Title: Bruise Pristine
Author: Donnie
Fandom: Rick And Morty
Setting: Various
Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith, OC/Morty Smith
Characters: Rick Sanchez, Morty Smith, OC: Paul Lynman
Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort
Rating: E
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 4427
Type of Work: One-Shot
Status: Complete
Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, Incest, Grandfather/Grandson Incest, C137cest, RickMorty, Underage Sex, Morty is way young here this is your warning, Anal Play, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Multiple Orgasms
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: Rick didn't like anyone touching what was his, and Morty had always been his.
AN: I'm so happy people keep sending in requests! This one is for hunters-nightmare/therickestrick, who asked for this plot from me! If you want to make any requests, please hit up my Tumblr, popgoesthewiener! Now, here we go!
Bruise Pristine ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Come on, now, baby boy," The brunet almost whispered, "It's not too much for you, you can do it. You're such a good boy, Morty. So good for me."
Morty gulped again, holding his breath as he tried once more, carefully lowering his hips down once more. At the odd breach of the other's cockhead, he yelped again and nearly launched forward, into the other's chest.
"I-it's too m-m-much.." He whimpered, eyelids squeezed shut.
"No, no, baby, don't worry, You can take it, I know you can. Come on, again."
If he were honest, Paul Lynman was getting impatient. He wanted Morty more than he was willing to say, and maybe his voice was tight enough that the young boy in his lap noticed. He tensed again, and Paul was there with his large hands, petting over the curve of the boy's back, kissing along his neck to try and soothe him.
"You can do it, Morty, I have faith in you. Come on, do this one thing for me and I'll drive you home."
Closing his eyes again, Morty nodded slowly, taking another deep breath and slowly lowering himself once more. This time, instead of shooting off like he had the last four, he tried to sink at least halfway down. Paul's grip on his hips was hard, bruising even, and kept him anchored down. Unable to hold back anymore, the elder male thrust up the rest of the way, and another yelp left the younger male. Even on the other's fingers, he'd never felt so full in his life. It was instinct to try and move, but he was firmly held in place while they both adjusted.
"So good, Morty… So tight and- And good for me." Paul was rambling in a way that almost felt good in its own regard, and the boy was happy to accept it. When he was finally allowed to lift again, he was tugged down when he got about halfway up, and a little whimper left him. A few grinds up against his asscheeks and he was a panting, moaning mess, sweaty and hard again despite himself. His curls plastered to his forehead and neck, and he let Paul scoot him and push and pull wherever he needed to be.
Morty didn't last long, but he rarely did, and the second he screamed out his orgasm, Paul nearly bit through his own lip to keep from losing it. He tried his best to keep thrusting despite himself, even as that tight heat grew tighter and his belly was painted with the younger's cum. Praise and petting seemed to be the best thing for this, as it kept Morty still while he tried to recover. Every thrust made him feel too overwhelmed, and he was hard again in record time, desperate for another orgasm already. That was probably Paul's favorite thing about this particular boy; he was always ready for more.
It was the kind of stamina that couldn't be taught, even if Morty never really could last very long. There were probably porn stars that would be jealous of his appetite. And Paul had this all to himself. He really must have been lucky.
An odd whooshing sound outside had Morty's ears perking and his head picked up off Paul's shoulder. The scoutmaster quirked a brow and glanced towards the door to his office, as if expecting someone to come in and ruin this. In fact, he was already slowing his thrusts, preparing to try and play this off somehow, even if Morty felt too good to abandon at this point. Reaching for his shirt, he managed to wrap it around Morty in his lap just as the door swung wide open.
The man standing there took in the scene with a seemingly blank face, one side of his brow lifted and a flask to his lips. He took a single drink, before capping it slowly, two pairs of eyes following his spidery fingers as they screwed it shut. Replacing the flask in his inner coat pocket, he sniffed slightly and tipped his head to the side. It almost seemed like he hadn't just walked in on his six-year-old grandson getting reamed by his forty-something scoutmaster. Either way, he jerked his head like he was telling Morty to go, and the boy carefully nodded.
"Mo-URP-Morty, you sh-should put your… Your pants back on and me-meet me in th-the… Meet me in the car. Grandpa Rick'll be right behind you."
Lifting himself up, Morty hissed and whined at the empty feeling inside of himself, gathering his clothes and putting them on. When he slid his tight little train underoos up over his dripping ass, Paul could have whimpered, but the clearing of Rick's throat brought his eyes back up. He didn't look pissed, but there was something in the stiffness of his movements that Paul didn't like.
