Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A baby Morty was thrusted in his hands before he could grab his silver half-empty flask, the look of panic flooding Beth's eyes as a child Summer, no older than three, wailed behind her. 

The damage of her knee was bad by kid's standards, unable to be hidden behind the Band-Aid. In someone's negligence, she had fallen and landed in the backyard, whacking a sharp rock at the wrong angle near run, causing Jerry to scream louder than his daughter.

"Oh, no, no. I don't know the first thing of child-rearing," Rick confessed, with a sour look. He held the toddler awkwardly in his hands, taking in one big whiff. He needed a diaper change and while he had created Beth, slotting himself in a parental role much to his own dire mumblings, he hadn't be there for most of her upbringing. 

It was by choice. 

He hated being shackled down, pesky thoughts thrown to the wayside as he dealt with a world-ending tantrum. 

With such venom for the little ones, Rick squinted hard, eyebrow sinking down with the rest of his features. He really was in no mood to be relied on, somehow managing to take a sip of his drink with the extra weight hanging off his body.

"Please, dad?" Beth coddled Summer, shushing her lovingly so that they could hear Jerry get the car ready outside. 

She still was using a car seat — Beth clearly over protective of them both. A stark difference to how Diane had raised her on her lonesome. "I don't ask much of you, and you owe us after tearing the garage apart looking for some weird invention of yours." She chastised. 

"I told you, a portal gun isn't weird." He combatted while time was short, struggling to palm at his temple. 

Summer, hypersensitive to everything right now blubbered her pouty lips together, rubbing her fists against her eyes. She was near bawl, not enjoying the tone of Rick's aggravated voice bouncing off the chipping walls. 

He didn't want to make her cry, but Rick had plans, okay? Big scary adult things on his itinerary. Things that didn't involve leaving the house. Drinking and flicking through early 2000's TV shows was still plans for an anchored couch potato. 

"Well, dad, I've never seen it, so it's weird and too sci-fi for us, okay? Anyways," she sighed, grabbing her purse and Summer, careful not to jostle the clot and make it bleed all over again. It took her what felt like a hefty minute to get Summer to stop picking at it, "please just do this one tiny thing for me? Just watch him for an hour or two while we go to the emergency room, it shouldn't be rocket science. I'll let you rip apart the garage again if you just do this one thing for us, yeah?"

There was no bargain to be had — he was forced into the matter as the car horn rang outside, blaring noise hurrying the frazzled woman out the door. Her blonde hair swept the rest of his argumentative thoughts as she carried Summer through the front, leaving an awkward grandfather and his toddler grandson home alone.

He was still to young to know anything. The boy babbled slurred words in his aching grip, the hold under his arms making the toddler fussy. He didn't want to apologise to a baby, but it wasn't the kid's fault that his sister was a huge drama queen.

"So, what to do with you?" He said it mainly for himself, finding the silence of the place stifling. Stagnant air to go with his slipping mood. Taking care of Morty meant Rick had to stop the nagging thought of taking a huge sip of booze from materialising, not wanting to take another shift babysitting as the kids were swapped around.

The first slip didn't count.

His eyes scanned around feverishly, figuring out where to prop him back down. If Jerry had child-proofed the place instead of focusing on his failing landscaping business then maybe things wouldn't be so dire. Their garden out front was a sorry excuse for advertising.

Though, if Rick couldn't find his portal gun in a concrete prison, then he clearly couldn't find his 'what-if' gun either.

How in the hell had he misplaced so many guns around? He didn't want to accuse Beth of lying, but he wasn't striking her as being innocent either. 

Sighing in resignation of his babysitting fate, Rick planted Morty back on the ground. He watched the awkwardly waddling kid bouncing into the walls as he used it as a guideline to the living room, plopping down to his bundle of Lego Duplo that Beth overpaid for. 

If he had his Lego gun — also misplaced — then maybe he could have made a palace for the kid. Just another empty promise he collected in his mind for when he eventually found the clearly-missed portal gun.

It wasn't like he was planning to ding-dong-ditch them all with the gadget in his hand, but with his ship out of commission, friends not answering either, Rick needed an outlet away from the mundane. 

Old re-runs of Cheers weren't cutting it anymore. 

The copy-paste of a laugh track blared in his ears, blanketing him into a mindless zombie for what felt like ages. 

Clicks and clacks of blocks were fitted together down by Rick's feet, happy with the arrangement. It was a little sad that the kid wasn't socialising well but it wasn't his problem. Rick turned to the couch and sat down, his ass slotting into the groove he created with his sedentary lifestyle. 

