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Morty Smith had a secret.
Well, Morty theoretically had many secrets. Though if he were being honest with himself his sister definitely knew that he was bi, and his dad knew that he had accidentally paid for an OnlyFans subscription with the family credit card. His mother knew that last year Chris Mikkelsen had made him cry every day for a week straight; she had driven him around after picking him up until he could get himself together. And Rick? Rick certainly knew all of Morty’s passwords, just for starters. It was anyone’s guess what else the old man had spied with his keen eyes. He certainly knew everything about everyone else in the house.
This secret was different, though. Morty had guarded it with his life, because it was the sort of secret that there was no coming back from. If he were found out—by anybody, but especially by Rick—his life would be over. He might as well jump off a bridge. It was bad enough nursing a secret crush on his own grandfather.
It was another thing entirely to have a fetish for jacking off to his dirty clothes.
Morty couldn’t remember exactly how it had started, where the seed of an idea came from. He just remembered the moment of fruition when nebulous thought had turned into action. He had been alone in the garage while the washer was running, and he’d noticed that a pair of Rick’s boxers hadn’t made it in; they were just lying there on the floor for anyone to steal. So that’s exactly what Morty did, stuffing the garment hastily into his pocket. That night, when he was sure everyone else was completely asleep, he had pulled the covers up over his head. In his little cloth cave, in the light of his phone’s flashlight, he had examined the garment closely. They were threadbare, especially on the inner thighs. Wear had turned the fabric silky soft. Morty’s fingers had trembled with the enormity of this moment. Here he was, touching this fabric that had cradled Rick’s cock.
Before he could reasonably decide on what to do with them, his hands were already moving. He had brought the fabric to his face and taken a deep inhale. The scent was immediately intoxicating. It was dark and rich, musky and masculine. Unmistakably, it was the scent of a man. Arousal had prickled in his loins, his cock swelling as he nosed into his grandfather’s underwear. It overtook all of his faculties, erased the shame that part of him knew he should be feeling. That was the first night he had touched himself to Rick’s dirty laundry, and he came harder than he ever had before. In his unwelcome moments of post-nut clarity, he knew that this would absolutely not be the last time.
Tonight was special. Every single family member was going to be away until the next morning. His parents were on their way to Florida to enjoy a nice vacation while his mother attended a horse veterinarian conference. Summer had, of course, taken off the moment they turned off of the block, and Morty didn’t expect her home until shortly before they were set to return. Rick had appeared in the evening wearing a rumpled suit, slurred something about not waiting up, and portaled away. Last time he did that he had spent two days in a brothel, and then spent most of the next week sleeping off the bender. Tonight, Morty could do anything he wanted—and he knew exactly what he wanted.
At first Morty tried to wait it out. He gathered up some snacks and made a little nest in the living room. For hours he just played Fortnite like a normal 15 year old kid who would never dream of jerking off with his grandfather’s dirty laundry. When the sun went down, though, his mind began to drift. He had big plans for tonight, and they kept drawing his thoughts like a magnet. After getting his ass handed to him several mindless matches in a row, Morty gave up on the video games.
Even though the house was empty, he still tiptoed on his way down the hall to Rick’s room, and he froze when the door creaked. It was dark inside, and the only sound was the tick tick ticking of the old-fashioned analog alarm clock on the nightstand. Morty crept inside.
There it was, just where he had hoped it would be: Rick’s discarded lab coat in the hamper. This was too good to be true. Morty was so eager to get started that he nearly tripped over his feet on the way up the stairs.
Since this was a special occasion, Morty decided that he was going to do it up right. First he locked the door—which was an unnecessary precaution, but one that made him feel more secure. Then he laid the lab coat out on his bed and smoothed out all the crinkles. He wanted to feel it against his bare skin. He wanted to wrap himself up in its warmth and let the sharp scent of Rick’s alcoholic sweat take him away to paradise. He eagerly shed his clothes and climbed into bed.
At first he just put his arms in the sleeves and wrapped them around himself, imagining that Rick was giving him a lover’s embrace. It felt nice to be surrounded by Rick’s pungent scent of sweat and motor oil and the cheap alien cologne he wore when he hit the town. Morty palmed himself, eagerly helping along the beginnings of an erection. Soon he was hard and wanting, so hard that precome beaded on the head of his dick.
The sleeves were too long for Morty, so it was easy to take himself in hand with the fabric wrapped around his cock. It felt a little rough, but that really added something to the experience. He stroked himself slowly, letting his feelings guide him. Little sighs bled from his lungs. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. This was as good as he’d imagined. Better, maybe. And he had all night to take his sweet time with it.
