
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7736380.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      Rick_Sanchez/Morty_Smith
  Character:
      Rick_Sanchez, Morty_Smith
  Additional Tags:
      Child_Abuse, Fluff, like_not_really_but_also_kind_of_definitely, I_ADDED
      A_CHAPTER_I'M_SORRY, this_was_almost_gen_but_alas_i_cannot_change, Public
      Sex, Blow_Jobs, Manipulation, dubcon, Incest, mentions_of_king_jellybean,
      fear_of_public_toilets
  Series:
      Part 9 of RickMorty_Trash_Pile
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-11 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 3126
****** Lil' Bits ******
by trash_freak
Summary
     Rick takes Morty to Lil' Bits.
     -
     edit: i added a chapter and now this is sin.
Notes
     rated gen????
     notes at the beginning?????
     fear not, i'm still the same ol' trash babe
     i'm not sure this really belongs in this series
     but in my mind it's in the same universe
     and it's nice to give them a little quiet snippet
     i drew a little comic thing!
     which i think is cute and can be found on the tumblr
     trash-freak.tumblr.com/post/148764554069/read
     edit: haha what a fool i was to think i could avoid the trash.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Morty is starving. The ache in his stomach has transcended pain and has now
become a dull acceptance of death. He can’t really remember the last time he’s
properly eaten, or really the last time he’s properly been home.
Morty looks down mournfully at the plate he’s just been presented with. The
plate itself is of average size, which only serves to make the tiny burger and
handful of tiny fries look even smaller sat atop the vast expanse of white
ceramic.
“Aw geez, Rick,” Morty says, picking the burger up between his forefinger and
thumb. It’s barely bigger than a bean. “Not- n-not to sound ungrateful, but I
was sorta hoping for something more substantial.”
The restaurant itself is pretty nice, bustling full of happy, if odd-looking,
customers. The food smells amazing, which just makes Morty’s stomach twist in
despair.
Rick had sounded excited to come here, but Morty isn’t sure whether that’s
because he genuinely thinks it’s a nice place or because he wanted to watch the
disappointment unfold on Morty’s face.
Still, Morty feels the need to explain further when Rick just leans back in a
comfortable sprawl against his seat and watches Morty with interest. More
interest than could be described as appropriate.
“I mean,” Morty continues quickly, fidgeting under Rick’s heated consideration,
glancing from his miniscule burger to Rick’s raised eyebrow and back. “I-I-
we’ve been running around- been doing all this running and doing all this stuff
and I’m kinda hungry now, Rick…”
“Yeah,” Rick says. “And I got you a burger.”
He’s almost definitely screwing with Morty. But the amusement in his eyes looks
soft, not malicious, and it’s making Morty feel unsure.
“Yeah, yes, you did, Rick, but-“ Morty starts, not quite meeting Rick’s intense
gaze.
He’s cut off as Rick leans forward abruptly, all amusement snuffed out.
“You know, Morty, this is a pretty popular establishment,” Rick says, firm and
annoyed, finger jabbing sharply at the table top he’s leaning on. “You see any
empty chairs here? No. ‘Cause it’s booked, it’s beurgh-ooked up, Morty, it’s
full.” He points in Morty’s direction, snappish and stern, and Morty frowns.
“Because people like it here, Mourghty, a-and I went and I put the effort in to
get us in here, Morty-“
“Alright, alright, geez,” Morty snaps. He looks down again at the burger held
lightly between his fingers. It would be comically small if Morty didn’t feel
like he was about to pass out and die.
Better than nothing, he supposes as he pops the mini burger in his mouth. It’s
literally gone in a bite.
But as it slides down his throat and hits his stomach, he starts feeling pretty
full, and now he kinda feels like a bit of a dick because Rick apparently
wasn’t screwing with him.
It’s weird going from being so hungry to being mostly full so quickly, but the
disappearance of the sickening pain in his gut has him grinning widely at Rick.
“Hey, th-they really manage to pack a lot in there, huh, Rick,” Morty says,
happily surprised, to his kind of startled looking grandpa sat across from him.
Rick’s shocked expression is starting to make Morty a little nervous. “I’m,
heh, I-I’m actually full.”
And then Rick’s eyes crinkle, his mouth curving slowly upwards. He tries to
hide his small chuckle behind his hand, but his words shake with laughter when
he says, “Well- heh- maybe one day you’ll- you’ll quit doubting youurrgh
grandpa Rick a-and start taking my word, huh, Morty?”
His shoulders are shaking with barely restrained mirth, and he won’t look
directly at Morty, and Morty narrows his eyes, highly suspicious.
“What’s so funny, Rick?” Morty demands, but then it hits him, the bloated
feeling of eating too much far too quickly. “Oh…” he murmurs, voice faint,
hands falling from the table top to clutch at his swollen belly.
