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Stories of Rick Sanchez can be heard across the entire multiverse. Stories about him shared over campfires, as if he’s the boogeyman; in front of the water cooler in the office, as if he’s the latest gossip; to small children, as if he’s a hero. Some of them are true. Most of them aren’t.
People say he’s evil. People say he’s good. People say he’s a genius. People say he’s an asshole.
But what nobody ever seems to remember is that Rick, at heart, is a scientist. He’s curious to a fault. See, that’s how he ended up fucking his grandson. He’d had a hypothesis. ‘If I fuck Morty, then I’ll stop thinking about him all the time.’
Was it right? No. But sometimes you’re wrong in science. Hell, that’s half the fun!
So, being a scientist, Rick is someone who enjoys having all the facts. He wants to know everything, especially when it comes to Morty. Rick is downright obsessive about it. He’s got cameras in Morty’s school lockers, in his closet, under his bed. Wires hidden in the fabric of Morty’s clothes, so he can hear every conversation the boy has.
Here’s one of those facts: Morty is hiding from him.
Not literally. What he means is, Morty is hiding something from him. A part of himself. And Morty is not allowed to hide anything from Rick. Everything that he is, belongs to Rick.
So. Rick comes up with a new hypothesis:
If Rick makes Morty cum hard enough, Morty will then make those pretty little noises for him.
—
Before they got together, Rick would spend his nights watching the cameras in Morty’s rooms.
He can acknowledge how pathetic he was. A grown ass man getting drunk and crying while he jerks off to his grandson jerking off. Jesus, Rick should have put himself down like a rabid dog while he had the chance. Now it’s too late; if he kills himself, Morty might move on. And there’s no way that’s happening. Nobody touches what’s his.
But Rick doesn’t regret it, not really, because if he hadn’t been so pathetic then he’d never know about Morty’s secret. Which is: when Morty jerks off, he’s loud. In the camera feed, Rick would watch as he gnawed at his pillow to keep quiet. And even then, when he came, Rick would be able to hear Morty’s moans from his bedroom. Hell, it got to the point that Beth made Rick soundproof the house.
And yet, whenever it’s Rick touching him, Rick making him cum, Morty is… silent. Not a noise leaves his pretty little lips, besides bitten off gasps and the occasional response when Rick speaks to him. At first, Rick thinks he’s just shy. But after months of sex, he knows that isn’t the case.
Morty is being quiet on purpose. Rick isn’t sure why, but he knows he’s going to deal with it. He starts off slow. They’re sitting on the couch, Beth in the other room cleaning up from dinner, and Rick sets his hand on Morty’s thigh.
He hears Morty’s breath catch in his little lungs. His eyes dart to the kitchen, to Rick, back to the T.V. He shuffles, relaxes. Rick starts rubbing at his thigh, fingers catching on the inner hem of his jeans.
Morty grabs his hand. He whisper-yells, “Rick!”
“Morty!” Rick says back, mockingly. He shakes Morty’s hand off and settles his own directly on Morty’s crotch. “What? Got a problem?”
“N…Not here, Rick!” Morty whimpers, face going red. Rick can feel the heat of his cunt, the wetness growing there. Little exhibitionist, little freak. Rick loves him. “C’mon, please?”
Rick rolls his eyes like it’s such a hassle and pulls his hand away. “Fine.”
A few moments of silence. Morty tugs at his sleeve. “R…Rick…”
“What, Morty?” He snaps. As if this wasn’t his goal.
Morty pouts up at him. Fuck, he wants to fuck that look off the stupid little twerp’s face. “Aren’t we gonna… y’know?”
“I’m not a fucking mind reader, Morty.” Unfair, because he can be.
“I’m hard now,” Morty says.
Rick hums, raises half his eyebrow. “I thought you said not here?”
“W-Well, yeah…” Morty wipes his sweaty palms off on his jeans. “But we can - we can go somewhere else, can’t we?”
Whistling lowly, Rick pulls out the portal gun and pretends to check it. It’s an older model, one he hasn’t used in a week or two, but Morty wouldn’t have noticed that. “No can do, buddy. Gun’s outta charge.”
“We can take the ship,” he tries instead.
“Nope. In the middle of repairs.” Perfectly timed for this, of course, because Rick is always three steps ahead.
