonna be a next time?” He looks like he’s gonna start crying and Rick scritches the back of his head like the tiny, skittish, animal he is.

“Eager beaver, yeesh.”

“You know- I just, I j-just told you something really-” Morty pushes himself up and Rick’s hand slides out of his hair. He glares, watery-eyed and red-faced. “And you’re just gonna call- call me names?”

“‘Eager beaver’ is barely a name.”

“What about- I mean don’t, don’t you have anything to… to tell me?”

“Actually, yeah.” Rick pokes him in the ribs hard enough to make him grunt. “You better keep your sticky little hands off my shit! I’m going over the garage with a blacklight when we get home.”

“Wh- I never-!”

“I’ve got stuff in there that’d turn your ass into meatloaf if you tried to explore your body with it, if you get what I’m saying.” Rick wiggles his fingers violently, stabbing and twisting at the air over the robot’s shoulder. “Have you shitting subatomic colon-confetti.”

“You’re being gross!” Morty cries, pulling back even further.

“And you’re stalling.” Rick grabs the robot under her knees again and hikes them up. “Get in here, I’m gonna get trench-dick I’ve been balls deep in this pussy for so long. I can feel my foreskin pruning up.”

Morty gags.

“And that’s your fault! Th-this isn’t Sex Therapy with Grandpa time, Morty.”

“Fine! O-okay! I’m gonna, just- I need to-” Morty scootches backward. He’s left a slimy patch on the robot’s painted-on panties, evidence of the indomitable spirit of his teen-aged boner. “Do I just-?”

“Shove it in. Should be so easy even you can’t fuck it up.”

Morty rolls his eyes and lays his hand over the soft rise of the robot’s pelvis. He pushes, coaxing her to tilt her hips, already a pro at moving her around to suit his needs and wants. Rick releases one of her knees so he can push himself up on his elbow and watch this time.

This time.

(“There really is gonna be a next time?”)

Next time.

There’s never supposed to be a next time, but here the fuck we are, Rick thinks, waiting impatiently for Morty to drive the last nail in this coffin home.

The kid is fixated on the place her body and Rick’s cock intersect so Rick thrusts for him, pushing himself in slowly and then pulling out with a slick sound. This could be you, hurry up, hurry up, c’mon. Morty hesitates. He’s stroking himself and staring openly and shamelessly but not moving to get involved just yet.

“Morty.”

“I’m gonna! Just- I’m making my peace, okay?”

“Making your-” Rick coughs, caught off guard. “It isn’t going to kill you!”

“Yeah, well- it’s kinda, you know, th-there’s only one hole so… the… the balls…”

“The balls.”

“They’re gonna… touch.” Morty finishes lamely, averting his eyes.

“You’re retarded.”

“Just give me a sec, will you? Jeez!” Morty wipes at his face. He mutters one Okay, to himself, and then adds a more confident ‘let’s get this done’ Okay for good measure. “I’m gonna, um, stick it in now, so-”

“I’m gonna die of old age before you stick it in, but, hey, at least you got something to remember me by.” Rick knees the kid in the ass. “Just remember to pull my desiccated corpse-cock out when you’re finally ready.”

“Stop moving, I gotta…” Morty brings his hand under his mouth and drools onto his fingers. Spit clings to his bottom lip for a second before disconnecting. “Eugh.”

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! What’re you gonna do with that, big guy?” Rick hikes the bot’s leg up higher and raises his brow suggestively. Morty ignores him.

He smears the spit over the head of his dick, making sure to get everything that oozed between his fingers and onto the backs of his knuckles too.

“To see a pro at work.” Rick whistles.

“Nervous?” Morty says, wrapping his fingers around his dick and stroking it once, loosely. Rick snorts. “Y-you’re just talking a lot. Usually people do that when they’re nervous.”

“Like I’m scared you’re gonna rock my world? Fat chance, Mortimer.”

Morty moves his other hand to the robot’s pussy, hovering over it before making up his mind. Rick feels the kid’s fingertips gently running along the seam where her body wraps around his cock.

“Just feels like there’s something else you’re trying to… I dunno, distract me or- n-nevermind.”

Yahtzee. Bingo. Ruh-roh etc.

“Actually- can, can a guy get his rocks off without his grandson freaking out on him every time he manages to rub his only two brain cells together? It’s like, hellooo- turn it off, Morty! Let loose and-”

“Fuck the robot with your grandpa?” Morty says, tone weird. He’s touching himself more now, a little faster. It must be painfully oversensitive the way the kid is nursing it like that.

“Uh, duh.” Rick grunts. Breathes deep. “Sor-ree if I wanna get to the sex part of this sex. Fuck me, I guess.”

“No, I get it. I get it, now.” Morty shuts his eyes, fist tightening around his dick. “Thanks, Rick. For doing all- all this, for me. The robot and… and what we’re doing now.”

“Huh?”

“Okay, I think I’m ready. I was kinda hoping I’d- haha- you know, calm down a little bit? S-so if I cum right away again, I’m sorry.”

That’s the third time the kid has thanked him for this, for what is, objectively, undeniably, incestuous statutory rape with extra steps. And now he obviously has some kind of idea about what this is, like they’re Romeo and Juliet on the balcony and not Rick and Morty with their cocks out.  

(“-don’t you have anything to… to tell me?”)

The only confessions happening here are the kind that’d get other men free room and board at the nearest maximum security prison. Thank you? 

Thank you for molesting me, Grandpa?

But Rick doesn’t get the chance to chase that thought because Morty is already shimmying closer, settling in, his bare thighs sticky with sweat. He can feel the heat coming off him when all too suddenly the kid is nudging the underside of the older man’s cock with his dick, positioning himself at the robot’s hole. Rick holds still, holds his breath, feeling Morty’s balls brush against the base of his shaft as the kid starts to push.

“Oh-!” Morty gasps as the head of his dick slips in all at once. He slaps his hands to the seat by the bot’s hips to stop himself from falling. Rick groans, fingers curling into fists as his cock throbs deep in the robot’s body. Morty hisses: “Sh-shit, I-”

And he tries to pull out but it’s too late.

“Fucking finally!” Rick thrusts, dragging the kid along for the ride and Morty buckles into it, hunching over the robot’s body, arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up.

“That’s it, buddy, c-can feel you on my cock, making her tighter for me.” Rick lifts his knees to trap Morty in position. “Little more, I know you got a little more for me.”

“W-wait, wait w-wait-” Morty stammers, weakly trying to pull his hips back. Rick braces his feet on the dashboard of the ship and arches hard and Morty collapses completely, yelling as he sinks all the way inside. “Rick!”

His voice cracks and Rick grabs the back of the boy’s thighs, pulling him flush against the bot.

“Fuck yeah. Y-you’re good. That’s good, M-Morty, grandpa’s got you.” It’s good, Morty’s dick against his is good, the robot’s pussy is wet and hot and tight and even Morty’s pathetic squirming as he tries to get away is good, too.

 “Sh-she- what if she rips?” Morty whimpers. He has his forearms braced on the seat on either side of Rick’s chest, his head bowed between the robot’s tits as he pants hard. Rick moves in her and it’s so fucking good.

“I can fix her.”

“I- I can’t- Rick, i-it’s too-”

“I know.” He runs his hands up the back of the kid’s thighs. He’s shaking all over. “Lie down again, I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ll c-cum.”

“Morty.”

He does as he’s told, carefully lowering himself onto the robot, leaning into her lap, dick sinking deeper inside under the weight of his cautiously relaxing body. Rick massages the boy’s thighs, encouraging but impatient, too, waiting for all the tension to leach out of his muscles before creeping his hands higher. He cups Morty’s ass and sneaks his fingertips into dangerous territory.

“Rick?” He’s breathing too fast.

“Grandpa’s gonna hold you steady, so you don’t pop out.”

“Oh… o-okay.”

It's almost what he wants.

This can be good enough.

"Fuck, that's- th-thats exactly what the doctor ordered, huh, buddy? How fucking tight she is on us." Rick groans through his teeth, listening to the hhh-hh-hhh of his Morty's frantic rabbit-breaths. "Gonna move, you ready t’fuck her with me?"

Morty can’t answer so he buries his face against the robot's chest, his shoulders shaking.

"Robot, hold him.” She's laying on the memory gun, the handle is jabbing Rick in the ribs and he counts the time between Morty's breaths by the millisecond. The robot lifts her arms from where they hang limp at her sides and crosses them over the kid's back. “That’s it.”

Quieter:

"You're doing good, Morty."

Rick squeezes his ass, aching against Morty's smaller dick. Their balls are touching, sticking together with tacky, not-quite-dried semen. Rick moves in her and Morty tenses up again.

"Y-you did such a good job jerking grandpa off, got me close." He presses his cheek to the side of the robot's face, staring down her neck at the mess of brown hair at the top of Morty’s head. “Think you can hold on for me?”

He pulls back, the robot's walls dragging slick and tight and hot and Morty moans something that sounds like a yes.

"Louder, no shame. I-it's just us."

"R-Rick-" His voice cracks. "J-just do it. Please. O-or else I'm-"

“Bossy, bossy.”

Rick starts slow, holding on to Morty's ass and keeping him seated snug against her body. His cock slides in and out of her hole, moving against the boy’s dick in a dizzying, overwhelming tempo. Every stroke dragging him along like a riptide too powerful to fight against and all the poor kid can do is hold on and try not to drown.

"G-god-" He sounds close, voice wavering and frayed and Rick snaps his hips harder, a reward.

"You're good, you're doin' good, fuck, how's it feel? So fucking full, feel my cock on yours? Fuck her with me."

"Oh m-my god-"   Morty tests his hips, twitching them forward under Rick's hands. "Oh my god, ohmygod-"

"Th-that's perfect, Morty. Fuck her hard for me, c'mon-" Rick guides his awkward, inexperienced thrusts into a matching rhythm, forcing their bodies together. “Like this. You know how.”

Small hands inch up the backrest, tucking beneath Rick’s shoulders to clutch at the back of his coat. Just for leverage, to steady himself as he lets Rick take control again. The seat creaks under them and the air is heavy in their throats, so thick with the smell of sweat and cum it’s like a physical thing clinging to their bodies. Morty makes a broken sound, high pitched, and the hands clutching Rick’s shoulders tighten into vicious little claws that tear at the fabric and pinch the skin beneath. He’s moaning into the robot’s chest, his voice a muffled Ahh, ahh, ahh in time with the sick, rhythmic slide of their bodies. He’s holding on, but barely, flinching and choking and shivering every time Rick’s cock drags him in deep.

“That’s it, that’s right, fucking take it.” Rick squeezes the boy’s ass and there’ll be hand-shaped bruises there tomorrow, even though he’s trying to not be too rough, too mean, too scary. He tries to relax but it’s hard when the thing he really wants to fuck is naked and moaning inches from his face. “Fucking her good, Morty, keep it up, doin’ so good.”

Morty moans, his stupid voice cracking around the edges and the sound puddles in Rick’s stomach like a dangerous acid, corrosive, eating away at the walls of his self restraint. The kid can’t even speak, he loves it so much. His dick is a hard, burning line pressed against Rick’s and it’s too good, it’s too-

“Make you cum on my fucking cock, baby.” Rick pants, orgasm building at the base of his cock because it’s too easy. He can get Morty naked and willing to do whatever he wants the kid to do in ten minutes. Fuck the robot this time, get on the floor and open your mouth next time.

Take off your pants and bend over, the time after that.

There’s always going to be a next time, Rick knows it, somewhere in the scrambled-egg places in Morty’s ruined brain he knows it too. Morty tenses under his hands and chokes out Rick’s name in a thin, panicked squeak.

“Gonna cum for me, Morty? You wanna feel good?” Why wait for next time, why not now, now, now? “Grandpa’s got you.”

Rick dips his hand between Morty’s legs.

“Yeah, yeah yeah yeah do it, do it, do it-” Morty claws at his shoulders and when he feels Rick press the pad of his finger against his hole he pushes back, falling out of sync as he tries to force it inside. He’s begging through his teeth, a frantic avalanche of: “Doitdoitdoitdoitdo-”

Rick plunges inside and Morty takes him to the knuckle, tearing at his shoulders as his body tries to reject the invasion even as he shrieks breathlessly into the robot’s chest.

He’s tight.

Tighter than he remembers, because it’s been a long time since he’s fucked his boy. All that time spent loosening him up so he wouldn’t break, undone. Healed. And Rick thinks numbly: isn’t it nice how forgiving the bodies of children are? How they can fall in the driveway and scrape their knee and scream and cry but a couple days later, when the band-aid sloughs off in the bath, the skin underneath is pink and healthy and unmarred? Not even a scar to remember the pain by?

Like it never even happened.

Morty moans, loud, his hands pulling at the fabric at Rick’s shoulders like he wants to rip the labcoat to shreds. He pushes his hips against the robot’s as he cums, body shaking as he pumps her pussy full. Rick holds the kid in place and grits his teeth as cum floods the space between their cocks, enveloping them and oozing back out onto his balls and bare thighs. Morty starts to make a sound, almost like he’s crying, his ass pulsing down on Rick's finger as the waves of his orgasm crash over him.

Rick reaches in deeper, fingering him through it, wishing it was his cock in Morty’s ass instead.

“Oh m-my god, oh my god-” He sniffs, out of breath and shuddering as he tries to gulp down all the air in the ship. He coughs. He thrusts his hips, dick sliding against Rick’s in the slickness of his own semen. Rick lies still and lets him. “O-oh f-fuck, oh m-man.”

He slows, his strokes getting longer with little pauses in between. He pulls out to the very limit and a wave of cum drools out around the gaps his dick leaves and he takes a shivery breath. Rick’s expecting him to pull away, make the finger slip out of his ass and maybe climb into the passenger seat and put his clothes back on. But he doesn’t.

“S-so-” His voice trails off into a barely audible murmur, something that sounds like s-so fucking good in me, Rick but that can’t be right and then he’s pushing again, cum spurting out as he slots himself back inside the tight heat of the robot’s pussy. He doesn’t say anything about the finger slowly working his asshole. He just breathes and breathes and breathes, hands relaxing their grip until they’re only wedged there between the man’s shoulders and the backrest.

Rick stretches a little deeper, testing the tightness, thinking it’s like it never happened and you fucked up again at the same time, overlapping, the thoughts phasing through eachother like competing neurotoxins in a hermetically sealed room. He pulls out, feeling Morty’s walls slide over his skin. He adds another finger and tries to push them both in.

“Ow.” Morty whispers, very quiet, and Rick withdraws his hand. He slides it over the boy’s asscheek, leaving a wet line on the skin and that’s it. Morty doesn’t say anything else about it, and Rick doesn’t either. The weight of the boy and the robot combined is loud enough. The cum leaking between Rick’s thighs says everything that needs to be said. Morty’s dick is going soft and he whimpers when it finally slips free, his face pressed between the robot’s breasts, his hands barely cupping Rick’s shoulders.

Rick’s heart is beating hard in his chest, a sweating fist trapped inside a leather glove pounding on a locked door. Morty’s cum is still oozing down his shaft. And Rick is still hard.

“Wow.” Morty whispers against the robot’s skin. His voice is swallowed up by the heavy air.

He doesn’t move to leave, he doesn’t scramble to get away in a beautiful moment of post-nut clarity. He doesn't burst into tears. He doesn't do anything except melt over the robot like ice cream on the hottest day of summer break. Rick stares up at the foggy glass and his cock is still hard and Morty is still here.

“Knew you were a cuddler.” Rick says and his tone is warm but his lips are cold, the hand with the wet finger moves up and down the small of the kid’s back in an intimate, if robotic gesture. Morty huffs softly.

“I- I think if I tried to get up right- right now I’d just… I’d fall over.” He mumbles, obviously embarrassed, turning his head to rest a cheek against the robot’s left breast. “I never- you know, ‘can a guy’ c-catch his breath for a second?”

Morty says, echoing Rick’s words from earlier because kids are always listening, aren’t they?

The sexbot twitches between them and her arms slowly begin to uncross, releasing her own death grip across the kid’s upper back. They slump over the sides of the seat with two dull thuds and hang there, unnaturally limp. Her leg twitches and her head swivels on her neck a quarter turn one way and a quarter turn back. Morty untucks his hands from under Rick’s shoulders and props himself up a little, enough to look closer at the robot.

There’s worry in his face, but it’s mild, drowning in the slack-jawed glow of post-O bliss. He’s managed to catch his breath but his mouth is still open, his lips and chin glossy with his own drool. He shifts his eyes from the robot’s face to Rick’s and seems startled when he finds Rick staring back at him.

“Uh, sh-she doesn’t look too… hot.” Morty says, clearing his throat and glancing away. Rick rubs the kid's back again, mechanically. Up, down. Morty shifts his weight around like he’s suddenly uncomfortable and Rick takes that as the cue to stop touching. It’s over, it’s done, let it go.

That was good enough.

“Twenty-five schmeckles says her battery’s kaput.” He can hear himself saying the words.

“Th-that’s big fake boobie money, Rick, you know I don’t have that.”

“If you did you- you coulda procured your own sexual paraphernalia.” But the words are automatic, generating one after the other like he’s reading predictive text off a screen.

“M-maybe if you’d actually pay me for all the stuff you make me-”

“Not a chance in Italian hell, Paulie.”

Morty frowns, nose wrinkling.

“Who’s Paulie?”

“ ‘Fuck you, pay me?’ Goodfellas?” Rick sighs. “Nevermind, you’re more of a Henry Hill-type character, anyway. Get up, i-i-it’s too hot in here.”

“... Do Italians go to a different hell?”

“Morty.”

“O-okay, okay! I’m getting up.”

He climbs off the robot and straightens up, one knee at the very edge of the seat and his other foot on the floor. He looks good like that. Bright, naked and unashamed with skin flushed pink and his hair matted to his forehead. Then he glances down at the robot’s pussy and his expression changes.

“Don’t beat yourself up, kid, I’m not the woman.” Rick says and pushes the robot over into the passenger seat like yesterday’s Wendy’s bag. She’s a heavy mess of limbs but she goes easy enough and immediately it’s like a weight has been lifted, literally and metaphorically. It’s over, it’s over, he’s still rock hard but without that tight, cum-soaked heat wrapped around him his cock can finally get the it’s over message and chill the fuck out. Rick lifts the lapel of his lab coat and stuffs a hand into an inner pocket. He reaches past the memory gun.

