Work Text:
This is a fic trade for my baby timetosin. Sorry, I wish it were better, frand.
“Vows meant to be kept
Yet so easily broken
Fragile
Like a child’s heart on display
Its form shrouded in porcelain
Webs forming
On the pure white.
The upturned aperture deceives,
Lies spewing forth,
Its beguiling presence
Welcomed by the unsuspecting
Butterfly, fangs injecting its venom,
Sinking in
Till the creature can
No longer take it.
It flutters than dies, its body consumed
Till there is nothing left.
The pottery tumbles and shatters, its
Jagged pieces
Piercing the heart, Blood marring
The once pure casing.”
“Happy Holidays!”
Summer let’s a small smile curve over her mouth as she takes in the people before her. Her family is standing on her front porch, faces radiating joy as snow blankets the earth and immerses the neighborhood in powdery white behind them. Her mom and dad are wearing matching, garish holiday sweaters that immediately catch her attention.
“I like the reindeers,” She comments as they each pull her into a hug. Beth rolls her eyes but her father positively beams under her compliment.
“I made them myself,” He tells her proudly when he hugs her and Summer laughs at her father’s simple joy. She kisses him on the cheek.
“They’re awesome, dad.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Her mother mutters when she passes to get into the warmth of the house. Morty pulls in from behind their dad and he tugs on the hand of a red head at his side.
“Hey, Morty, Emma,” She greets her brother and his long time girlfriend. They each give her a hug before moving into the house.
That left just one person on her front porch and her smile becomes a little muted when she takes him in.
“Hey, Summer,” Rick greets her; he has his flask in his hand and she watches him take a long pull.
It was like looking at the past. Rick hadn’t seemed to age at all in the time that had passed. He still had the same apathetic stare, the same downward tilt of his lips and crease between his brow—he looked exactly the same, down to the familiar lab coat and blue sweater.
Summer shuffles in the doorway, painfully aware of how much she’d aged since the last time she’d seen him. She tugs on her shirt and hopes he won’t comment on the holiday weight gain she’s attained.
“Hey, grandpa,” She responds and notices how strange the title feels upon her lips. It’s been a long time since she’d had to use it.
She leans forward to hug him and in the brief millisecond before she does she watches his eyes widen with what appeared to be panic. Too late to halt her actions, she wraps herself awkwardly around his thin frame.
His body is stiff beneath her arms and he doesn’t return her embrace. Dejected, she pulls back.
“Come on in,” She says somberly and moves to the side to let him pass through. Rick grunts and brushes past her and Summer thinks on how that is probably the closest she will get to her grandfather of his own volition.
“Happy holidays to me,” She murmurs miserably before moving into the house and shutting the door.
.
.
.
“How was the drive?”
They’ve settled around the dining table and Summer has served a simple meal of grilled chicken and mash potatoes. Her parents are quick to launch into their own tale of how the road trip really went down and where exactly the fault lay as to why it took longer than necessary.
“Well, Beth, I thought it would’ve been quicker if we’d taken the shortcut through that trail I saw—“
“Jerry, it was a dead end. I told you it was a dead end, the GPS told you it was a dead end—“
Summer nods her head politely and watches as Morty and Emma whisper to one another across the table. A blush rises along her brother’s face and he looks absolutely besotted with his girlfriend.
Summer feels something like envy crawl over her and she looked to her husband, Ethan, and watches as he types away at his cellphone.
He casually hid it under the table when he noticed her gaze upon it.
“Work,” He said shortly and Rick gave a loud snort from where he sat. Summer’s attention drifts to him.
“You okay, grandpa?” She asks—a bit sharply if she were honest with herself— and was rewarded with an unintelligible grumble before he took a long sip of his beer. He didn’t even look in her general direction and Summer fiddles with her fork to hide her frustration.
It only gets worse when Ethan stands up abruptly and announces that he’d been called in to cover a night shift.
“I—but you just did a shift this morning.” Summer fumbles out but Ethan is already saying his good byes and striding towards the front door.
She quickly rises to follow after him and as she does she catches a glimpse of Rick’s annoyed expression as she passes him.
His beer can rises to cover it and her eyes resettle on her husbands departing figure.