Or he should have had, anyway. A sudden flare of green light pierced Morty’s eyelids. He sat bolt upright and dug his heels against his bed to push himself back until he was squashed against the headboard. He wished he could phase right through it and disappear, but it was too late. Rick stepped through the portal.
“Wait ‘til you hear what this guy said to meEe,” Rick belched cheerfully. Morty watched understanding blossom in his blue eyes. “The fuck are you doing?”
“N-Nothing!” Oof, that came out too squeaky. He definitely sounded guilty. He fumbled with his blanket, pulling it up to his chin.
“Nothing, huh?” The corner of Rick’s lips twitched up. “Doing absolutely nothing naked in my lab coat?”
Rick went to Morty’s desk to grab his chair and rolled it over to the side of the bed. Morty was already crying by the time his grandfather sat down with his knees spread casually. Whatever was about to happen to Morty was going to be awful. It was going to be worse than the time when he had dropped Rick’s brand new zemzem crystal and it shattered into a million pieces, and Rick had gotten so mad he hadn’t even cured Morty’s zemzem infection afterwards. It was going to be worse than the time Rick cronenberged the world up and they had to bury their own dead bodies. It was going to be so bad that Morty wasn’t even creative enough to predict what it might be. He felt faint. He wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn’t look away from Rick’s wicked smile as the old man drew his phone from his jacket pocket.
“Put the blanket down,” Rick said. He tapped at his phone screen absently.
“Wha—no! Get out of my room, Rick!”
“Yeah, that’s gonna be a no from me.”
“It’s my room! Y-You’re not invited!”
“I dunno, MoOorty. Looks like you want me here pretty bad.”
“I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Hot tears stung Morty’s eyes. His voice cracked. “J-Just go away!”
“Put the blanket down, Morty.” Rick’s tone brooked no argument.
“Please,” said Morty. He sounded so weak, and he hated himself for it.
“Morty. Look at me.”
Morty was already looking at him. Morty couldn’t look away from him! It would be like turning his back on a viper. “I can’t do it, please.”
“Look at me. Look at my face. Am I mad at you right now?”
For what felt like a long time, Morty stared at his grandfather. He really didn’t look mad. He was smirking, but his eyes didn’t have that cruel glint they sometimes got. His posture was relaxed. “No,” he had to admit, “but you’re probably l-l-lying.”
“Put the blanket down and you’ll like what happens next.”
The wheels were turning in Morty’s head. What if? What if Rick was telling the truth—what if he wasn’t angry at all? What if Morty really was going to like whatever was about to happen? What if this was his only chance? It was crazy to think that Rick might just accept what Morty was doing. It was dangerous to go down this road even in his head. And yet, said a small voice inside of him, what if?
“Are you really not m-mad at me?”
“Put the blanket down and find out.”
It required a deeper bravery even than the first time Morty had stepped through a portal, but he let his comforter fall into his lap. Rick made a waving gesture, more, more, and reluctantly Morty pushed it down to his ankles. He was still wearing socks, and he latched on to that embarrassment to try and block out the little matter of his erection now out in the open. He closed his thighs and covered himself with his hands.
“No, baby,” said Rick, and he didn’t sound like it was a joke. “C’mon, let me see.”
“Geez…” Morty couldn’t look at Rick anymore. He turned his face towards the wall and, bravely, moved his hands away from his junk.
The shutter sound of Rick’s phone camera clicked, making Morty jump. It went off two more times while Morty turned back around and drew the lab coat around himself. He was about to yell at Rick about betraying his trust, but Rick reached down between his legs and Morty realized that he was hard in his slacks. The sight stunned him into silence.
Rick held up the phone. “Savin’ that for the spank bank,” he explained.
“The—Rick, you—I—“
“This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, is it?”
“I—“
“I can already tell you’re about to lie to me, Morty, so I’ll save you some troOouble. I think this is sexy as fuck.”
Morty shrugged his shoulders up a bit more, trying to hide his face in the collar of the lab coat. “Really?”
“Cute little twink wrapped up in my clothes? Hell yeah.”
Cute? Twink? “Geez,” said Morty, and he could feel his cheeks burning.
Rick loosened his tie. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
“I-I-I…” Morty was so embarrassed that he was practically squirming; he’d lost most of his erection, and he didn’t know if he was going to get it back.
“You-You-You—come on, Morty. Show grandpa how you do it.” Rick popped open the button on his fly, letting the gesture speak volumes.
