
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10627626.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rick_and_Morty
  Relationship:
      Rick_Sanchez/Morty_Smith
  Character:
      Rick_Sanchez, Morty_Smith
  Additional Tags:
      Sexting, Incest, Dirty_Talk, morty_is_pretty_into_it_but_this_is_a_Bad
      Ship_so, dubcon, i'm_still_bad_at_tagging_i_guess_sorry, Manipulation,
      Dom/sub_Undertones, in_that_rick_is_a_bossy_shit_and_morty_likes_it
  Series:
      Part 10 of RickMorty_Trash_Pile
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-14 Words: 2688
****** Texting ******
by trash_freak
Summary
     Rick texts Morty.
     -
     for anon, who inboxed me forever ago. i didn't forget you, i just got
     waylaid.
     for, like, half a year... aNYWAY.
     "what do you think rick's sexts would be like?"
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Morty is slumped over his desk, pen touching paper, head leaning heavy against
the palm of his hand. He’s trying not to fall asleep. He’s been trying not to
fall asleep for half an hour since lessons began, trying not to think about the
other four and a half classes still on the horizon. He’s been trying not to
think about the lonely lunch hour coming for him, two and a half hours away.
Morty’s eyes are just beginning to close when he’s startled awake by a sharp
buzz against his thigh. He’s shocked for a second; people don’t text him. They
don’t call him, they don’t send him funny links or tag him in posts he might
like.
Don’t think about that, he tells himself as he fishes his phone free, a little
worried there’s been some kind of disaster and he’s not getting a call about it
because who even talks on the phone anymore.
More likely it’s a wrong number. Or his network provider.
Morty glances at his teacher, but she’s done all her explaining and is sat
marking homework as the class works through their textbooks. He swipes his
phone open beneath his desk and taps at the messaging icon.
Morty nearly drops his phone. He looks around the room wildly as if they might
have all seen, switching the screen off and clutching the phone between his
hands for fear of it being stolen and the secret getting out.
Then, looking down at the black screen, Morty realises he’s going to have to
switch it back on to exit out of his messages. His heart is hammering, paranoia
spiking high, but he sits at the back row in this class so no one will be able
to see over his shoulder. He takes a calming breath and switches the screen
back on, swipes his phone open again.
He was planning on exiting the message as quickly as possible and then spending
the rest of the day trying to forget it ever happened, but as soon as it’s back
on his screen he can’t help but stare. It’s a photo of Rick from his nipples to
the top of his thighs, hand cupping his half hard dick. He’s sprawled on what
looks like his bed, propped up against the wall, completely naked, and Morty
feels like his face is made of hot coals.
‘Just getting into it, wanna watch?’ appears underneath, breaking Morty’s
concentration away from the line of course silver hair running from Rick’s
bellybutton down to his pubic hair, and the way Rick’s hipbones jut out, the
defined muscle of Rick’s forearm.
Rick sends a video file, and Morty has to struggle not to let out an amused
breath. It isn’t a surprise that’s Rick’s as blunt with this as he is
everything else. He smiles down at his phone, can’t help it, and throws a quick
look around the room. No one’s paying him any attention.
‘I’m not watching that. I’m in school’ Morty sends back, thumb hovering over
the video file, tempted, so damn tempted.
‘So?’ Rick sends back, ‘Mute your phone.’ And then, so fast Rick’s thumbs must
be a blur across his phone’s keypad: ‘Don’t act like you’ve never watched porn
on your phone sitting in the living room with your parents and sister on the
next couch Morty. It’s not like you were actually doing school work when I
texted.’
Rick’s right on both counts, and Morty finds himself going to his settings and
muting everything he can possibly mute. His heart’s still hammering when he
taps the file, palms sweating, thumb poised to exit it if it makes even the
slightest sound.
The video is short, just a few seconds of Rick’s fingers slowly teasing at his
cock, and Morty has to watch it again so he can fully appreciate the way Rick’s
thigh muscles bunch up and stretch out as he relaxes further down the bed.
Morty feels like he swallows too loud, he feels like his breathing has picked
up suspiciously, but when he looks again around the room no one’s noticed.
Morty closes his messages, locks his phone, and puts it back in his pocket. He
shifts in his plastic chair, tries to focus on his textbook, but the letters
dance away from him. What the hell is he supposed to say to that?
Morty’s phone vibrates again in his pocket, makes Morty twitch, but he doesn’t
look. Rick isn’t here, and he can’t tell Morty what to do, and Morty really
needs to concentrate on his school work.
The phone vibrates a second time, and Morty’s leg is bouncing anxiously. The
phone vibrates again.
Fuck, who’s he kidding.
‘Wanna call you. Wanna hear you try n keep quiet listening to your grandpa jack
off’ his phone screen says, Morty’s wide eyes taking in the little black
letters more eagerly than he wants to.
‘You gonna watch it with the sound on during your break Morty?’ his phone
screen says, and Morty shifts a little in his seat.