“Y-you didn’t cum?”Morty’s eyebrows pinch together with worry. “Aw man I- I was trying to, you know, to hold on.”

“It’s fine.” Morty reaches out, like he’s going to try and make another grab for his cock so Rick holds out his hand and repeats. “It’s fine. Th-that’s, that’s good enough.”

“I mean, it’s not fair if- I got to finish like… two times.”

“Well Rosey the Robot over here is dead, so unless you wanna suck my cock…” Rick lets it hang, half serious. It stretches in the silence between them, an olive branch in a universe where olives symbolize blowing your mom’s dad instead of peace, but Morty doesn’t take it. “That’s what I thought.”

“Rosey?” The kid mumbles, looking at the passenger seat where the robot lies face down and ass up in an uncomfortable crumple. Rick pulls the mini M&M’s tube out of his pocket and squeezes it until the lid pops open.

Pop!

“The fine-ass robo maid from The Jetsons, Morty, c’mon.” He tilts the tube over his palm and the last roach tumbles out. He tucks it into the corner of his mouth and goes looking for his lighter, ignoring the quiet, unmoving way Morty is looming over him.

“Sorry.” He says.

Miraculously, Rick's fingertips brush against the smooth plastic shell of the bic after barely twenty agonizingly awkward seconds of searching.

“Hanna Barbera sucks anyway, kid, y-you’re not missing much.” He pulls the lighter out and tests it. An orange flame flickers alive in the air between them and it reflects dully off the windshield over Morty’s shoulder. He brings it to his mouth and sets it to the charred tip of the joint.

“Do you want me to?”

A small hand settles on Rick’s thigh, palm damp with sweat. Rick freezes. The flame is hot and bright and the joint catches fire. The lighter is heating up, burning his thumb, burning his nose, Morty is hunched over him now, pinning him to the seat with that one hand.

“Want you to what.” Rick says, bile rising up his throat to burn him from the inside. He already knows what but Morty spells it out for him anyway.

"Do you want me to suck your cock."

He can smell the weed burning, skunky and fetid, like the gunk in the bottom of a garborator.

Morty says:

“I-it’s only fair.” And there's that weird look on his face again but Rick places it this time. The kid is searching, scanning him like the robot had when they first turned her on. He’s trying to figure Rick out.

“Morty.”

“I won’t…” The lighter’s flame flickers in his eyes, making the green of them something awful and inhuman. He moves his hand a little higher, sliding it through his own cum and stopping when Rick’s cock brushes against his wrist. He swallows hard and says:

“I won’t tell.”

Chapter Text

It’s too hot in the ship.

Morty stares down at Rick with a careful intensity, the fire-light shining in the sweat clinging to his skin. Rick releases the lighter’s button and the flame goes out, replaced by a faint cherry coal at the end of his joint.

Rick breathes deep and it burns brighter through the inhale.

(“Do you want me to suck your cock?”)

He holds the smoke, an excuse to not answer for a couple more seconds. Does he want Morty to suck his cock? Yeah. Deffo. Does Morty want to suck his cock, though?

(“I won’t…”)

Or is this some kind of test, Morty’s turn to twist dials and pull the levers of their relationship?

(“I won’t tell.”)

Because ‘Mom, I asked him to buy me a sex robot and then we fucked her,’ is one thing but ‘Mom, he asked me to suck him off,’ is a whole ‘nother can of worms. Not morally, not logically, but there’s a different vibe to the latter, isn’t there?

That’s something you’d knock on your mom’s bedroom door for. That’s something you could sit next to her on the bed and whisper, looking down at your lap so you won’t have to see the way her face changes when you tell her.

Not that he’d get the chance to tell anyone jack shit. The kid is always one bright light away from forgetting where his own left testical is, but that isn't the point. The point is the chance that Morty could be scheming in that thick, cum-clogged noggin of his. That’d be no good at all.

Rick blows smoke out his nose and it swirls in the air between them. The hand on his thigh hasn’t budged but the kid does recoil when the smell hits him, grimacing with childish distaste. He probably wants to say something about it. ‘ Dad said you shouldn’t do drugs around me’ or ‘if I come home smelling like weed Dad’s gonna call CPS on you again.’ But credit to him, Morty bites his tongue and keeps his eyes on the prize.

Rick pinches the joint between his thumb and forefinger and pulls the stub away from his lips, looking at it when he speaks:

“Was a joke, kid, chill out.”

Morty grabs Rick’s cock. Lunges for it so the man can’t fend him off this time and Rick isn’t sure how he expected Morty to react, but it wasn’t like that.

“Woah!”

“Oh, yeah, o-okay so- so that was a joke. Everything else was serious but, but that last bit at the end, that was just a joke?” He says, voice raising in pitch and volume and Rick cringes into his seat. “And I’m supposed to- to- to just know that?”

“Morty- c’mon, just-” Morty yanks hard and Rick’s throat slams shut, leaves him choking. Tears sting in the corners of his eyes and several internal alarms blare, cybernetic defense systems sparking into standby-mode. “Wh-what, a-a-are you trying to rip my dick off!?”

“You said I could! You- you said if, if I wanted to, I had free reign, you said that.” He snaps back, his voice cracking. “Unless that was just a joke, too.”

“I wasn’t- I wasn’t joking, but I meant in a sexy, CBT way!”

“Well I don’t know what that is!” 

“Cock and ball torture!”

Morty stops, nostrils flaring and eyes darting around for a moment before he relaxes his grip slightly.

“M-maybe I do know what that is.”

Rick collapses flat on his back and lifts both his hands in surrender, the roach burning down to almost nothing between his two fingers. The sex robot twitches in the passenger seat and Morty breathes heavy above him.

“Okay.” Rick grits out. “O-okay let's just take a second here and-”

“Either the whole thing was a joke or none of it was.” Morty cuts in firmly. He’s so deadly serious about it that Rick would laugh… if his dick wasn’t getting white-knuckled like a cop’s baton after the body cam turns off. “I-if you didn’t mean it, then- then why would you ask me to, to suck your -”

“Jesus, Mort-”

“Don’t Jesus, Morty me right now, Rick!”

They stare each other down, the only movement in the cockpit the curls of smoke still rising from Rick’s lit roach. Tendrils snake up the man’s raised hand and lift away from his fingertips to collect over Morty’s head in a gray halo. The robot twitches again in the corner of both their eyes, some part of her body hitting the passenger side door with a muted thunk. The death throes of a discarded toy.

“I thought you weren’t gay.” Rick says, voice low in his chest. He wonders if the kid can feel his cock throbbing in time to his heartbeat. Probably. Morty adjusts his grip and his palm is sweating bad.

“I’m not.” He says.

“So my dick’s the only one you’d consider slobbering on?”

“If you weren’t joking. Sure.” Morty spits without missing a beat, his voice only a little shaky. This kid.

They lapse into silence again and Rick sighs out some tension. He brings his joint back to his lips and breathes deep, the end shining bright and hot and singeing the hair on his knuckles. That’s all, folks, the very last of his good shit. Rick draws the roach into his mouth and grimaces as the coal fizzes out on his tongue. Morty makes a matching sour expression when Rick eats the thing in a single, dry gulp.

“Gross.”

“Oh yeah-” Smoke slips out of his mouth with the words. “-the wannabe grandpa-cock sucker’s calling me gross.”

He wraps his fingers around Morty’s wrist and attempts to gently pry him off the goods but the kid refuses to let go.

“I-it’s not like it’d be the, the worst thing we did tonight, though.” Morty says, and it might be the weed but he almost sounds betrayed. Rick shuts his eyes and sighs again, sending a lungful of smoke avalanching down his chest. “A-and it’s not like… like I want to. But I would, if you asked and- and if you weren’t joking.”

The ground is starting to spin again and Rick slides his free hand into his lab coat’s inner pocket.

“‘Cause, I mean, you know… you helped me out. So it’s only fair…?” The kid trails off, getting less confident with every increasingly embarrassing word. He wiggles the fingers wrapped around Rick’s cock again as he adjusts his sweating grip.

Rick touches the handle of the memory gun, the movement hidden under his coat. The device is heavy against his chest.

“A blowie between bros, huh? Guys helping guys.” Rick opens his eyes and tries to set them on Morty but he’s spinning, too. “How neighborly.”

“J-just call me Mr. Rogers.” Morty says, offering a wobbly smile.

“No.” Rick says and the smile falls off the kid’s face.

“Wh-what do you mean no?” 

“You can’t not know The Jetsons and then- then turn around and tell me to- to-” Rick sits up and slaps blindly for the seat lever. He finds it and yanks almost as hard as Morty yanked on his cock and the seat snaps up and hits him in the back. “‘Call me Mr. Rogers’, Jesus Christ Morty, were you dropped??”

“You love references!”

“Is that what you think I do? I- ughh!” Now Rick reaches for the driver's side door handle. “I-it smells like you squirted your kiddie cum into an Easy Bake Oven in here, I’m getting some air.”

“No!”

Morty slams his fist down on the pull pin, locking the door before Rick can open it.

“Morty.”

“Y-you’re running!”

“And you’re being kinda rapey.” Rick spits, eye to eye with the kid. If he came a little closer he’d be in smooching range.

“...Sorry.” Morty says but doesn’t back down and Rick wants to grab his shoulders and shake him for being so stupid. Thank you for molesting me, Grandpa, sorry for sexually assaulting you, Grandpa. It’s amazing this idiot made it to 14 at all.

Rick groans and pretends to think, lifting both his hands to his face and scrubbing at it. He runs his tongue over his teeth and tastes grit and ash. He tries not to react when Morty adjusts his grip again, half-wondering if he’s doing it on purpose, the movement twisting nice and hot in the pit of his stomach.

He had been pretty close to the finish line.

“You’re just making it weird all of a sudden.” Morty says quietly. He takes a short breath, like he has something else to say, but then lets it out in an unsubtle rush. His fingers finally slide off of Rick’s cock and leave it there, leaning heavily in the space between their two bodies. He unlocks the driver’s side door.

Rick watches him carefully. Waiting for more, calculating and recalculating, weighing the memory eraser in his pocket against all the careful groundwork he’s laid tonight. The robot twitches again and Morty glances at her, but other than that he stays completely still. He’s waiting too. He has one knee braced at the edge of the seat, brushing Rick’s leg, his other foot planted on the floor so he’s half standing in a hunched position. His bare stomach is flexed to keep himself upright, barely-there muscles highlighted by the low interior cockpit lights. It’d be so easy to pull Morty into his lap from here.

Stopping now could be the move. Pretending that there’s a line he won't cross could work. We were just messing around gets a lot harder to maintain once you’ve shoved your cock down the kid’s throat, Rick. You’d have to mind wipe him.

You’d have to hit the reset button again.

It’s too hot in the ship.

Rick tucks his fingers in the door handle and pulls until the mechanism pops open. Night air pours into the cockpit, replacing the smoke as it billows out in a rising cloud. He breathes in and it stings in his lungs. Morty shivers and crosses his arms over his chest.

“There. I’m not running, just needed some fresh air in here. Sit with me.” Rick says, calm and smooth on the outside. Morty looks up, not understanding until Rick shimmies over to make room on his seat. Very will you walk into my parlour-esque, but Morty comes crawling closer and turns, squeezing himself in between the console and his grandpa. Oblivious to the danger. Rick toes off his shoes and shoves his slacks down to his ankles and then all the way off. He lifts them up and inspects them.

There’s a massive slimy patch over the whole lap and Morty mumbles a faint jeez from where he’s tucked against Rick’s side.

“Talk about a snail-trail.” Rick tries to sound upbeat, raising his brow snapping the waistband of the pants like a crisp dollar bill.

“I wasn’t trying to- you know, force anything.” Morty mumbles, serious.

“Fuck, kid-” Rick tosses his pants into the back seat. “-don’t get hung up on that.”

The air is cool on the leg closest to the door and some of that suffocating, claustrophobic heat starts to subside. Rick gets comfortable, stretching out his back and rolling his neck until it crackles. He slings a friendly arm around Morty’s shoulders.

“Come on…”

The kid is so tense, his elbows pinned to his sides and his hands in half-fists on his legs. In direct contrast to the stiffness of his body, and for the first time since the pawn shop, the kid is actually limp. His age-appropriate package lies in a slimy lump between his thighs. Next to Rick’s, it looks like a wholly different creature, like some kind of sea slug vs a well fed anaconda. Rick shakes Morty a little. When that doesn’t get a reaction he shakes him a little harder.

“What.” He grumbles and Rick bites back an automatic flicker of anger.

“Ohhh…” Rick gives the kid a paternal squeeze. “You’re embarrassed, is that it? Grandpa won’t let you suck his cock and now you’re all grumpy?”

“Stop- s-stop doing that.” Morty says, head bowed and hands curling into true fists.

“Being right?”

“Calling yourself… that. Like drawing attention to- to it. It’s gross.”

Rick blinks, momentarily scrambling to decode what the kid’s trying to say. He can’t mean-

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” Rick says before he knows he’s going to say it, the words falling over the edge of his tongue like more smoke. Morty tries to turn away but he’s trapped and Rick watches the curve of his face, taking in the pink flush of his cheek and the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows instead of acknowledging what was just said.

Because Morty, the Morty Rick knew before the Big Reset, did love that Grandpa shit. The Morty he knew ate that up, and every other thing that made their relationship sick and shocking and gross. He was desperate for that bad-feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him what he was doing was wrong.

He’d said so, confessed that he likes it in the dark, under the covers in a cold motel room on some backwater, shithole planet.

And it pisses Rick off now to hear him pretend like he doesn’t.

“C’mon.” He says, shaking Morty by the shoulders again. “What if I apologized? Limited time offer, one day only, one Sorry from me to you.”

“I don’t want an apology.” Morty grunts, resisting the shaking as best he can.

“What about…” Rick lets it hang in the air like he hasn’t already decided on his plan of attack. “...the truth? My character motivation, what about it, bud?”

Morty moves to get up and Rick pulls him back down.

“Come on, don’t be like that. Fuckin’- fine, fine, okay. I wasn’t joking.”

Morty stops fighting to get away and goes still again. Rick makes a big show of slouching in his seat and pulling the kid against his chest. He runs his free hand through his own hair and he’s just as sweaty as Morty is. He looks at the wetness on his hand, rubbing his fingers over his palm before letting the hand fall to his crotch.

“Yeah, you got me.” He says finally. “I wasn’t joking. I asked you to suck my cock, you didn’t look super into it so I tried to take it back. That wasn’t very chill of me, a-and I know you don’t want my apology, but I’m sorry.”

Morty relaxes a little. And then a little more until he’s resting his head on Rick’s chest. He pets the boy’s arm quietly, letting the moment breathe before going in for the kill.

“But you get why, right?” He lowers his voice, murmuring into Morty’s hair. “It’d change things.”

Rick moves slow, careful, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock. It’s slick with the kid’s spent cum and Rick holds it as he continues rubbing Morty’s shoulder.

“The robot is one thing, but this?” He pumps himself once, smearing the cum up his shaft until it spills over his thumb. “There’s no undo button. You have to really want it, Morty, none of this ‘I’ll do it if you ask me to’ BS. It’s gotta be you. Tomorrow, or a week, or a month from now, when you’re brushing your teeth and looking yourself in the mirror, there can’t be a single doubt in your mind that you didn’t want it.”

“I said I wouldn’t tell.” Morty says in a near-whisper and something sharp and hot twists in Rick’s stomach, his cock aches in his hand.

“Tell what? What’s that mean to you, Morty?”

Morty doesn’t answer right away. The thigh smooshed against Rick’s bare leg is burning up. He can feel the kid’s breath on his chest through the sweat-drenched fabric of his sweater. He could push the boy’s head into his lap from here, but it doesn’t have to be like that. Not if Rick plays his cards right.

“I-” Morty starts, keeping that same grave-yard hushed tone. “I didn’t… I guess i-in the moment… I didn't think about how serious it’d be.”

He trails off again and the weed is really hitting now. Just those couple puffs were enough and the night air wafting through the open door can't keep his head clear anymore, he’s drowning in the high. Morty sounds like he’s talking under a mile of ocean, the places where their bodies meet are a wobbly, bleeding line that shifts like two different color inks fighting on water-damaged paper.

“I’m not…” The words sink like a stone in Rick’s stomach. He’s going to say no, I’m not feeling it anymore, Rick, I take it back, let’s get dressed and go home.

He didn’t mean to actually talk the kid out of it. Panic like a low grade fever swells in the back of Rick’s head. He tries to reverse, re-examine the data, figure out where he got the math wrong but all the numbers are spiraling down some unseen, unpluggable drain.

When Morty reaches towards Rick’s cock he almost doesn’t believe his eyes.

“I was just having so much fun and- and I needed a second to figure out if, if I could… you know, do it or not.” Morty says, making contact with only his fingertips at first. “You just didn’t give me e-enough time to think about it.”

And he says, so quiet Rick has to lean down to catch it:

“I already don’t tell anyone about all the stuff we do.”

Morty looks up into Rick’s face and starts to move his hand down the man’s cock, only stopping when their fists bump together. He shrugs.

“Y-you know me. G-good ole Morty, knows how to go with the flow.”

The words make the hairs on Rick’s arms stand on end. It’s the way the kid says them… like they mean something equal parts important and awful to him. Morty tries to smile but it comes across sad.

"Kinda making me feel like a creep, kid." Rick confesses and it's true, barely. It doesn't bother him as much as he needs Morty to believe it does… and he’s only saying it to get closer to the outcome he wants.

"But I'm a creep too, remember?"

Morty, Morty, Morty, so naive and trusting and empathetic. Yuck.

"Yeah you are." Rick breathes, tilting his hips to push his cock through the boy’s hand. Morty squeezes it and heat pulses in Rick’s guts. "Fuck.”

It feels good, this stop-and-go game is agony in the way that edging is agony. It’d be so easy to just sit back and let the kid go at it like this. He pictures it. He shuts his eyes and imagines Morty getting hard beside him as he works his grandpa’s cock to the finish line. He imagines Morty leaning over and slotting his mouth over the head right as he blows.

Like he used to.