Morty couldn’t help the little whine that escaped him. That shouldn’t have sounded so sexy. Improbably, life was returning to his cock. Shyly, trying hard not to look at Rick’s face, he rubbed himself with the flat of his palm. His eyes still swam with tears, and he felt hot all over. The scent of the lab coat around him made things a little easier—but only a little.
“You like that, you little sicko?” Rick fished himself out of his pants, and Morty couldn’t help but stare. It was huge, just as big as Rick had always bragged. Guess he really was a grower, not a shower. He was uncut and veiny, thick and long, and his skin looked so silky. Morty watched helplessly as he gave himself slow strokes.
“I-I’m not a sicko,” Morty said, but he couldn’t manage the force that he wished he could. “You’re a sicko!”
“You’re not wrong,” said Rick. He added a little swivel with his wrist and hissed at the pleasure of it. “I’m a sick piece of shit, and you’re basically a walking, talking hardon with no self control. I know you want this, baby, so show me how you like it.”
Morty whimpered and lowered his head. He started to wriggle his hand out of the sleeve, but Rick clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
“Do it with the cloth. That was the whole point, right?”
To make himself do it, Morty had to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths. When he wrapped his covered hand around his half chub, Rick made a low noise that he found inspiring. Now that he was touching himself again, Morty’s perspective on the situation changed rapidly. Rick was sitting in his chair, in his bedroom, masturbating to every little move that he made. He felt sexy. He felt powerful. Rick let out low groans that fueled the fire in Morty’s belly. This was even better than Morty had imagined.
“Tell grandpa how good it feels, baby.”
“S-So good. So good.” Fear tingled in his nerves like champagne; he was drunk on it.
“Now tell me why. What’s so good about stealing my clothes, hm?”
“No,” Morty whined. “D-Don’t make me!”
“You think I don’t know?” There was a laugh in Rick’s voice, a levity that Morty hadn’t expected. “Tell me you smell my dirty socks while you jerk off and say my name when you come or I’ll leave.”
Morty did not want Rick to leave. He didn’t want this to be over. “I-I-I like your wife beaters,” Morty stammered hurriedly. That seemed like a safer confession than the sock thing.
“Mhm,” Rick encouraged him. He reached out with his spindly fingers and helped the coat’s collar slip down off of Morty’s shoulder. “Good start. You wanna smell your grandpa's dirty armpits, baby?”
It didn't sound like Rick was making fun of him. He sounded eager. He sounded hungry. Morty felt like a tiny little mouse cowering before a feral cat, and it was everything he'd ever wanted.
“Y-Yes,” Morty admitted. He wanted that very, very much.
“Then fucking earn it.”
“You just smell s-so good.” Closing his eyes, Morty felt inspiration returning. He huffed and arched, stroking himself faster now. “It makes it feel like you're here with me.”
“You want me to touch you like that, baby?”
Frantic, Morty nodded. “Please?”
“Gotta show me how you like it first,” Rick cooed. “You look so pretty like that.”
That sounded too girly to Morty, but he was feeling too good to complain. “I like to squeeze it real hard,” he said. His skin was on fire. He chanced a look over at Rick. The old man had undone his tie and the top two buttons of his shirt, baring a tuft of his gray chest hair. It looked impossibly sexy, especially since his cock was still out and standing at tantalizing attention. A shiver ran through him. “I w-want more, Rick.”
“Yeah,” said Rick, “me, too.”
Rick moved from the chair to the edge of the bed. He ran one calloused fingertip down the center of Morty's chest. Morty whimpered and wriggled under the teasing touch. Rick smoothed his palm back up and traced Morty's collarbone. Morty’s toes curled in his socks. Please, he heard himself begging.
"Now tell me what you do with my boxers," Rick instructed, voice low and smooth.
Shame squirmed hot in Morty's belly like a writhing octopus, but with Rick's rough fingers brushing over his nipple something about it felt amazing. Now he was absolutely punishing his cock, breathing fast as he fucked helplessly into the fabric. "I put them in my mouth. I-I-I suck on them."
"Goddamn, baby. You're such a little slut for grandpa, aren't you? Please tell me you jizz on them, too." Rick, demonstrating much more restraint, toyed with himself absently.
“That's the best part. I—“ Morty cut himself off with a gasp when Rick tweaked his nipple with a hard pinch. “Then I put it back in the laundry. I a-always hope you'll touch it later." Morty made a small noise in the back of his throat. "I'm gonna come, I'm gonna--"
"Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast." Rick grabbed Morty's wrists and pulled them above his head while he mewled in desperation, his hips bucking up into nothing. His arms were hopelessly twisted in the lab coat's sleeves, and Rick tied them together behind his head. Morty tugged at it but he couldn't get himself free.