Morty is getting desperate, squirming in his seat. “Your room.”
“Futon isn’t good for my back.” He’d faked an injury the other day just for this moment.
“My room.”
“Your dad is fixing your window.”
His grandson whines pitifully. “Rick! Y-You-You’re doing this on purpose!”
“Sorry, Morty.” Rick shrugs and smirks. “Here or bust, baby.”
It’s not really a choice. He knows Morty, knows how his baby is. It’s one thing to fuck in front of a crowd of their multiversal selves and another to fuck five feet from his own mother. Morty buries his face into Rick’s shoulder and crosses his legs.
Step one, complete.
—
Two days after that, Rick enacts the next stage of his plan. They’re on a trip in the Whirlpool galaxy, picking up some sci-fi bullshit Rick made up, when Morty suddenly crawls into his lap. Rick slaps the autopilot button and puts his hands behind his head, smirking.
“Can I help you?”
Morty starts unbuttoning Rick’s pants. “I wanna do it.”
“Yeah?” Rick watches as little hands pull his cock out. It’s always so sexy when Morty touches him, their size difference blatant like this. Morty has to use both hands to jerk him off, even when he’s semi-hard. “My baby needs it bad, huh?”
“Mhm.” Morty nods, breath already short. He can’t handle when Rick calls him that. My baby. “Please? Grampa, please?”
Rick sighs, scratches at his neck. “Fine. I guess. But you’re doing all the work.”
That doesn’t deter Morty in the slightest. He gets himself out of his pants, leaving his cunt bare to the world. Rick’s mouth waters at the sight of it, but he reminds himself that he’s in it for the long con. He can’t give in now. Morty strokes him again, gets him to full hardness, and then he’s sinking down on Rick’s cock like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“Baby,” Rick groans, hands grabbing his hips. “You been practicing without m-me?”
“N-No, Grampa.” Morty clutches at his shoulders. There’s a furrow between his brows, he’s got his lip pinched between his teeth. He is struggling, he’s just refusing to show it. “I’ve been - I’ve been good, I promise.”
Morty’s not supposed to touch himself anymore. Honestly, that’s never stopped him before, so either he’s lying or he wants something from Rick. Probably an orgasm, but that’s not happening anytime soon. “Good. C’mon, get that ass movin’, Morty, we got places to - to be.”
“I’m going,” Morty snaps. His hips rise, fall, lithe thighs tensing with each movement. Morty’s built up a lot of muscle from all the running and fucking they do. After a few minutes, he drops his hands from Rick’s shoulders to his knees, putting himself on display for his Grampa.
“So pretty, baby,” Rick groans. He wants to touch Morty, wants to run his hands up and down his body, but this isn’t about Morty’s pleasure. “You want - want Grampa to cum inside you?”
Morty’s starting to get tired, he can tell. Not physically, but mentally. Bearing the load of the work is never his job during sex. Rick’s too impatient, too controlling, to let Morty go on this long. But he’s also a stubborn old bastard.
“Rick,” he whines, nails digging into Rick’s slacks.
Rick hums. “Yeah, baby?”
Rise, fall, rise, fall. Morty moves in a ceaseless rhythm, and yet he remains unsatisfied. His nose scrunches up in an absolutely adorable fashion and then he’s speeding up. Pearl white teeth gnaw at chapped lips, holding back the noises Rick is searching for, and that’s why he refuses to help no matter how much Morty (silently) begs.
He can feel Morty’s cunt clenching around him, feel how desperate Morty is to cum, which is when he finally grabs Morty’s hips and slams him down. Rick cums inside of Morty like he always does, because even though they both know there’s no way Rick would let it catch the taboo of it is still hot as hell. Then, once he’s on his last dregs, he tugs Morty off his cock and throws him back into the passenger seat.
“Wh-whu-what - Rick!” Morty yelps.
Rick zips himself back into his pants and turns off the autopilot. “We’re almost there, Morty. Put your clothes on.”
“B-Bu-But I didn’t, you d-didn’t-”
“Hurry up, Morty. We don’t got all day.”
Morty glares all the way through getting re-dressed. Rick pretends not to be smug about it.
—
The next time, Rick makes it seem like Morty’s fault.