Before he knew it, Morty was scuttling out of the room, heading for the old station wagon his mother drove, leaving Paul and Rick alone.
"You know, uh-" Rick began conversationally, glancing around the room. Pictures lines the walls of Paul with past boyscouts, but usually only one to a picture. His favorites, Rick figured, and there was an empty frame probably saved for Morty, "Paul, right? Morty's my grandson." Taking a few steps into the room, he glanced down at the other with a scoff, "And, uh… I don't usual-URP-usually take kindly to… To people. To people touching what is… What's mine, you dig?" His brow furrowed and he flat-out glared. "So, you know. No hard feelings. You look like you have your little racket hanging up here o-URP- On your wall and all, and that's great, whatever." Rolling his eyes, his head following the motion, he reached into his coat and pulled out a laser pistol, "But you picked the wrong kid, this time."
With that, he shot the other square in the center of his forehead, before pocketing his weapon once more and turning on his heels. Knocking over a trophy of some kind, he didn't truly care what it had been, Rick started for the car and climbed into the seat beside Morty. For a long time, he sat there in silence, gazing out at the woods around them and sipping from his flask. Morty was uncomfortable in a thousand ways, his pants were tight and his ass was empty. He could feel the now deceased scoutmaster every time he wiggled a little, and eventually the whining was too much.
"J-Jeez, Morty- You- You're acting li-like a ne-ne-needy bitch, Morty. You- You're a needy bi-bi-bitch, Mo-OURGHT-y. A needy little bitch." The last part came out on a soft exhale, and he sighed, looking back over at his grandson, who had gone from uncomfortable to drowning in his shame.
"I- J-je-jeez, I'm so-sorry, Rick." It didn't stop Morty from shifting again, however, sighing out his nose and pressing his sweaty palm to his cheek.
"Ne-never said that w-wa- Was a bad th-thing, Morty, just… Yo-you're a bit young to-" A heavy sigh left him as the kid beside him burst into tears. All he could do was reach over after he'd kicked the car into motion and rub the other's thigh. It quieted him significantly, but he still sniffled here and there.
Driving back to his daughter's home one handed was easy enough, and Rick never once regretted the way he pet the other's thigh lightly. Morty seemed happier for it, and that was enough for him. Parked in the driveway, Rick turned to be sure the kid beside him was okay, only to get a timid, quick kiss out of the boy. Blinking slowly, he stared at his suddenly shy grandson, who bolted out of the car and into the house.
This was going to be a rough night.
Rick carefully pulled himself out of the car, climbing to his full height and yawning, stretching his arms up over his head as far as he could. The satisfying pop had him sighing in contentment and he hunched over, sluggishly dragging himself into the garage. If there was one thing in this world that always made him feel a little better, it was knowing that one more person that hurt others had their brains splattered on a wall somewhere. That, and finding something decent on this dimension's cable TV.
Still, his mind kept fluttering back to the little kiss his grandson had given him.
There was no way he was too drunk to reciprocate, because he'd been blackout drunk and done a lot worse. Shock had flooded his system and made him unable to think, which was one of the worst feelings in the world. Had he been able to…
What? What was he going to do about this? Jerry would probably throw a fit if his six-year-old son was caught bent up underneath his grandfather. Beth would definitely have his balls hanging off the back of her station wagon if he so much as brushed Morty's dick when he gave him a bath.
Eyes popping open, even if he didn't know exactly when they'd fallen closed, Rick was on his feet in seconds. He was supposed to give Morty a bath, and if the kid was unsupervised, he was probably going to drown himself on accident. Desperation drove him upstairs to the bathroom, only to find Morty wasn't in there, yet. Hopefully he had time before he lost his best chance at happiness.
Wait, did he really just think that?
Ricks weren't supposed to care about their Mortys. Ricks weren't meant to love them. Mortys were tools… But this little brat had wormed his way into Rick's heart in the last two weeks, with his precious ways, and his stupid questions. Kids were always more interested in science than adults, so he could show off, and showing off was one thing a Rick could get behind.
And, now, here he was, hoping that the little pain in his ass was in his room jacking off or something. What in all of the Multiverse did he get himself into?
