Chapter Text
There were many interesting things of note about the Citadel of Ricks. The domed, city-sized space station with its three extended, saucer-shaped districts offered more than just a place for Ricks and Mortys to hide from galactic terrorists, a few sub-galactic dictators, and most especially, the entirety of the gromflomite-run Intergalactic Government. The Ricks and Mortys that stayed there required places to live, work, and conduct business after all, and, therefore, they formed a more-or-less functioning society made up of millions of only two people.
Ricks and Mortys. Grandfathers and their grandsons. To any outside observer, it could be considered extremely odd, even creepy, but to them, it was just how things were. It was normal to live amongst other versions of themselves, and normal for elderly old men to drag around their fourteen-year-old grandsons by their arms like dogs on leashes.
That place, that massive, trans-dimensional city-state that was the Citadel of Ricks, located within an orangish-brown nebula inside a pocket dimension somewhere along the Central Finite Curve, was a place of business and commerce, used as a meeting point, and (maybe most prominently) a place of leisure. There were a few parks dotted around here and there throughout the huge central dome, grassy areas with a few trees and small streams and fountains—clean, pleasant little places. There were also a few common areas, where small shops and open air cafés resided. They were more for the tourist Ricks and Mortys, offering slightly overpriced food, trinkets, and novelty items or activities.
Then, there were the not-so-common places, deeper into the heart of the Citadel or skirting around its darker urban districts. Areas of a different recreational sort. Pubs with cheap booze and cheaper food. Night clubs for the party animals. High-brow casinos where wealth was lost or gained. Fancy restaurants or hole-in-the-wall fast food joints.
The Citadel of Ricks had it all, in varying degrees of affluence or decadence.
One such area had become a focal point for many Ricks looking for a good time, for a place to unwind, to dive head first into debauchery for the sake of it and revel in its sensual pleasures. It was simply called the "Rick Light District", yet the very name was an indication of the types of business and activities that went on there. Neon signs adorned nearly every building on both sides of the street, promoting boldly and without shame what went on inside each establishment. Places that sold or dealt in alcohol and drugs. Run down gambling joints or loan sharks promising fast cash. Hotels promoting rooms by the hour with only single beds. Clubs where shady business deals went down in back rooms while doped up patrons lounged in booths, alcoholics slouched at the bars, and high as a kite dancers wasted hours gyrating to thumping music under flashing lights and tacky disco balls. Even a brothel was very quietly slotted in amongst the other "businesses", its blue neon sign proclaiming the name "Baby Boy".
The Citadel of Ricks definitely had it all...
In the center of the Rick Light District there sat a large building on the right-hand side of the road, sandwiched in with all the other establishments lining the street. A tall, skinny sign with dark fuchsia borders lined with brightly lit pink bulbs protruded from the left edge of the building, boldly proclaiming the name of the place as the "'Cest It Up Cinema". A fancily-styled teal "R" lit up the very top of the sign, and a matching yellow "M" lit up the bottom. Above the entrance to the building was a brightly lit, three-sided marquee, carrying the same style of dark fuchsia borders lined with bright pink bulbs. On top of the front side of the marquee was the name "'Cest It Up", and right above the center of it rested the same fancily-styled "R" and "M" letters, slightly intertwined and glowing their respective colors with a small white "&" symbol between them. Each of the three sides of the marquee digitally listed the showings for morning, afternoon, and evening respectively. Around the entrance to the building were posters for the current films being shown, along with an advertisement for the "Midnight Matinee" that played all three movies together for a slight discount after midnight.
Needless to say, lots of patrons always showed up for the Midnight Matinee.
The unique thing about that theater was the genres of movies it screened for eager viewers that wanted to sit back and indulge. Or, rather, the singular genre of movie that it chose to feature.
There was no sugar-coating it. It was incest porn.