Rick’s snorting behind his hand like the utter bastard that he is.
“Hooohhh, Rick,” Morty says in a warbling moan, “I don’t- I don’t feel too
good…” He groans pitifully, his stomach turning, his mouth watering as he tries
to pant through the nausea. “I’m so full,” Morty huffs, and Rick loses it.
Morty glares as best he can as Rick leans back, crinkled eyes squeezed shut,
and laughs loud, one hand pressed against his belly as the other slaps hard
against the table with glee.
Rick cackles, harsh enough to set him spluttering over a hacking cough, and
finally manages to guffaw, “Your face!”
Morty slouches down in the booth, tries to hide his face without lifting his
hands from his aching stomach.
It takes a minute for Rick to calm down, but eventually he wipes the tears from
his eyes and levels a fond gaze on the slouched-over teen.
“You’re not supposed to eat it all at once like that,” Rick chortles, eyes all
squinty and affectionate.
Morty would like to be able to fully appreciate the twinkle in Rick’s eyes, the
crinkle of Rick’s soft smile, but he’s definitely gonna hurl.
“I’m definitely gonna hurl,” Morty mutters as he lurches to his feet and
scurries to the toilets, Rick’s laughter turning mocking behind him.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Rick follows Morty to the bathroom.
Chapter Notes
     i tried to keep it PG guys I TRIED but??
     morty went to the bathroom and i thought
     'what a perfect chance to incorporate my skeevy headcanon that
     morty's scared of public toilets'
     and then this went and happened oops.
He doesn’t want to be in the bathroom. That’s all Morty can think, leaning over
the toilet and retching. His stomach’s empty again, though there’s only the
tiniest trace of what was once burger in the toilet water. Now he’s just
choking on hot bile.
He’s shaking, violent shudders wracking his slight frame, and it’s from the
effort of throwing up, and it’s from the exhaustion and the hunger, but mostly
it’s the way the thin cubicle walls seem to be pressing closer, trying to hold
him still.
Morty can’t quite breathe anymore.
Then the latch of the locked cubicle door behind him screeches open, and Morty
flings himself to his feet in a panic, little fists raised and ready, drool on
his chin and dripping off onto his shirt. The door opens, and Morty’s stomach
is a storm.
It’s Rick, pushing his way into the already too-small cubicle and standing too
close. Morty doesn’t quite look at him, can’t stop staring at the way the door
is quietly swinging shut behind Rick, trapping them in. His vision is blurring
with tears and panic. He lets his fists drop to his sides, defeated already.
“You, uh, you okay, dawg?” Rick asks, voice playful like he’s trying to lighten
the mood.
When Rick reaches out to touch Morty’s curls, Morty reacts on instinct, flails
and pushes Rick’s arm aside, follows it up by shoving as hard as he can against
Rick’s shoulder and then Rick’s back to pin him against the cubicle door.
“Damn, Morty, you got some moves up your sleeve,” Rick comments, completely
unconcerned, and Morty steps abruptly back.
“Aww, hell, I’m- I’m real sorry, Rick, you- you startled me,” Morty says in a
small voice, rubbing at the back of his neck, legs wobbling beneath him. He
wipes his wet chin with the back of his wrist, achieving nothing more than
smearing the mess a little.
Rick hadn’t even tried to fight back, hadn’t even seemed surprised, and he
crosses his arms, leans back against the cubicle door and watches Morty where
he’s stood with the back of his knees pressed tight against the edge of the
toilet, as far away as he can, which isn’t very.
Morty looks down and away, trying to avoid Rick’s piercing look, and wraps his
arms tight around himself, shaking and shifting from foot to foot nervously.
“Flush the toilet, Muh-Ouuurghty, it stinks like stomach acid in here.” Rick
sounds harsh, but he looks sort of worried, eyes intense, calculating.
Morty flushes the toilet.
“Please, Rick, I j-just wanna-“ Morty can’t catch his breath. It reeks like
urinal cake and bleach in here, and it’s way nicer than the last public toilet
he found himself in, but he doesn’t want to be here. “I just wanna leave, Rick,
please.”
Rick says nothing, leaning back against Morty’s escape route, and he’s looking
at Morty in a way that’s making the boy want to rip his hair from his skull in
stress. He’s ready to gnaw his own leg off to escape.
Morty takes half a step forward, forces himself to meet Rick’s eyes. “I’ll- I-
I’ll do whatever you want, Rick, just, let’s go, please, let’s get outta here.”
“You’re scared of being in here with me?” Rick asks, voice hard, and Morty’s
stomach plummets. He pauses, swallows back the bile in his throat, shakes his
head a little. Rick’s gonna bring it up, Morty can feel it coming.