His eyes glazed the screen, vision going through the motions as he felt every second rain down on his shoulders — he only broke his concentration with the TV when something blocky flew past his head, a scowl forming on his lips as he peered down at the culprit.

"Gr-grampa, gween!" Morty cheered as he hurled another block past Rick's head to garner his attention, the first one being red. Primary colours were good for the kid to learn, even if he had a bit of a lisp currently. No one wanted to acknowledge the stutter either. 

Rick couldn't blame the kid, doing his damnedest to survive in a harsh, all-odds-against-him, world.

Blinking and leaning closer to his spread out knees, he sternly warned the boy. "What did your mom say about throwing blocks, kid? That shi—" don't swear asshole, he had to remind himself, "that doohickey can pack a punch. You don't want a bruise to send your grandpa to the hospital, do you?" Just when did he start giving out lectures? 

Morty whale-eyed him, pouty lips unsure of the foaming gibberish from his lips. The toddler was ready to ignore him with another block furled in his buttery wrist. 

"Didn't hear me, huh? Guess I gotta supervise you."

It wasn't until Rick sunk to the carpet, his mood finding some peace for a minute after scooting away from the stain from breakfast, that Morty decided to be kind. Someone needed to clean the damn place and it wasn't gonna be him. Rick offered a hand out and Morty placed a block in his palm. 

He twirled it around, studying the plastic, blunt edges digging into flesh. If it was any bigger it could have given him a concussion.

"So, kiddo, what are we making here? A skyscraper? Sweet." Rick whistled, impressed. He took the block from his hands and added to it, watching a meek smile slip against Morty's lips. He didn't praise him with words but Rick never expected him to, his smile seemed to be enough. 

Something tugged in his chest. He ignored the feeling, shoving a hand in his pocket to feel the flask close by.

He was probably sobering up a little. 

Nothing. Else. 

The show bumbled on as Rick consumed himself in the block building. It wasn't hard to build something this sturdy when the blocks easily clicked in place. Even before sitting down, the thing went past his shoulders.  He had to wonder how the kid even managed to make it that high? Did Summer help him before taking a trip to the emergency room?

A light chuckle full of mirth passed his lips. He didn't want to jinx himself, but he sure felt somewhat... happy?

Childhood wonder was surely something else. Something mystifying to a cynical kook like him.

"Look, rrr-rrr..." Morty was trying to say red, thrusting it into Rick's chest. 

As a toddler, it was hard to grasp personal boundaries as Rick took the attack, hissing through his lips, resisting the urge to whack him like a dog. He had to be on his best behaviour. Had to play nice with a kid that shared the same DNA as him.

He much rather mope in his shoe-box bedroom and pass out before three. 

It wasn't all terrible though.

"Yeah, Morty, that's red!" Rick changed his tune and unraveled the block from his fisted hand, placing it near the base, afraid the toothpick tower would collapse and bonk the kid on his head. 

There was too many dangers around the place, and becoming hyper aware of every little thing wasn't good for his pumping heart. He had to commend Beth about it once Summer wasn't on the verge of tears anymore. 

The thumping of his heart was no longer dormant. It danced in his chest, spiking when Morty glared at him a few times with a new block to place against the tower. He was afraid, sure, but such high-rising elevation was what worried him. 

He had been worried before with a resting heartrate lower than the ground he stood on. Sorry, Beth. No — this was different. 

He refused to drown his head in problems expanding past the living room, yet life brought the problems to his doorstep. He wasn't aware of why his chest ached until he shifted his ass against the pilled carpet, feeling heat stick to his inner thigh. 

He groaned, tugging effortlessly with a palm to draw the length down his bent leg, hoping the kid wouldn't know. 

His shaft throbbed without remorse, honing onto Morty. The kid was oblivious to the mere presence of his arousal, his busy hands handing an idle Rick one block after the other. It was his childish smile that undid the dam plugging up his heart, forcing him to moan low under his barely inebriated breath.

Fuck! 

This is exactly why he wanted it off this planet, scared of letting his feelings becoming discovered with Beth around. He knew since stepping through that door that Morty boiled something fierce in his gut. Just one look from those yearning brown eyes and he was putty.

He shifted again, grinding his teeth together, checking the clock religiously as they continued to play.

Rick's saving grace right now was Morty's obliviousness, hoping the kid wouldn't look down properly between his crossed legs and question why he looked different.  

"'ere!" Morty squealed, pointing to where he wanted his grandpa to slot in the next block, handing him one of the animals next. "Moo-moo and, ch-kiken..." he attempted to sound out the animals cow and chicken, failing adorably. 