Mortys were usually pretty horny little things, in his experience. Shy as they could be, once you got them going, they typically were down for anything. Seal Team Rick D-99's Morty came to mind, the wild little Punk always willing to do something as long as he got his drippy dick touched. He was a bit older than his Morty, though, and definitely more experienced. Rick hoped, at least.
Sighing a little as he strolled leisurely to Morty's room, he poked his head in, pausing at what he saw.
Morty stood in front of his closet door, like he was getting his pajamas, though he had stopped at taking off his own clothes. He pulled off his neckerchief slowly, dropping it to the floor, and began to unbutton his shirt with slow-moving hands. Carefully, he wiggled his hips like he had practiced it, like he'd been taught to do so, and Rick's breath hitched.
It was hard to gauge just how much Paul had gotten to Morty, but the way he slowly slipped out of his shorts and had the knowledge to step out of them without hopping told him almost too much. Rick had to fight down the rage boiling in his gut. The fucker was dead, and there wasn't much more than he could do to him, now. His focus needed to be on the boy stripping for himself in the mirror, that much was obvious.
"M-Morty? Whatcha do-doing, bug?" His voice wavered slightly, but otherwise sounded bored and maybe a little hopeful. Jumping and whirling about, Morty's eyes were wide as he gazed up at his grandfather.
"U-uh- G-g-getting r-ready for b-ba-bath." The blushing boy replied, hands shooting down to cup himself. Rick didn't need to have a second look to know that Morty was hard, and he was definitely regretting picking him up on a night when everyone else was gone. What was he going to do with this?
"Okay, w-well, c'mon, then." Rick jerked his head towards the hallway and Morty followed obediently, his pajamas in hand. A sigh left the elder as he pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing that things were going to move fast from this point onward. Morty was showing a lot of promise, and that was probably dangerous for them both.
Flipping on the light for the bathroom, Rick tugged his shirt up and over his head, noticing right away how Morty stared at the pale expanse of his back, lean muscle bunching as he bent forward to start the water. Scars littered his skin, but most of them were too pale to really notice, and they definitely weren't what his grandson was staring at.
"M-Morty, tak- Take a damn pi-picture, it'll last lon-longer." Rolling his eyes, the elder plugged up the tub and reached up to grab a couple toys out of the holder beside the tub. "You want your ship and alien?" He questioned, hoping that it would be a good enough distraction from how tight his pants were becoming.
Happily hopping into the water and splashing Rick's face and chest, Morty held out his arms for his toys.
"Y-yeah! Al and ship!" He splashed excitedly again, and Rick grabbed the toys for him, rolling his eyes.
"Mor- Morty, you're mak-making a mess, Mo-URP-Morty." He chastised, though his eyes were soft and his smile warm.
Dumping the toys into the bath water, Rick lowered himself to his knees beside the tub and grabbed the large cup they used to get Morty's hair wet. Dunking it into the water, he gave a light tap to the playing boy's shoulder before soaking his head and making him giggle and sputter.
"Noooo~" Morty laughed, shaking his head and sending water flying. Good thing Rick's shirt and coat were on the counter.
"C'mon, Bug, we need to get you clean and ready for bed." Rick responded softly, leaning in and kissing his wet forehead, "I know you just want to play. We'll go to the pool tomorrow and you can splash all you want."
"I do-don't wanna sleep." Morty informed, finally, "I'm awa-awake, now."
"I know, I know. But maybe you'll feel better in a bit." Pouring some shampoo into his hand, Rick began to massage it into his grandson's curls. Morty's eyelids drooped a little as he held his alien close to his chest. Fingers gently scraping the other's scalp, the elder worked the suds up to a foam, and a light tug had Morty giving a little moan. A little ashamed of just how hard he was in his pants, Rick continued to move his hands, but the boy was already wiggling. One of his hands slipped under the clear water, and he rubbed his crotch, only making his grandfather gulp.
"G-G-grampa Rick?" He finally asked, tilting his head back a little and looking up into those pretty blue eyes.
"Yeah, M-Morty?" The roughness to his voice made him flinch, but Morty seemed to be okay with it.
"Th-th-that fe-feels really good." Those large, round eyes watched him and it had Rick wanting to adjust himself in his pants. Carefully untangling his fingers from those tight brown curls, he tried to ignore the whine that left the other. Dropping his hands into the water, his head spun with all of the thoughts racing through it, colliding into each other.
"Yeah, Bug? Th-that's good." God, he was no better than that Paul guy. But Morty's hand was moving under the water and that was hard not to notice. "O-on your knees, okay? Grampa wa-wants to clean you u-Urrp-up."