It’s family movie night. Summer, Beth, and Jerry sit on the couch while Rick and Morty snuggle together on the armchair. Morty’s sitting sideways on his lap, head tucked against Rick’s chest. Rick’s got one arm behind Morty and the other resting on his thigh. They’ve got a blanket covering most of their PDA, but Jerry is clearly uncomfortable and Beth has been avoiding looking at them; they’re still getting used to Rick and Morty’s relationship.
Halfway through the movie, Morty grabs Rick’s hand and directs it between his legs. Shit, he didn’t think the kid would get so needy he’d want it here. Rick glances to the couch. The rest of the family is enraptured by the film, some dumb fucking movie about rich kids in a secret poetry club at their boarding school. He’s surprised it can hold their attention but it benefits him so whatever.
Rick slowly unzips Morty’s jeans. Unbuttons them. He slips his hand into Morty’s boxers and relishes in the slight hitching of his breath. Morty’s soaking wet, so much that Rick can hear it when his fingers slip through Morty’s folds. He’s got enhancements in his ears but just the concept of the others realizing what’s happening has his heart racing.
Of course, if they did realize, Rick would erase their memory. Only he gets to see Morty like that. But still, it’s the thought that counts.
On screen, one of the characters starts screaming about something. Summer gasps, hands flying to her mouth. Morty does the same, because Rick had wiggled two fingers into him knuckle deep. He undulates his wrist slowly, so slow that it can hardly be called anything more than teasing. Morty starts wiggling on his lap.
Rick glances down and finds big blue eyes glaring into his soul. His lips twitch into a smirk. Needy. Rick doesn’t mind, though. He brings his thumb up to rub circles around Morty’s sensitive little dick, speeds up the pace of his wrist just to the point of it being noticeable under the blanket. Morty’s eyes roll back into his head.
Up, up, up Morty goes, building to his climax right in the living room, sitting next to his parents and sister in his grandfather’s lap. Rick leans down to whisper into his ear, “You’re so fucking nasty, Morty. Is this what gets you off, huh? Being finger fucked with your sister sitting two feet away? Your parents? You want grandpa to make you cream your pants?”
Morty nods frantically, twisting in his lap in a way that’s unmistakeably sexual. Summer glances over at them, narrows her eyes. Rick smirks at her and, just as she opens her mouth to speak, he tugs his hand out of her brother and erases all the evidence of their indulgence.
“What are you two freaks doing?” She asks.
Morty whips around to glare at her. “We-w-we’re not doing an-anything, Summer! Mind your b-business!”
“Yeah, Summer,” Rick joins, “Jesus, we’re just - just trying to watch this ssst-stupid fuckin’ - crybaby movie you losers put on. What’s your problem?”
“Mom, tell Morty and Grandpa to stop finger banging during family movie night!”
Flushing bright red, Morty says, “W-Wuh-we weren’t fi-fi-fi-”
“I’ll fingerbang your brother wherever I want, Summer!”
“Rick!” Morty cries, covering his face in shame.
“Dad!” Beth looks a little green.
“Ew!” Summer stands and starts stomping her way to the stairs. “I fucking hate this stupid, incestuous family!”
Morty follows her. “Y-Yo-You guys are so embarrassing!”
“You started it, Morty!” Rick calls after him. He takes a swig from his flask and turns back to his daughter and her husband. They’re both giving him their best thousand-yard-stare. He burps. “Memory gun or alcohol?”
“Both,” they say, perfectly in sync.
—
Morty catches on. He was bound to; Rick wasn’t trying very hard to hide it. Plus, if anything, Morty gave him two chances too many. Fool me once, and all that. Rick only realizes Morty knows when he wakes up to beeping from one of his Morty alarms.
It hasn’t gone off in over two weeks, a new record. Morty’s never been good at keeping his hands out of his pants. Rick huffs and opens up the camera feed, only to jerk back when he realizes Morty is staring directly into the lens. It’s the camera above his bed, which is how Rick knows it’s on purpose. Morty never lays down flat to jerk off.
His mouth spells out something. There’s no audio feed. Rick has to read the words off his lips - are you gonna let me cum?
The answer is no. Rick is out of bed in a flash, slamming Morty’s door open and shut faster than the kid can even realize he left his bedroom.