“Rick! No!" Tears beaded in Morty's eyes. He was so hard. He pressed his thighs together, desperate for relief.
"Shh, baby. You want a taste? Grandpa's gonna give you a taste.”
Morty's eyes widened. Understanding lifted him up into the joyful sky. He just nodded eagerly and let Rick straddle him, up tall on his knees. His thick, heavy cock nodded just in front of Morty's mouth. Morty stuck out his tongue and managed to get a quick taste of salty precome before Rick snatched him up by the hair and shoved his face into his wiry pubes. Morty didn't have room inside for shame anymore. He nuzzled into the coarse hair and breathed deep. The dark masculine musk was even richer than it was on the clothes he had stolen. Morty tried to turn his head to the side to mouth at the base of him, drunk on the smell of his sweat. He wanted his hands free, but he was tangled so tightly. When he had the presence of mind to look up, he saw Rick using his other hand to unbutton his dress shirt.
"Please, please, I can't wait any more.” Apparently Morty wasn't above begging.
"Yeah, you're not ready for this,” Rick said, looking down at him with a toothy grin.
Apparently Rick was going to give it to him anyway, whether he was ready or not. Morty quickly realized what he meant. By the time just the head of Rick's cock breached his lips, Morty's mouth already felt too full. He made a sound of alarm that came out muffled by Rick's flesh. He couldn't get his hands in front of him to try and push Rick back. All he could do was cry and let Rick stretch his jaw wide.
"Goddamn, Morty. You know how long I've been thinking about fucking your pretty little mouth? Every time you won't shut the fuck up I think about pushing you down on your knees and taking what you owe me."
Spit streamed down Morty's chin. Rick shoved inside, rough and selfish. Morty moaned around him. He was panicked, now. He couldn't breathe. His jaw ached. Rick was ramming the back of his throat, making him choke and gag. It hurt so bad. It felt amazing.
"So eager to please me, aren't you, slut?"
Morty groaned in agreement. Then Rick’s cockhead breached his throat and all rational thought left him. His grandfather used him like a toy, masturbating with his mouth. The groans that poured from him were exactly the kind of praise Morty had always wanted. He sobbed, overwhelmed and needy. His sex was dripping with precome. He was going to go insane if he couldn't finish soon. But he couldn’t even beg to be touched. All he could do was struggle and cry.
“Oh, I’m gonna fuckin’ come down your throat, baby. Fuck, fuck.” Rick rested his hand on the top of Morty’s head, forcing him to nod into every thrust. “Goddamn, Morty, mouth like an angel. Can’t wait ‘til it’s your tight little hole instead.”
That was too much to think about. Even having his mouth used so roughly was almost too much to bear, much less his ass. He might not survive that. So why was the mere suggestion making his cock throb eagerly?
Then suddenly Rick was pulling away, moaning, holding the base of his dick in a vise grip. He held himself up on one stiff arm, braced against the headboard, and his body twitched and jolted as he struggled through a dry orgasm. It left him spent and panting, his body pressed against Morty’s.
Whining, Morty nuzzled at Rick’s belly, desperate for his attention. “Rick! You have to!” His face was wet with snot and spit and tears, and probably beet red. He didn’t care. He just shook his head back and forth, crying into Rick’s skin. “I-I-I need you, I need it!”
“Ok, ok, shh, babydoll.” Rick sank back on his haunches with a groan. “Never say Rick Sanchez doesn’t hand out the aftercare. I got you, Morty.”
Uncharacteristically gentle, Rick used the corner of the lab coat to clean Morty’s face. It was strange and intimate, and Morty was so hard and so confused. Again he whimpered, gazing up at Rick’s face. His eyes looked soft, as blue as the sky and shining. Morty sat helpless and watched Rick work his way out of his pants.
This felt strange. Rick was naked around him far, far too often, but the context had changed everything. It felt like they were both vulnerable, now. It felt strangely honest. Rick helped him lay down and let his body settle against him. The weight of him on his chest, the heat of his skin, the familiar scent of his sweat—it was all too much. Morty hiccuped with sobs while Rick mouthed at his neck.
“You still wanna come, Morty?” Rick asked.
“Yes!” Morty might go insane if he didn’t come soon. He struggled to even out his breaths.