And then, at the bottom, making heat flood through him: ‘You want another?’
He does, and he hates himself for it.
Morty’s sure he’s breathing too loud now, and he can’t sit still, and he’s
getting hard in the middle of geography. The thought of watching the video,
earphones in, hidden away in the alcove where he eats his lunch is gradually
consuming him, and the need to hear Rick’s voice hits him like a punch to the
gut.
‘Yeah,’ Morty types, a confession, ‘I want one with you talking.’ His throat
feels tight, lungs seizing up, and he hesitates over the send button, finally
taps it, and it’s sent, and he can’t take it back, and he’s freaking out.
Morty fidgets in his seat for the long seconds it takes Rick to reply, and when
he finally does Morty’s chest goes loose with such stark relief it makes Morty
a little dizzy.
It’s another photo, this one of Rick’s dick, fully hard now, and Morty is
overwhelmed with something like pride.
‘What do you wanna hear, baby?’ Rick sends, and Morty swallows hard.
‘I just want to hear your voice’ he sends back, feeling shame crawling all over
him as he tries to subtly adjust his erection.
God, Morty thinks, I’m fucked up, I’m so fucked up, what is wrong with me?
Morty waits, phone clutched tight in one hand, the other gripping his pen so
hard it’s leaving an indent in his middle finger, and he’s calmed down a little
by the time his phone vibrates.
It’s another video, accompanied by, ‘Just can’t say no to you.’
Morty’s chest feels as full as his dick, and he has to put his phone away,
can’t look at it.
Morty isn’t sure he’ll ever know how he feels about Rick.
His phone vibrates again, and he tries to ignore it, he tries, but he finds
himself fishing it out of his pocket again.
‘You getting shy over there baby?’
‘More like frustrated’Morty sends back, starting to feel a little bolder.
‘Yeah baby like the sound of that. Tell me what you’re doing over there. You
squirming around Morty? Trying not to blow your load in the middle of class?
Thinking about what I might do to you when you get home?’
Morty squeezes his legs shut, closes his eyes for as long as he dares, not
wanting to be questioned by his teacher. He can feel his pulse in his dick and
he could honestly cry right now with how much he wishes he could come.
Fuck it, he thinks, letting his mind wander to home time: knocking on Rick’s
door and being dragged inside, Rick lazy by then, having already found
satisfaction earlier on and in no hurry.
Morty has to stifle a needy sound at the thought. Rick’s hands gentle, his
mouth soft and hot and leisurely. Laying Morty down, undressing him slow,
taking his time.
‘Tell me’ Rick demands, and Morty can hear it, can see Rick’s stern expression
and god help him his dick jumps.
‘Yeah I’m thinking about getting home’ Morty types, shaking all over. ‘I’m
thinking about you touching me real slow.’ Morty’s getting dizzy from the way
he can’t stop quickly, nervously scanning the room, from the way he can’t catch
his breath. ‘I’m thinking about going to the bathroom right now and watching
those videos.’
He can’t just go, though, in case Rick wants him to wait for it. He wants to be
good, and make Rick happy so Rick rewards him when he gets home, so he sends,
‘Can I Rick? Am I allowed?’
Morty waits, impatient, and it’s a couple of minutes before he gets an answer
but it feels like an hour. The wait doesn’t calm him down – the opposite in
fact, his dick throbbing – and holding off, not touching, just concentrating on
the sensation of wanting feels so good Morty almost doesn’t want it to end.
Almost.
He jumps in his chair at the buzz from his phone, enough that his teacher looks
up at him, making him glare down at his work like he’s thinking hard. Either
he’s a good actor or his teacher just doesn’t care because when he looks up at
her again she’s back to marking papers.
Morty genuinely can’t help the small noise he makes – has to cover with a
spluttered cough – at the silent video with Rick’s leaking dick, a single word
beneath it: ‘Go.’
“M-m-m-miss, I-I really need- could really do with going to the bathroom,
please?” Morty stutters out immediately, eyes wide, the heel of his hand shoved
down against his erection to try and stave off the orgasm threatening him.
“You should have gone before class, Mr. Smith,” his teacher says, looking up at
him with a stern expression.
Morty squirms hard in his seat, his face burning, his hand at his dick, and she
must think he just really needs to piss because she sighs heavily and relents.
“Fine. Hurry up.”
Morty’s chair scrapes loudly against the floor as he bolts up and out of the
room, digging around in his jeans pocket for his earphones even as he’s
speeding down the corridor towards the toilets.
He checks each stall first when he gets there, taking deep breaths as he goes,
his knees weak with the worry of being here alone. Distracts himself from
sticky sweet helpless anger by thinking of Rick on his knees, looking up
Morty’s body with bright, wicked eyes.