Letting the alien float, Morty worked himself up to his knees and Rick lifted the full cup of water to dump over his head. A few of those and his hair was free of suds, leaving Rick's long, thin hands to work over his shoulders. Pressing in gently at each knot he felt, he rubbed the other's neck, shoulders, and back, carefully gripping his rump as soon as he was able. Disguising a soft moan as a cough, Rick gently pried open the other's cheeks, gasping slightly at the sight he found.
Morty really did look empty, and one of Rick's fingers slid in easily. The boy moaned for him, wiggling a little, and Rick actually had to consider if he wanted the kid to stop touching his dick the second he was in to the knuckle. Closing his eyes, he pumped his finger a couple times, unable to help himself. After a second, though, he stopped, and managed to push a second finger inside to scoop out all of the wetness inside of him.
"M-M-Morty, you should… Shouldn't- Shouldn't like this so much." Rick groaned, unable to stop with how the kid bared down on his hand. He knew he shouldn't want to take advantage of this, knew better than to angle his fingers just right and hit his prostate, but he found himself doing it regardless. It was possibly the hardest thing to do not to palm himself through his pants, and when Morty finally peeled his round, brown eyes open and looked up at him, his heart stopped for a second.
"Wh-why not?" This was killing him.
"Uh… I- 'Cause I'm y-your granddad. Mo-OURGH-ty, You.. Yo-you shouldn't… Enjoy this so much fr-from me. Just… Just cleaning y-you out." He offered, though his voice was rough and his dick jumped when Morty's ass pushed down a little more on his hand.
"B-but I li-li-like it~" Morty moaned softly, rocking back and forth like he knew what he was doing. Whatever self control Rick had had was melting away quickly and it was getting harder to say 'no' to him.
"Ye-yeah, Morty? Y-you like this?" His voice a dark growl as he pushed his fingers in deeper and flexed them, "You li-like sitting on Grampa's fingers?" This was going to go poorly, he just knew it, but he couldn't stop, not when Morty was mewling like that.
"Y-yeah~" Morty crooned, rocking himself back and forth with more fervor, his hand back on his tiny prick as he stroked erratically. That was all it took to get Rick's mind right where the kid wanted it.
"You w-want grampa to come in you- I-in with you?" Damn, Morty was going to kill him like this.
"Y-yes!" Pushing down hard on the other's fingers, he rolled his hips and Rick finally reached down to cup himself in his pants. A stroke, then ten, and he knew it was too late for him. Carefully pulling his fingers free, despite the whimper at the loss of contact, Rick stood and pulled his belt open, then dropped his pants. Morty moaned at the sight of him, and he was pretty sure he would never forget the hungry look of need on his face.
"C-calm down a li-little, Morty, you- You'll get what you w-want." Rick offered lamely, looking defeated as he crawled into the sudsy water with his grandson, tugging him into his lap. Morty whimpered at the feel of the other's impressive length pressing into his back, and he wiggled against it to get a moan out of his grandfather. Rick took hold of his hips and spun him around in his lap, giving him a gentle peck on the lips and nuzzling their noses together.
Once more, he gently lifted the other, pushing two fingers back in and, this time, using what was left of the slick inside the other to work a third in. The burn was real and Morty whimpered, Rick quick to stroke the other to keep him happy.
"This fe-feel good, baby?" He questioned, kissing along Morty's neck.
"Y-yes…" Though there was a bit of a pained whine on his lips. Rick reached over to his pants on the toilet seat, grabbing the small tube of lube he kept on him for 'emergencies'. This seemed like a good time to use it. Biting open the package, he slicked up his fingers before reinserting them, this time to a loud moan from the younger. Yep, this was going to kill him. Every single noise went straight south, and he was having a hard time stretching the other out, if only because he wanted to be buried in that hot, wet heat. Morty was so small, and he was so large, that this was going to be an extremely tight fit.
"Ready f-for another finger, M-Morty?" Rick asked absently, not entire sure if he'd be able to get all four inside. If he couldn't, it might be an even more tight fit than he had anticipated, which only made him want it more. Morty nodded a little, his head resting on Rick's shoulder as he gasped and his hips hitched, a fourth finger slipping inside with a bit of difficulty. Half of Rick wanted to see if he could take a whole fist, but he was impatient.