And not just your run-of-the-mill incest porn with step-daughters, step-sisters, or cousins twice removed. Hardly. It was absolutely shameless Rick and Morty incest porn. Grandfathers fucking their grandsons in every position in every type of scenario the screenwriters could conceptualize. Some were inspired by real life events, some were completely made up, but all of them were Ricks and Mortys involved in an incestuous relationship.
What else could be expected from a place like the Citadel of Ricks? Shiny on the outside, dingy on the inside, and utterly filthy down beneath the surface where debauchery ruled amid the cracks of its society like sludge between toes.
Inside the theater, the decor wasn't all that fancy, but the place was kept relatively clean despite the fact that movie-goers often spilled their popcorn and drinks and...other fluids...on the seats and floor quite often. There was a concession stand to the left of the entrance selling popcorn, candy, and fountain drinks; bathrooms on the right; and straight ahead was the door leading into the main auditorium. There were two sections of seating, one on the left and one on the right, separated by a wide aisle, each capable of seating one hundred.
It was there, in the third row from the back on the left-hand side facing the screen, in the seat all the way next to the wall, there sat a Rick. He was alone in the theater, the first to have arrived for the evening showing. He was always the first to arrive for nearly every evening presentation. And at the end of the show, he was always the last to get up and leave. His habitually consistent schedule had earned him the nickname "Regular Rick", though it wasn’t very often that he was addressed.
He sat in silence, casually reclined in his chair and taking an occasional sip from a fountain drink before returning it to the cupholder at the end of the armrest. One of his feet was propped onto his opposite knee, idly rocking it up and down as he waited for the show to begin. Rarely did he miss a show as well. Nearly every evening, he was in there, a dedicated watcher of Rick and Morty incest porn. He loved the scenarios that the writers produced (usually), the dialog and power dynamics between the Rick and Morty actors, reflecting on their real-life counterparts. He loved the physical difference in their sizes and personalities, how Ricks were tall and imposing and Mortys were short and timid. Not to mention how tiny those boys' hands looked, encased in a Rick's long fingers. And, of course, dick size. In being porn, that was always something worthy of note. He loved how Ricks were packing massive rods of flesh and the Mortys, while fairly average for their age, were still small by comparison. Then, whenever those massive cocks stretched open their grandson's tiny holes and pounded them until they were pink and puffy?
Rick shivered in his chair.
Hell yes.
The whole thing was so erotic to him, the incest, the age and size differences, the dynamic of their personalities and the way they played off of each other. And then the way the features were produced, even. How the sets were composed and lit, the angle of the shots, the focus always being clear and sharp at the most opportune times, yet soft and hazy when appropriate. The stories themselves, while generally rather flimsy in plot, were still a lot more believable than traditional Earth porn. There were, of course, a few flops that he'd seen here and there. No production was perfect or got it correct 100% of the time. Yet, overall, the films that the 'Cest It Up Cinema ran were worth the many hours Rick had spent there every week since he'd discovered the place.
By that point, Rick fancied himself quite the connoisseur of Rick and Morty porn.
Slowly, the theater finally began filling up with more patrons—Ricks wandering down the center aisle and finding seats to settle in for the show. Some carried popcorn or candy and a drink, some were empty-handed. It wasn't a huge crowd, probably about twenty-five or thirty old men in an auditorium meant to seat two hundred. It was plenty enough, though, to know that the genre of films that the theater featured were a desired thing among Ricks and worthy of continuing to produce. Besides, morning, afternoon, and evening crowds were always smaller than the Midnight Matinee bunch.
Rick preferred the evening show best, though. He was less likely to run into a rerun since he'd seen nearly every show the theater had run for some time now, and the evening shows were usually the ones where new premiers were shown. He was fine with just one viewing instead of the three that played during the matinee. And besides, he preferred a smaller crowd compared to the rowdy bunch that showed up after midnight.