The familiar pang of ache bloomed in his slacks, more apparent the longer her played with the boy. Rick gulped, hem of his sweater tightening around his neck like a noose. He didn't want to believe that he was lusting over a toddler that couldn't say the word cow. 

Nor believe how suffocating the walls were starting to become. He inhaled deeply, scent of Morty's breath tickling his cheek as he leaned close, mumbling to the animals Rick had placed exactly where he wanted. He almost grabbed the boy in his lap though resisted, trembling hands aware of a line he was about to cross.

Instead, he battled with his biology. Refuting such whims. To dig and hole and hide in it, so to speak. He chewed his cheek as he shuttered his eyes face, wrinkling his brow with it deeper. It sank low like a caterpillar and Morty became amused with the sudden expression, turning on his heel without support.

The tower teetered on the carpet, toppling over when Morty's shoulder bumped into the Lego. Rick felt his heart leap in his chest, his throat tightening in worry.

"Morty! Careful!" Rick screamed. 

The kid fell head first to the ground, tumbling with a pout. He almost crashed hard but Rick moved like a demon and bundled him up in his arms in the last second, pulling him away from danger. He hadn't realised how he had grabbed the kid, finding his puffy face coming close into contact with his pelvis. Morty innocently mouthed against his slacks, wincing as heat passed through the fabric. 

It was hard to hide his blooming erection at close proximity. Losing  himself in this moment would spell the end of himself. He refused to bend, lips struggling to breathe properly. Morty, the little devil, reached out to the tent with his grubby hands and outlined his girth naively, forcing the man to exert a longing groan. 

Another moan came after the first, strained like his expression. Morty pulled back, registering the noise. 

"Gwampa, hurr-ty?" 

He was trying to ask if he was hurt. Like Summer had been bawling in the hall, which led him to drown in this terrible mess. Poor naive kid... 

Morty deserved a better grandpa than a disheveled horny bastard like him. He tugged at the hem, slithering a breath through teeth as Morty refused to read his hardened body language — like he knew what Rick was going through.

He had never talked to Beth about how Morty was doing on most days and sure as shit knew that kids didn't know what a boner was. 

"Fuuu— Yeah... yeah kid. It hurts soooo bad for grandpa." Okay, maybe he was pushing it, he couldn't refuse when their gaze connected. 

Chocolate to dimmed blues twinkled against each other, one clearly more receptive than the other. His brows rose as Ricks sunk lower, complementing his lidded gaze. Morty jumped in his lap and swiveled back, fondling the fabric at front.

"Imma heelpa!"

He wasn't sure what Morty meant but he certainly was receptive to the idea of his hands continuing to roam across his growing shaft. He was no stranger to the touch, yet something in the back of his mind begged him to reconsider.

If he was among company, then sure, but when was an opportunity like this going to present itself again to him?

Moaning, Rick lost himself to the wonder of Morty's hands, leaning back on his elbows as he angled himself further out, becoming a playground for the baby boy's keenness. If some of his old partners were this enthusiastic about his size, then maybe he would have never crash landed at this shit-hole.

But then that would mean no meeting Morty. The thoughts dispersed as easily as they came as Morty incorporated some technique — sloppy and juvenile, hot-dogging his shaft with both hands, running them up and down in a line.

It was firm, yet somehow delicate, his fingers barely encompassing around the girth as he pumped him through the cloth, watching his grandpa spill out moan after moan from his normally locked lips. 

He almost cupped Morty's jaw with his tendril-like fingers and debated kissing him, yet didn't want to break a good thing coming. 

Morty played, tugging at it, feeling his foreskin move near the tip. A rhythm was never properly established, whims of a toddler hard to captivate, but it was palatable, fast and tight enough to fuel Rick's rampant libido. 

All attention was good attention to Rick, melting to such otherworldly pleasures. 

He spread his legs out wider as he all but laid on the floor, feeling the shuffling of Morty's hips coddle one of his weighted legs. He became blind as his twitchy head pressed against the slacks, begging to be set free. 

It was almost a thought he obliged, yet delayed such pleasantries for himself, finding Morty's attention quite a hard mistress to please — refusing the lust screaming in his mind was the correct choice. For whirring the draconic zipper down meant he would bathe himself in sin, even if he was currently baking in their hellish oven.

"Keep going, baby... Grandpa's feeling a lil better!" He praised with a rumble. His voice was fragments of sound amongst the chirping of his moans as Morty palmed at the mass, biting his lip at how hard it become. 

The rising pressure of his suffocating cock was coming to a peak after Morty continued to touch him. He squeezed at the girth, bundling his hands as close as he could without dipping them below the waistband. Of course the kid wouldn't know what was underwear, still donning the diapers Beth half reminded him of where the stash was kept.

He groaned, biting his tongue as something curdled in his gut. There was only one way out of this. He endured as liquid pulsed through his being at Morty's incessancy, blaming the kid on starting something no mortal should ever finish. His lungs burned as his lips moved incoherently.

The hands didn't stop, colliding with his fervent head, pressing all the right buttons, groping him in such a way that it almost felt like torture. Rick couldn't refuse moaning out his name, crashing out as the call left. 

All his synapses fired at once.

Pulse after pulse, Rick stained his slacks from within, exploding hard. The toddler jolted back in surprise when coming into contact with something slick, the wet patch a problem that Rick didn't have the processing power to explain. 

He jolted, spasming like a mechanical bull as his hips turned to the ceiling, humping hard. He bounced Morty like a rocking horse in his terrible reaction, the constant pressure sending devastating aftershocks through his tarnished limbs. 

Rick's breaths were shallow as he came down from the high, puddle centered against his groin. He watched Morty struggle to figure out what was happening. "Morty..." He breathed out clearly, twisting his features in regret.

After all, he had used a baby Morty to jerk him off. 

Shame latched onto him like a dog to an unclaimed leg as Rick slid a hand down his weathered face. His cheeks became sucked in as he hissed in the oversensitivity of Morty playing again with his wept-out cock, sniffing at his cum. Rick couldn't control himself, sputtering out another dribble of cum from his already drained shaft, widening the slick patch.

He took a long minute to recollect himself, inhaling and exhaling deep in thought.

How the fuck was he going to explain this?

Was there even a child appropriate way in explaining semen?

Rick's weary eyes studied the kid massaging the space where his taut balls rested. He didn't want to admit the kid was 'slow' as testing standards went, but he was thankful the peachy kid was still amused with his juices. His fingers danced, skipping in the damp stain, peering his greens up to a look which refused to match such idle wonder.

"Grampa, akkident?" The boy innocently ask, shuffling up his chest closer to his unforgivable eyes. He groaned as he pounced against him, clawing regret deeper into his bones. 

Rick became stunned for a second again, his lungs never quite recuperating enough to move away from the mess. He still possessed half a mind to keep bucking into his body, to take things further while they still had unfettered time, yet rationality slowly crawled through back through the window, paralysing and anchoring him down.

His mouth was dry, afraid to feel into the volatile feeling. 

Morty was precious. 

He couldn't ruin him with already drying-up come. 

All he could do was nod like a baby, wanting to die of shame. Where was Diane's grave these days? He should write that down and walk in the opposite direction, hoping neither his daughter nor his abandoned wife could ever find his body again.

Just how in the fifteen hells had he allowed his alcohol-deprived brain to think that this would be fun? To ride such a dangerous impulse in a location that felt like Alcatraz to his soul. How haphazard he had been in committing such unforgiving sins. 

The Smith's hospitality was abused by wicked treachery. 

While stuck in his spiraling thoughts of doom, Rick hadn't realised that Morty moved closer to his lips. He only struck out from his inflicted misery when something soft and sweet brushed against the cracks. He drowned in the honey oozing from Morty's spittle, tasting something he never deserved. 

He was despicable, feasting on a new round of moans. He even felt Morty rumble against him, enjoying the fluttery noises from his heated lips.

"B-bad?" Morty asked as he pulled away, sucking in breathfuls of intoxicated air. He blinked, naive as they came. Rick smiled, twitchy hands slowly binding themselves to Morty's arms and ran them up to his cheeks.

"I'm a very bad man, Morty," Rick breathed, plunging himself with another kiss, memorising sweetness to heart, brushing his hips upwards as another erection sported on. 

Fucking arousal.

He blamed his misgivings on the missing portal gun, hoping it would turn up sometime soon.

But not anytime soon, grunting out another powerful bout of pleasure as he only thought of Morty and the life they'd have with such ample permanence. 

Chapter Text

The needy feeling in Rick's chest persisted as the days went on.

He felt guilty. Ashamed. Nauseous.

Utterly tormented by his actions. 

Yet he didn't repent by throwing himself off a cliff. 

Instead, here he was stroking himself off in his cot in the back of the house, bedroom forgotten like the rumpus room Jerry had set up next door. At least he was away from the majority of the bedrooms. Able to do as he pleased. 

Senselessly, he jerked himself slowly, thoughts still swimming wild in his mind as he kept one ear to the door. He hadn't upgraded the thing to be voice activated, the door knob still rickety and loose as when he had first arrived. 

That wasn't to say he didn't have any privacy — his blanket providing adequate support for when Summer did her little exploring the day after her little boo-boo. He wasn't doing anything particularly nefarious, mainly scratching himself down there, but he didn't want both pipsqueaks to be babbling to their mother about how 'funny' grandpa loved to be.

He already had enough stress from Morty failing to speak for himself during bath time. Spewing half-formed words about the Lego tower their built and the weird block — his cock — that grandpa gave him.

She, stressed from her vet courses, paid no attention to the unspoken crackles of his squealing voice, tuning him out. She had to raise two kids on her own, with little help here or there from himself. 

He thought briefly about Summer, the girth of his erection flattening the longer he thought of his granddaughter. Yeah, he thought that would happen. Whatever bond he had with baby Morty could not be replicated with other kin. He returned to thinking about the kid and how delicious the memory had been without it being painted in the awkwardness of the moment.

How Morty compressed his length between his tiny hands, driving a force up and down, edging him, cultivating his mind to descent into such a terrible depth. He focused himself on Morty's pouty lips as he jerked harder, pace strangling himself as he squeezed his shaft tight in the fist. He pumped as he replayed the first of many memories, adding other images of Morty to the agenda and how adorable he looked the other day as he refused to get dressed in his green overalls. 

His chest, flat as cardboard, was a thing Rick couldn't forget. He had to somehow get him naked to really appreciate his attraction to the toddler, though such a feat would prove difficult with Beth hovering over the kids. He was lucky when the first opportunity fell into his lap, even if his mind was altered by whatever crap he had drunk that week.

The second wasn't so easy to gain. Just when he'd have a moment alone with Morty, to expose his cute little lips to more adult-like kisses, he unfortunately was on double duty. A Summer was thrusted in his care through the week, not that he minded, but with the way his mind latched onto an idea and didn't let go, it was frustrating to say the least.

He obeyed his daughter, of course, not wanting to incur the wrath of a sleep-deprived mother. It was easy facilitating them both, minus the sleazy slip ups from his spreading legs. They played with his Legos and cars, creating a miniature crash test course for the vehicles. He'd even gotten something for Summer, his chipper mood in such guttural relief a thanks disguised in gift-form. 

He never wanted her to feel neglected as all eyes were on Morty. Aside from being the baby of the family, he was rather stunted compared to his sibling. He noticed it more and more as he spent time with the kids; Summer grasping numbers to twenty with ease, while Morty refused to play nice with his sister, screaming in a high pitch that almost made Rick's skin crawl.

That was the curse of children, he supposed. One day they were perfect, the next they were having a toddler tantrum. Although, he'd never expected him to become so attracted to his whining lips. He dreamed about shoving his tip against such sweetness, swirling the length hard around the whimpers and sticking it in. 

To get the boy to slowly suck against cock without knowing anything about it, as if it were soothing as a pacifier. 

In his pursuit to corrupting a tiny mind, Rick hadn't bothered to hunt for the portal gun. He assumed it would drop in his lap when he desperately needed — like Morty had done — only with less moans erupting from his disgusting lips. 

He continued to mindlessly stroke, feeling a pressure rise up the length. He paused his thoughts as he focused only on one thing and bucked in the second-hand cot, jutting upwards with a burning feeling coiling in his abdomen. He moved with speed in the final moments, hand a blur as he hissed out unpleasantries under his breath, cursing aplenty as he reached the end, splurging the sticky white into the clench of his hand.

Sighing after his body caught up to the moment, he cleansed himself with an old sweater; his daughter sometimes loved to scan the house for misplaced laundry and do a load on the spot. 

It's why he had to hide his more risque blueprints underneath the also thrifted linen, his inventions taking a turn away from the more realistic prototypes he was handling when a bottle wasn't in hand. 

Such inventions included a pheromone sapper, similar plug in device to what cats used to keep mellow. It was something he was still dabbling with, unable to make the box of smells small enough to not draw attention to it. He already had a socket he wanted to use behind the bookcase in the corner of the living room, but that plan had to wait.

Another involved a stealthy camera to come out of the roof and record their pleasures. This one was more of a porn concept than anything concrete. And lastly, since the Feliway-knockoff wasn't jiving as he wanted, he hypothesised the idea of diving into Morty's DNA and changing the sequence to be more receptive to his emerging desires. 

Although the last one sounded straight out of a science-fiction horror. A step in the wrong direction, yet a thought like that was still useful. Rick wouldn't ruin the purity of a growing boy because of his sickness — nor would he debate modifying him in inoperable ways either. 