“R-Ri-Rick!” Morty starts, hands pulling away from his dripping sex. He’s wearing a fake shocked expression. “Oh no! You - you caught me!”
Rick snorts. “You’re such a fuckin’ brat. Spread ‘em.”
Morty obeys, bending his knees and making space for Rick’s much larger body to fit between his legs. They click together like two awkwardly sized puzzle pieces. Rick runs his hands down Morty’s sides, relishing in the breathless giggles it gets him.
“You wanna cum, Morty?” He asks, rubbing Morty’s lower tummy, just above his mons pubis. Morty bites his lip and nods. “Yeah? Have I been - has grandpa been neglecting you, baby?”
“P-Please,” Morty says, quietly. “Please? Grandpa? I - I need it so bad. It hurts.”
“Shh, baby, I know. Tell Grandpa how long it’s been since you last came.”
Morty groans. “S-Suh-six days.”
Shit, that’s probably the longest Morty has gone since before he hit double digits. Rick brings his hand down, fingers forming a vee around Morty’s cock. He gently rubs against it. Morty jerks, muscles clenching.
“You wanna cum?”
“C-Can I?”
“Yeah.” Rick smiles. Morty’s too out of it to realize it’s far from sweet. “You can cum, Morty. Show - show grandpa how good you can be.”
A few minutes of gentle rubbing has Morty clawing at the sheets and panting, but that isn’t what Rick wants. He shoves his fingers into Morty’s spasming hole and curls them up into his sweet spot. Morty twists and his mouth gapes, but no sound escapes. Goddamnit.
With how long he’s gone with no release, it doesn’t surprise Rick that it only takes Morty a few minutes to cum. Morty collapses to the bed, his entire body shivering with what was likely the most satisfying orgasm of his life; but for Rick, it was the complete opposite.
He’d thought that, with how sensitive and needy Morty was, his brain would short circuit and he’d finally, finally relax enough to moan - but apparently, Rick would have to go a different route. He huffs and tugs his fingers out of Morty, wiping them off on his labcoat.
“Wait here. Don’t move.”
Rick opens a portal and steps into a Citadel sex toy shop. The Morty sitting behind the counter - a classic one besides the collar wrapped around his neck - rolls his eyes.
“No portals, man,” he says, then returns to the magazine before him. It has Evil Morty on the cover with big letters that say WORST OR BEST PRESIDENT EVER? which seems like a redundant question to Rick.
The only thing Rick is ever willing to give his inter-dimensional counterparts credit for is their sex shops. Not only is there a wide variety, but every single toy has been tested on a wide variety of Ricks-and-Mortys to ensure it’ll cause the most pleasure possible. Basically anything he picks out is guarunteed to feel good.
Rick heads straight for the Morty section. It’s a lot more Earth-Bound than the Rick’s; mostly human dildos, vibrators, pocket pussies. There’s sex robots and fucking machines and even megaseeds. Rick has to give the Mortys credit, they know how to get off better than most grown men do. He nabs a few of the better looking ones and heads back over to the counter.
Collar Morty barely glances at his selection. He picks up one of the toys and rolls his chair back, gaze going to under the desk. “How much is this one again, Rick?”
Touseled blue hair pops into view. Sometimes Rick forgets that there’s no such thing as indecent exposure on the Citadel. “Seventy-six, baby.”
“The fuck?” Rick says, “That’s highway fucking robbery!”
“Sorry, man,” Collar Morty says as his Rick tucks himself back under the table. “I don’t set the prices. Take it or - or - oooorrrrrr-”
The Morty suddenly curls in on himself, face twisting with pleasure. Jealousy burns in Rick’s gut as the Morty moans his way through orgasm, calling Rick’s name all the while. It just reminds Rick of what his own Morty has been denying him. It takes a few minutes for Collar Morty to pull himself back together; he lifts his head and meets Rick’s stare with glazed eyes.
“Take it or leave it,” he says, voice hoarse and breathy. A smirk suddenly appears on his lips. He lifts the toy in question. “B-But for the record, it’s rated as the best toy in the store, and me and Rick always get noise complaints when - when we use it.”
Damnit. The little asshole knew just what to say. Rick sighs and pulls out his wallet, handing Collar Morty the appropriate schmeckles. The kid bags them up for him only to pause before handing it to Rick.