Next time. The promise almost felt wrong, but he figured that Morty would definitely come back to him for this, if he was being so seductive right now.
Morty was a wiggling, panting mess in his arms, and there was no chance in hell that Rick would be able to wait much longer. His little mewls and gasps only fueled this bad idea, and he slowly took his own cock in hand, pulling his fingers free from Morty's hole.
"Ready, baby?" Rick cooed, kissing the other's cheeks even as Morty nodded emphatically. "Okay, baby boy, here we go."
Carefully pressing the engorged, blunt head against the other's tight pucker, Rick breathed out a slow sigh.
"Breathe with me, Morty, l-like Grampa, okay?" He offered, moving to give a few gentle tugs to the boy's prick as he started the easy slide inside of him. It was hard to follow Rick's instructions, but Morty managed to keep himself breathing despite the constant moans and whimpers leaving him. He looked like he might be about to cry, so Rick leaned down to kiss and suck at his lips, doing his best not to leave them looking swollen and bruised. It was bad enough he was fucking his six year old grandson, he didn't need Jerry or Beth asking questions.
Inching his way down, Morty found he was more full than he had been with Paul. Only halfway down, Rick was already pushing insistently at his prostate, a moan on his lips as he tried to help guide Morty all the way down. A happy, long moan left the boy in his arms, and he wiggled until his grandfather was balls deep inside him. Eyelids fluttering over his cheekbones, Morty looked so good with his lips in a perpetual 'O' of pleasure.
"Such a good boy, Mo-Morty, so good… So t-tight for Grandpa, so good…" Rick knew he was babbling, but Morty relished in the praise, his hips wiggling minutely in the other's grip. "You ready to move, baby?" Rick's voice was a breathless gasp, and he kissed along the other's neck, making him squirm even more.
"Y-ye-yeah." Morty's hips lifted with the help of Rick's hands, and soon a steady rhythm was set, the water sloshing around them with every movement of the elder's hips. As expected, the boy in his lap didn't last long, coming hard between them with a loud shout, his tight, wet passage clamping around Rick's cock. He almost lost it there, but managed to keep a hold of himself, continuing on despite the wiggling, oversensitive attempts on Morty's end to get up.
"H-hold on, baby boy, it's okay, just let… J-just let Grampa finish up, o-okay? Then I'll get you ready for bed." Rick growled a little, and the sensation traveled through Morty to help his arousal return full-force. Either Paul had trained Morty way too well, or he was naturally just eager to take more and more dick. The thought made him pulse inside the younger and he whined again, bouncing in his grandfather's lap like he was made for it.
Rick's hands fell away from the other's hips, letting him take some control when those little hands found his shoulders, and his own moved to pet and stroke Morty's back and neck. Tweaking his little nipples, he watched with rapt fascination as Morty's head tipped back, his hips jerking and erratic compared to Rick's own pace. He kept trying to keep them on some semblance of a good rhythm, even if his grandson was getting really sloppy with it. Of course, every time he clenched around Rick, he could feel his balls draw up tighter, desperation tinting the clip of his hips as he finally began to lose himself in the pleasure. All it took was a jerky swivel and he was coming hard, the feeling of it leaving Morty a sweaty, panting mess as he followed suit.
Trying to keep his breath steady, Rick gently eased Morty to sit on his hips for a moment, holding him close to his chest. This bath was hardly clean anymore, so he leaned forward to empty the water out, preparing to take a quick shower with him.
"Can you stand, Bug?" He questioned, kissing the sleepy boy's temple.
"Nuh-uh." Morty probably could have, but he was sleepy, now, curled up in his grandfather's lap. Slowly rising, Rick tugged the shower curtain closed and pulled Morty off of his cock. The deluge of cum that poured out only made him happy, and he had the thought to just toy with Morty's used hole, tease his cum in and out, but he needed the kid to sleep and another round wouldn't be good, in case someone came home.
Keeping Morty pressed tight to his body, Rick shampooed him again, then carefully washed him, both inside and out. He took care of himself quickly, washing what was necessary before shutting off the water again and kissing Morty's curls. The kid was practically asleep on him, so he toweled him off and put his pajamas on him, carrying the boy to bed. Laying him out under the covers, he kissed his forehead again.
"I love you, Mo-Morty." He whispered, but the kid was already knocked out. It took him a total of three minutes to be dressed again and downstairs in his workshop, trying to decide what to do with this situation.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ AN: