TW // knife play and blood

“Are you scared?”

The skin on Morty’s hands arched by the straining rope that held them together, tight and secure, to the bedpost.

He breathed in hard.

“N-no.”

Rick looked down at him with a faint smile.

“Good.”

“C-can I ask you to-to stop if I...”

Morty swallowed and looked away.

“If I... don’t want to continue?”

Rick reached behind him on the bed and picked out a small black knife. The room was dim but Morty could clearly spot the sharp shining edge of the blade.

This was real.

“Yeah. Just tell me Morty. And I-I will stop.”

Morty wriggled a little in the sheets. He was laying in an unfamiliar bed, somewhere far away from home. Far away from security, and someone who could hear him.

But he trusted Rick, or, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice really

“Okay...”

Even though Rick was sitting across his legs, weighing him down, he could feel his calves starting to tremble. And it wasn’t because of the cool temperature in the room.

And he wasn’t scared.

No.

He was terrified.

He was terrified of what was going to happen to him; of the pain that was yet to come.

“Sh sh sh...”, hushed Rick and soothed his naked leg calmly with his hand.

“You have t-to calm down.”

Morty’s breath hitched in his throat.

“I-I know but ... it’s- it’s so hard.”

His eyes burned and he almost felt like crying. Just as usual, he felt outright pathetic.

“I know. But I’m gonna take good care of you Morty.”

Rick held the knife in the air in front of him; studying it in the reddish shine provided by a luminous sign right outside the window.

It was quiet for some time; the only audible sound being the vague sounds of traffic outside the building and Rick’s calm breathing.

“Just - just do it already.”

Morty closed his eyes and clenched his fists as hard as he could muster.

“Aw but baby. I want y-you to see what I do to you.”, said Rick disappointingly and bought his hand up to soothe Morty’s cheek.

Morty opened his eyes again and was met by an expression that usually didn’t belong on Rick’s face.

It was ... kind. Forgiving. Inviting.

Morty couldn’t stop his uncontrollably shaking when Rick lowered the knife, so it was hovering right above where his sternum dipped in a little.

“I-I promise I’m gonna be gentle Morty.”

Morty was starting to sweat; the sheets underneath him felt hot and damp against his back.

He tried, oh god he tried so hard, to calm down his body. To collect himself and to stop shaking like a scared little kitten.

It was first, when the edge of the knife scraped against his skin just beneath his rib cage, that he felt a wave of relaxation flood his whole body.

“Hhhhg.”

Morty looked up at Rick with glossy eyes, a shocked expression on his little face. It almost looked like he couldn’t understand that the sound had came from himself.

“You like that - huh? I-I knew you would.”

“I-I don’t know.”, said Morty meekly, and turned his chin towards his chest so that he could see the knife in action.

And to Rick, it actually sounded like he didn’t know. Because, it was only rational that he didn’t. They had never played with knives in this way before.

”It’s alright M-morty. Just stay calm for me, ... okay?”

Morty responded by nodding his head up and down. It was really the only body part that he was able to move properly. His hands and arms were tied neatly above him, while his legs were held down by Rick’s weight.

He felt almost like a deer that had accidentally got caught in a bear trap; watching the hunter come closer and closer with its knife, just waiting for the agonizingly slow and painfully last moments of its life to finally come to an end.

He felt like prey.

Rick continued to hover the tip of the knife just above his rib cage, slowly dragging it up across his chest towards his throat.

Morty curled his toes and clenched his fist again.

He was terrified.

The only thought on his mind revolved around that one time when Rick had wandered into his room in the middle of the night; drunk out of his mind, with a large kitchen knife in his hand.

He had threatened him with it; against his throat, and accused him of being a simulation.

Morty was lucky he didn’t appear to be as drunk right now.

Rick’s hand holding the knife was steady, his movements smooth and lingering; his gaze was sharp,

intense,

burning.

If you didn’t knew him well, you could’ve almost believed that he was sober.

The knife was slowly approaching his throat until Rick let the tip rest on top of his adam’s apple.

Morty dry swallowed nervously, causing the pressure of the pointy tip to become even more prominent against his thin skin.

Another strained whine forced its way through his mouth

“You don’t have to h-hold back for me Morty. L-let it all out.”

Rick pushed the tip some more against his throat.

“Wanna hear you.”

Morty licked his dry lips, and proceeded to close his eyes again. He really didn’t want to see the display in front of him.

The edge of the knife cutting into his skin provided him, oddly enough, with a strange sort of calmness and warmth that swirled out through his body.

Maybe it was the adrenaline and fear of possibly being cut in the throat by a sharp knife.

Maybe it was something else.

“Please... Rick. I-I want - give me more.”

The statement came out sounding tense. Probably because Morty was trying to move his neck with as small movements as possible.

Rick tilted his body forward, putting more of his weight up against Mory’s thighs.

“Good Morty. Give in. Let me... let me take care of y-you.”, he cooed softly and withdrew the cold steel from his neck.

As soon as the knife left his skin, the uneasy feeling in Morty’s body returned and triggered him into feeling anxious all over again.

His body bucked up in a helpless motion, desperately trying to follow the edge of the knife; like he yearned for the touch of the sharp object.

Just like a body usually craved the soft touch of a lover; his craved punishment and suffering from someone he thought he could trust.

“Ohhh I love when y-you are n-needy like that. Goddamn.”, said Rick and let the edge come to a rest between two of Morty’s prominent ribs.

Morty took a deep breath, trying to still his head from spinning out of control.

“I-I want you to... I-“

Rick scraped at his skin teasingly, similar to the way you scrape at bark on a tree with a pocketknife; not enough for it to puncture, but enough for it to scratch.

“Yeah... baby?”, whispered Rick silently.

“I-I want you to cut me.”

“Oh Morty. You don’t even have to ask.”, said Rick and pushed the knife against his pale smooth skin, just underneath his rib cage, until it managed to penetrate.

Morty shivered, a warm fluttery feeling filled up his chest; making it hard to breath.

“If I slip, or cut t-too deep, I can always fix you up again.”

Morty whined and bucked his back again; trying to make the knife go in deeper into his chest.

“You are practically immortal by my side M-morty. You know that? I-I can do whatever I want with you.”

Rick laid his big palm on top of Morty’s flat stomach, just above his bellybutton, and pressed him down into the mattress.

It turned out to be a very effective way to both calm him down, and to keep him in check at the same time.

“R-riick?”, squeaked Morty worriedly.

“I’m the one who decides when you get t-the knife, Mooorty. Stop moving.”, he said and teased the tip around the now reddening cut wound.

“I can’t... I want it. Please... I will let you do anything.”

Rick’s upper lip tugged upwards, creating a timid smile.

“Anything huh...”

The next cut that sliced through Morty’s skin caught him by surprise.

But even though it stung and burned a little when the shiny metal tore through him, he could feel that his body relaxed into the sensation.

Relief and satisfaction pooled in his stomach; making him shiver.

Rick continued to give Morty small, sharp cuts, just beneath his lower rib. He painted him in red lines, whilst he showered the boy with sweet words and praise.

He enjoyed seeing him like this. Getting hurt. Only to get repaired again.

Everything thanks to his own two hands.

Rick ignored Morty’s erection deliberately, this wasn’t just another act he’d planned out to get the poor boy off.

He was looking for a chance to portray himself differently. He wanted to show Morty, that there was more things that mattered to him, than just callous fucking.

He could be intimate and sweet too, at least in his own fucked up ways.

Morty moaned shamelessly when Rick accidentally let the knife slip into his flesh a bit too deep; too lost in his own train of thought.

“Oh god Rick, I’ve- I’ve never felt like this in my w-w-whole life.”

Stripes of red blood streamed down his chest; making a mess on the bed sheets.