One time attending the Midnight Matinee was enough for him. The place had been packed to the gills, and he'd never seen so much fluids splattered all over every surface. He'd showered for over an hour when he got home, trying to scrub away the splatter that had landed all over him from his nearby doppelgängers. The fuckers even got it in his hair! Never again.
At last, the lights dimmed, and the big silver screen at the front of the room lit up, showing previews of upcoming productions. A few looked delectable, and Rick couldn't wait for those to come out.
The show began. A Rick and a Morty were in the garage, the Rick inventing something that definitely looked like a bullshit prop and his Morty passing him tools. Their hands brushed, their eyes locked, and the Rick moved in on the boy, wrapping his arms around the teen and drawing him against his lean chest. A very, very thin plot, but Rick was more interested in what was to come anyway.
The on-screen couple began making out, and the Rick slid his hand down the front of the Morty's pants, making the boy moan wantonly and buck his hips.
One of the Ricks shot up out of his seat and ran out, red-faced and obviously hard in his pants, clearly ashamed and unable to handle his own perverted desires.
Rick chuckled softly to himself. There was usually at least one.
The other Ricks in the room were a lot more shameless. As the show played on and clothes came off and mouths and fingers and cocks were employed, many of the Rick movie-goers blatantly played with themselves. A couple had their feet propped onto the seats in front of them, legs spread and hands moving along their erections. Many gravelly voices groaned through the acoustics of the theater, encouraging what was happening on the screen lewdly.
Rick was amused by their non-restraint. He was certainly hard, but he didn't feel the need to jack off, at least not yet. He did, however, stroke along the hardness trapped in his pants a little, just to stave off some of that heated arousal until he got home later. He preferred masturbating at home, where he could take his time and go as crazy or soft on himself as he wanted. He liked to think of himself as a sensual sort of Rick, one that loved to linger at length on pleasure and arousal, to really delve deep into it and draw out as much gratification as possible. He often thought about sex and masturbation and the porn from that theater.
One might say that he was a sex addict. A porn fiend. A degenerate old man that never acted his age and got off to visuals of himself fucking his underaged grandson. Yet Rick was comfortable with that. He knew what he was.
Rick Sanchez was an incest porn junkie. Through and through.
And he fucking loved it.
The show met its climax, many of the Ricks in the theater getting themselves off loudly within seconds of the on-screen Rick pumping his load into his Morty. Rick rolled his eyes and merely squeezed his dick, large and hot and thick as it curved under his brown pants along his hipbone. That showing was pretty erotic, despite the flimsy plot. He was definitely going to go home and play with himself for a few hours after that.
The credits began to roll, and the small crowd got up to shuffle out. Rick was the last to stand up, as usual, and walked to the end of his row of seats, then up the center aisle.
Some movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye at the back of the theater. Someone was hiding among the last row of seats. Suspicious, eyes narrowing, Rick continued along and pretended to walk toward the exit, but slipped in behind the row, by the wall, and shimmied closer. Very unexpectedly, he saw a head of brown hair and a yellow T-shirt, the figure they belonged to crouched on the floor behind the seats. A Morty? In that theater? He figured the "Rickorty" incest porn was a fetish of solely Ricks since they were the only ones that ever showed up to the theater. What was a Morty doing in there?
Rick smirked to himself. He'd just found a little pervert.
Now that (supposedly) all of the Ricks were out of the theater, the Morty finally stood up and turned to leave. His large round eyes quickly darted toward Rick, noticing him standing right behind him, and gasped, freezing.
The old man chuckled at him, leaning against the wall casually with his arms crossed.
"Well, well, well...what do we have here?"
Gulping what looked like a heavy swallow, the Morty pressed himself against the backs of the seats behind him, tensing up like he'd been cornered against a wall. His blue eyes were wide, petrified.
"A Morty at the 'Cest It Up, huh? What brings an underaged kid to an adult theater that only shows incest flicks of a grandfather nailing his grandson, hm?" Rick asked. He grinned and chuckled through his teeth.