“I’m not some fucking jellybean freak, Morty,” Rick spits, indignant, almost
outraged, and Morty can’t feel his legs. He staggers back, slumps down heavily
onto the toilet seat.
His breath had smelled sweet, like sugar, and his hands had been thin and
solid, and his tongue had been sticky, like spit-wet candy. Morty hasn’t eaten
candy since.
He’d told Rick, later, days later, face a mess of snot and fat tears, that the
jellybean had attacked him, and that Morty… Morty had almost killed him. Wanted
to kill him. Rick had held him close, whispered darkly that Morty never had to
worry about that creep again.
“D-d-d-did you kill him, Rick?” Morty finally asks now what he was too scared
to ask back then. He leans forward, elbows against knees, and watches his tears
drip down onto the tiled floor.
Rick doesn’t hesitate. “You’re fucking damn right I did,” he says with a venom
Morty has seldom heard. Then he’s stepping closer, and Morty presses his back
against the freezing cold ceramic of the toilet.
Rick doesn’t touch him, just kneels down, half an inch from Morty’s knees.
“You really wanna leave, baby, we can leave, but, but I don’t want you carrying
this with you, Morty.” Rick rises up on his knees so his face is right in front
of Morty’s, and Morty finds himself spreading his legs, slipping down further
on the seat to feel the warmth of Rick’s body between his thighs where Rick’s
so close. So close, but still not touching without permission.
“I want you-“ Rick falters, licks his lips, looks down at Morty’s wet mouth,
and Morty’s dick is starting to stir a little at the thought that Rick still
wants him even with hot bile on his breath. “I want you feeling good, baby boy,
wanna blow you in every public toilet we come across, Morty, even the really
fucking gross ones.” Rick leans closer, nose a hair’s breadth from Morty’s,
voice filthy when he says, “Wanna get my knees dirty for you.”
Morty turns his face away, ashamed of his hardening dick, trembling so
violently it’s sort of hurting. But when Rick leans back, Morty’s reaching out
and grabbing at Rick’s coat clumsily, pulling him in and clinging to his strong
shoulders, irrational fear sparking through Morty at the thought of Rick
leaving him here.
“Don’t go,” Morty sniffles, rubbing his face against Rick’s lab coat.
Rick’s hands finally come to rest tentatively at Morty’s waist, and Morty sighs
in relief, tightens his grip. Rick’s touch grows bolder, hands running from
Morty’s waist around to his back to rub firm and comforting circles.
Rick breathes deep and slow and Morty tries to copy the rhythm, gradually
calming, shuddering breath evening out as Rick mumbles, “Whatever you want in
here, Morty,” and, “You’re the boss here, baby,” and, “Just ask a-and I’ll do
it, babe, my baby boy.”
Morty’s definitely hard now, arousal and anxiety mixing into a jumble of short
breaths and hammering pulse, muscles shaking in want and fear; a combination
that’s familiar. He lets his legs tighten around Rick’s hips, enjoys the heat
and pressure through the worn denim.
“Anything? A-anything I want, Rick?” Morty whispers against Rick’s ear, feels
Rick breathe out heavy against his neck, his nose rubbing along the sensitive
skin as he nods, hums in agreement. Rick’s fingers target all the tight spots
in Morty’s back muscles and dig in, making Morty melt into him.
Morty’s thighs clench tighter around Rick, something like a gasp falling from
him as Rick shifts and moves ever so slightly against him, the two pressed
tight together. Morty feels on the edge of a breakdown, held together by a thin
thread and Rick’s hands.
“I want- I-I- I w-want it slow, Rick,” Morty eventually says on a shaky breath.
He can’t deal with rough right now, can’t deal with fast and hard without
breaking apart and losing it. He’s scared he might lash out at Rick for real in
here, can feel it right there under his skin, a tension in his scrawny muscles,
ready for a fight. He couldn’t bear a fight right now. “Touch me real slow a-
and soft, Rick, please-“
“Okay, it’s okay,” Rick mutters, petting Morty’s curls, pressing soft barely-
there kisses to Morty’s wet cheeks, rubbing up and down Morty’s arm like he’s
trying to erase the trembling there.
It’s like he isn’t even Rick, kneeling there without complaint, touching Morty
like Morty’s about to break, like he doesn’t want Morty to break. Like he
cares.
Morty kisses him, a brush of lips against wet lips, the slightest touch of
tongue against wet tongue, and something surges up inside Morty, something
needy and insecure, and he grips too tight at Rick’s hair, licks soft but
insistent into Rick’s mouth. Breathes hard through his nose, smelling Rick more
than anything else now, tasting stale alcohol and spit, feeling a squirming,
vicious want throb through him.
Morty’s limbs are heavy like he’s trying to swim through syrup.
Morty’s heart is beating like he’s trying to tame a lion.
Rick’s hands ease up under Morty’s shirt, dip down into the back of Morty’s
jeans, and Morty surprises himself when he bites Rick’s lip. Even more
surprised by the way Rick groans and presses closer.
“Y-y-y-you don’t- you don’t need to go putting your hands there right n-now,
Rick,” Morty stutters out, heart punching the inside of his ribs, but when he
struggles through the panic, brings himself to look at Rick’s face, Rick’s
pupils are huge like he’s high, Rick’s mouth slack and wet.
“I’m,” Rick starts, stops to catch his breath. “I-I’m sorry, Morty, baby, can
I- can I kiss you again, sweet boy?”
The rush of power Rick’s just sent flooding through Morty makes his brain
short-circuit, makes his dick throb.
“No,” Morty says, heart in his mouth, and Rick growls, touches his nose to
Morty’s, but he obeys, lips a millimetre from Morty’s own gasping mouth. “Undo
my jeans,” Morty says, gathering a little momentum, petting through Rick’s hair
the way Rick always does with him.
“Yes, boss,” Rick says, voice deep and thick, his hands moving up under Morty’s
shirt again to tease at Morty’s belly before sliding the button free, so slow,
anticipation dragging a shaky moan from Morty as the zipper is finally, finally
eased open.
“Tell- ohh- tell me you- y-you’re gonna suck my- suck my cock, Rick, tell me-“
“Gonna make you feel so good, Morty, baby,” Rick cuts in, pulling Morty free
from his jeans and stroking slow and loose up Morty’s length, and it’s perfect.
“Gonna eat you up sooo slow, babe. Wanna feel my throat around your dick,
Morty? Wanna feel me swallow your come?”
“Don’t- we don’t wanna make of mess of this n-nice bathroom, do we, Rick?”
Morty says, and Rick chuckles dark and dirty, sinks lower, bows over Morty’s
cock to breathe hot against the head. Morty’s hips twitch up, and Rick doesn’t
hold him still, lets him bump the tip of his dick against his mouth, and
Morty’s head spins.
“Suck me, Rick,” Morty gasps, and Rick does, leaves his mouth relaxed and loose
and wet as he envelops Morty’s dick without hesitation. “Ohhhh fu-uuuuck.”
Morty grips at Rick’s hair, grabs at the off-white of his coat, pushes at the
back of his neck, greedy, and Rick just lets him.
Everything is soft wet hot glide, feather light fingers against Morty’s hips,
Rick’s tongue teasing gentle shivers of pleasure through Morty’s slumped body.
Morty’s brain is cotton wool, his fingers running restless through Rick’s hair.
Morty’s hips raise up without thought when Rick pushes down and swallows around
Morty’s dick, his whole body shuddering as Rick pulls up slow, sucking lightly.
His zip is biting into the top of his thighs, and his back is aching so bad
from the way he’s slouched on the hard ceramic, his thighs shaking, his calves
burning, and he feels so warm and heavy, breathing in stale piss and toilet
cleaner and moaning out Rick’s name.
It’s like slipping into a warm bath; that’s how he feels when he comes. It
washes over him, floods through him, a gentle shudder that builds and builds
and leaves him shaking and breathless and completely boneless, head tipped back
against the top of the toilet’s water tank.
Rick’s forehead is pressed to his hipbone when he manages to focus again, and
Rick’s taking deep breathes through his nose, inhaling Morty’s musky, sweaty
scent. He’s grasping at Morty’s calf, fingers convulsing, as his other hand
works at his own cock, and it’s moments before Rick’s coming with a long groan,
mouthing at Morty’s hip and making a mess of the mint green tiling.
Rick stays leaning against Morty for a moment, lets Morty pet his hair, then
slumps back on his ass and tells Morty to pass over some toilet paper. He
cleans himself off without shame and with minimal grumbling, leaves the used
tissues lying on the floor, and Morty thinks he’s just going to leave, but
before struggling to his feet Rick rises up again on his knees and kisses
Morty, slow and deep, tongue coated in Morty’s come.
"You're so good," Rick murmurs into Morty's slack mouth, and Morty pulls at his
lapels to keep him there just a moment longer. "So brave, Morty, my boy, my
brave boy."
Morty feels like warm putty, moulded to Rick, hands too limp to keep Rick from
pulling back.
When they finally get home Rick forces Morty to drink water and eat something
small, and takes him to bed, kisses his forehead, and Morty is filled with the
sick feeling that sometimes Rick is probably just as much his parent as he is
anything else.
-
Morty thinks it’s all a one-off when Rick is back to his old self the next day,
but two weeks later they’re in an alien bar, and Rick leans in close, uses the
loud music as an excuse to talk right into Morty’s ear.
“You need the bathroom, Morty?”
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