The sight was as equally arousing as it was freighting, and Rick let out a small shaky exhale before he praised the boy some more.

“Mmm so sweet for me M-morty. You are doing such a great job.”

Rick topped everything off with a final slice to his pale, shaking canvas, before put away the knife on the bedside table.

The image in front of him was so beautiful; Morty was beautiful.

Rick traced one of his fingers over the cuts; smearing out the blood across his skin.

Morty was shaking, whining, sweating; so desperate for more of Rick’s affection.

The skin on his wrists had long since started to peel off, as a result from the ropes cutting into him from all the squirming and wriggling.

Rick swallowed and pulled a shaky hand trough his hair.

He tilted his head back. Enjoying how his body felt all warm and tingly, how the dopamine was flooding, how the blood pulsed it’s way to his cock.

He knew that Morty was watching him, while he savored in the feeling of being in control.

This was one hell of a power trip.

“Why-why did you stop?”, breathed Morty out, and looked around the room with a bewildered expression.

Rick broke free from his trance and caught a glimpse of the mess he had created on Morty’s chest.

A vague feeling of guilt started to creep up on him. He felt nauseous.

He had cut too deep; destroyed him too much. Taken and craved more from him than what he had right to do.

Just as usual.

“I ca- It’s enough for tonight baby.”, he murmured and stroked away a sweaty lock from Morty’s forehead.

Rick was scared that if he didn’t stop now, he wouldn’t be able to stop at all. Most likely he would’ve continued until there wasn’t a single clean spot left on the boy.

He let out a deep sigh.

Morty gave him a finger and he always ended up taking the whole goddamn arm.

He didn’t know if Morty had even liked this whole thing to start with. The boy had been really worried after all.

Rick grunted as he climbed off Morty’s legs.

Was he turned on by the pain?

Or was he turned on by the small hints of affection that Rick allowed himself to show?

Silently he stepped up from the bed. His knees felt stiff as he walked over to the bedside table.

When he picked up the knife again, with the intention to cut off the ropes, he could clearly perceive the sound of Morty flinching on the bed.

“I’m not gonna cut you again Morty.”

“I want you to.”, whined Morty.

Rick bit his lips as he looked down on the destroyed boy in front of him. He would be lying if he tried to convince himself that the image in front of him wasn’t an extremely arousing one.

But he was lucky, because lying was his second language

With a steady hand he proceeded to cut off the ropes that held Morty’s hands together and the boy immediately fell flat on the bed.

His breathing had started to slow down, and Rick suspected that the pain would start to kick in at any minute now.

“I’ve had enough.”, he lied.

“C-could you, I mean, could y-you at least...”, whimpered Morty and nodded his head in the direction of his still standing erection.

Rick sat down next to Morty’s legs on top of the bed. The red light that shone trough the room made the blood on his body seem less off putting.

“Of course, good boys are - are always treated with a reward,you know that.”

Rick watched as Morty’s body visibly relaxed itself into the bed at the promise. He nodded and gave the man a weak smile in exchange.

“Just close your eyes Morty, and I will make you feel r-real good.”

The reality was that Rick felt too ill to look him in the eyes.

He just couldn’t do it.

With smooth delicate motions he started to jerk his grandson off. He brought him closer and closer to his climax until he eventually spilled into Rick’s hand with a soft moan.

“Thank y-you ... Rick.”, he whispered through some heavy breaths.

And his voice sounded so earnest and full-hearted that Rick could feel his own intestines swirl in discomfort.

His own erection had long since died down.

—

Morty woke up the next morning to a car that honked right outside the hotel window. He yawned and stretched his arms up against the ceiling.

A burning, stinging sensation on his chest caused him to cringe, and suddenly the memory of the night before came back to him.

Confused he turned around, just to discover that the bed was empty beside him. Dried up blood splatter covered the sheets and a pungent smell of iron lingered in the air.

Morty wrinkled his nose in disgust.