Morty locks himself in a stall once he checks the place is empty, breathes in
as deep as his lungs allow, and stuffs his earphones in, hastily unmuting
everything he’d muted earlier and grinding his hand once against his dick in
the hopes of calming down. The change of setting helped to chase away some of
his excitement but he’s still wound tight, and he wants to be able to watch all
the files Rick sent without finishing too early.
The first video is quiet, just the image of Rick’s hand moving slowly, his
thighs tensing and relaxing, the faintest sigh, no louder than the shifting
sheets as Rick sinks a little further down into the bed.
Morty shoves the bottom of his shirt in his mouth to try and keep quiet, bites
down on it hard. He unbuttons his jeans, eases down the zip, pulls himself free
so he can grip tight at the base of his dick the way Rick always does when he
wants to keep Morty from coming too fast. He wants to whine, wants to moan and
buck his hips; is breathing too heavy to deny what he’s doing should someone
come in.
He re-reads the messages, tries not to cringe at his own replies, focuses on
Rick’s words, on the way Rick wants him. Morty is rendered so completely
helpless at the way Rick wants him; feels like he’s full of lead and stuck,
immobile, every time Rick reminds him.
He lingers for a moment on the second picture Rick had sent; the contrast
between Rick’s mostly soft dick in the video and his full erection seconds
later, caused only by Morty replying, admitting what he wants. Morty squeezes
harder at the base of his twitching dick, lets the tears spill from his eyes at
the overwhelming shame of how utterly easy he always is, the shame of how
excited he feels, about to jerk off in his school toilets to videos of his own
grandfather.
The way his whole body shivers at the thought will worry Morty later, but right
now he eagerly taps on the second video, wanting to hear Rick’s voice, wanting
to hear the want.
Immediately there’s the slick sound of Rick’s hand working his cock, and Morty
pulls too hard on his own dick to make it hurt, to make it last, his breath
catching at the sounds Rick is making. A breathy moan, tinny through the cheap
earphones, and a small hiccup, a stronger moan, and Rick’s voice, finally.
“This wha-what you wanted, M-Morty, you little freak? Fu-uuuck.”
The clip seems over too fast, and Morty is fumbling to watch the next one when
another text comes through.
‘Show me Morty.’
Morty’s eyes skip across the words, the command, three times, four, his skin
burning hot at the thought of taking a photo like that of his bony little body.
God, this is risky. This is so fucking risky, and Rick would definitely be
arrested if anyone saw any of this, and Morty barely hesitates.
He opens his camera with shaky, sticky fingers, and takes three photos before
finally accepting he’s not going to get a good one, sends the one he thinks is
the least gross, and hopes Rick doesn’t laugh.
Morty’s scrawny, not lean like Rick, just skinny. With the bottom of his t-
shirt shoved into his mouth in an attempt to keep his sounds in, his ribs and
hipbones are highlighted by the harsh lighting of the bathroom, his cheeks
clearly shiny with tears even through the low quality lens. His erection is
shamefully red, dripping, matching his hot, wet cheeks, and everything about
the photo is an embarrassing mess.
‘Just look at you.’ Rick sends back almost immediately. ‘So sweet. Have you
watched the videos? Don’t come yet baby. I wanna see. You gotta film it.’
Morty slumps down on the toilet seat, his legs finally too weak to hold him
upright any longer. He taps on the last video, and whines at the way Rick’s
hips roll up into his tight fist, the stream of pre-come making everything look
shiny and smooth.
He’s not prepared for Rick’s voice, the way his groan of pleasure sounds on the
brink of desperate, his words, firm and steady and proud: ‘Morty. Mmmorty.
You’re such a good boy for asking.’
Morty can’t stop the way his dick pulses, and he scrambles to open his camera
through the blur, to record himself just as he comes messy and desperate over
his fist and exposed belly, whimpering beneath the yellow cotton between his
teeth. He makes himself look into the camera, the way Rick likes him to keep
eye contact, as he shakes and sobs his way through it.
He sends it over dutifully, still slouched and sticky on the cold toilet seat,
and has just managed to steady his breathing when Rick sends another video.
It’s Rick’s face this time, looking insufferably smug and licking come off of
his long fingers.
“Good boy,” he says with a smirk.
Morty hates him. Morty sits, cold and uncomfortable, trying to clean up with
the flimsy tissue paper his school clearly spares no expense on, and a wet
patch of saliva at the bottom of his shirt, and he’s been in here too long, and
everyone’s going to think he’s got piss on himself instead of drool, and he
hates Rick.
That’s a lie, of course. Morty doesn’t hate Rick.
Morty hates himself.
‘See you at home’ Rick texts. The bell rings for next lesson. Five more hours
to go.
End Notes
     jeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesus guys i kinda vanished for a while there, huh?
     did you miss me? ;)
     i got an anon on tumblr like half a year ago and started writing this
     and then? life?
     so, to anon, forgive me, i love you.
     i'm so out of practice be nice to me
     also i'm english so if american school timetables are set out
     different [shrug]
     love you, trash babies, i've missed it here so much!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