“You ever wanted to suck dick before?" Rick whispers, knowing what the answer is and wanting to know if post-reset Morty will tell him the truth. Morty picks up the pace, tugging the man's cock towards himself. It’s big. He has it arched over Rick’s thigh so the head hovers above Morty’s own lap, dripping precum into the line where his legs press together.

"Not-" He says and Rick might actually laugh if he tries to deny the gay allegations again. But he doesn't, he says: "Not really… except. I guess sometimes I wonder what it's like when, you know, like in porn? What it's like for the girl when she's doing it."

Rick suppresses a shudder, breathing through his clenched teeth.

"This isn’t gonna change anything." Morty adds quietly, focusing on the up-down of his hand on Rick's cock, his smaller hand bumping into Rick’s on every downstroke. "It's only weird if we make it weird. You made me feel good, s-so… you know, it’s my turn to do you.”

Rick lowers his arm and loops it around the boy's waist.

“Yeah, the logic tracks, quid pro quo, but the choice still has to be on you, kid.” Rick repeats, speaking just above the boy’s head. “A hundred percent you, you have to want this…”

Morty stops stroking.

“...or else, what’s that make me?”

They coulda maybe moved past the whole finger-in-the-ass thing, but this is waaay over the line. No 4D chess, no Jedi mind tricks can keep this kosher and it was a joke Rick thought he could talk his way into having his grandson and fucking him too.

He’s always been a dog, mangey and rabid and dangerous and Morty’s just another bone to chew on. And chew on. And chew on. Until he finally breaks under Rick’s teeth to be hollowed out and, eventually, buried.

“Morty?” Rick whispers. Impatient. Cock burning in the boy’s motionless hand.

“I wanna do it.” He says.

“Why?” Rick pushes because it’s fun, because it’s part of the fantasy he’s building. “So you can hold it over me every time you don’t get your way?”

“I said I’m not gonna tell.” His fist tightens around Rick’s cock, making it leak and ache and throb. “A-and it doesn’t matter if I did.”

Morty lets go and peels himself off of Rick’s side, the man’s arm sliding away from his waist as he moves to the edge of the seat. A chill goes through Rick at the loss of the boy’s body heat.

“What’s that mean?” Rick asks, mouth dry. Morty puts a hand on the man’s knee and lowers himself to the floor by his feet. Empty bottles clink together as he settles in between Rick’s spread legs, a lot like the sex robot did when they first turned her on. He looks smaller than she did down there, his face a pale oval floating in the dark. There’s no visor to hide his eyes but Morty’s expression is just as much a mystery as hers was. Different emotions swirl and twist together, all of them too complicated to decipher when the only thing Rick can think about is the back of the boy’s throat.

“We already moved realities once.” Morty says, sounding older than he is. “I-if our family found out… we’d just go somewhere else.”

Our.

We.

Rick takes the memory gun out of his breast pocket and starts programming the wipe. Everything after they put the sex robot in the car up until the moment he pulls the trigger should be good, Morty’ll eventually wake up, thinking he fell asleep on the ride home. Simple assumption-based replacement memories are the easiest to install.

And Morty watches him mess with the gun without comment, knowing either Rick will explain what he’s doing or he won’t, and that asking will only get him snapped at. Once he’s happy with the settings Rick puts it in the passenger seat with the bot. Then he pulls his arms through the sleeves of his lab coat, lifts his sweater over his head and tosses it into the backseat with his pants.

Now they’re both naked.

Rick yanks the door shut and it latches with a heavy click.

“Yeah, Beths’ll let a lot slide, but if she freaked out it’d be easier to fuck off to a reality where she never found out.” Rick says, finally, relaxing into his seat and motioning for Morty to come a little closer. He doesn’t move. “But would you want that?”

Now they’re talking about eloping, what a riot.

“...I didn’t want to leave Cronenberg World but i-it’s not like I really got a choice, did I?”

“I guess not.” 

It takes every last shred of willpower he has to not tell the kid something that’d start a whole new fight. Like how he’s exactly right, he didn’t have a choice, and he never will have the choice and isn’t it a shame that you’re just smart enough to get that but not smart enough to do anything about it? Instead Rick grabs the boy’s upper arm and drags him deeper between his spread legs.

Morty turns his head away and presses his lips together in a tight line, looking anywhere except for at the man’s cock.

“Second thoughts, buddy?” Rick asks, drinking up the way the kid looks with his face in his crotch. He pushes some hair off of Morty’s forehead to get a better view of the worried way his brow is furrowed. “What happened to ‘I wanna do it’, huh? Where’d that guy go?”

"You're rushing me."

"Ooh, does somebody need to make his peace again? We already knocked balls, Morty, like a fuckin' Newton's Cradle in an earthquake."

"I remember." Morty says, flushing darker. “I was there.”

"So what's the hold up? Y-you better not be pussing out on me."

Rick can see himself grabbing the kid’s head and pulling him close, forcing his mouth open and shoving his cock inside now that they're past the point of no return. Now that he has Morty on his knees and the memory gun out and within arm's reach… he’s going to wipe this anyway so why not hurry it along? Skip to the good part, the part where Morty is choking and gagging as Rick pumps cum down the boy’s throat, tears in his eyes but holding on, doing his best to swallow what he can. Then a quick flash and everything’s good again. Morty goes to sleep, Rick puts the bad memory in a vial, Rick drives them home and Rick puts the vial on the shelf.

(Rick gets drunk and plugs the memory in, Rick beats off to it like a fly slamming itself against the glass, too lost in the fantasy of fresh dog shit and hot dumpsters to realize that the window is open just three inches to its left.)

On the other hand, he worked so hard tonight.

He put all his tokens in the Morty machine and now he wants his prize. Maybe that’s the sunk-cost fallacy in action. Maybe getting your cock sucked feels better when you earn it.

(Maybe the memory will play better if the kid is into it, too.)

“Wanna see your face, bud.” Rick says, half here in the ship and half a hundred million miles away. 

He cups the back of Morty’s head and coaxes him into looking up. His eyes are wide, the pupils dark. He has one hand gripping the edge of the seat and one hand between his legs, loosely curled around his limp dick.

“Got me really fuckin’ close tonight, buddy.” Rick says, running his other hand up to the head of his cock and back down. “Another minute and I woulda nut in the bot with you, you know that?”

(And you wouldn’t be on the floor with my cock in your face, right now.)

“Not gonna take much, is what I’m saying.” He pushes it closer but Morty shies away again, turning his face and wrinkling his nose. “C’mon, he doesn’t bite.”

Morty takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut and Rick waits, stroking himself next to the boy’s bright red ear. A bead of sweat trickles from his hairline down the side of his face. He breathes out.

“Ready?”

“J-just don’t shove it in too far or I’ll puke on it.”

“Woah! Save the pillow talk for the end, why don’t you?” Rick grins down at him but Morty’s eyes stay shut, his lips frozen in an oh-so serious line. Not in the mood for banter. Rick brings his hand around, pausing with his thumb at the corner of the boy’s mouth. “Alright, okay. Since it’s your first time I’ll take it easy on you. Stick your tongue out.”

A sliver of tongue pokes out for a second before disappearing again. He sits up straighter and accidentally hits his head on the bottom of the steering wheel.

“Now’s not the time to workshop your slapstick routine, kid.”

“I-it’s cramped down here! I’m- I’m doing it, just-” He shifts around again and more empty bottles clink together in the dark by his knees. Rick slips his thumb inside the boy’s mouth, sneaking under his upper lip and pushing it up to reveal a line of sharp teeth.

“Out.” Rick says and Morty, after a little more fidgeting, carefully extends his tongue.

“-ike is?” He asks, holding the pose with his brow furrowed. Saliva collects in the back of his throat as he focuses on keeping his tongue out.

“Bingo bango, bucko.” Rick says and feels the muscles in the boy’s jaw flex under his hand as he swallows his drool, open mouthed, making a wet sound that Rick feels in his balls. He strokes his cock and encourages Morty to tilt his head back just a little bit more. He looks good like that. “Gonna give you a taste first, baby steps, so- so don’t freak out on me.”

He hovers his cock over Morty’s tongue.

“Here comes the rocket ship.”

“-hut up!”

Rick laughs softly, giddy, feeling like a winner. He places the head of his cock on the boy’s tongue and it’s hot and wet and Morty moans, and Rick says theeere, that wasn’t so bad, was it? And Morty shudders, leaning into it, digging his fingernails into the tattered pleather seat as he flattens his tongue against the underside of his grandpa’s cock.

“That’s perfect.” Rick hisses under his breath, gradually upping the pressure as he jerks himself off on the slick surface of Morty’s tongue. He drags his hand down his length hard, milking out beads of precum that dissolve and mix with the spit dripping down the boy’s chin. He slumps over, resting his forehead on the ship’s steering wheel with a soft groan. “Fuck, h-how’s it taste, buddy?”

Morty moans and tilts his head, letting Rick’s cock slide over his wet lips.

“Look at you.” He’s never going to get tired of this. “Gonna fuck your face tonight, M-Morty.”

Rick takes his chin and pushes down gently, opening him wider so he can guide himself inside. The wet glide of Morty’s tongue sends liquid heat down his cock to pool at the base and he has to fight the urge to shove it down the kid’s throat all at once. He isn’t ready, Rick can feel it in the way he’s shaking and the way his breathing goes ragged and irregular the longer this slow slide goes on. The tip butts against the roof of the boy’s mouth and he makes a quiet, worried noise that buzzes in Rick’s brain.

“Easy, baby.” He whispers, swiping his thumb through the drool on Morty’s chin. “Taking my cock so good already. Remember to breathe.”

He jerks off into the kid’s mouth, knuckles meeting lip on every stroke, feeling hot air rushing over his skin as Morty starts to pant like a dog. His shoulder is moving subtly and arousal twists in Rick’s stomach when he realizes what the kid’s up to.

“You really like that, huh?” He’s touching himself, he’s trying to keep the motion small and hidden like it’s some big secret that he’s enjoying this. “Sucking your first cock.”

Morty swallows, mouth closing around the head for a moment before opening again, panting on it.

“Yeah, I caught you.” Rick sing-songs, moving to pinch the boy’s cheek. Not too hard, but hard enough that Morty opens his eyes to stare dopily up at him. “You jerking yourself off to this?”

He turns his head away and Rick’s cock slips free, strings of drool trailing after the boy’s lips. He lifts the hand and wipes the spit off his cheek with it.

“Heyy, hey, hey, relax.” Rick whispers. “You don’t have to be all coy– so sucking cock turns you on. Lucky me, cause getting my cock sucked turns me on. Get it?”

“O-obviously… everyone likes-'' Morty mumbles, staring over Rick’s thigh at the driver’s side door panel.

“Yeah, everyone likes getting his cock sucked. But not everyone likes cock-sucking. Look at me, Morty.”

“Wh-what?” He says, defensive, eyes narrow as he breathes heavy through his mouth.

Rick is thinking about the memory gun. How will this moment play when he bottles it for later consumption? He has the chance to direct his own real life porno right now, all he has to do is set up the shots.

“Just wanna look you in the eye when you’re sucking my cock, Morty.” Rick drags his hand down his length, slow, and Morty follows the movement with half-lidded, slightly crossed eyes. “That’s the God’s honest truth. Now are you gonna be honest with me?”

And Morty squirms, both hands gripping the edge of the seat. Rick cups his cheek.

“Be bold, big guy, none of this aw jeez, I'm so shy shit. If you’re brave enough to suck my cock, you’re brave enough to tell me how much you love doing it.”

He seems to consider, his tongue coming out to lap at the sweat collecting on his upper lip in a quick, distracted swipe. And Rick can’t wait, he’s been waiting, Ricks aren’t wait-ers. They’re pushers and he can’t stop himself from pushing.

“Tell me something, Morty.” The memory vial glitters in his mind’s eye as he pries one of Morty’s hands off the seat and brings it to his cock. “Say: I wanna make you cum, Rick.”

The boy’s fingers close around him in a slow, instinctual way.

(Like Beth’s hand used to close around his finger when she was just a baby.)

“Do I have to?” He asks quietly, his other hand sliding off the seat to disappear in the dark between his legs again.

“‘Be so hot if you did, baby.”

Morty swallows, cautiously pulling it towards his mouth until his breath is puffing over the head. Rick lets him, boiling just under the surface. He doesn’t want to wait. He shouldn’t have to wait.

“W-wanna… make you cum.” Quiet, shaky, and he starts touching himself again. No hiding it this time, no small movements, no leaning forward to block Rick’s view of the way he’s obviously beating his schmeat.

“Grandpa Rick.” Rick pushes and Morty makes a soft noise, like he’s been shot in the lung and the air is leaking out. “Morty.”

“O-okay.” He gasps, choking on nothing, eyes fluttering closed in his fever-flushed face. The hand on Rick’s cock tightens. “C-cum in my mouth, g-grandpa Rick.”

He grimaces, like the words taste bad on his tongue but he doesn’t stop jerking himself off and he doesn’t pull away, either. Morty presses his lips to the tip of Rick’s cock in a small, hesitant kiss, before carefully opening his mouth to let it inside. He moans, letting go so his hand isn’t in the way when he takes in as much as he can.

“That’s right-” It’s hot inside and Rick cradles the boy’s skull to keep him on it. “-th-that’s good, Morty.”

He angles his hips, shoving his cock in a little more and Morty tenses, gagging out of fear more than penetration because-

“Barely in you, buddy, relax, relax. Breathe.”

-Rick is only a couple inches deep in that wet heat.

“Feel so fucking good on my cock.”

And Morty tries to flinch but Rick is holding his head down and he keens in the back of his throat as panic starts to set in.

“Wanted to fuck your face all night, M-Morty, let me-” Morty gags, tongue jamming against the man’s cock, throat convulsing, trying to push him out and Rick lets go and Morty tears away coughing and gulping down air in wet gasps. Rick grabs his cock, gritting his teeth together and jerking himself off to the phantom memory of the boy’s tongue on his skin. “Sh-shit-”

“R-Rick-” Morty cries, tears in his eyes already. “I-I’m suh-sor-”

“Open, big guy.” Morty sniffs but does it, opening wide, still trying to catch his breath. “Just relax and let me handle it, th-there, breathe-”

Rick guides his cock to his mouth again, impatient, threading his fingers through sweat-drenched hair and feeling the boy’s head go limp on his neck like a dead animal, tilting towards the man’s touch. He slides himself past the kid’s lips and pulls him close, burying his face in his crotch and working him into a shallow rhythm before he can pull off again. It’s good and he can feel Morty’s hand on his leg, holding on as he tries his best to relax, as he tries his best to let Rick fuck his mouth the way he wants to.

“That’s good.” Drool is running down his balls and he pushes deeper and Morty gags again and Rick moans, fucking him harder, the seat creaking as he rocks himself against the kid’s face. “Doing so much better already, baby, fast learner. Sucking my cock like a pro, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon-”

Morty whines, lips buzzing on Rick’s cock when the man pushes a little harder, unable to stop himself, not when he’s so close, not when the boy’s mouth feels so good wrapped around him. Rick says something like making me fucking cum, Morty, such a good little cocksucker as it builds in the pit of his stomach, pulling the boy’s head into his lap faster, hips snapping up until he feels lips meeting the base of his cock in a boiling hot ring. Morty gags, his throat opens and takes Rick in and the man swears, feeling the sweat trailing down his bare back.

“-Fill your fucking mouth, baby-“ It’s coming and Morty’s being so good, holding on, making the desperate, high pitched sounds a boy might make if you ripped his pants off and pushed him onto his bed and fucked him raw. “-making grampa cum with your fucking mouth.”

Morty swallows, drinking down his spit and what precum hasn’t already oozed over his bottom lip and down his chin in wet strings, and it’s too much, it’s happening and Rick cradles the boy’s head in his hands and slams him down on his cock, groaning through his teeth and hissing don’t swallow it Morty, hold it, hold it as his cock starts to throb, thoughts spiraling in on themselves until the only thing he knows is how good fucking this kid’s mouth feels.

Rick forces himself all the way inside, swearing, hugging the boy’s shoulders with his thighs, muscles tense and straining under the surface as his orgasm swells, balls aching with it, feeling it burn at the base of his skull, building up until the dam finally breaks, pushing Rick over the edge in a blinding hot rush as he cums.

“Fuck!”

Morty jolts as the first pulse splashes against the back of his throat, fighting against the hands holding him on it as Rick pumps cum into his mouth, flooding it, cock heavy and throbbing on his tongue like it isn’t going to stop and he says Fuuuck, baby, yeah, keep it for me, d-don’t swallow it, w-wanna fucking taste it, and Morty does his best. Morty lets him, even when he starts to move again, when he’s forcing the boy’s head down and making him choke on it, he lets Rick fuck his throat. Cum is leaking out of the corners of his mouth. And it keeps coming, hot, thick, filling the kid up until there’s no more room and he’s drowning in it.

“So fucking good, come here, come here-”

Rick drags him up, bottles clink together in the footwell of the ship as Morty lets himself be handled like a doll, limbs rubbery and loose, letting himself be drawn into Rick’s lap. The man cups the back of his head and pulls their bodies together and there’s brief resistance, a moment where Morty fights it, before he gives in to this too.

“Feed it to me, Morty, did so good-” Rick forces their lips together and shoves his tongue inside, encouraging Morty to tilt towards him until cum is pouring from his mouth to Rick’s. He drinks it, moaning, head pounding and heart hammering in his chest as his cock keeps twitching up beads of cum against the boy’s thigh. It’s making him dizzy. The taste of his semen on Morty’s tongue mixed with the familiar-sick rush of using Prime’s flesh and blood like a cocksleeve.

“O-oh god-” Morty moans against his mouth, breaking away to gasp and gag and cough but Rick pulls him in again, kissing him, forcing their hips together and feeling the boy’s hard cock pressed against his stomach. Morty writhes, grinding against him, inexperienced but enthusiastic as he tries to keep up.

Too easy.

Rick withdraws, the waves of his orgasm pounding through his body slower, further apart, but still liquid-hot and delicious and Morty chases him, not ready to stop yet. He pushes his tongue into Rick’s mouth, eager to try it but unsure of what to do once he’s in there and Rick laughs, shivering despite the heat radiating off the boy in his lap. The kid tries to touch him, putting his shaking hands on his grandfather’s waist, and up to his chest, fluttery and self-conscious, smooshing their mouths together with all the technical skill of a toddler trying to make out with the family dog. After several sad seconds, Morty pulls back, panting, making that embarrassing hhn-hhn-hhn noise that’s half moan and half small-animal noise.