“Y-You should probably save that one for, uh, special occasions,” he says, “It’s - it’s good - really good - but it - it tends to put Mortys outta commission for a few days. I - I couldn’t feel my legs for hours the first time we used it.”
“…I’ll keep that in mind.” Rick doubts it’ll do that much. It just looked like a strange rabbit vibe and Rick had only picked it up because the shape amused him. But just in case, Rick would save it as his last ditch effort. If the apparent best Morty sex toy didn’t work, then Rick wasn’t sure what would. Then again, there’s no way Morty has that much willpower…
Rick slips back through another portal, completely ignoring Collar Morty’s annoyed cry. Not like he could do anything about it, Rick’s got anti-tracking tech on his portals. Morty’s still waiting on the bed in the same position Rick left him in, either out of obedience or exhaustion.
The latter seems more likely; Morty doesn’t even open his eyes at the sound of the portal. He just lays there, breathing softly and waiting for Rick to speak. Never one to miss an opportunity to gawk, Rick takes his time looking at Morty.
He’s still flushed from his orgasm, salmon pink from his cheeks to his chest, and persperation glints along the high points of his collarbones and cheeks. He looks like some sort of erotic art piece, all laid out and exposed, shining and beautiful. Like something Rick would find in a museum. Rick’s cock throbs in his pants. He’s been hard for the last hour and the sight of Morty like this isn’t helping.
“Ass up, baby,” Rick says, dumping the bag of toys onto Morty’s bed. Ricks aren’t hacks, so he doesn’t need to worry about charging or even assembling any of the toys he bought. He rips a buttplug out of its packaging and grabs the lube off the nightstand.
Morty blanks his eyes open. He blanches at the pile. “J-Jeez, Rick, what - what’s all this for? Don’t we already, y’know, have enough toys?”
“I wanted to try something new, give me a fucking - a break, Morty.” Rick makes a ‘roll over’ motion with his hand. “Don’t make me ask twice, bitch.”
Huffing, Morty obeys. He gets onto his knees and stuffs his face into the sheets, giving Rick perfect access to both of his holes. Rick pours lube directly into Morty’s ass crack and coats the toy by rubbing it against Morty’s asshole. He starts to press it in.
“R-Rick!” Morty shoots up, turning to look at Rick. “Don’t - don’t just-”
Rick ignores him, forcing the plug in despite how insanely tight Morty’s ass is. Rick seriously needs to put this hole to work more often, it’s much too tight for his liking. He’s been neglecting his baby by leaving it empty, but no more. The plug pops in, leaving Morty’s hole winking around the thin base. Rick happily takes up the invitation to stick his tongue in Morty’s ass, nudging the base of the plug out of his way so he can suck on Morty’s rim.
“R-R-Riiii-” Morty cuts himself off, burying the rest of the moan into his mattress. Fury burns in Rick’s gut. Who the fuck does Morty think he is!? He pulls his mouth away with a scowl and gives Morty’s ass a nice hard slap to release some of his aggression.
Now that the plug is in, Rick can move on to Morty’s pussy. His little cock twitches as if it knows Rick is looking. Fuck, Rick can’t wait to get his cock back where it belongs - so he doesn’t. He fishes it out of his slacks and presses it to Morty’s hole, sinking in with one harsh thrust.
One of Morty’s hands smack against the headboard, the other coming back to grip his asscheek. His entire body tenses, tightening around the plug in his ass and the massive dick in his pussy. The kid is full to the point of bursting and he still won’t make a fucking sound. It almost ruins how good Morty feels wrapped around him.
Almost.
“Goddamn, baby.” He smacks Morty’s ass again, laughing at the way Morty’s entire body jerks away from him. “You feelin’ good, Morty?”
Morty nods. Nope, not what he wants. Another slap rings through the room.
“Say it. Tell Grampa how he makes you feel.”
“G…Grampa…” Morty says, much too quietly for Rick’s liking. “It feels - feels good.”
“What does, baby?”
Morty looks over his shoulder, giving Rick his biggest, wettest puppy dog eyes. “My - m-my grampa’s c-cock.”
“That’s right.” Even a small measure of success must be rewarded. Rick presses the button at the base of the plug, putting it straight to the strongest setting. Morty’s head flies back, lips parted in a wordless moan. The vibrations are so intense that even Rick can feel them jolting against his cock. How the fuck is Morty still holding back?