"Hoooh geez!" Morty whined, sweating profusely. "P-P-Please don't tell my Rick!" he begged loudly, shaking his head. "He—H-H-He would never understand!"
Rick rumbled out another chuckle, lifting one hand to wave it back and forth casually. "Eh what the fuck would I have to gain from tattling on you, kid? Like I give a shit."
The tension in Morty's body seemed to fade, his shoulders lowering slowly and his breathing evening out.
"So, Mr. Snuck In To Watch Incest Porn...what did you think about that one?"
Blushing profusely, Morty tensed up again, dropping his eyes aside. "Ohh geez...um..."
"Honest review, now," Rick added with a smirk. Oh, he was so going to fuck with that kid. He looked too cute with that blush all over his face, and Rick was going to draw out his embarrassment as much as possible.
Morty blinked up at him for a moment, then dipped his eyes aside, a thoughtful expression drifting over his features. "Um...w-well...the—th-the story was k-kinda lame...like...predictable? B-But it's a p-porn so...c-can't really expect much there..." He swallowed and nibbled his lip, head tilted down but eyes looking up at Rick, like he was afraid to face him straight on.
Rick nodded. "True. Anything else? Thoughts? Opinions?"
Morty chewed nervously on his lip and dropped his eyes to the floor again, shuffling back and forth on his feet.
Adorable.
"Um...th-the-uh...the l-lighting was good...like...there w-weren't any sh-shadows, like, b-between their b-bodies...s-so everything was easy to s-see... Th-The shots were good too, l-like-um...g-good angles. A-And the cl-closeups were-uh...r-really s-s-sexy..."
Morty's little rounded cheeks were flushed so hot, Rick could probably fry bacon and eggs on them.
Then, surprisingly, the kid continued with, "And-um...the—the Rick was super possessive, b-but also gentle with his M-Morty...like, he kept telling him he'd n-never let anyone else touch him and p-pinned him down and stuff, b-but like, he wasn't, like, h-hurting him or anything. And h-he was p-puh..." he swallowed nervously, but pressed on, "p-pleasuring him a lot. I-I-uh...really liked that..." he finished with a blush, unable to look at Rick at all.
Rick hummed softly, unibrow lifted high on his forehead, honestly impressed by Morty's fairly decent review. He had merely asked for one to make the kid squirm for catching him in the adult theater, but the genuine thoughtfulness he'd put into his response took Rick by surprise. Could it be he'd finally found someone (besides himself) who appreciated the art instead of just getting off to it? Well, getting off on it was just a part of the entire experience, but one had to be aware of the complexities and nuance of the craft in order to get to that point. If the show wasn't precisely made to be arousing, no one would get off on it, essentially. Most glossed over the deeper value of the way the visuals and story and dialog were presented and just allowed it to fuel their lust. It took a keen eye to notice the finer details that made the whole production titillating.
Rick watched the teenaged boy idle nervously, probably thinking he was a gross little pervert and ashamed that he got caught—most especially because it was porn of himself and his grandfather that he was sneaking in to see. Intrigued by him, Rick felt the desire to allay the kid's fears and shame. There was nothing wrong with having fetishes and kinks, and even though incest was a fairly taboo subject, it was mostly taboo by human societal standards. Out there in space, in the vast universe, who really gave a shit about something so trivial? It was really only a prohibited thing to keep humans from making flipper babies.
All in all, it probably wasn't the best thing to promote, but there was nothing really wrong with finding it a turn on. Especially when the subjects of the flicks the theater showed were a grandfather and grandson adventuring duo, getting it on in all sorts of scenarios. It was just fucking hot.
Arriving at a determination, Rick reached down and dug through his pants pocket, pulling out a literal golden ticket. It was shiny and made of metal, iridescent flecks embedded into it to make it really sparkle like gold. All four corners had inward-curving bevels, along with one larger inward-curving bevel on the center of each end. The embossed logo of the Citadel of Ricks laid in the center of both sides, along with the letters "VIP" stamped vertically on either end.