Some plans were simply scribbles. Things to pluck out of his head to a page and to lay forgotten. But with how smart his daughter was, he wouldn't be so stupid to leave the etchings in plain sight. All of the more serious problems were stuffed on top of each other, crinkling as he tossed his body in restless sleep most nights.

Aging sure took a while, didn't it? A lot of his needs required the boy to grow to at least ten. He didn't want to be the one to confess why Morty was experiencing an anal rupture. 

He had to wait. To be patience. 

Through the grapevine, he had heard of Ricks — just as sick and depraved like him — who had toys that altered their Mortys. Shaped them to a life of obedience; kneeling at the feet in their birthday suit, needy mouths open and salivating without cocks inside... only satisfied when something was shoved deep against the back of their gag-less throats, the receptors in their limbs angling in such a way that the curves were irresistible to grope. 

Where such Ricks pulverised their insides on a daily basis, feeding the boys a lifestyle of cum and kisses; twisting them away from the very idea that made Rick attracted to a Morty in the first place. 

Yet there was one caveat in the situation — time-alterations were in effect. They had spruced up their Mortys with the press of a trigger, plowing them through their prepubescent years to reach a suitable age without such unwilling tightness getting in the way.

Rick commended his other brethren in reaching immediate gratification, though he was a man who loved to ride the journey. Who wanted to experience every breath out of Morty's lips as he claimed him bit by bit.

The progress was slow, but still moving.

With the remote in his hands, he dialed through the channels again, landing on something colourful for the kid. He had been left babysitting again for Morty, the lies on Beth's lips reminding him that she'd be quick. 

"Just dropping off Summer at this early preschool program our district was running and going to run to the store for some more pull-ups." She had told him. Her brain wasn't with her when he had asked for more snacks, but that was neither here nor there.

He just wished she wouldn't lie to him about needing a break. He'd gladly take the kids as long as it meant spending more time with Morty without a pesky adult eye staring him down. Easier to distract Summer with a Barbie doll than his daughter that complained about the stains in his white coats.

Part of him worried about Morty's development. He was learning, sure, able to understand the basics of colour and shapes, though neither parent placed any true expectations on the toddler like they had with Summer. Rick had always sensed that part of his brain matter was lying dormant, dudded-out after the first tumultuous year of nearly becoming a single mother. 

Before Rick had crashed in the driveway, Beth had to raise the little cabbages on her lonesome after Jerry had all-but-skipped town the first year of Morty's arrival. Some things had slipped through the cracks obviously, but he couldn't fault her — he had done the same thing to his wife Diane.

No parents wanted to admit their kid had something wrong with them. Just like how Rick kept his mouth in check when in close proximities with one of Beth's current irritations. Butting in wasn't his place. It was between her and Jerry.

If this fool wanted dinner and a roof over his head, he'd keep his gob shut.

He remembered how Beth reluctantly took her idiot husband back, afraid to create a rift in the family dynamic. She had always wished for a happy nuclear family... little did she know that her father was sexually abusing her youngest, sin unforgivable, even with death looming up ahead.

At least Morty knew how to walk and his fine motor skills were coming along well; not that he'd tell any therapist about how well he could grab at his cock. Such a confession would send him to the gulag.

"Look, it's Elmo. Don't you love him?" He grabbed Morty's attention who slid the toy car across the carpet, lips making car sounds. He continued to play, almost ignoring Rick.

Unsure of how long Beth would be gone, Rick placed Morty in his lap, forgoing the conversation. The immediately pressure against his crotch sent fire into his gut. He was immediately reinvigorated, tone of his voice sliding one octave lower in lust.

Morty clapped and cheered, rocking innocently in the seat and angled forwards and backwards — all stimulating his cock. He suppressed a greedy moan while his favourite part of playing, barely adding any commentary to the situation. It was hard to keep a level head in his self-inflicted predicament.

Rick had thought that jerking himself off in the mornings would hide the urge away for longer. He was mistaken, hips grinding underneath his rump.

The layers didn't bother him. In fact, he welcomed the fabric between skin, acting like a condom to stop himself from blowing too soon. He hissed in low and short breathfuls of air as he concentrated on at least keeping the mood level; to comfort Morty and make the situation as normal as all the others, even if the kid obtusely bounced in his lap, stirring something forbidden within.

It was all progress, to get Morty accustomed to his cock hardening against his frame, to have the kid think it is normal when it was furthest thing for anything suburban. 