Looks like it’s gonna take more than this to break Morty. Rick fumbles blindly behind himself and manages to grab another box. Perfect, just what he was looking for - he opens it, turns it on, and hands the small wand to Morty.
“Hold it against your dick, Morty.”
With shaking hands, Morty takes the wand and obediently presses it between his folds only to immediately drop it. He shakes his head violently.
“No?” Rick asks, eerily calm. “Why not?”
Morty takes a heaving breath. “I can’t…”
“Can’t what?”
“I-I ca-can’t take it, R-Rick,” he sobs, “It’s - it’s t-t-too much…”
Rick reaches around Morty and grabs the toy. He runs it up and down Morty’s thigh, teasing him. “Let me ask you somethin’, Morty. Who - who owns you, baby?”
“Y-Y-You do, Ruh-Rick.” Morty sniffles pathetically.
“That’s right, baby.” He brings the toy up higher, higher until it’s running along his labia. Morty shakes his head again, but Rick ignores him. “And since I own you, I get to decide what you can fucking take. Hold the toy there, Morty, or else.”
Morty never likes what ‘else’ means. He takes the toy from Rick with trembling hands and gingerly presses it to his cunt. His shoulders shake with silent sobs, and if Rick weren’t currently mad he’d probably feel guilty. But this is Morty’s own fault.
“There you go, baby,” Rick purrs, “So fuckin’ good for me, Morty. So perfect. Now Grampa’s gonna fuck you. You can cum, but if you drop that toy for a fucking second then you won’t like the consequences.”
Rick waits for Morty’s obedient okay, grampa before he starts to move. Slowly, at first, before he works himself into a frenzied pace. Shit, he hasn’t fucked Morty in days. An unintended consequence of his experiment.
Each time Rick’s hips slam into Morty’s, the boy’s entire body jolts like he’s been shocked, probably because of the buttplug being jammed deeper into his guts. And yet, despite that, despite the fact Morty had to have cum twice already if the way his cunt spasms is any indication - he doesn’t make a goddamn sound.
What the fuck!?
Growling, Rick slams all the way home and releases into Morty. He has to be in the kid’s goddamn womb with how deep he is, but one wouldn’t know that from Morty’s reaction. No, he just continues shivering and crying. Rick pulls out abruptly and grabs Morty by the hips so he can flip him onto his back.
Now face to face with Morty, it’s more obvious how effected he is. There’s blood covering his chin from where he’s bitten a goddamn hole through his lip in his effort to stay silent. Rick’s eye twitches at the sight.
“Goddamnit, Morty,” he huffs, displeased. Morty’s lip trembles and more tears fill his eyes.
“Wh-whuh-what did I d-do, Grampa?” He asks, voice hoarse. “I d-didn’t - I didn’t let - let go, I promise…”
“Shut up, Morty.”
Looks like he’ll have to pull out the big guns. Rick grabs the last toy in his arsenal, the apparent hail mary of the Morty race. The toy seems pretty meagre to him, just a medium-sized c-shaped vibrator with a handle on the end. It’s not even that thick, but whatever. Rick stuffs it into Morty’s hole anyways. He has to wave the wand away so the end can press against Morty’s clit. Admittedly, the device does seem perfectly shaped for Morty’s cunt.
Rick is intimately aware of where Morty’s g-spot is, and this toy is pressing right into it. Already, Morty’s reacting to the toy, his legs attempting to jerk shut every time Rick thrusts it forward.
Despite that, Rick still isn’t expecting the reaction he gets when he turns it on. Morty’s back arches like he’s a goddamn Olympic gymnast, such a perfect curve that Rick could probably use it to solve quadratic equations. His right leg kicks out, banging into the wall, and his left goes into Rick’s side. Rick can’t even feel the pain with how focused he is on Morty.
It would be perfect, if it weren’t for the hand that flies to stuff itself into Morty’s mouth. It completely muffles the scream of pleasure Morty lets out as he squirts around the toy, drenching Rick with his cum and ruining every piece of fabric on the bed.
Rick doesn’t remove the vibrator. He doesn’t even turn it off.