“You want…” Rick reappeared in Morty’s vision. For the first time in Morty’s life, he saw hesitation there. Morty could smell the whiskey on his breath and feel the humidity of it on his face.
Somehow, Morty knew exactly what he meant. And he had made up his mind long ago. “Kiss me,” he said. He could barely speak through his bruised throat.
Rick’s breath hitched. There was a moment that felt weightless and then Rick’s lips were on his and they were both moaning. Rick’s tongue was just as insistent as his cock had been, and he kissed him without holding back. Morty rutted against him, and he rolled his hips back. He could feel him still hard against his thigh. Now Morty knew for sure that Rick wanted him the same way. He wanted to kiss him, not just fuck him. He could feel his grandfather's longing in the press of his lips. Maybe Morty wasn't worldly or experienced, but he was so sure that a kiss like this couldn't be a lie.
Rick pulled back just enough to take a breath before leaning back in to nuzzle Morty's jaw. "Grandpa's gonna make you feel good now. Close your eyes, baby. Relax for me.”
Morty wished he could put his arms around his grandfather, but he was still bound tight. He felt like his heart might burst. "Rick, I--"
“Shh. Don't ruin it.”
There was no time to wonder what Rick meant, because his hand wrapped around Morty's aching sex. Morty moaned to the heavens and thrust forward. Rick shifted against him until their cocks were lined up together. Morty groaned and arched. His eyes were still beaded with tears, and Rick's face looked hazy and refracted through them. But Morty could still see the tension of pleasure in his features while they strained against one another. It felt like he was filling with warm syrup, his nerves alight from the touch of Rick's scalding sex against his own. It felt so much better than when he touched himself alone.
"It's so good. It's so good.” Morty felt his balls tightening in anticipation. He wouldn't last much longer.
“You look so good like this," Rick groaned, and Morty tingled with the praise. “I've wanted--" He cut himself off with a sharp breath. His grasp shifted, holding them even tighter together.
Morty turned his head and took a deep breath of Rick's pungent sweat. "Rick," he warbled.
"Morty...”
That was what he needed. Keening, straining, toes curling, Morty threw himself over the edge of climax like the fool he was. He sobbed all over again, shuddering in strong pulses as his body emptied all over Rick's hand. It seemed to go on forever, leaving him so weak and hazy. All thought fled him. He was empty. There was no way to resist the lingering jolts of ecstasy that shook him.
"Good boy, good boy" he heard Rick saying somewhere above him. His breath shook in and out as he jerked himself off furiously. Morty wasn't sure how long he lingered in Wonderland before hot droplets sprayed onto his chest. He liked the moony way that Rick was looking at him, so he willingly parted his lips when asked to lick come off of Rick's fingertips. He didn't know whose it was, and he didn't care. Rick wanted him to, and Morty would always obey him.
When Rick untied his sleeves, he realized that his shoulders were aching. Rick settled carefully beside him and Morty threw himself into his arms, He buried his face in his chest. Nearly timid, Rick carded his fingers through his hair. He hummed tunelessly to him. Morty had never felt so valued. So loved. This was all too good to be true. He sniffled, trying to stem the tears that wouldn't stop pouring straight from his soul. He hated looking this weak.
“Grandpa can make you forget,” said Rick haltingly.
Horrified, Morty lifted his head. “N-No! Don't!”
“You don't want this life, Morty."
“I-I-I do, though! I know it's bad but now I know you want me, t-too, so I don't even care!"
It felt like a long time before Rick spoke again, slowly like he was building a wall brick by brick. "You were already jerking off to my dirty socks."
Now all eagerness, Morty nodded. "Already," he agreed.
"You'll just keep doing it.”
"I will.”
"So the harm's already done.”
"Please, Rick. I'll never ask for anything else ever again."
The grin Rick treated him to was somehow gentle. "That won't do. I need you to beg harder for my cock next time."
Next time. Morty loved the sound of that. "Anything you want."
"That's a given."
"Rick, I--" Morty took a deep breath. Could he say it? “I--”
Downstairs, the door suddenly opened and Jerry's voice blew in with the wind, muffled but impossible to ignore. “I told you, I thought you had the plane tickets!”
Rick and Morty stared at each other, wide eyed.
"Fuck," said Rick.
Well, this was the new life that he had committed to, wasn’t it? Sneaking around, risking their necks. Really, though that was just par for the course for the two of them. Morty clung to his grandfather, trusting him just as he always had. Rick put his arms around him in turn, and Morty vowed never to keep a secret from him ever again. Not for their whole hundred years.