"Now who is that?" Rick asked with a rasp, tugging at the hem of his shirt and wrapping an arm around Morty's hips, tugging him back. His back rested against his antsy chest, the connection electrifying.

He'd sure savour this moment tonight again.

"B-big burd?" Morty mumbled. Well, at least he was close. 

"Yeah buddy, and what's this?" Rick asked again, humping up. Morty turned, squinting in thought.

It was the perfect moment to plant a kiss. Rick abused the situation and stroked his lips across his cheek, landing perfectly against his, stopping the answer from coming out. His initiative was curbed, slow enough to stop Morty from squirming in his lap.

He never wanted the boy to scream. 

Morty was smart enough to sink into the feeling, capacitated by the sweetness of their lips colliding. Like poison for his senses, dulled as Rick grinned from above, tilting himself further against his baby frame. He groaned in pleasure, farming another.

"It's my penis, buddy. You hear of that word before?" He kept it clinical, where a parent wouldn't judge too harshly compared to some slang. At least he could pin Morty learning a bad word on Summer, if the thing stuck. 

Morty shook his head, playing with his bottom lip as they twisted to Rick's play. He pressed inwards, wedging it between the boy's tiny cheeks, the shorts bunching up in his ass. It almost felt painful from the look he was giving up and Rick retreated a fraction, slowing the roll of his fiery hips.

Was this his moment?

"D-Did you want to see it, Morty?" Rick asked, swallowing hard. If the kid said no, he wouldn't press it. But if he nodded or did anything that tugged at his need, then he wasn't sure how he could let such an entreat slip away from him. 

Rick held his breath as he watched intently. It took a moment — attention slipping back to the TV when Elmo came back into view, eyes returning to him soon after — but Morty nodded. He wasn't sure if he was agreeing because he wanted to, or because the look in his blue eyes begged the kid to obey... however he wasn't going to ponder on it further.

He wanted this, relief rushing down and pulsing at his cock, the hefty shaft begging to be released. He had been dreaming of such a moment since ever. He turned Morty around and pushed him further down his legs, giving himself room to adjust as he struggled to breathe.

His heartbeat was whacking in his ears hard, throat tightening as a groan trapped itself in the back. His eyes were glassy and ready to weep in ecstasy as his hands moved to lap, playing with the zipper.

The criminal was unshackled, springing to life and whacked his chest. Morty flinched disturbingly, near toppling back. Rick grabbed him, pushing him further in again and planted a kiss to reassure the toddler that everything was alright.

"Remember how grandpa had an accident last week?" He saw the kid react and continued on, "Well, this was what was crying. You have a penis too, kiddo... just not this big. Did you want to play with it for a bit? I promise grandpa won't have a bad accident again." 

Without much to it, Morty swung his hands forward and collided with skin. With ease, Rick jolted, leaning back into the plush of the couch. He gave time for Morty to roam his curious hands over burning skin, to get used to the jolts and throbs of his cock — stroking accidentally, like he had the first time.

Delight washed over Rick's features as he palmed over his eyes, taking a moment to bathe himself in the feeling. Without supervision, Morty incorporated his mouth, sucking the tip slowly. The surprise forced Rick to draw out a long moan, the noise utterly drenched in his own gluttony.

He'd always wanted this. Always wanted Morty to move without him asking. His technique was nothing, the nips at his head sometimes forcing him to shift his hips to teeth grazing over the tender head. 

It was mellow, their piece of heaven as Rick's lungs breathed out a orchestra of moans — the only thing to pass aside from the coiling heat curdling deep inside. He knew he was close, and he wanted this, badly, though stopped. 

Ruining his own imploding arousal, Rick swatted the boy away from his cock and struggled to breathe. He felt everything buzz in his ears, including the strangled throbbing of his cock wordlessly screaming him to slam the boy back down.

Morty needed to be taken slow through the process. He couldn't force him to deep throat at such a young volatile age. If he complained about a sore throat and someone checked the abrasions against the back of his teeth then it was game over!

Stalling his breathing, Rick cupped a hand on his cheek and calmed Morty down. He sensed the kid feeling confused, whittling his worries away with the warmness of his palm. Another kiss connected with his temple, his cock jerking in the air, striking the bottom of Morty's chin.

Wetness cuddled his jawline and Morty wiped it away, sticking the hand to his mouth for a taste.

"What's it taste like, buddy?" Rick innocently asked, chuckling light. The tightness persisted, head vibrating in protest. He gripped himself and pumped as Morty watched, greens captivated by the rhythmic strokes of his erection.