Morty crashes back into the bed, and then he’s fighting. His limbs flail, trying to push Rick away, trying to get the toy out. But Rick is stronger. He uses his mechanical arms to grab Morty’s wrists and ankles, forcing them back down onto the bed, but that doesn’t stop Morty. He raises his hips into the air to escape, but Rick just follows.
But even now, even when he’s in so much pleasure that it hurts, Morty still doesn’t make a fucking sound. He shakes his head and bares his teeth and pants like a winded dog but not even a whimper escapes his throat.
“Goddamnit!” Rick snarls. He rips the toy out and throws it across the room. Morty collapses onto the bed, his entire body shivering violently as he comes down from what Rick just put him through. “What the fuck, Morty!?”
Morty’s arms go over his face, shielding him from Rick’s wrath, but Rick just grabs them and tears them away.
“Stop hiding!” Rick screams, “Let me fucking see you, Morty! Let me hear you! Do you think you’re allowed to keep anything from me, you little shit!? You belong to me! Your attention belongs to me! Your voice belongs to me! I own you!”
The silence that follows is deafening. Morty stares at him, eyes wide and terrified and horribly confused. It occurs to Rick that he hasn’t actually explained anything to Morty. As far as Morty is aware, Rick was just edging him (and overstimulating him) for no reason but the love of the game.
Rick is a scientist. Morty is his experiment. Sometimes, he forgets that they’re human too.
“Fuck.” Rick runs a hand through his sweaty hair, wipes it off on his shirt. His hypothesis hadn’t accounted for Morty’s pure force of will, and his theory has been proven incorrect. The only option left is his last choice: talking. “Morty, why - why won’t you just fucking - why do you do that?”
Morty clears his throat. His voice trembles as he says, “Do - do what, Rick?”
“I just fucking-!” Rick takes a deep breath, tries to calm down. He goes on tangents all the time, and most of them are completely unrelated to whatever he’s upset about. Morty has the right to ask. “Why do you hide from me when - when we fuck? Why are you so fucking quiet?”
Morty’s face pinches. He looks angry, irrationally so. “Are you - are you serious Rick? That’s what you’re upset about?”
“What, like I can’t - I can’t be fucking mad that my boyf- lo- fucking, whatever, refuses to make a goddamn noise?”
“No, Rick, you can’t!” Morty sits up on weak arms and nearly collapses back down, but his anger energizes him just enough. “Not when you’re the one who - who told me - you said my noises are annoying.”
That doesn’t sound right. That doesn’t sound right at all. Yeah, Morty’s voice is grating at times, but Rick loves the sweet little noises he makes when he jerks off. He can only imagine how much better is it when Morty’s getting fucked, because Morty has never shown it to him. So how the fuck would he have been able to say it’s annoying?
As if reading his thoughts, Morty continues, “You - you were d-drunk, remember? You snuck - snuck into my room and… it was the f-first time you, we, did…. anything. You woke me up jerking me off and I didn’t - it felt s-so good, I couldn’t shut up. And you - you put your hand over my mouth and said that I - I needed to stop being so annoying because it was turning you off.”
Stunned silence is all that follows.
After all of this… a week of blue balls, hours spent trying to decode Morty’s reasonings, and - and yet, just like most of Rick’s problems, it was his own damn fault.
“Fuck,” he says again. Rick crawls over Morty, bringing him into a tight embrace that’s a little too touchy-feely but Rick has a lot to make up for. “Goddamnit, Morty, I - I didn’t fuckin’ mean it, okay? I don’t even remember that shit - clearly - but I fuckin’ love how you sound, baby. I - before we - okay, if you ever mention that I said this again you’re dead but before we started fucking I used to listen to you masturbate and jerk off.”
A smile curls across Morty’s face. “R…Really Rick? You mean it?”
“Yes, baby, I fucking mean it.” Rick leans down and presses his lips to Morty’s, encouraging him into the softest kiss they’ve probably ever had. “You gotta promise me to never, ever hide those gorgeous noises from me again, okay Morty? Or I’ll fucking - I’ll put a spider gag in your mouth and make you.”
Morty giggles nervously. “Oh, jeez. Okay, Rick.”
Yeah. Rick’s hypothesis was very, very wrong - but he can’t bring himself to regret the outcome anyways.