Cute, in a pathetic way.

Rick runs his hands down the kid’s back and grabs his ass, pulling him closer, trapping his painfully hard erection between their bodies.

“R-Rick-” He whispers, breath reeking like jizz and Rick laughs again, feeling hot and good and chill.

“Needed that, buddy.” He says. “Hoo boy.”

Morty’s weight in his lap feels good. Right. It’s been too long and Rick sinks into his seat, basking in the afterglow, thinking that maybe the kid’s a little heavier than he was the last time they did this. They grow up so fast.

And Morty leans in again, hesitates, and presses his lips against Rick’s. He tastes like dick and Rick can’t stop himself from grinning against the boy’s desperate attempts to re-engage.

“Rick?”

“Yeah. Y-yeah, I know.” The kid’s issue is poking him in the liver. “Someone’s got a third round in the- in the chamber.”

Rick grinds their hips together, his softening cock oversensitive where it rubs against the boy’s thigh, sending sharp, almost unbearable jolts through the man’s body. Morty gasps, going with it, loving it, wanting it.

Wanting more.

And Rick thinks of earlier, the way this boy felt wrapped around his finger. How tight, how hot, how he was moaning ‘ do it’ over and over as he came. Arousal twists in his guts and he licks spit and cum off his lower lip.

Morty whispers his name again.

“Want you to say something else for me, big guy.” Rick murmurs, turning his face away when the kid tries to go for another kiss. “Ah-ah, c’mon, focus. Look at me.”

Rick pushes him away, peeling him off of his chest like plastic film off some brand new electronic, and Morty goes reluctantly. His tanned skin is splotchy, uneven patches of pink flush decorating his chest under a sheen of sweat. He’s panting through his mouth, hands hanging awkward at his sides, and when he realizes that Rick is looking at him he crosses those hands in front of his body in a limp-wristed attempt to cover his shame.

“Morty.”

“Wh-what do you want me to say?” He asks, voice low and shaky, tensing when Rick grabs his hands. “Wh-?”

“Back up first, little more.” Rick says, guiding the boy’s hands to his shoulders. “And hold on right here.”

He does as he’s told, slowly peeling his lower body away and shuffling backward on the seat, bracing himself on Rick’s shoulders. Cool air meets wet skin and the kid must feel the chill too, by the time he’s kneeling over Rick’s thighs there are goosebumps all down his arms, the faint hairs standing on end. He’s completely exposed like this. No more hiding in the dark on the floor or in his grandfather’s lap. Rick grabs his own cock and feeds it through his fist, hissing as spent cum and spit squishes between his fingers. Morty follows the movement with his eyes.

“Did really good for me, buddy.” Rick sighs. The kid’s hands tighten on his shoulders. “Finally found something you’re good for.”

He rubs his cock against Morty’s thigh, leaving a slimy trail on his skin, making him shiver, his dick twitching painfully where it hangs untouched in the space between them. Rick rests his other hand on the boy’s hip and feels him push back, a slight, almost unconscious movement. Desperate to get closer, an instinctual drive to thrust, to penetrate. Rick remembers being that age.

“Rick.” His voice cracks quietly, the hands on his shoulders readjust, palms sweating.

He looks like he would do anything if it would help him cum.

Anything Rick wants.

“Ask me to fuck you, Morty.”

Morty freezes, breath catching in his throat for a moment before getting faster, shallower. Rick palms his cock as he waits. Morty's dick is sticking straight out from his body in a cartoony way, like if someone swatted at it right now it’d go boi-oi-oing. A drop of precum drips down the shaft and lands on Rick’s thigh.

“That looks like it hurts…” Rick says, mildly, watching the poor kid struggle internally with this new turn of events. Thinking of that little hamster spinning its wheel. His blunt fingernails bite into Rick’s shoulders before releasing, like he had to consciously remind himself not to squeeze too hard.

“...A-are you gonna fuck me?” Morty asks, eventually, voice tight and edged with fear. Something mean pulses in Rick’s stomach and he pulls on his limp cock harder, shuddering at the broken glass feel of it sliding through his fist.

“R-Rick?” He whispers. Nails dig into skin again.

“What? That finally too far for you? That cross your line?” Rick coos darkly, rubbing his thumb over the kid’s hipbone. “You were begging for it before, when I shoved a finger up your ass– Mr. do it do it do it. M-made you cum so hard.”

“Oh my god.” Morty moans, slumping, whispering oh my god oh my god as his arms start to shake.

“Easy, buddy, deep breaths.”

He does not take any deep breaths.

“Come on… how’s this news to you? I-isn’t that where this is goin’?” This is fun. Rick trails his knuckles over the boy’s erection and it’s hot and wet and his hips move again, chasing that barely-there touch. “Was thinking about it when you were jerking me off, Morty. Weren’t you?”

Rick whistles softly. 

“Look like you’re gonna explode.”

He strokes Morty's penis with the back of his hand like it’s a small rodent at a petting zoo, careful not to startle the little thing, and Morty starts to rock his hips, digging his fingers into the man’s shoulders and whispering oh my god, oh my god in breathless panic.

“Wanna help you with it, buddy. Some more tit for tat.”

“B-but-”

“Aw jeez-” Rick cuts in, jerking off, his cock starting to fatten up again in his fist. “-fuck me, grandpa Rick. Wanna feel your cock in me.”

“I don’t-”

“You do.” Rick laughs, wrapping his fingers around the boy’s dick too, loosely, letting it rest in the cage of his hand without giving any real relief. “You told me you did.”

“R-Rick-”

“Shut up.” It’s hard and hot and Rick makes a fist around the boy’s sex. Morty gasps, hips pushing, pulling, pushing, fucking the man’s hand in small strokes, even as he moans it w-w-won’t fit, I can’t- oh god-

He can’t help himself.

He couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to.

Rick says:

“Getting me hard again, baby, look at that.”

And:

“You’re freaking out on me.”

And:

“Relax, s’gonna feel good, just gotta be chill, remember?”

And he lets his cock go and reaches between the boy’s legs, fingers slick with spit and cum. Morty's sack drags over his wrist, more wet skin, and there's lots of time for the kid to pull away or lash out or do anything except kneel there with his thighs spread over his grandpa's lap. Rick presses a finger against his hole and feels the muscles tighten under his touch.

“Said you wanted to know what getting fucked feels like.” He’s so, so close. Morty’s dick twitches in his fist. “Look how hard this is making you, Morty.”

“I don’t- I w-was-” Morty whispers, fingers biting into Rick’s shoulders, moving his hips to pull away from the man’s touch. “W-we were just talking.”

“Yeah, yeah, talking, fuck-” Rick groans, shutting his eyes, amping up the pressure until he can feel Morty’s body start to give in to him, taking his finger inside to the first knuckle. “You were talking a big game earlier, weren’t you?”

There.

“A-aah-” Morty moans. He’s hot inside, everything about him is so hot, like he’s a furnace that runs on teenage hormones and sperm. Rick laps his tongue over his teeth and tastes his own cum. He pushes harder, sinks deeper, feels the boy flinch from the inside. “R-Rick-”

“You’re so fucking tight, you know that?” Rick brings his other hand to his mouth and licks his palm. Morty starts to cry. “Feel so good inside you. Look.”

He takes himself again and holds it up so Morty can measure it against his own body, so he can imagine how it could fill him, how deep it could reach.

“Look, Morty.” He presses it against the boy’s stomach and pushes his finger in deep and Morty crumbles, the strength bleeding out of him like an open wound. He leans toward Rick, back hunched, and rests his forehead in the crook of the older man’s neck before he can fall apart completely.

“Gonna open you up, baby.” Rick whispers against the side of the boy’s face. Morty sobs quietly and Rick withdraws his finger, the walls of Morty's ass dragging against his skin, reluctant to let him go. He pushes a second finger to his entrance and doesn’t stop when Morty gasps in pain this time. “Wanna fuck you so bad, Morty. Relax, y-you’re just making it harder on yourself.”

“It h-hurts.” He moans, burying his face against Rick’s neck and raising his hips higher, a weak attempt to run from this. Too late. This is the riptide, the sinkhole, the thin ice.

“I know.”

This doesn’t count, he won’t remember.

“‘Cause you’re too small for me, Morty, you’re just a kid.”

Rick breathes deep, taking in the smell of sex, tasting it heavy on his tongue and sticking in the back of his throat. Whispers relax, relax, relax as his fingers penetrate deeper, sheathing inside the boy in his lap. His cock throbs in his hand. Hard, dangerous. He makes his fist tight around the head and imagines he’s already inside. That the slick, wet heat of Morty’s body opening to his fingers is taking his cock in instead.

“Too small for me tonight…” Rick murmurs, pressing his lips against the boy’s temple and tasting the sweat there. “But you’re getting bigger every day, Morty, gonna be perfect soon– n’ then I’m gonna fuck you all the time.”

He reaches deep and pets him, searching, finding, feeling Morty’s hips move again. This time it’s down, towards Rick’s hand instead of away, forcing himself on the man’s fingers even as his thighs shake and tears slip off his cheeks to run down his grandfather’s chest.

“There he is, riding me.” Rick groans, pressing harder. “I know that feels good, know how to make you feel good, Morty. Gotta trust me.”

“Oh g-god-” He does it again, lets himself sink onto the fingers inside him, fucking himself on them, clawing at Rick’s shoulders.

“Say it for me, Morty. Wanna hear you say it again, miss it.” He whispers into the boy’s ear, not caring, this doesn’t count. “Tell me how bad you want my cock.”

“It’s t-too big-” Morty cries, shaking his head and Rick’s cock burns in his fist. “I don’t- I can’t-”

“But you are loving this, Morty. Hard, sitting in grandpa’s lap, ready to get fucked.”

“B-but-”

He chokes on his words, chokes on a moan when he feels Rick’s fingertips brush over his prostate again.

“And I’m telling you all the shit you wanna hear, aren’t I?” He presses his mouth to the boy’s ear. “Could hold you down, Morty. Could make you take it. Could turn you into my fucktoy, huh? Keep you in my room n’ fuck you whenever I want.”

Morty moves on the hand between his legs, forcing Rick as deep as he can go with a breathless cry. The hands holding on to Rick’s shoulders dig in, like claws, his breath is hot across Rick’s collarbone.

“Yeah, you want that? Use you whenever I need somewhere to dump my cum?” He asks, not expecting it when Morty actually nods against his chest. “G-good, that’s good- just us here, buddy. Come here, let me see you-”

Rick leans back and takes him in, watching Morty squirm in his lap, the low interior lights glowing on his skin. Morty lifts his head, sniffling, doing what he’s told even though he’s scared. His eyes are green and dark and wide and far away, eyelids fluttering when Rick moves his fingers against his prostate. “That feel good?”

He nods again, faintly.

“Then tell me.”

“F-feels good.” He says, voice tight, tears shining in his eyelashes. “O-oh my g-god, I’m- I’m m-messed up.”

“Ohh… wonder how that happened.” Who cares what he says now. “Gonna give you one more, Morty, it’s gonna hurt but I know you can take it.”

“W-wait-” But Rick doesn’t wait, Rick curls his fingers in toward his palm and pulls out, fighting against the weight of the boy bearing down on him. Morty’s thighs are shaking, his arms are shaking, beads of sweat run down his chest to his stomach and he’s so hard.

“Ask for it, Morty.” Rick says, pressing a third finger against the soft, wet entrance to the boy’s body. “Do this for me.”

He’s crying again. Rick strokes himself harder. He pushes all three fingers in, briefly, enough that Morty can feel the bite, the promise of being filled before letting up again, leaving the boy shivering and gasping in his lap. It’s better like this-

“Talk to me, Morty.”

-when he can see the kid’s face.

“Th-this is starting to feel like… we aren't j-just having fun, Rick.”

“I’m having fun.” Rick says, also knowing that he’ll see his own face when he watches this memory back. He’ll have to see how he looks to Morty right now, and some pathetic, irrational piece of him hates it.

That’s one of the few drawbacks with the mind blowers. Seeing himself, knowing what he looks like looming over Morty’s bed or crawling on top of him on the living room couch. Seeing and feeling the fear he makes Morty feel.

Makes it harder to cum.

Sometimes.

“Just wanna get you off, Morty. That’s all. Nothin’ to freak over.”

“It’ll hurt.” He’s right. He held it in his hands, he took it in his mouth, he might even remember how much it hurts, someplace deep inside his brain that the scalpel missed.

“You’ll like it.” Rick says, pushing in again, slower, watching the way this hurts him show on his face. His lips twitch back to show flashes of teeth, his brow furrows, tear tracks shine on his cheeks. “Just have to play along with me for a little while.”

Rick shoves his cock between the boy's legs.

“Just play along, Morty. It’s gonna be good.” He whispers. “Ask for it.”

Rick wonders, dimly, why he cares so much? Or at all? When this doesn’t count. When this is just another bad dream for the shelf.

He can tell himself he’s doing this for the memory replay, the jerkability of the mindblower, if you like. This is Prime’s grandspawn, after all. So what if he’s scared?

So what if it hurts?

“I c-can’t, Rick, please.” He begs. “Y-you’re t-too big.”

“Yeah, s-say it again.”

He’s so hot, scalding like bathwater pooling in his lap. Rick shrugs the boy’s hands off his shoulders and leans in. Morty sniffs, braces his forearms across the man’s chest to try and keep him from getting too close.

“Y-you’re scaring m-me-” He says. He says that but he lets Rick kiss his neck, moaning at the feel of teeth skimming over his vulnerable skin. “Rick-”

“Life is scary, Morty, grow up. Gotta get over it.” He eases his fingers inside, cock burning where it’s wedged under the kid’s asscheek. Rick moves, rocking their bodies together, savoring the feel of his foreskin sliding over the head of his dick. “The universe’s cock is infinitely bigger n’ hurts more’n you could ever imagine. Grandpa knows. This is almost nothing compared to what's out there, Morty.”

He noses against the boy’s cheek, pressing his open mouth against the weak curve of Morty’s jaw.

“You wanted to kiss, didn’t you?” He whispers, low and slurred, sounding like y’wanded t’kiss, didnchu. Morty clenches around his fingers and he’s so fucking tight. “C’mon, baby, gonna make it good. Just have to do what I’m telling you to do. Easy.”

“It’ll h-”

Hurt is what he wanted to say but Rick kisses him before he can. The snot on the boy’s upper lip is slimy, squishing as their mouths come together. Rick pushes his tongue inside and Morty lets him. He just keeps letting this happen. His arms fall down the man’s body to hesitate around his waist, fingertips antsy and restless and so fucking timid. The same kid who just took his “first” throat fucking like an old pro doesn’t know where to put his hands. Rick breaks the kiss so the idiot can breathe.

Morty gasps. His body clenches in pulses, tight, tight, tight on Rick’s fingers.

“Ask me, Morty. Just have to say it.” He relaxes into his seat, spreading his legs and forcing Morty to spread his, too. He drops his gaze to stare down the boy’s body, taking in the way his cock looks disappearing between those thighs. Morty looks too, their foreheads close to touching. Rick pushes up with his hand, inching deeper, more of the kid’s nutsack settling on his wrist, hot and damp on his skin.

“Wh-what-” Morty breathes shallow, wet. “What d’you mean… play along?”

Rick laughs low and rough, grinning, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the corner of the boy’s mouth. To his cheek. Making Morty turn his head until he’s kissing the boy’s ear.

“Don’t wanna break you, Morty.” He whispers and Morty shivers, so easy, too easy, Rick presses his tongue against the shell of the kid’s ear briefly, breathing into it, distracting him as he eases himself inside, the boy's tender flesh sliding over his knuckles. “Rip you up inside, y-you’re right. Grandpa’s too big. Wanna fuck you but I can’t, this time. So you just gotta play along.”

Morty’s hands finally find somewhere to call home. He rests them on Rick’s hips and his palms are hot and slick with sweat and cum and cum and sweat and spit. Rick pushes his tongue into the boy’s ear and he moans, breathily, high pitched, tilting towards the invasion and panting hard, squeaking on every desperate exhale. Rick moves his other hand to the small of the boy’s back and pulls him closer. Close enough that the tip of his dick meets the man’s stomach. The boy’s ass clenches again and Rick is filling his ear with drool.

“ Rick-” He moans, sniffling, spit rolling down the side of his neck, the fingers inside him moving in ways he couldn’t, even if he was brave enough to try. They’re bigger, reach deeper, they know how to make it good.

“Still have time to ask, baby.” Rick murmurs, taking the boy’s earlobe in his mouth, testing his teeth against it, sucking on it, curling his fingers until Morty is melted wax in his lap. “Talk to me.”

“You’re n-not gonna… put it in?” Morty asks, voice thin and strained and so quiet.

“M’already in.” Rick pets his fingers against the boy’s prostate and Morty gasps, hips moving forward on instinct, rubbing his dick against his grandfather’s stomach. “Feel it?”

“O-ooh-” The hands on Rick’s hips slide around, wedging between his back and the backrest in a hug. Morty sinks down, drawing a cool, wet line on Rick’s skin with his dick, taking those fingers in deeper, sitting on Rick’s cock and pinning it under his ass. Not inside. Not where he wants it to be.

For some reason.

Some stupid, irrational reason.

“You get it, don’t you? Y-you’re not that dumb.” Rick groans, pulling Morty towards him in short, repeating movements, encouraging the kid to follow his lead. “Know what grandpa wants from you.”

Morty whimpers, picking up the rhythm and keeping it, rocking himself back and forth over the man’s cock, riding the fingers shoved deep inside his body. It’s good. It’s highschool shit, half a level up from heavy petting but it’s late and Morty is right.

(For once in his short, sad life.)

If Rick does what he wants to do, it’d hurt.

“F-fuck me.”

It kicks him low and fast, arousal tearing through his guts like a depth charge. Rick swears, hissing, tucking his face against Morty’s neck and telling him to say it again.

“Fuck me, Rick.” Morty says, a little louder, his voice cracking with his age and insecurity and fear. “Oh my g-god-”

“Yeah, tell me, baby.” Rick wants to bite and suck and chew, crack Morty open with his teeth and eat the marrow inside. “How’s my cock feel?”

“Good- oh my god-” He’s moving faster, taking Rick’s fingers all the way inside, easier now because he was made to bend, to accommodate every abuse. It just takes patience and a gentle hand. “Fuck me, Rick, f-feels good, oh m-my god-”

A little more of this, a little more time, three, four, five more nights like this one and maybe Rick could fuck him for real. It’s so close he can feel it, the memory of Morty’s small body opening for him, scalding hot and achingly tight.

“Wanna cum in your ass, Morty, fill you with my fucking cum.”

“Yeah, y-yes, I w-want- I-” His voice breaks in the middle and then he’s saying kiss me, kiss me, please, please, Rick, please, and he’s closer, grinding himself into Rick’s lap, his full weight sliding along the man’s cock and his dick oozing precum down his belly to wet his pubes. Rick kisses him and Morty moans into his mouth, teeth clipping each other in an uncoordinated, frantic gnash. He pulls back and says something Rick wishes he hadn’t, immediately, violently, he wishes he never pushed this so far.

“H-had a dream-” Morty pants, face too close, his breath smelling like cum and blood now, someone’s bleeding lip painting the boy’s teeth pink. “-y-you were in my room. Taking my clothes off.”

Rick’s cock throbs hard, drooling where it lies trapped between his thigh and the boy’s ass.

“And I thought- I thought yeah, of course you were. Thought I’d let you, i-if you did something to me, let you do what- whatever you wanted- o-oh my god- R-Rick, Rick, I’m-”

He’s close, Rick can feel it, the rhythm they’ve made is getting sloppy, Morty’s getting tighter, crushingly tight and it should be his cock in there instead.

“-Let you do whatever you w-wanted to me, Rick-” Morty buries his face in the crook of his grandfather’s neck, grinding himself against the man’s stomach, whispering f-feels so good in me and oh c-crap oh god oh my god, Rick, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-

Rick reaches deep, burning hot and breathing hard, pushing Morty to his limit.

“Doing so fucking good, baby.” He says and he’s thinking about the memory they’re making here, now. “Taking grandpa’s cock so good, s-say it, tell me.”

“Fuck me, g-granpa Rick.” Morty gasps and it’s good. It feels good. “F-fuck me, fuck m-me I w-want it, wanna feel it, feel you cumming in-inside- a-ah!”

Morty freezes, suddenly, thighs shaking and ass pulsating around Rick’s fingers and then he feels it, the hot, wet rush of the boy’s cum on his skin. It keeps coming, thick and heavy and running between their bodies, oozing down in sick trails that make Rick’s stomach twist and his balls ache.

“Fuck, kid, fuck, come on, that’s good, you did so good-” He pushes deeper, arching up into him, grinding his cock against the boy’s ass, feeling Morty’s dick slide over his stomach through the mess he’s making. “Feel you cumming on my cock, baby, took it so fucking good.”

“Rick-” Morty sobs, clinging to him, pressing his open mouth to the man’s shoulder to stifle the sounds he’s making, shivers jittering through his body. His hips start to move, he’s greedy, fucking himself through the tail end of his orgasm, trying to draw it out, getting while the getting is good.

“Oh my god- oh my god.”

His cum runs into Rick’s lap, sliding down either side of his hard cock and slipping between his thighs. Morty is breathing hard, his guts still twitching around Rick’s fingers. Holding on with all the strength he has left like he’s terrified that letting go would mark the end of whatever this thing is. And he’d be right. His dick is going soft between them and Rick leans down to press his mouth against the boy’s temple, almost a kiss, but not quite.

“There.” He says. The kid is going soft on the inside, too, and Rick fingers him slowly, swallowing down his own spit as his thoughts buzz in his head like downed power lines. He could. When Morty is like this, soft and defenseless, melting around his fingers like they aren’t even there. He pictures it. He imagines lifting the boy up and setting the head of his cock to his hole. Let him sink down on it, slow. It’d hurt, he knows, there’d be damage, but what’s a little more blood on the killing floor?

Rick starts to pull his fingers out and Morty gasps, his thighs tensing where they frame Rick’s. That softness goes hard again as he clamps down before Rick can withdraw completely.

“D-don’t take them out.” Morty begs, quietly, out of breath and squeezing himself against Rick’s chest. He can feel the kid’s ribs press into his on every inhale. “Please.”

He takes a shaky breath and says it again.

“Please.”

“Tell me about that dream.” Rick whispers, pushing back inside. Morty groans and moves on them, shamelessly enjoying himself even as the fever of sex cools into a gentle flush. “Morty.”

“...I’m sleeping,” he murmurs into the man’s shoulder, “and you wake me up. My shirt is off a-and I’m cold, and you’re unbuttoning my pants.”

“Yeah?”

Morty turns his head, resting his cheek against Rick’s collar bone. His breath is hot sliding across the man’s throat.

“Yeah.” He says. “And I’m thinking… in the dream… if you were gonna do something to me, I’d let you. And when you pull my underwear down, I’m hard.”

“What happens after that?” Rick pushes, working his fingers in and out, barely breathing as he listens.

“Then I wake up.” Morty says. “Feeling sick and freaked out… a-and turned on.”

There’s a beat of silence, oppressive in the confined space. A quiet accusation that Morty makes loud:

“It just feels so real.”

And there are a lot of things Rick could do or say, or not do or not say. Because he remembers that night. Morty standing over his dying dog, high and confused, staring blankly as the poor bleeding thing thrashed aimlessly in the grass by his feet. One of a lot of bad memories Rick thought he'd scooped out of the kid's head a long time ago. Morty moans softly, oblivious to the can of worms he just popped open and dumped onto his grandfather's plate.

"Have any other kinky dreams about me lately?" Rick asks and Morty squirms in his lap, his hands moving to hold the man's waist. For once in his life, the kid keeps his mouth shut. Metaphorically. He can still feel hot puffs of air on his neck as the boy tries to catch his breath, still on the come down from his orgasm. "Have any other dreams about me, kinky or not?"

Still nothing. Anxiety twists in the pit of his stomach as the moment stretches on and on and on, until eventually Morty isn't panting anymore and Rick's own heart isn't beating quite so fast.

This doesn’t change anything.

Rick slides his fingers out of the boy’s ass and wipes them off on his leg. Ignoring the way the boy shudders at the feeling, his hands getting tighter at Rick's waist, how hot and heavy he is still sitting on top of his cock. Rick is still hard, still dangerous, thinking numbly how ironic that a loaded gun is cocked before it fires.

He has to end this, now, so he says:

“That wasn’t a dream."

And Morty freezes, locking himself to every angle and curve of Rick's body like he was made to conform to all those jagged shapes. Rick reaches into the passenger seat without looking.

“That happened. I had to take them off because they were covered in blood. And in my defense, you had enough ketamine in your system to take down an actual horse, you weren’t supposed to wake up during that.”

Morty shakes his head, slowly, sniffling against Rick’s neck, all deadweight. Rick loops an arm around the small of his back to support him, if only physically. Or maybe he's trying to restrain the boy, to pin him down with his body before he can start to thrash. He doesn't know how Morty will take this but that hasn't stopped Rick before.

“The brain is a crapshoot, Morty, 2.5 million gigs of memory capacity but no true limit. Too many factors… it’s all plastic, constantly melting and mixing and reforming into new, slippery shapes.”

His fingertips brush something cold and smooth and for a second he thinks it’s the memory gun but it isn’t. It’s the sex robot’s slender wrist. Morty isn’t moving anymore, he isn't even breathing.

So Rick keeps talking.

“Big memories are like tumors. You can cut all you want but bits get in your blood and move around, making new homes where they can breed. The longer they sit there, the more they spread. Your body remembers what you don't. That’s something I can’t fix.” He finds it. Rick coils his fingers around the gun and it makes him feel strong. In control. “Look at me, Morty.”

He pries the boy off his chest and cool air seeps into the gap he leaves behind. Morty lifts his head, face lax and eyes unfocused, stunned, looking every part the stupid animal he is.

He doesn’t get it.

“W-what?”

Rick stares back at him, just as stunned as the kid is. And maybe Rick's confusion shows on his face, or maybe Morty just needed a little extra time to process all those words, but Morty seems to come to some sort of understanding. His face morphs into something less deer-in-the-headlights and more mouse-in-a-gluetrap. Resigned to its fate. Aware that it is too small and weak to save itself.

“You made me forget that?" He asks. There's a painful awe to his tone, the kind he usually reserves for when Rick unveils some sick new invention. It's a Wow, I didn't know you could do that kind of tone.

"Tried to, bud."

Morty blinks, owlishly, and his cheeks are still flushed from sex, his hair is wild, they're both still holding eachother in some sick parody of the sexually satisfied lovers that they are not. Something stormy crosses the kid's face.

"And you’re gonna make me forget this, too.” He says, slowly. Rick answers by raising his brow in a duh-doi kind of expression, because there's too much bile in the back of his throat for him to swallow. Morty processes that for another silent moment. Then he closes his eyes, and some of the tension drains out of his shoulders.

“Can I keep the robot?” 

It’s so unexpected that Rick snorts.

“I spent 60 smidgens on that thing, you better take care of it.” He says. Morty smiles a sad, but genuine-seeming smile that makes something unpleasant itch under Rick’s skin.

“You got a defraculator too.”

“A busted defraculator.” Rick corrects. The ship beeps suddenly, a low warning tone that they both hear and choose to ignore.

Morty is heavy and warm and calm, as far as Rick can tell. Morty knows that he is far away from his home, naked in the lap of a man he can't win against. And there are things left in his head that shouldn't be there like scum still clinging to the bottom of a mug after going through the dishwasher. And now he knows he's been like that for a long time.

“Thanks for not doing it. Putting it in.”

Another thank you, and Rick has honestly lost count of them at this point. He tightens his fist around the memory gun but he doesn’t lift it, not yet. Morty still hasn’t noticed that he grabbed it and he wants to know what else the kid wants to say, now that he knows he wont have to live with the consequences.

“I just- I mean you… you could’ve. If I’m not gonna remember, you could’ve f-” He lowers his voice and glances away. “-fucked me.”

He clears his throat, looking down, pointedly, at where Rick’s cock is still wedged under his ass.

“You still could...”

“Easy, tiger.”

Morty laughs, awkward and forced.

“I mean, you- have we… tried? Before?”

“You would literally die if I shoved this thing in you.” Rick deflects but Morty’s head snaps up, his eyes wide, and who can resist messing with a kid like him? “Yep. There’s a lotta realities out there, bud, I’ve seen ‘em. And every time you try, you die by the sword, if you know what I mean.”

“R-Really?” It shouldn't be this easy. He's such a dumbass it flips back around to being endearing, unfortunately. Rick nods.

“Mhmm, and grandpa’s not super into the idea of shopping around for a new Morty tonight.”

And that sours the mood a little. Morty shifts in discomfort. He had his hands down by Rick’s hips and now he pulls away, bracing them on his thighs. His limp dick dangles between his legs, wet and shiny with his own cum. Rick would love to flick it, for shits and giggles, maybe get the kid focused on something other than the too-recent memory of digging his own shallow grave.

Memories are like tumors. Yeah, that’s a good one. Someone should write that down.

“Hey, Rick?”

Rick doesn’t answer.

“Would you… replace me if, if I didn’t… do all the stuff you-”

“We’re not playing twenty questions, kid.” Rick interrupts, adjusting his grip on the memory eraser. “We’re getting you fixed up and then going the fuck home. I’m beat.”

He should just do it, flash him, get it over with. Why is he even stalling, here? He could get a jump on decanting the memory and making it watch-able. If he doesn’t get too drunk, Rick could be reliving tonights little fuck-fest before sun-up tomorrow morning. He starts to lift the gun off the seat and Morty must catch the movement out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head to look and the lights on the dashboard outline the profile of his face: his father's weak jaw, the nose he could have only gotten from Prime.

“I-is that- is that gonna do it? Make me forget?” He asks.

The green ready-lights are glowing faintly in their housing, the programmed wipe set and locked. He just has to pull the trigger.

“Wait-” Morty leans in, lowering his voice but Rick can hear the panicky note, still. “Wait, w-wait I was- I was gonna ask, y-you know, next time, but since I'm not gonna remember next time-”

“There isn’t gonna be a next time, kid.” Rick lies and a flicker of actual anger flares in Morty's face.

"You said there would be." It's childish, like he's calling Rick out for not taking him to Disney Land like he promised he would. "You said that, that when I get bigger you'd f-fuck me all the time."

This is how he should be reacting to the coming memory-wipe. Where's the outrage, the sense of betrayal? Morty glares at him, waiting for something Rick isn't going to give. When Rick puts his free hand in the center of the boy's chest and pushes him back, Morty grabs his wrist with both hands and his face changes again.

“Please, c-c’mon." He pleads. There's a cut on his lip that Rick hadn't noticed until now. "I-I- I sucked your dick, man.”

Rick sighs and rubs at his eye, the barrel of the gun poking him in the forehead as he does. The little cocksucker makes a good point.

“One. Then it’s bye-bye bad touch grandpa, comprende?”

“Can I have two?”

Rick raises the gun-

“Okay! Jeez!” Morty shuts his eyes and takes a quick breath, amping himself up before pushing Rick’s hand down his body, guiding it to his dick.

“You’re an addict.” Rick mutters, making a cup for the kid to grind himself into.

“Feels good. When you touch me.” Morty says, settling in, eyelashes fluttering. “Wanted to tell you that, b-before you…”

(Reset, wipe, delete?)

“You know.” He finishes softly. “I dunno, e-even when it’s just something normal like… like when you grab me o-or pick me up or push me.”

He pulls Rick’s hand against his dick harder, his tongue poking out to lick at his swollen bottom lip. There’s a bruise rising to the surface of the split skin and there are little flecks of blood on his chin. Damage from their last kiss.

“But that's not my question, I just… wanted to tell you that.”

“Kind of a dangerous thing to tell me, don’t you think?” Rick says, serious this time. The memory gun hums in his fist.

“Y-yeah, well, maybe I know that, Rick.” He says, earnestly, that starved-animal look back on his face. “Maybe I'm hoping this happens again.”

(Maybe that makes Rick’s cock ache.)

Rick grits his teeth and pries his hand out of the boy’s grip. Morty’s dick, already partially chubbed up, is absolutely slathered in spent, tacky cum, and it sticks to Rick’s palm for a fleeting moment before peeling away. It bounces between his legs like a loosely coiled spring. Mr. I’m 14 and sure, I could go another round.

Morty finally asks his oh-so-important question:

“Did you really get… fucked when you were my age?”

And it’s one he wasn’t expecting. Rick sags in his seat, he did tell the kid that, huh.

“W-was that, I mean, I just- I wanted to know more about that, you know? You never tell me stuff about… your life. And stuff.”

 It always loops back around to lore.

“Sure was, buddy.” Rick says because fuck it. This doesn’t count, so who cares? Who fucking cares? “My first week at a Military Academy for troubled teens.”

Morty worries his bruised lip, the hamster working extra hard to envision the man in front of him fifty-something years younger and wearing a cadet uniform. He opens his mouth, hesitates, his eyebrows furrowed in deepest concentration.

“Spit it out, Mort, I don’t have all night.” Rick says, rubbing his thumb over a seam on the memory gun’s plastic shell. Wondering what the fuck else the kid could possibly want to know, even knowing that he isn’t gonna know it anymore by the time this ship sets down in their driveway back on Earth.

“Who was it?” Boring. “Like a boyfr-”

“An older cadet from another dorm, Morty. Some queer who went after a lot of the new boys.”

“Oh.” He fidgets, eyes sliding off to the side until he’s staring somewhere over Rick’s left shoulder. “I don’t think… you’re supposed to say that word anymore, Rick.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Rick puts the gun under the boy’s chin and coaxes him into lifting his head.

“You ready?” He asks, like it matters.

“No.” Morty frowns. His busted lip gives it a pouty quality that’s kinda funny. “But it’s not like you care if I am, right?”

“Now you’re getting it.” Rick says.

“I mean it’s- if I’m not gonna remember, I just think it’s kinda, you know, crappy that you’re being all…” He sighs and shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

“Scootch back, big guy, little more. There.” Morty keeps his eyes down and Rick has to reach under his chin and tilt his face up again. “You have to look at it for it to work. It’s photonic.”

“Will it hurt?”

“You won't remember if it does.” Rick says, patting the boy’s cheek lightly. He’s still stalling. That’s what all this chatting is about. Rick is holding on to this baby way past term, it’s pathetic, but he’s never been the kind of man to let go of something he wants. The ship beeps again and Rick recognizes it as a proximity alert; something’s skittering around outside. Morty swallows, his eyes flicking to the gun in Rick’s hand before coming up to meet his grandfather’s steady gaze.

“That’s fair.” Morty says and he’s trying to be brave because it isn’t fair. Rick wishes he’d say that, that he’d fight and cry and beg to keep his memories. But he isn’t. He’s just sitting there, his bony butt parked on Rick’s bony knees, his evergreen boner pointing at Rick like an accusation.

The other times Rick’s wiped him, he’s been the dog that doesn’t know it’s about to be put down. Staring into the spinning light-cups as the gun charges, faint puzzlement quirking his rounded features before the flash hits.

But not this time.

Morty knows what’s going to happen to him and he knows he can’t stop it and Rick thinks of a mouse dying in a glue trap again, he thinks about the hamster laying next to its wheel, too tired to run anymore. Rick raises the gun and Morty watches it, going slightly cross-eyed.

"You know, I-" Morty starts to say and Rick's finger twitches on the trigger. "I... I kinda knew."

Rick waits, bile rising in the back of his throat at those last three words.

"That it wasn't a dream. And I- I had this... deja-vu kind of feeling all night. Like we did this already."

"Yeah?" Rick says. Morty shrugs.

"And I was kinda worried what- what it was gonna be like, you know, after. When we got home. I guess now I don't have to worry about that, huh?"

Rick needs to pull the trigger. Now.

"I guess not, buddy."

Morty offers another one of his weird, sad smiles that doesn't fit right on his mouth. It makes him look exhausted, so, that's something Rick can look forward to. All he has to do is pull the trigger and everything goes back to normal. He'll wipe that look off the kid's face and they can be Rick and Morty again.

Like none of this ever happened.

Rick shuts his eyes and squeezes down on the trigger, feeling the gun start to hum harder in his hand as the shot charges.

Point and shoot and they can start over fresh.

A full reset.

Chapter Text

Rick pulls the trigger.

The memory erasing mechanism is amazing tech, inspired, even. It’s physical evidence of a Rick at his best and his worst. 

There’s a flash.

It’s blinding even with his eyes shut and he feels Morty jerk in his lap as if he’d been struck. In a fraction of a second, several million pulses of light penetrated the lens of Morty’s eye, transmitting information like an open-air fiber optic cable. The data was read by microscopic photoreceptive processors harvested from the dead Morty of this reality and transplanted into the macula of this one. The processors decoded the light into simple electrical impulses that traveled down the kid’s optic nerve to his brain where they told a small implant which structures within the brain tissue need to be copied and destroyed. The implant encoded the copied information and sent it up the optic nerve for the processors to display. The light bouncing off the back of the kid’s eyeballs collected the data and sent it through the air where it was caught in the gun’s rotating, light-collecting cups. Now Morty’s I-blew-Grandpa-in-the-front-seat-and-then-let-him-finger-me memory is being written to the gun’s cache, ready to be extracted for later viewing.

All in the time it took for the flash to go off.

The Rick of this reality wasn’t fucking around when he invented this thing. His memory gun thing that’s half marvel of engineering and half consequence-free rape gun.

Morty sits, frozen, his eyelids twitching erratically like someone just rammed a taser up his ass. Maybe it feels like that, the implant attacking his brain with volley after volley of electrochemical scalpels severing all his newly established neural pathways. Zap, he forgets the feel of his Grandpa’s cock hitting the back of his throat, zap, he forgets the pillow-talk after, zap, zap, zap. Rick watches Morty’s face twitch, still holding the gun between them and listening to the slowing whirr of its internal engine until, finally, the kid goes down.

He slumps against Rick’s chest and Rick doesn’t move to catch the boy or shove him away. The deadweight of Morty’s body feels good, grounding, all hundred-something pounds of him pinning Rick to his seat. Rick tilts his head back against his headrest and stares unblinking at the ship’s domed ceiling. The proximity alert beeps again and Rick could get out and check, but Morty is heavy and warm and whatever’s lurking around outside his car can’t help his current problem.

“Probably a hobo.” Rick tosses the memory gun into the passenger seat and makes himself comfortable. “Or some kind of… space rat.”

Rick is still hard. He’s still buzzing with the adrenalin that comes with getting away with it. Here they are naked in the front seat, Rick and Morty, Galaxy’s freakiest dudes. First and second place prize winners if being a sick fuck was a competition. Rick raises his hips up, feeling his cock grind against the kid’s asscheek. It’s good enough. Rick rocks into him, being gentler than he has to be– he set the memory gun to put him to sleep for an hour. That’s enough time to clean all this up and get them home no matter what Rick does to the kid now.

“Could fuck you.” Rick crosses his arms over Morty’s narrow back and squeezes, thinking it’d be easy to crush the kid to death.Break his ribs. Squeeze a little harder and sever his spine– let Morty wake up half a vegetable. Rick pictures it, seeing himself push Morty’s wheelchair across a night sky that’s barely visible through the foggy glass above his head. Rick and Paraplegic Morty’s adventures. Is that anything?

“Needs more workshopping.” Rick answers himself, mulling the bit over with more care and consideration than it deserves as he gets Morty into a rhythm in his lap. Thinking deck the chair out with lasers and rockets. Chainsaw tank treads instead of wheels, maybe. Give the kid some buttons to press.

He squeezes harder, arching in his seat and lifting Morty’s whole body up with the force of his slow, brutal thrusts. It feels good.

Beth would hate the whole thing but keep her mouth shut. Summer would hate it but go along with it so she didn’t feel left out. Who cares what Jerry would think. And Morty would give in almost immediately, like he did right before the memory wipe. He’s smart enough, he knows when he’s outmatched, and he knows that going limp is the fastest way to get a dog to stop shaking its head.

If the kid was a paraplegic… Rick thinks, feeling the sharp curves of Morty’s ribs against his bare arms. He pictures Morty on his back with his atrophied legs kicked over his own shoulders. If the kid was paraplegic I could fuck him as hard as I want.

Rick laughs. It’s not funny, but when has that ever mattered? Really?

“PROXIMITY,” Ship beeps more frantically this time. Rick groans and forces his arms to relax before he actually does put the poor kid in a wheelchair. There’s a voice – a very little, very quiet voice– in the back of his head chirping about how just because it’d be easy doesn’t mean you should and Rick slams his head against the headrest. There’s still enough padding left in the thing to stop him from giving himself brain damage, unfortunately. He does it again, harder, wishing he had a brick wall to bash his brains out on instead.

“RICK… I THINK IT’S THE POLICE.”

Rick stops.

“The cops?”

Morty’s unconscious body is heavy and hot and sticky. Rick twists around to look over his shoulder and the kid peels away from his chest like sweaty pussylips in a splits competition, pitching sideways and slowly slumping against the driver's side door. A shape ducks behind the ship, nondescript in the dark and blurred even more by the condensation clinging to the inside of the glass dome. Rick jabs the ignition without looking and the ship’s exterior lights flicker on.

“Since when did this shithole have cops.”

At some point during the molestathon a car parked behind the ship, rounded and black like a minivan-sized beetle and taking up the entire width of this narrow alleyway. There aren’t any markings that Rick can see from here, it could be police, it could be an actual giant bug as far as he can tell. He cranes his neck, scanning for that moving shape he saw at first and finds nothing. There’s nobody there.

“Oookay, time to go.” Rick faces forward, dragging Morty back into his lap before the kid can slip all the way into the footwell. He’s lighter and limper than the sexbot but it’s still a pain in the ass to maneuver him in the confined space of the cockpit. Rick pulls the boy against his chest again and sets both hands on the steering jig. He should’ve been paying attention.

“DON’T-”

The ship lurches off the ground and then slams back down with a teeth rattling crunch.

“I AM ANCHORED TO ANOTHER VEHICLE, FURTHER ACTION MAY RESULT IN DAMAGE TO MY HULL.”

Rick pounds his fist against the steering wheel and the horn lets out a short beep.

“DO NOT HIT ME.”

“Wh-what do you mean the cops are– what are they- they’re trying to tow my car? A-and you just let them?”

“...YOU SEEMED BUSY.”

“Are you joke- joking-” he can’t get it out, “this is it- this is what I get, is that it? Most advanced spaceship in the universe and you can’t even-”

“THAT’S NOT FAIR.”

“You useless-”

“I DIDN’T WANT TO INTERRUPT.”

“- bitch.”

Someone knocks hard on the driver’s side window and Rick jumps in his skin, heart banging against his ribs harder than it has in a long time. Stupid. This is stupid. He has a little boy in his lap and there’s a big, irrational part of Rick that’s actually afraid. Or guilty or ashamed or something equally un-Ricklike. This is an alien world trillions of lightyears from Earth, no one here knows what a human child looks like. Even then, for all Rick knows fucking kids is a part of the culture here. 

“Open up!” 

Rick fumbles around in the center console for a gun, keeping Morty upright with one arm. Nothing. Unless he’s planning on beating this guy off (no pun intended) with a half eaten roll of mint Lifesavers.

“J-just a second!” 

“SHOULD I KILL HIM?”

“Y-you’ve done enough, just shut up and look pretty,” Rick paws open the glovebox and a bunch of shit falls out but, again, no weapons. The cop knocks harder and Rick snatches the memory gun off the passenger seat and frantically recalibrates it, “yeah, yeah, relax! I’m not going anywhere!”

“This is private property.”

Rick holds the gun behind Morty’s back and starts cranking the window open. Cold night air falls through the widening crack and chills the sweat clinging to Rick’s skin. He stops after a couple inches, leaving just enough room to stick the memory gun through if push comes to shove.

“This is private property,” the cop repeats. It has mandibles where its mouth should be, “this whole block is private property. Step out of the vehicle.”

“Officer,” Rick smiles like there isn’t a naked, unconscious child in his lap. Maybe he can sweet-talk his way out of this, “I was just about to-”

“Step out of the vehicle, sir, I’m impounding it.”

“What if I just… flew away? Huh? Maybe I- I could hook you up with a couple’a ‘flarks before I go?”

The bug stares at Rick.

“Work with me here, man,” Morty stirs in Rick’s lap and Rick pats the kid’s back absently, “I don’t wanna be here, y-you don’t wanna be here, c’mon, bribe’s on me?”

The bug doesn’t move. Its alien face is dark and glassy and expressionless, like it was hammered out of steel. It takes a deep breath.

“Any craft that makes landfall on a privately held street forfeits its ownership to the street’s proprietor. This isn’t your car anymore, so get out,” it leans close to peer through the narrow gap, its reflective almond-shaped eyes squinting at Morty, “you and the whore.”

“Woah! One, y-y-you can’t steal someone’s shit just because they parked in your alley. And two-”

“If the whore was more than eighty blemflarks it falls under the same forfeiture law, sir.”

“And two!” Rick raises his voice and hams up the indignation, “they have sensitivity training on this rock? Th-this is my brother, we were born like this, what’s your badge number? This is discrimination against a differently-abled sapien. Not cool, broh.”

“Get out of the car.”

“I was trying to be reasonable but- but now I think I wanna have a talk with your supervisor.”

The cop hooks its claw over the top edge of the window and it is sharp and long and the tip digs into the glass.

“You don’t wanna do that.” Rick adjusts his grip on the memory gun. He doesn’t want to use it, not when there’s a goldmine of grandpa on grandson on sex robot content sitting in its memory cache. “Let’s make smart choices here, big guy.”

“Okay.”

Rick’s finger twitches on the trigger on reflex, the light-cups spin a half turn before he can ease off.

“O…okay?”

The cop clicks its mandibles together and Rick starts to lower the gun and the claw that had been hooked over the edge of the window disappears. There's a ripping sound and a wet, warm spray across Rick’s face and he sees, too late, where that claw went.

“J-Jesus Christ!”

Morty’s eyelids flutter, showing flashes of white under his boyish eyelashes. The cop’s long, black claw is in the kid’s head. All the way. Going in one side and popping out the other. Rick stares, the weed and the drink crawling through his veins slowing his ability to think. The cop stabbed him through the head. Blood runs down Morty’s cheeks and neck and it's a deep red in the low cockpit lights and Rick doesn’t know what to do for a second.

“The whore and the vehicle will be sold for parts,”the bug clicks its mandibles together again and Rick realizes that it’s laughing. The creep is laughing. “And the proceeds will go toward your parking fine. Step out of the vehicle, sir.”

It rips its claw back out and starts reaching for the handle, to force the door open, and Morty’s eyelids keep twitching and blood keeps running down the sides of his face and ten minutes ago Rick was slapping nuts with this kid and now-

Rick shoves Morty’s body into the passenger seat and kicks the door open as hard as he can. It swings into the cop and throws it backward into the alley wall, its hard insect body hitting the rocky barrier with an awful crack. It slides to the ground and one of its wings unsheathes, buzzing uselessly at its side as it sits stunned by the impact.

Rick climbs out of the ship and bears down on the trigger until the memory gun starts to scream with charge.

“Drop- drop it!” The insect croaks, disoriented. Thin, black, fragile legs protrude from its chest at awkward angles, broken by the door slamming into them. It tries to reach the laser pistol hanging from its belt.

“Minding your business is fucking free, y-you know that, right?” Rick crouches and grabs one of the tiny, twitching legs closest to grabbing its pistol.

“D-don't-”

Rick rips it off and the insect lets out a high pitched screech. The leg flexes mindlessly in Rick’s hand and he drops it, grimacing.

“Coulda walked away with a little green in your pocket,” Rick says. The cop pulls its longer, clawed arm back like it’s gonna strike and Rick shoves the memory gun in the thing’s face. “I wouldn’t.”

“Better hope that thing can pierce my exoskeleton,” it clacks its mandibles together again, its remaining little-legs shivering, “before someone sees my scuttler and-”

“I don’t have to pierce shit,” the gun is getting warm in Rick’s hand, glowing blue and crackling with potential energy, “it’s photonic, retard, run enough current through this thing and it’ll fry your ass faster than a rat at KFC. Look at me.”

“What’s a rat- I- I don’t know what that is-” the cop lifts its claw defensively, something like fear in how its wings shiver as it comes to understand the position it’s in. “C’mon man, I was just doing my job.”

“Oh yeeaaah, doing your job, wh-where have I heard that before?” The memory gun is past warm, it’s getting hot enough to burn the palm of Rick’s hand. “Look at me.”

The insect squints up at him. The light cups are spinning so fast they make their own bug-like sound in the quiet alley. A hundred bees swarming. Rick shuts his eyes. The image of that long, black claw shish kabobbing Morty’s head pulses on the insides of Rick’s eyelids. He feels sick. He can feel the night air on his cock where it dangles between his thighs still soaked in Morty’s spit.

“You aren’t gonna kill me.”

Rick pulls the trigger.

It’s bright as a nuclear flash. The insect screams again and Rick bars an arm across his eyes and holds the trigger down and the insect’s body spasms, one of its arms whipping out and gouging a trench across Rick’s stomach. The gun is boiling hot and Rick drops the thing when the heat gets too unbearable. It clatters to the ground and Rick stumbles back a step, his eyes and palm and stomach all stinging. The memory gun jitters and bounces at his feet as the light cups spin down and start to go dark. Afterimages jump across Rick’s vision and he presses his uninjured hand to his wound, relying on touch to gauge how bad the fucker got him.

“Fucking… cops,” Rick blinks the stars out of his eyes, “Christ.”

It sits there, one wing extended and its head a bubbling yellow splatter on the alley wall behind it. Rick spits on the thing’s smoking corpse.

“WOW,” Ship intones and Rick whirls on her.

“Yeah, thanks for the assist, couldn’t’ve done it without you,” Rick reaches out and wipes his bloodied hand off on her hull and she says something about how he told her to shut up and look pretty, “just- just turn the- the cockpit lights on, full bright.”

The cabin of the ship illuminates and Rick ducks inside, bracing a hand on his seat. There’s a wet spot on the pleather from his earlier activities. Morty is sprawled across the center console, face down, his small body tangled up with the sex robot’s in the passenger seat. He looks like a toy in a toybox like that. Rick takes the boy by the upper arm and hauls him back over. He’s all dead weight and floppy and Rick thinks he isn’t dead weight, he’s dying and wouldn’t that be a spectacular end to this story? For this Morty to die here, far from his home, naked, with Rick’s sperm cells still wriggling around on his tongue?

“M-man I dunno why he did that,” Rick says, his voice more ragged than he’d like, “give a guy a badge and a gun and I guess he just can’t help himself, huh?”

Rick eases the kid into the driver’s seat and sits him up and Jesus Christ there’s so much blood on him. Rick tries to wipe it away but only manages to smear it across Morty’s chest. With the right tools and a go-get ‘em attitude there’s a lot that science can fix. Rick Sánchez is the closest most Joe Schmoes will ever get to being a god. So what’s a little massive brain injury when the chips are down? What’s one dying child?

Rick knows, with a certain amount of shame, that he’s stalling. That Morty doesn’t need him to clean the blood up right now, he needs Rick to stop being a fucking coward and check how bad the damage is. Morty is still breathing, blowing little blood-bubbles on his lips, and his eyelids are still twitching. That doesn’t mean much, though.

Rick adjusts Morty in the seat and his head lolls on his neck ragdoll-limp at the disturbance. There’s blood running down the sides of his face but in the bright cockpit lights the kid’s hair looks clean. Messy from all the sex stuff, but clean. Rick takes him by the jaw and turns his head to get a better look.

“Oh thank fuck,” Rick lets out a shaky sigh, “can’t be doing that to me, Morty.”

Rick swipes his thumb over the kid’s cheek, still full and round with baby fat, and presses. The tip of his thumb sinks into the skin, into the hole where the psycho cop punctured one cheek and popped out through the other. Two inches higher and the claw would’ve pierced temple to temple.

The wound is warm and tight around Rick’s thumb and Morty’s mouth falls open in a soft O-shape. Blood rolls over his bottom lip and down his chin and Rick coaxes the boy’s mouth open more, tilting his head back to see inside.

All his teeth are where they should be. There’s a shallow, horizontal gash across his tongue but that’s nothing a little healing serum can’t fix. He can be good as new and Rick won't have to spend the whole night gluing bits of brain tissue back together. Thank fuck.

Rick wiggles his thumb and watches it protrude into the cavity of Morty’s mouth like some kind of tumor. The alley is suddenly quiet… Now that there are no proximity alarms or guns squealing with charge, the air is thin. Rick can finally hear himself think and as he stares into Morty’s mouth he finds that there aren’t any thoughts to listen to. Flakes of freshly drying blood cling to the boy’s cheek and Rick pulls his thumb out and brushes them away.

Rick gets started. He goes through the motions of digging under the seat for a rag and a half-drunk bottle of water and gives Morty a scrub right there in the driver’s seat. He works fast in case the cop wasn’t bluffing and one of its buddies does come looking for it. The process is almost sweet, next door to paternal the way Rick runs the rag down Morty’s chest to his stomach to his crotch, cleaning the cum and sweat and robo-pussy juice off the kid’s dick in a series of platonic swipes. Morty is barely human like this, he’s an inanimate object that mimics breathing and apes being warm to the touch. This is maintenance to Rick. Tools have to be taken care of and Morty is just another reciprocating saw to be greased.

Rick pulls away, the rag dripping dirty water onto the ground. He stretches out his back, cracks his neck, scratches his balls. He’s getting cold and his bones are aching and his own minor injuries throb for attention. Rick drags his lab coat out of the backseat and digs through the pockets until he finds a jar. Old El Paso salsa, mild, the label white and peeling from a round in the dishwasher and a half inch of green goo at the bottom. Rick twists the lid off and sets it on the seat between Morty’s thighs. He swipes a finger through the goo until he has a decent sized glob on his fingertip.

“Goin’ through a lot of this,” Rick says to Morty’s unresponsive body.

Morty’s unresponsive body says nothing back.

“Alright, buddy. Say ahh.”

Rick tucks the jar between Morty’s legs, too, and takes the boy's face in hand. His wounds aren’t that bad, hell, there are goth girls out there who pay to get this kind of piercing done.

“You’re fine,” Rick mutters, stuffing his finger inside Morty’s mouth and smearing serum across his tongue and coating the inside of his cheeks. Warm breath washes across Rick’s knuckles and he feels nothing. “Lucky fuck.”

Rich reaches between the boy’s legs and collects more healing serum on the tips of his fingers. He massages it into the kid’s face in the kind of facial Rick has next to zero experience dishing out. Morty’s eyelids flutter, his eyeballs are moving underneath them, side to side. Rick wonders if he’s dreaming about Grandpa in his bed again.

Thought I’d let you, i-if you did something to me… let you do what- whatever you w-wanted to me, Rick.

Rick replaces the lid and twists the jar shut. He stuffs it in his lab coat and ignores the way the cut across his stomach stings every time he moves. It’s shallow, it’ll heal on its own, and the same goes for his hand. Rick turns it over to inspect the burn. There’s a bright red welt across his palm and Rick extends his fingers then curls them into a fist. It hurts, it’s bordering on second degree but it’s whatever. Nothing to waste healing serum on, so what if he has to lean on Mr. Rightie for a couple days? Rick stuffs the jar back in his coat and then throws the thing on. Rick watches the shallow rise and fall of Morty’s chest as he fixes his sleeves around his wrists.

Sometimes it feels like this stupid child is the center of his universe. Look at him, sitting there slumped in the driver’s seat, naked but restored. Clean. Whole.

Like nothing happened.

“Easy-peasy, Japaneasy,” Rick says, “had you worried for a second though, didn’t I.”

Morty says nothing back.

Rick takes his limp cock in his burned hand and tugs on it. The skin is tacky to the touch and the feeling isn’t entirely unappealing. Rick braces his body against the doorframe and watches Morty’s eyes twitch underneath his eyelids. He has the long, dark, full eyelashes that only young boys and dogs seem to be blessed with.

I already don’t tell anyone about all the stuff we do.

Rick thumps his forehead against the roof of the car and stops jerking. He forces himself to drop his cock and it falls with gravity to hang limply off of his body.

“Gotta get my shit together,” Rick says, grinding his forehead against the metal hull of his ship until the bone starts to ache, “come the fuck on.”

He needs a drink. A smoke. Fuck, maybe even a bucket of fried chicken and a huge, fuck-off soda. He needs to be doing anything other than standing over Prime’s stupid grandkid on some shitty moon with his limp dick in his hand. With just the lab coat on he probably looks like the Galaxy’s least effective pedophile, yeah, he’ll shove his dick in your kid’s face but, don’t worry, it’s not like he’ll cum on them. He’s too busy thinking about dog eyelashes to actually finish.

Rick laughs to himself and his voice is rough in his throat.

What is he doing? What’s he planning on doing? Beating off over Morty’s unconscious body? Stuffing his dick into the kid’s mouth while he’s in Lala Land? Where’s the sport in that?

If that’s what Rick wanted he could have it every night. It’s not hard to knock the kid out.

“Dress him,” Rick says, shutting the door before Ship can back-sass him.

The cop car— the scuttler, the bug called it in a cute bit of world building —is tall and round and black as a beetle. Rick walks the curve of his ship with a headache already pounding at the base of his skull. A claw extends from the scuttler and pinches the rim of the ship’s saucer, denting the metal, and Rick crouches down to inspect it.

Primitive. To be expected from a society that hasn’t developed the concept of a public road, yet. Rick grabs the top half of the claw in one hand and the bottom half in his other and pries them apart. The material, not metal but something more organic, creaks and Rick pumps as much juice into his arms as he can get away with without snapping his own bones. His burned hand twinges in pain and Rick grits his teeth and the claw breaks, its top half ripping free. Rick tosses the piece aside and stands up, wiping his hands on his coat. Yellow sludge oozes from the broken mechanism like blood. Lotta blood, today. Rick cocks his leg and brings his heel down on the remaining bottom claw, knocking it loose.

The light is bluer than when they first landed in the alley. Rick looks up at a sky that is definitely brighter. It’s been what? A little over fifteen minutes since he memory wiped the kid? He’s running out of time.

Morty is dressed and sitting in the passenger seat when Rick gets back. His own clothes are in a pile for him and as Rick shrugs his lab coat off and pulls his sweater over his head he thinks Ship may have an attitude problem but at least she gets her work done. She might be the most reliable thing in his life, which Rick knows is sad but it is what it is. He tucks his dick into his pants and tugs the zipper up with the finality of a jail cell door slamming shut. The end.

Rick collapses into the front seat and catches sight of the sexdoll’s reflection in the windshield. Her visor is blank and her mouth is a black hole in the pre-dawn light.

It'd be kind of cool, like a souvenir? You know, like, what if you passed away or died or something?

Rick pulls the door closed and hits the ignition. The cockpit lights dim and the running lights brighten and Rick takes the steering jig in hand. The alley ahead is long and narrow, the skyscrapers creating a claustrophobically tight corridor that comes to a point somewhere in the far dark distance.

I wouldn't even have anything to remember all the cool stuff we did, you know?

Rick is forgetting something.

His burned palm throbs against the steering wheel, itching under the skin with a deep and uncomfortable heat.

The memory gun.

Rick glances sidelong at Morty. Morty, Morty, Morty sleeping like a baby in his neon bright shirt and all-American Wrangler blue jeans. Morty who won't remember all the cool stuff they did tonight. Rick hesitates with his hand on the door handle, his fingers already tucked under the latch and ready to pull.

Something did happen tonight, though, and if he grabs the memory gun it'll happen again. Rick pushes the door open wide enough to look at the dead cop and the yellow splatter on the alley wall where its head should be.

“Really… blew his mind, huh,” Rick says, feeling more exhausted than he has in a long time. “Get it? Blew his mind?”

Ship doesn’t respond. Morty doesn’t respond. The headless cop doesn’t respond.

This is an insanely boring post-credits sequence. It usually is. After the flash, after Morty forgets and Rick puts his dick back in his pants and the scene has been reset, all that’s left is dead air. For what?

There was a moment not that long ago where Rick almost destroyed the fucking thing. The memory gun. It was after they burned Prime’s dimension down and moved here and it isn’t that Rick crossed a line. It wasn’t that Rick had finally had enough, that he’d eaten his fill. There was a moment, after, when he was standing over Morty’s bed with the gun still hot in his hand and vomit stuck in the spaces between his teeth where Rick had a… revelation.

He’s fucking a corpse.

The Morty he wants is dead and every time Rick pulls the trigger he dies again. So what’s the point? Why consign himself to this spiral, what’s the fucking point? This isn’t having his cake and eating it too, it's puking his cake up and licking it off the floor. Why not get a shovel, dig this reality’s Morty out of the ground, and fuck him too while he’s at it?

Rick drags himself out of the ship and his knees pop and his lower back aches and all this screwing around… there’s even less time before the kid wakes up, now. He crosses the short distance and bends low, plucking the memory gun off the ground. It’s cool to the touch and Rick turns it over in his hands checking for damage. The plastic shell is scuffed and there’s a chip out of one of the rotating cups but all that’s aesthetic. The real issue is the guts, he overclocked the thing pretty hard and there’s no way to tell if everything’s melted into a solid brick in there. Rick lifts the gun to his ear and shakes it, listening for any kind of tell-tale rattle.

Nothing.

The only way to know for sure is to plug it in back at the house and see what comes off it. Rick tucks the memory gun into his inner breast pocket and turns his back on the dead cop.

You know, I... I kinda knew.

Rick settles into the driver seat and pulls the door closed. The sex robot stares blankly at him through the windshield reflection and Morty has slumped against his own door, his breath making a foggy spot on the window.

I had this... deja-vu kind of feeling all night. Like we did this already.

The memory gun rests heavy against Rick’s chest and he tries not to get too high on his own farts about the obvious metaphor. He presses the buttons he has to press to get this show on the road and the car lifts off awkwardly, pitching forward and then jerking up just before scraping the nose of the saucer against the ground. Morty slides in his seat and Rick grabs him before he can bash his head against the dashboard.

“Fucking… landing gear,” Rick hisses, righting the ship and setting her in a steady vertical climb, “get us out of here.”

Ship takes on the flight controls and Rick leans over the center console. He snatches the end of the seatbelt and pulls it across the kid’s limp body.

“There,” Rick clicks the buckle into place and adjusts the straps, “y-you’re probably the luckiest Morty on this side of the curve, you know that?”

And I was kinda worried what- what it was gonna be like, you know, after.

When we got home.

Rick shuts his eyes and squeezes his burned hand into a fist. The deeper tissue throbs and the skin stings and Rick tries to focus on that instead of this endless loop of Shit Morty Says When I Molest Him that’s currently buzzing in the forefront of his brain.

I guess now I don't have to worry about that, huh?

“A lot of Mortys have it way worse,” Rick blurts to no one, “like that dork in the backyard. I- I’m half convinced his Rick had a brain damage kink the way he was using and abusing the fucking memory gun.”

The skyscrapers recede on all sides, their structures narrowing and narrowing as Ship gains elevation.

“H-he’s got a whole shrine chock-a-block full of memory vials on sublevel four. Yeah, a lot of it’s the generic depressing shit his Morty didn’t wanna think about, but there has to be-” Rick runs the numbers, “s’gotta be seventy percent of the memories in there are him bouncing that kid on his dick.”

Rick hasn’t decided what he wants to do with those memory vials yet. As a man cursed to be painfully, unrelentingly self-aware at all times, he recognizes that holding on to that much Morty Pornography is deeply pathetic. But as a life-long alcoholic, there’s something viscerally repulsive to him about pouring them down the drain, too.

“You and me, though? Once a month? Maybe twice? Th-they call that temperance, Morty, and it’s a virtue,” Rick looks over at the kid, “you wouldn’t know self-restraint if it walked up and fucked your mother.”

This isn’t fun. Rick groans and sinks in his seat, staring out the windshield as the skyscrapers begin to slip from view. Absently, Rick wonders who lives in the very tips of them and how long the elevator ride is.

“That night on the couch-”

Rick starts and stops. His mouth is dry and he licks his lips but that doesn’t really help. He clears his throat.

“Don’t have to justify myself to you,” he says. The ship rises through the uppermost layer of atmosphere and that thin morning-blue light fades into the black of space. “It happened. You were a little bitch about it. But before I wiped you I was thinking… I was thinking, you know what?”

Morty doesn’t respond.

“You’d get over it.”

Rick takes Ship off autopilot and aims her in the direction of home.

“And I thought… if I smash the stupid thing, for good, then you n’ me could get back to the way it was. Before. And yeah, m-maybe you’d be a little pissed, maybe you’d fight me in the beginning, but you’d get over it.”

Stars slide past their windows.

“Keeping this promise to a ghost at this point, really.”

Rick bears down on the steering wheel and it hurts. His hand hurts. He’s trying not to think about the Big Reset he’s trying not to think about Morty with his wide, sad, stupid eyes and all the crying and begging and-

“Prime’s Earth is a fucking write off!” Rick slams the heel of his palm down on the steering jig. “What the fuck are we doing here. Going to some dead Morty’s school and taking shit from some dead Rick’s Beth n’ pretending like suburban ennui is where it’s at. We could be out there fucking and sucking it up, no limits, no curfews, no family game nights. Just you and me-” Rick reaches over and shakes Morty’s shoulder, “doing it Rick and Morty style!”

Morty’s head flops on his neck bonelessly and Rick holds onto him, steering one-handed as the ship picks up speed. Warmth radiates through Morty’s shirt. He always looks so small sitting in the passenger seat and Rick withdraws, acid churning in the pit of his stomach.

“W-whatever,” Rick mutters, taking up the steering wheel again, “don’t know how lucky you are.”

👄

Morty comes to in the Wendy’s drive-thru. He makes a small noise and Rick is too busy scrounging money out of the center console to acknowledge him right away.

“R-Rick?” His voice is creaky and young-sounding. He sits up straighter in his seat.

Rick hands a ten dollar bill, some ones, and several quarters to the nice Filipina lady in the window. She gives him a bag. Morty stretches big and his elbow brushes against Rick’s arm.

“You got the spoons-”

“In the bag,” the worker says, passing over two small chocolate frosties, “have a nice night.”

“Rick?”

“Take it,” Rick shoves one of the frosties at Morty and he takes it, “KFC closed at midnight.”

“Oh…”

Rick lifts off and the ship rises into the night air. It’s raining on Earth, barely, more of a drizzle. The hull of the ship is still hot from re-entry and the droplets steam when they hit the metal saucer. Morty holds his Frosty in both hands like a child and looks around.

“A-are we home already?”

“No, I got you a Wendy’s Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger on Glixscapion’s twelfth moon,” Rick scoffs, digging into the takeout bag and pulling out a foil wrapped burger, “take it.”

“Jeez, okay,” Morty takes it. Now he’s holding a Frosty in one hand and a burger in the other and not eating either.

“Here,” Rick holds a plastic-wrapped spoon out to him and Morty stares at it, “don’t just look at it, take-”

“Okay! I- I just woke up! Jeez!” Morty snaps and that’s normal after. He’s disoriented, he’s missing bits and pieces of his brain. Rick tries not to let the kid’s tone annoy him too much. Morty tucks his food between his thighs and takes the spoon and as soon as he gets the wrapper open Rick holds out a second spoon.

“Open mine too.”

Morty snatches it and opens the thing with his teeth like a little dog, glaring at Rick out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay, chill out, ” Rick plucks the spoon out of Morty’s hand and tucks into his Frosty, driving the ship with his knee, “bought you a sex robot, a burger, icecream, what- what else d’you want from me? My blood?”

Morty’s face smooths into an unreadable expression. It’s like he’s rebooting. He looks over his shoulder in a short, twitchy movement, and when he sees the fuckdoll propped up in the backseat his cheeks flush pink. Rick watches, licking frozen dairy dessert off the back of his spoon as Morty reconciles his missing memories in real time. The human brain is a resilient machine and if Rick got it right, everything after they loaded the robot into the car should be an unremarkable blur in the kid’s mind.

“O-oh yeah…” Morty faces forward again and keeps his gaze fixed on the food in his lap. “Sorry.”

They eat on the ride home. Rick takes the scenic route, following the coastline south at a leisurely clip. By the time he swings inland there are two empty cups and two grease-stained burger wrappers on the floor of the ship and Morty is back to peeking over his shoulder.

“She isn’t going anywhere,” Rick says and Morty flinches, caught in the act. Rick would laugh if he wasn’t so over it, already.

The house comes into view and Rick takes the ship low. The garage door raises, sending a widening ray of light across the wet driveway. The moment they make contact with the ground Morty unbuckles his seatbelt and lets himself out. Rick stays sitting, his burned hand curled loosely around the steering wheel and his other hand limp between his knees. Morty folds the passenger seat down so he can get into the backseat.

“You got it, buddy?” Rick asks. Morty doesn’t look up from his task or acknowledge him at all and it’s so weird to think that a little over an hour ago he was knuckle deep in this kid’s ass. “Lift with your legs.”

“I- I know how to lift,” Morty grumbles, his hands hovering over the robot’s body as he calculates his plan of attack. The thing is almost twice as tall as he is and more than double his weight and it’s kinda cute. Like she’s a stick too big for him to fetch but he’s gonna try dragging her through the grass anyway. Morty looks up and catches Rick staring. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Rick raises his hand in mock surrender.

“C-can’t you-” Morty starts to say but then he reigns it back in, clearing his throat and trying again in a less abrasive tone, “could you, you know… portal her…”

Rick is expecting the kid to finish that thought but when ten full seconds pass with nothing but the sound of the rain pattering on the roof of the garage, Rick throws him a bone.

“To your room?”

Morty nods.

“Nah.”

“C’mon, please?”

“Nope!” Rick gets out of the ship and shuts the door behind him. “Because if I do that y-you’re gonna want me to put her on your bed too and then next thing you know it’ll be, aw jeez, Rick, can you flip her over and hold her up so I can fuck her doggystyle? And matching your thrusts is not how I wanna spend the next six minutes of my life, no thank yew. ”

Rick comes around the front of the ship in time to see Morty and the sex robot fall to the garage floor in a pathetic heap.

“O-ow!”

She was rigid and perfectly posed back at the pawn shop but since she ran out of battery she’s gone all loose and floppy. Morty wriggles underneath her like a bug caught under a heavy net.

“Interesting technique,” Rick says, unhelpfully, enjoying the little glare he gets out of the kid, “right there on the floor, too, did- didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I’m- I coulda got really hurt!” He whines, “I could’ve got a concussion or- o-or broke my back and you’re just- you care more about getting your little quips in!”

“Ohhh, there it is, my second guilt trip of the night. I must be the worst grandpa in the world,” Rick clutches his chest, over his heart, over the pocket where the memory gun sits, “I’m sooo sorry, next time you almost get paralyzed in a sex robot-related accident I’ll keep my quips to myself.”

But Morty isn’t listening, he’s huffing and puffing and pushing on the robot. She is soft and smooth and rounded in every way a woman is and the poor guy is fighting for his life to get any kind of leverage on her. He manages to get his knee between his body and hers and starts pushing her up-

But she rolls off and lands on top of him again, forcing a oof out of the kid.

“This is kinda bumming me out,” Rick says.

Morty’s face is red from the effort of trying to free himself and he opens his mouth, but the kitchen door creaking open interrupts him before he respond.

“Dad?”

Beth is in her pajamas. Her hair is a mess around her shoulders and she stands in the doorway, the kitchen dark behind her. Rick puts on his best you got me smile and spreads his arms.

“You’re still up!”

 She squints at him and then at Morty and then back at him, her nose wrinkling like it used to when she was a little girl and she saw something she didn’t like. Rick drops his hands to his sides and ditches the smile.

“It’s almost two in the morning, Dad,” she steps down into the garage, “and what did you bring into my house?”

Rick blows air past his lips and shrugs, gesturing at Morty on the floor.

“Ask your son.”

“Morty?”