Rick held the ticket, half the size of a standard credit card, between two fingers and extended it toward Morty. "Here, kid. Take this."
Morty blinked at it owlishly, but didn't move. "Wh-What is it?"
Rick rolled his eyes. "Duh, it's a literal golden ticket, dumbass. Free access to the theater for any show, any time. No need to sneak in and potentially get into trouble. Just walk in the front fuckin' door and take a seat. Even popcorn, candy, and drinks are included."
Shock spilled all over the boy's face, and he darted his eyes up to Rick, mouth flapping open. "Wha-? H-H-Holy shit... S-Seriously, Rick?"
The old man smirked at him, completely full of himself. "Seriously, Morty."
"Wh-Wh-Where did you get that, Rick? I-I-It looks super expensive. Are you sure? Aw geez!" Morty seemed like he was beside himself, not sure how to process what was happening.
Rick hummed, rolling his eyes to the side and shrugging, still holding the ticket out for Morty to take. "Eh let's just say I've got connections."
"But...th-then isn't that your ticket? I-I-If I take it, you'll have to buy another one right? Oh, geez, it's probably really expensive!" the boy fretted, hugging himself as though to keep his hands away from that fancy golden voucher.
Rolling his eyes again, Rick waggled the ticket between his fingers, starting to get irritated. "Ugh fuck's sake, Morty, I can get another one easy. It won't cost me anything. Now fucking take the damn thing before I shove it down your throat!"
The boy whimpered but moved. His small hand reached out, little fingers extending, and Rick found himself staring at them. Those goddamn little hands... Shit, he'd always had a thing for a Morty's petite, girly hands. He swallowed as those delicate fingers pinched the end of the ticket and withdrew it from his hand, eyes tracking them as Morty brought the metal voucher toward himself and stared at it like the glorious pass to free incest porn that it was.
"Th-Thank you, Rick. Wow..." he mumbled, humble and demure, looking up at him with all the gratitude he could muster. "But...why?"
Rick only shrugged, blowing off the boy's admiration. "I found your thoughtful take on the flick rather interesting, Morty. I think you have a deeper appreciation for the craft than a lotta the Ricks that come here do. And I can respect that, Morty. I'm the same way. So next time you come in, why don't you look me up? I'm here for almost every evening viewing, and I always sit there," he pointed to his usual seat, "third row from the back, all the way by the wall. I'm always the first one in the theater, so it's basically a guarantee that it'll be me there."
Morty nodded, absorbing the information like a cute little yellow sponge, clutching that ticket close to his chest.
Rick smirked at him, taken by his adorable nature. Goddamn, he thought Mortys were darling little things on top of sexy little minxes. Probably why he enjoyed porn of them so much. He had no regrets for giving the boy his ticket. Like he said, he could easily get another one.
"I wouldn't go flashing that around, though," Rick warned, pointing to the ticket. "It should be our little secret, got it?"
Morty nodded vigorously.
"Only people that need to see it are the ticketmaster and the clerk at the concession stand. You dig?"
Morty nodded vigorously again.
Rick had to smirk at him, the expression of amusement stretching his lips into a full smile. No regrets at all.
"Come on, we should get outta here before they start piling in for the Midnight Matinee. It gets super messy for that."
Giggling, Morty followed Rick out of the theater, stuffing his new porn pass into his back pocket for safekeeping. Out on the street, they stood next to each other for a moment, Morty shuffling on his feet nervously like that ticket was burning a hole in his pocket and branding his cute little flat ass.
"I'm this way," Rick told him, thumbing over his shoulder toward the left.
"O-Oh-uh...I-I-I'm that way," Morty replied, pointing toward the right.
Rick hummed, nodding. "Cool, so...see you later?"
Fucking hell, why did it feel like he was asking the kid on a second date? As if they'd even had a first one.
