By: FireBloodandTruth
The room felt unbearably cold despite the warmth of Rick's skin beneath Morty's, and every nerve in his body screamed for him to pull away. But he couldn't. The priest's unblinking gaze weighed heavily on him, and the faint pulsing light from the runes beneath the stone slabs seemed to echo his own heartbeat, quickening with each second. His hands trembled as they hovered above Rick's chest, unsure of what to do, where to go. His hips were at an angle, ensuring their private bits were as far away as possible.
"C'mon, Morty," Rick grumbled, his voice low and thick with impatience. "Stop being a little bitch and just lay down already."
Morty's face burned with embarrassment, and his breath came in short, uneven gasps. "R-Rick, I don't know if I can… I don't… this is really weird, man."
Rick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no shit, Morty. It's an alien ritual. Did you expect it to be a day at the spa? Just hurry up and do it so we can get the hell out of here."
Morty swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he finally lowered his chest onto Rick's body, keeping his hips to the side as his stomach twisted into knots. The sensation of Rick's chest rising and falling beneath him was strange, foreign, and it made him feel like he was doing something wrong—something he shouldn't be doing. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming awkwardness of the moment.
The priest's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "The bond must be complete. Only through the full physical connection will the path be opened."
Rick groaned beneath him. "You hear that, Morty? The priest says you're not doing it right. Get comfortable, kid. We don't have all day."
Morty's heart pounded so loudly in his chest that he could barely hear anything else. His hands twitched as he rested them on Rick's shoulders, trying his best not to focus on the way their bodies were pressed together, the strange intimacy of it all. His mind raced, filled with thoughts of how utterly bizarre the entire situation was. He had been through some weird stuff with Rick before, but this?
He had been through numerous space creatures naked. He had shown his penis to the school more than once across multiple realities. He had danced the naked tango with Durangi Forest plants and snorted alien cocaine.
This was weirder and he knew it was going to end. "He wants fully body, doesn't it?"
Rick's sigh was sharp, his frustration barely contained. "Yeah, Morty, full body. That's what the creepy space priest is saying. You want the vault to open, right? Then get your ass down and stop overthinking it."
Morty's stomach churned at the thought. His hips were still angled awkwardly, trying to keep as much distance as possible between their lower bodies. The idea of closing that gap, of pressing his entire body against Rick's, sent a wave of nausea rolling over him. But Rick's impatient glare and the priest's unwavering gaze made it clear—there was no other option.
He swallowed hard, his throat tight, and shifted his hips. Slowly, painfully, Morty adjusted himself, his body trembling with anxiety. Every inch of contact felt like a violation of some unspoken rule, a line he shouldn't be crossing. But as his body came to rest fully against Rick's, and his stomach twisted in horror.
His smaller cock twitched, the warmth of their bodies pressed together made it an involuntary reaction. He looked anywhere but as his grandfather, instead focusing on the walls.
"There you go," Rick muttered, his voice dripping with annoyance and obvious sarcasm. "Was that so hard, Morty?"
Morty didn't answer. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming awkwardness, the discomfort that seeped into his very bones.
The priest's voice echoed through the chamber, his tone flat and emotionless. "The bond is forming. But it is still incomplete. You must surrender fully to one another, without hesitation, without fear."
Morty's eyes snapped open. "S-surrender? What does that even mean? I'm already… I'm doing what you said!"
The priest stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light. "Your bodies are connected, but your spirits are not. You are holding back. There is still fear. Still doubt."
Morty's breath hitched in his throat. He wasn't sure what the priest meant, but he could feel it too—something wasn't right. There was a tension between them, a wall that hadn't been broken. He was still holding himself back, still afraid to let go completely.
Rick's hands tightened on his back, and his voice softened, just a fraction. "Morty, just stop thinking for once in your life. Let it happen. It's not that complicated."
Morty blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in Rick's tone. It wasn't often that Rick spoke to him like that, with something almost resembling… patience. Maybe even understanding. He swallowed hard and nodded, trying to steady his breathing, trying to relax.
"Okay," Morty whispered, his voice shaky. "I'll try."
He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, letting himself sink fully into the moment. He let go of the tension in his muscles, the fear that had been clawing at his chest. Slowly, he allowed himself to relax against Rick, feeling the warmth of his grandfather's body, the steady rhythm of his breathing. He felt Rick's stiffness nudging against his own.
The moan that escaped his lips was involuntary now.
"There," the priest said, his voice softer now, almost reverent. "The bond is complete. The path is open."
The ground beneath them trembled slightly, and the wall at the far end of the chamber began to shift, sliding open to reveal a dark, narrow passageway that led deeper into the temple. A low hum filled the air, vibrating through the stone and into Morty's very bones.