The robot is face down on top of the idiot, ass up, her arms at odd, inhuman angles. Beth takes a few careful steps into the garage and Morty stares over the sexbot’s shoulder at Rick, a glimmer of impossible hope in those kicked-puppy eyes of his. Rick shakes his head almost imperceptibly, the message clear: Not my circus, not my monkey. Morty’s face crumbles.

“Th-this isn’t what it looks like-” he starts to say and Rick mutters classic under his breath but Beth doesn’t seem to find it funny at all.

“Morty, is that a… sex doll?”

“N-no?”

“I can’t believe this,” Beth lifts a hand to her tired face, “I can’t deal with this.”

“Tell her what you told me, Morty,” Rick says, leaning against the hull of the ship, “back at the pawnshop. About w-w-what if you died? Tell her.”

“I just-” Morty says, looking anywhere but at his mom as she slowly comes to stand over him, “I just meant- Rick bought it! ”

“Oh come on, he- he begged me, Sweetie, what was I supposed to do? Bring him home all mopey? Y-y-you know how he gets,” Rick joins Beth in standing over the poor kid and puts a hand on her back. She doesn’t pull away and Rick takes that as a good sign, “he got me pretty good with the guilt trip, too, I- I’m not- what, am I supposed to be made outta ice? Some kind of heartless monster?”

“Dad…” Beth sighs, leaning into Rick’s touch. From up close the sticky-sweet smell of wine is obvious and Rick rubs her back with his burned hand. The same hand he violated her child with.

“It’s harmless,” Rick says quietly and she shuts her eyes, already giving in, “y-you know what, you’re right, it’s past his bedtime and I promised I wasn’t gonna do that anymore. I’m sorry, Beth.”

“Oh, Dad.” She sags and Rick pulls the Beth against his chest. It works. She rests her chin on his shoulder and this always works; it worked on Beth Prime and it’s working on this Beth and it’ll work on the next Beth, too.

“I- I know I said I’d keep it reasonable, that’s on me,” Rick says in his best dad voice, “let me take care of it, and you- you just get back to bed.”

“The doll-”

“I’ll keep it down here tonight,” Rick holds her at arm’s length so she has to look at him. A couple strands of hair are stuck to the corner of her mouth. “We can figure this all out in the morning. How’s that sound?”

She looks sidelong at Morty, who’s back to trying to wriggle out from under the robot. In a rare stroke of luck the Beth can’t see its bare pussy from where she’s standing. She sighs again.

“Fine, that’s fine.”

“I won’t let you down,” Rick reaches up and brushes the hair off her face.

This is too easy.

“Just… don’t sleep in too late tomorrow, I’m making a big brunch,” she says, pulling away from him and turning toward the kitchen. She stops in the doorway with her hand on the frame and looks over her shoulder, “and don’t give your grandpa a hard time, anymore. Please.”

“Okay,” Morty mumbles from his place on the floor.

Beth shuts the door behind her, leaving Rick, Morty, and the sex robot alone together in the garage again. The fluorescent lights hum overhead and the rain is quieter on the roof already. Rick nudges the sex robot’s arm with his shoe.

“Y-y-you totally threw me under the bus,” Morty grumbles.

“Oh yeah, I threw you under the bus,” Rick sends it back, “wh-what was I supposed to say? Yes, Sweetie, I bought your fourteen year old son an alien sex toy all on my own? Th-that’s a good way to get on the sex offender’s registry, Morty.”

Rick bends down and grabs the robot under the arms and hauls her off the kid. She’s heavy and Morty guards his face as her limp body drags over him.

“Ow, j-jeez, Rick,” he rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself to his hands and knees.

“You’re welcome.”

Rick resets his grip around her middle and she folds in half at the waist. Her ass pushes into his crotch and it wasn’t that long ago he was dick deep in this thing’s synthetic guts. Morty finally gets back on his feet and he starts brushing himself off pissily, like his whole adventure on the floor of the garage wasn’t his own damn fault.

He pauses, staring down at himself and Rick sees what he’s seeing and he starts to laugh.

There’s a wet spot on his shirt. A big, wet, slimy spot around the same place the robot’s pussy had been while she was pinning him to the floor. Morty looks up at Rick with wide, panicky eyes.

“R-Rick?”

Rick shakes his head, still laughing, no way. No way. Of course.

“Aw jeez,” Morty moans, pulling at the hem of his shirt to get a better look, “oh no, no, s-seriously?”

It’s his own cum, but he doesn’t know that. He’s the only one who dropped loads in her tonight but Rick can’t tell him that so he just laughs.

“Hey, Morty, check me out, guess who I am,” Rick holds the robot by the hips and mimes fucking her, “oooh, yeah, gonna get one last nut off before I pawn this thing.”

“Wh- don’t do that!” Morty half-yells, glancing at the door to the kitchen, “c’mon, Rick, th-that’s- that’s really gross!”

Her upper body flops and her arms dangle and Rick gives her a good thrust that makes her feet come off the floor. Morty grabs one of her arms and tries to pull her away.

“Stop it, Rick!”

“Oh no, Morty, I’m gonna cum!” Rick laughs, but he doesn’t stop until he’s done pumping his imaginary load into the sexbot’s cunt. Morty is looking at him like he’s killing his dog. “Relaaaax, I’m just fuckin’ with you.”

“It’s not funny,” his ears are beet-red, “y-you’re just being a jerk.”

“Like you aren’t itching to get your sloppy seconds the minute you’re alone with this thing. Th-that’s pretty gross, but you don’t hear me calling you a jerk.”

Morty presses his lips into a thin, pale line in his flushed face, and instead of answering he takes the robot’s hand in his like she’s a real lady, and he’s her white knight. Her fingers are long and slender and womanly over Morty’s smaller, stubbier ones.

“I’ll clean her out first,” he says, serious as a heart attack, “I’m gonna take good care of her, Rick.”

He holds eye contact with Rick, still cradling the robot’s hand, and if Rick were anything other than what he is he’d probably kill himself tonight.

“It’s a fuck toy, Morty,” Rick says, suddenly not in a jokey mood anymore.

Morty lets go of her hand and her arm swings down like a dead thing. Morty shrugs.

“Y-you didn’t have to buy her for me and, I know I was being really annoying. You coulda said no,” he says, eyes sliding down her body to focus somewhere around her knees, “tha-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m the best,” Rick cuts him off before the kid can say thank you again. His stomach twists and his burned hand aches deep to the bone and if he gets thanked one more time tonight Rick isn’t sure what stupid thing he might do, “go to bed.”

Morty doesn’t leave.

“I told your mom I’m keeping it down here tonight,” Rick says and when Morty narrows his eyes up at him suspiciously Rick groans, “I’m not going to fuck it! Jesus, Morty, I can do way better than a second-hand fleshlight on legs.”

“But-”

“I need to charge it, anyway, then you can walk the thing up to your room instead of dragging its limp body through the house like a serial killer.”

“Charge it?” Morty wrings his hands together in front of his cumstained shirt and Rick rolls his eyes.

“Just look at it, i-it’s obviously a robot,” Rick says for the second time tonight, “it probably has a preheated pussy and twelve different vibration patterns.”

Morty perks up.

“So go. Get- get out of here, I’m sick of looking at you,” Rick turns his back on Morty and heaves the robot onto his workbench, “bad enough she’s gonna leak mystery jizz onto my shit. Don’t need you breathing down my neck, too.”

“Okay,” Morty mumbles.

Rick listens to the sound of his sneakers retreating across the garage floor. The door to the kitchen opens, and stays open, and Rick can feel Morty’s eyes boring holes through the back of his head.

“Thank you, Grandpa Rick,” Morty calls softly, mindful that the rest of the family is asleep, and then he leaves. The door clicks into place and Rick stares down at the sex robot. It’s all her fault, tonight. He tries to pin the blame on her blow-up doll mouth and fuck-me curves but that’s not fair. She’s just an object. The newest inciting incident to kick off Rick and Morty’s latest death spiral.

Thank you, Grandpa Rick.

The last time Morty called him Grandpa was when he handed over that bullshit love potion.

Rick turns the robot’s head so he can access the panel at the base of her skull. It’ll be easy to jury-rig a charger. She’ll be up and feeling her fuckable self in no time. Rick paws around in one of his drawers and finds a bottle of something dark and marked with an untranslatable alien label. He throws his head back and drinks. When it’s empty he finds another bottle and drinks that, too, swallowing deep until his fingertips buzz and his lips go numb and the components spread out on his work table become something he can plug into the robot without blowing her circuits up.

A green line flickers to life across her visor and Rick sits up straight and admires his handiwork.

She looks good. Whatever society built her stumbled onto the perfect Hustler Honey of the Month proportions. Rick grabs a handful of tit and honks it. The material is hard and rubbery.

“Little obvious, babe,” he says, “y-you should ask for a refund.”

Rick moves down her body, tapping on the metal bits and pinching the fleshier parts. She seems almost too well built to be a sex toy, but then again, war and sex are the main drivers of technological advancement. Rick dips his hand between her thighs and grimaces. She’s still dripping wet and the slick feel of her faux pussy lips makes the alcohol in the pit of Rick’s stomach turn unpleasantly. He pushes on her and she gives way, taking his fingers inside because that’s what she was made to do. And she keeps taking him in. She’s hot and wet and Rick forces his entire hand inside her. Her insides are tight around his wrist and he has the feeling that she was built to take cocks around the same size. He turns his hand, dragging his knuckles along the walls of her fake pussy. The robot doesn’t react.

Thank you, Grandpa Rick.

Rick pulls his fist out of her pussy and it comes back coated in a white-streaked, translucent fluid. Her own lubricants and boy cum, what hadn’t already leaked out in Rick’s lap, or in the back seat of the ship, or on Morty’s shirt. He flicks his hand and gooey strings splatter across the garage floor.

“Christ,” Rick climbs down from his stool to stand on wobbly legs.

The rain came back at some point while he worked. It hisses on the roof and on the little window above Rick’s workstation. It’s still dark out. Rick wipes his hand off on his lab coat before pushing the sleeve up to check his watch. Three in the AM and he still has one more thing to do.

Rick leaves the robot on his bench to charge and opens the hatch to the sub basement. Everything is different here. While Rick and Morty were fucking around on a failed revenge plot, the Rick of this reality was getting his lab put together. Lights blink on scientific instruments that Rick had only thought about one day setting up. Homunculi float in amniotic vats in the center of the room, some kind of immortality project Rick has only recently started skimming the notes on. The dead Rick had a hundred things on the go and it’s exhausting being the cuckoo. He wasted too much time on Prime, now look where he is: fucking around in another Rick’s empty nest.

Rick jabs the elevator call button and waits.

The memory vault is only four floors down and he has an idea that the other Rick was excavating new levels as he needed them. That places the whole mindwiping my Morty so I can fuck him scheme pretty high up on the timeline of that guy’s priorities. Which is… fair. Pathetic, but fair, Rick thinks as the elevator doors open.

He was fifteen levels deep when he died. Garage found blueprints for a sushi bar he wanted to build on that floor, which Rick is planning on completing. Not out of any kind of respect for the dead but because basement sushi sounds sick as all hell. It just stings to know he didn’t have the idea first. Rick rides the elevator down to sublevel four, swaying drunk, the words sloppy seconds looping in his head.

When the doors slide open Rick stumbles into the cool blue light of the vault. His footsteps are loud on the sci-fi metal floor. He reaches into his lab coat and fishes out the damaged memory gun.

It’s scratched up pretty bad and Rick turns it in his hands again, inspecting more closely now that he isn’t in some dark alleyway. It’s hard, though, to focus his eyes or keep track of what he’s looking for when there’s so many other things swimming around in his head tonight. “Things” being Morty, mostly. Morty on his knees choking on dick, Morty with a spike through his face, Morty holding a bacon cheeseburger in one hand and a Frosty in the other and wondering what to do with them. There’s no way to tell how bad the damage is by looking at it from the outside, Rick knows that, so he takes the gun to the chair in the middle of the room and sits down.

His stomach drops at the change in altitude and he takes a second to get a fucking grip on his insides. He’ll have a killer hangover in the morning and Rick prays, even as he snatches the adapter helmet off a nearby utility cart, that nothing insane happens tomorrow. In a perfect world Rick will crawl out of bed at nine, eat Beth’s latest attempt at recreating her mother’s famous Saturday morning brunch, and then crash on the couch until he doesn’t feel like blowing his brains out anymore. Morty will be too busy fucking his new girlfriend to even think about getting clingy like he usually does on weekends.

Actually, in a truly perfect world, he’d have Morty face down on some shitty motel bed a hundred billion miles from Earth right now. Rick sighs and the sigh turns into a burp that tastes like alcohol and bile.

He puts the helmet on. Electricity buzzes in his eardrums and he stares out at the wall-to-wall collection of memories. The majority are blue, unmarked, unremarkable, there’s no way to tell what’s in them without plugging them in. He should throw them away. He knows that.

He knows that trashing this place and destroying the gun would be the right thing to do. And he knows that leaving Morty behind is the ultimate right thing to do. The kid doesn’t deserve this and Rick doesn’t deserve him. And he tells himself that he has to stick around to protect the kid but he knows that that’s not true. If Prime gave a shit about his grandson he would’ve shown up by now.

The problem with being the smartest man in the universe — ugh —is that knowing the right thing to do is easy. And rejecting it, or choosing to do the exact opposite by… say… raping some kid over and over again out of some weird, sick, attachment issue? He’s smart enough to know every justification he thinks up is just more bullshit.

The only way to protect Morty, if that’s what Rick cared about, is to leave. And considering he’s still fucking here and he’s still fucking Morty, he obviously doesn’t care that much.

“Jus’... goin’ in circles now, broh,” Rick snatches an empty memory vial off the cart and flips the port open on the back of the memory gun, “c’mon.”

He clicks the pieces together and watches as data flows into the vial. The first few drops are clear, like precum, and then it deepens to a sky blue. Relief tugs at the edges of Rick’s sour mood at the sight, maybe the gun isn’t damaged after all. Thank God Almighty, he may be a pedophile and a rapist but at least his child porn made it out okay!

Then that blue darkens, and darkens, until the vial is full to the brim with black, corrupted data.

💋

Morty stares at his bedroom ceiling. He’s wide awake. Fully dressed. He didn’t even get under his blankets. He’s counting down from a hundred, slowly, and listening very, very carefully. He can hear his dad snoring across the hall and the rain against his window. At night, when everyone else is asleep, if he listens hard enough he can usually hear the Garage AI’s voice when Rick talks to her. The sound buzzes through the walls in a way that is felt more than heard, really. He listens hard and hears nothing.

Morty reaches zero and glances at his alarm clock again. The red numbers flash 04:13 on his nightstand and Morty sits up.

He’s done waiting.

Mom is never gonna let him keep the robot, no way, so it’s now or never. Morty swings his legs over the side of the bed and picks at the crusty stain on his shirt. When he first realized what had happened he thought— just for a second! —that Rick did something to her while he was asleep. Had sex with her. Morty spent the last two hours desperately trying not to think about that. The problem with trying not to think about something, is that the act of not thinking about it becomes thinking about it.

There’s no way, though. Right?

But he could have. Rick could’ve parked somewhere private, like in the middle of deep space, and crawled into the backseat and did it while Morty was sleeping. It’s not that out-there for Rick, he saw how eager the guy was to get weird when they were incepting Mr. Goldenfold. And the stuff that leaked out of the robot didn’t look… alien. Morty shakes the thought out of his head before he gets too carried away with it.

Waiting was so hard. Morty was so hard. The whole time. And he didn’t change into his pajamas because he knew the moment he took his pants off he'd wouldnt be able to control himself. He'd jerk off and ruin everything.

Morty stands up, absently pawing at his dick through his jeans. It hurts, but it’ll be so worth it. He can already imagine what it’ll feel like to creampie her. He wants to hold her down and fill her up and he can’t do that if he blows all his loads into his fist like an idiot.

His heart is beating fast already. He’s getting lightheaded already. Morty crosses his room to the door like he’s in a dream. If he’s lucky Rick will be passed out somewhere not in the garage, and if he can’t figure out how to get the robot back to his room he’s gonna climb onto the work bench and fuck her right there.

Morty eases his door open carefully. His face is hot and his knees are loose and wobbly-feeling. What’s left of his Wendy’s churns uneasily in the pit of his stomach, his teeth are actually chattering he’s so nervous. The hallway is empty and Morty steps out of his room and sneaks past his parent’s room. Dad’s snores get louder as he goes by.

Too easy.

Morty rounds the corner to the top of the stairs and freezes, his heart catching in his throat.

Rick is at the bottom of the stairs. He’s lost his lab coat and sweater and his arm is slung around the robot’s shoulders for balance. She looks beautiful. The streetlights coming through the entryway windows catch on her metallic body parts, making her shine. Her pale pink skin glows softly in the dark and a green zig-zag line flashes across her sci-fi visor. Rick grins up at him.

“Sh-she’s all charged!” He whispers, the words slurred and too loud and Morty puts a frantic finger to his lips. “Oh, s-sorry.”

The man struggles to stand unassisted, pushing off the robot and clutching at the banister to keep himself upright. He grabs the robot’s arm and pulls her close so he can actually whisper something into her… ear? If she even has ears. The robot seems to listen to him and after Rick’s done he smacks her on the ass. Hard. The smack reverberates off the entryway walls.

“G-goan, git- git outta here,” he says and the robot starts to climb the stairs.

Morty watches her come, his heart beating too fast in his chest. Her boobs are huge and who cares if Rick fucked her first. Morty doesn’t care. She’s half way up and Rick raises a big, double thumbs up from the bottom of the stairs.

This is like a dream. A good one, for once.

The robot joins Morty at the top of the stairs and takes his hand the way he took hers earlier tonight. Gently. Like a real girl would.

“Wh-what are you doin’ go- go'n get some!” Rick calls up to him, trying, and failing, to keep the volume down, “sh-she’s all yours, buddy!”

If this is a dream, Morty hopes he never wakes up.

And Rick has done a lot of crappy things to him in the short time he’s known the man, but this almost makes up for all of it. Morty wraps an arm around the robot’s waist and thinks he should name her, he can’t keep calling her the robot all night. 

And he returns Rick’s thumbs up and mouths two words:

Thank you.