Biting hard into his lip, Morty's face flushed, and he dropped his eyes, gulping a swallow. "U-Um...uh...aw geez... I...I-I'd like that, Rick..."
And for some reason, Rick's heart picked up in pace, and he suddenly couldn't wait for tomorrow night.
"Cool, cool... Well...n-night, Morty."
"Y-Yeah... N-N-Night, Rick."
They waved to one another before each turning and walking away, Rick toward the left, and Morty toward the right.
In light of those new developments, tomorrow night couldn't come fast enough.
——«»——
Unfortunately, the next night, Morty did not return. Rick was disappointed, of course. He gave the kid that ticket in order for him to use the damn thing to come back, after all. Getting a new one for himself hadn't been difficult, like he'd mentioned, but it was the principal of the thing.
Whatever. Kid was probably scared or something stupid like that. Probably didn't want to get into trouble somehow. He did mention that his Rick wouldn't understand his incestuous proclivities. Maybe he just couldn't sneak away or something.
No matter. The lights were dimming and the show was starting, and Rick settled in his usual seat to watch, sipping on a fountain drink.
——«»——
In the end, Morty never came back to the theater. A week had passed, and Rick once again sat alone, the first patron there, as usual. He was still thinking about that Morty, though, still disappointed that he never showed up again. What a waste of a golden ticket. There was still no regret for giving it to him, but it was so utterly disappointing that the kid never used it.
Then again, maybe Morty had been coming to different viewings? The theater did have multiple show times per day. Maybe the kid was going to the morning or afternoon show. Rick, himself, only ever came to the evening shows. Perhaps that was why he never saw the boy?
Sighing, Rick slouched in his seat by the wall. A few other Ricks were beginning to enter the theater and finding places to sit for a good view. The show would start soon, and he was eager to see what was up for tonight. The summary was a thinly-veiled plot of a Rick teaching his Morty how to drive his ship, but then they end up using autopilot and fucking in every seat. Many a Ricks' wet dream. His too, if he was honest. Oh, man, he would so fuck his Morty if he had one. Those little shits were so sexy.
A foreign color passed into his peripheral, one not ever seen in that place but once, and Rick turned his head to see what the hell he'd just caught sight of. A bright yellow shirt. His eyes widened, seeing a Morty standing there in the center aisle, at the end of the row of seats. He looked apprehensive and fidgety as he stood there, staring at Rick.
Holy shit. So he actually came back.
Smirking at him, feeling irrationally happy to see the kid once again, Rick waved him to come over. He saw the boy gulping, but he did move, approaching hesitantly. Stiffly, Morty pushed down the folding seat of the chair next to Rick's and sat beside him.
Morty was obviously nervous, but Rick didn't care. He didn't address why the boy waited an entire week to come back. He didn't bother asking if he was okay or anything. He simply elbowed Morty in the shoulder and leaned a little closer in order to say, "Hey kid, why don't you go get us a big popcorn with that ticket, hm?"
Morty nibbled on his lip for a moment, looking at him anxiously, but then he nodded and got up. A few minutes later, he returned with a big tub of popcorn and two large drinks in his arms. He still appeared skittish, but the best thing Rick could do was ignore it and be his casual self.
Besides, the old man was simply happy that the kid had come back. It was shameful how interested he was in having a viewing partner for once. Yet the fact that he was a Morty made it all the more appealing.
"Nice," he remarked, not expecting to get a drink too. He loved the fountain drinks at the theater even more than alcohol, shockingly enough for a Rick. His addiction to sodas went hand-in-hand with his addiction to coming to the theater to watch incest porn. Both were vices he could never deny himself.
He took one of the drinks, the cup already adorned with a straw poking through the center of a lid, and held the popcorn until Morty sat down again.
They sat side by side and quietly shared the snack between them, sipping their sodas while the lights dimmed and the show began.
Halfway though the flick, the popcorn was gone and the empty tub was on the floor.