His mouth watered as he watched Morty's lips rub against one another, moistening. Such titillation was unfair for his rickety old bones. He humped the air, driving the shaft further down his grip, slit leaking pre-cum for Morty.

The toddler wasn't old enough to process what it specifically tasted like, but Rick got the gist of what his scrunched features meant. If he wasn't sticking his tongue out, like when Beth had tried to get him to eat some mushy peas, then it seemed to be a-okay.

It was a good foundation to start on. Obviously, he'd improve his diet, but one of his inventions could take care of the taste of his sperm production later. 

"Nice, yeah? Well, want me to show you what makes grandpa really happy?" He cooed in near song, moaning between words as his hand worked him near the edge. He only stopped, wanting the image of Morty's cheeks puffing out with a cock between his lips to be stuck to memory.

He almost wished he had his flip phone on him to snap such a naughty shot. 

"Yeeh, gwampa!" His eagerness was something that spellbound Rick's senses. He slowed his breathing as he tilted the cock closer to Morty's lips and interlaced a hand in his growing brown hair.

"Well, remember how last time you touched me? Well, this time we use the mouth. Just open it and swish your tongue side to side, like this," his demonstration with his own lips helped the kid out more than his words. 

Morty repeated the swaying of his tiny tongue as Rick pushed the hand behind his head slowly forward, forcing him to connect with his juice-covered head. The boy sucked, slow and with some resistance but found his mark after a minute. His tongue dragged itself in slow rounding circles around his circumference, spittle leaking from the fullness of his mouth.

"Good boy. Good Morty."

Rick praised, massaging fingers to his scalp, drowning in bliss. He roamed with a blank mind as he only felt the licking of his head aided by his pumping hand throughout his body, the simmering heat returning to a near boiling point.

And then the kid moaned. He snaped his gaze awake and stared, captivated by his idle song as he worked tirelessly for Rick's impending release.

The elder grunted in response, overindulging himself with the grace of Morty's singing mouth. Slipping moans vibrating against fervent skin, contorting hips grinding up, stopped only by his vice-like grip at the base. Nothing made sense the longer Morty sucked.

Rick sunk into the faded green couch, melting quickly. He was a puddle when he could no longer hold onto the frenzied instinct, barely warning the toddler when he came.

"Watch out—!"

His voice shouted in warning, feeling Morty's jaw tighten to the suddenness of his hasty words. He came with no other markings, hard into the tiny hole. Some was swallowed but the majority of it dribbled down his chin and stained his shirt.

A maddening noise erupted from Rick's lips as he spilled his seed wherever possible, only coming down from his high when his cock went limp in the grip.

Fuck! Talk about the taboo making everything feeling better.

White covered his cheeks, sticking partly against his forehead. A globule travelled down the canvas like rain, melting into his eyebrow. Morty was on the verge of crying when he retreated the head from his lips, wiping himself with his already spent hand. 

What a saucy facial!

Rick swiped at the mess, smearing it with the hand resting behind Morty's head, landing it safely against his cheek. He smothered him in endless praise.

"You did so good Morty. Grandpa's very proud of you." He sang, kissing him. He wasn't afraid of his own taste, making a mental note that he needed to lay off the booze next week. 

It would be rough to abstain, but to give Morty a pleasant training with his cum was a must.

"Weely?" He asked, attempting to say really. So deprived of the love of a mother and father that the boy was looking for affection in a cum-stained Rick. Talk about jackpot.

A sly smile rose to his lips. "Yeah, kiddo. You sucked me perfectly. My penis is very happy with you." He tilted his gaze down, showing that the throbs of his head were no longer angry and pent-up. Geez, he hadn't his pipes this clean since his youth, way before Beth was born. "Now, how about we get changed? Mommy's not going to be happy with some paint, is she?" 

Dragging Morty to the bathroom up the sets of stairs, Rick made sure to hammer in the flattery, hoping to eternally be on the kid's good side. He needed him to know that what he did was a good thing, even if his body was silently trying to warn him things were right.

He too had been there, where every impulse screamed to stop, yet he continued anyways. But jumping over that hurdle had been worth it, especially to have his cute Morty smile up to him like that, beaming sunshine and rainbows as he rested him on the sink's counter.

"So, would you like us to do that again, Morty?"

He made sure to use his name, linking the actions to memory. Morty slowly nodded, mind not developed enough to know what he was signing up for. A kiss was his reward as Rick used a washcloth to clean away the mark, making sure to soap him up lightly to remove the scent.

In the near future he wanted the aging boy to perform a proper blowjob. And with how things were going swimmingly, cock still begging for a round two, Rick was sure they'd be spending a lot of unsupervised time together.