"Oh fuck," he moaned like the little pervert he like. The vibrations and warmth - and maybe a little bit of the taboo - was too much. He was going to need some serious sessions with Dr. Wong after this.
—--
The passage closed behind them with a dull thud, sealing away the strange ritual as they stepped into the vault's chamber. But the air between them remained thick, heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. Morty's skin still tingled, his stomach churning with a mixture of confusion, guilt, and something else he couldn't quite place. He avoided Rick's gaze as they collected the alien tech—items Morty didn't even care about at this point—and made their way back to the ship.
Hours passed in silence as they traveled home, but the weirdness of the whole ordeal clung to Morty like a second skin. His mind raced with questions, emotions, and memories he desperately wanted to suppress. But Rick, as always, acted like nothing had happened.
Back on Earth, the quiet hum of the dinner table felt strangely loud as Morty poked at his food, barely lifting his eyes. His parents, Beth and Jerry, sat across from him, making small talk about something he couldn't focus on. Rick, on the other hand, sat to his right, wolfing down his meal like they hadn't just participated in an intergalactic bonding ritual that crossed every imaginable line of personal space.
"So, uh, Morty," Jerry started, his voice dripping with awkward dad energy, "how was your day? You and your grandpa get up to anything… interesting?"
Morty's fork paused mid-air, his hand trembling slightly. His mind flashed back to the warmth, the pressure, the vibration, and the look on the priest's face when the bond had finally "completed." A shiver ran down his spine.
"N-no, Dad," Morty stammered, his voice higher-pitched than usual. "Just, y'know, normal stuff. Space stuff. Nothing, uh, weird."
Beth raised an eyebrow, her attention finally shifting from her dinner to her son. "You look pale, Morty. Are you feeling okay?"
Morty froze, his fork hovering awkwardly between his plate and his mouth. His thoughts spiraled, but he forced himself to shake his head. "I-I'm fine, Mom! Totally fine. Just… tired. I think. Yeah, tired."
Rick snorted beside him, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. "Relax, Beth. The kid's fine. It's just a little interdimensional bonding ritual. Totally natural, nothing to worry about."
Beth and Jerry both blinked at Rick, confusion and mild concern evident on their faces.
"A what?" Jerry asked, his brow furrowing. "Bonding ritual? What kind of—"
Rick waved his hand dismissively, cutting him off. "Nothing that your puny Earth brains need to worry about, alright? Just some cosmic stuff. It's all good, Jerry."
Jerry's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unsure whether to pursue the conversation or let it die. Beth, however, kept her eyes on Morty, clearly sensing something was off.
Morty shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his skin crawling under his mom's gaze. He forced a laugh, but it came out strained. "Y-yeah, Mom, don't worry about it. It's fine! Grandpa Rick's right. Just… regular space stuff. Nothing weird at all."
Beth didn't look convinced, but before she could say anything, Rick clapped Morty on the shoulder, causing him to flinch slightly. "See? Kid's tougher than you think. We had a real bonding experience today, right, Morty?"
Morty's face burned with embarrassment, and he felt like he might spontaneously combust right there at the dinner table. "Uh-huh," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "R-right."
The table fell into an awkward silence, the clinking of forks and knives against plates the only sound. Morty kept his eyes firmly on his food, pushing it around aimlessly. Every now and then, his mind would flash back to that moment in the temple—the priest's words, the way Rick's body had felt pressed against his, the strange warmth that had filled the air—and his stomach would twist painfully.
Beth finally broke the silence, her voice tinged with concern. "Morty, if something's wrong, you can tell us. You know that, right?"
Morty's heart pounded in his chest, his throat tightening. He forced himself to nod, but he couldn't bring himself to look up. "Yeah, Mom. I know."
But the truth was, he couldn't tell her. He couldn't tell anyone. Not his mom, not his dad, not Summer—not even Dr. Wong. Because how could he explain what had happened? How could he put into words the strange, uncomfortable mix of emotions he felt? The shame, the confusion, the weird sense of… connection?
"Good talk, Beth. Very nurturing," Rick commented dryly, rolling his eyes before shoving another forkful of food into his mouth. "See? The kid's fine."
Jerry cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly wanting to move the conversation away from whatever was making the air so thick with tension. "So, uh, Morty, any fun space adventures planned for tomorrow? Finding cool aliens or—?"
"NO!" Morty blurted, his voice cracking as he stood up abruptly, nearly knocking his chair over. "No, Dad. No aliens. No adventures. I-I'm just really tired, okay? I think I'm gonna go to bed."
Before anyone could respond, Morty bolted from the table, his heart pounding in his chest. He rushed upstairs, his hands trembling as he slammed the door to his room shut. He leaned against it, trying to catch his breath, his mind racing.
Rick's voice echoed in his head: "Totally natural, Morty."
But nothing about this felt natural. Not even close.