Morty sat beside Rick, scrunched up, his feet on his seat and legs bent, arms wrapped around them and peeking over his knees as the Rick and Morty on screen fucked and moaned in the driver's seat of their ship. The sight was amusing, but the kid looked way too uptight to really be enjoying himself.
Rick swatted his arm to get his attention. "Chill out, Morty. Look around you." He indicated the other patrons in the theater, all of them Ricks, but all of them staring up at the screen, the thing holding their attention like an irresistible siren's song. All of them sat causally, lounged in their seats, some with their arms propped onto the chairs to ether side of themselves, some with their feet propped up onto the chairs in front of them, either crossed or apart. And some of them were outright masturbating in plain view.
Morty's face flushed hard, his cheeks burning bright red.
"We're all here for the same reason, kid. We all get off to this shit. No need to be so tense in this kinda atmosphere. This is the only place you'll be wholly accepted for being a Rickorty porn junkie. You can relax, buddy. Sit casually for fuck's sake, like me."
The boy looked over at Rick, seeing the old man sitting very casually, one arm slung over the back of his seat and legs spread wide with...Morty gulped and blatantly stared...with a massive hard-on bulging down the leg of his pants.
Rick chuckled, noting that reaction and finding it simultaneously adorable and amusing. "You like that, Morty?"
Morty's blue eyes darted up quickly, face red. He probably didn't even realize his mouth was hanging open like a yawning fish.
Rick chuckled again, the sound grumbly and deep. "I'm teasing, dumbass. Just relax, all right? Just enjoy the show." Waving toward the screen, he turned back to watch it himself.
Morty turned back too. Sighing, he slowly lowered his legs down to sit naturally on the chair. It looked like it did feel better for him. His dick probably wasn't pinched in his pants now.
Rick stopped observing from the corner of his eye and focused entirely on the show.
The duo watched until the porn reached its climax, the on-screen Rick and Morty bucking wildly into each other and shouting in bliss, streams of white semen spurting from the Morty's cock and globs of it leaking out around the huge dick embedded in his small ass.
Rick licked his lips, stroking his erection through his pants, just lightly, nothing that would actually get him off, and biting his lip as he stared at the Rick plowing the Morty through his orgasm and screaming that he was coming for a second time. He noticed Morty barely turn his head toward him, peeking over from the corner of his eye, and felt a pulse of arousal, knowing he'd been seen touching himself.
Beside him, Morty was caught between watching that old man stroke along the huge bulge in his pants and the Rick on screen, shouting in pleasure as he emptied his balls inside his grandson. His thin thighs squirmed together. He couldn't tell if the hardcore on the screen was better than the subtle tease in real life right next to him. It very nearly felt like he could come just from watching both.
The show was over and everyone began filing back out again.
Rick smirked at Morty, they the only two still sitting, waiting until everyone else shuffled past before attempting to leave themselves.
Several of the Ricks noticed them, flashing them a thumbs-up and a wink. A couple even whooped at them.
Morty hung his head, scrunching in on himself, face beaming, ashamed.
Beside him, Rick just chuckled and patted him on the back. "See Morty? They're all cool with you being here."
"It's so...e-embarrassing, though..." the boy mumbled, a mist forming in his eyes.
"Eh, just get over it. Especially if you like coming here," Rick told him with a shrug.
Morty lifted his eyes to him, the mist dissipating slowly, being replaced with a tentative sort of hope. "So...it really is okay? I-I-If I come here?"
"I never saw any 'No Mortys Allowed' signs out front. Come whenever you want, kid. Like I said before, you can always sit here by me during evening shows. I don't mind sharing popcorn with you." He chuckled and flashed the kid a winning grin and a wink.
Morty blushed again, but he smiled and faced his lap shyly, small hands fisted into the jeans on his thighs. "Th-Thanks, Rick."
Snickering, Rick reached over, ruffling the boy's hair playfully.