“I’ll be back late, so don’t wait up for me,” He tells her once they are at the front door and he is tugging on his shoes. She wrings her hands and thinks about arguing with him because he’d just gotten back from work and now he’s leaving again and it seems fishy and—
“Okay,” She says instead and quietly sweeps away any lingering doubt in her mind.
Ethan wouldn’t—he wouldn’t.
“I love you,” She tells him when he pulls open the door.
“Mmhmm, me too, honey,” He says distractedly and completely misses when she tries to lean up and kiss him. “Hey, take it easy on the dessert tonight—you’re on a diet, remember?”
He closes the door in her face and Summer is left leaning forward on the balls of her feet like an idiot. She lowers herself slowly and walks back to the dining room.
“Wow, Ethan seems like he works hard,” Her dad remarks when she reenters. Summer’s lips tremble as she tries to smile. It falls when her grandfather comments snidely:
“Yeah—I-I bet he’s really breaking a sweat tonight.”
He looks away before she can meet his eyes.
.
.
.
Her mother and father took one of the two guestrooms and Emma and Morty the other. Rick chose to sleep on the sofa as he claimed, “I’m used to sleeping on couches.”
Summer, despite her husband’s insistence, stayed up that night.
It is already nearing three in the morning and Ethan has still not returned home. Her mind is racing through possible scenarios, each one leading to the same ending:
Ethan is cheating on her.
The thought has been niggling in the back of her head for close to four months now.
The late nights, the hidden phone messages, the strange withdrawals from their bank account—it all points to an affair. Summer would like to believe her husband would never do such a thing—no one would want to think such a thing. But her grandfather’s words strike hard at her denial.
“Yeah—I-I bet he’s really breaking a sweat tonight.”
It must’ve been painfully obvious if Rick could spot it in the five hours he’d been in the house.
She’s such a fucking fool.
Summer sighs into the darkness of her room before slowly getting up. Sleep is about the farthest thing from her mind at this point. The only thing she really wanted was a few shots of whatever alcohol they’d stored away for parties.
She left her room and descended the stairs and was only a little surprised to find her grandfather awake and watching television.
For a moment she was reminded of her youth and how the two of them used to stay up late watching mindless programs during bouts of insomnia. The memory is comforting and nostalgia has her feet moving until she is sitting on the other side of him on the couch.
Rick grunts when he notices her and she thinks he is going to ask why she is awake but he only grips the neck of a bottle of vodka. He takes a long sip, Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Can I have some?” She asks impulsively when he pulls it back.
“It’s strong,” He cautions but hands it over. She puts it to her lips and tips back until liquid fire descends down her throat and smoothes over her chest. She keeps drinking and drinks for a long while until the bottle is pulled away from her and she is left blinking stupidly at her grandfather.
“Jesus,” He remarks and looks her up and down. He takes another pull on his drink.
“W-what—y-you a fuUUUcking alcoholic now, too?” He asked and Summer feels her eyes sting at the vitriol in his voice. She wants to yell that he’s one to talk but she fears that if she speaks she will simply descend into tears.
A lengthy silence settles over them and Summer wonders why she thought it would be a good idea to be in her grandfather’s company. He’d made it perfectly clear he wanted nothing to do with her after he told her how stupid she was to get married to Ethan.
“Don’t marry that stupid fuck—y-you’ll regret it, Summer.”
They’d had a spectacular fight that ended with five long years of not speaking to one another. She can’t help but think bitterly on how right he was.
“What’s wrong, Summer?” He asks, breaking her reverie. She’s startled to feel his arm fall over her shoulders. “M-marriage not, ah—n-not working out for you?”
Fingers ghost over the nape of her neck and he plays with a lock of her hair. She blinks at his mercurial attitude before grasping his question.
“Not really,” She admits and her voice cracks.
For a moment she wonders if he’s going to say I told you so—she wouldn’t put it past him.
But he only tightens his arm around her shoulders and drags her towards him until she is leaning against his chest.
She sees him settle his liquor on the coffee table and then realizes he must’ve been drinking the whole night as she counts out at least five different bottle of hard liquor interspersed with a twelve pack of empty beer cans.
“What? The sex isn’t good?” He prods derisively, drawing her attention back to him. “Ethan too vanilla for you?”
She huffs out a surprised laugh at his words and shakes her head.
“There isn’t any sex grandpa—at this point I’m thinking of investing in a dildo.”
Rick makes a choked noise behind her. She tries to turn in his grip but his other arm comes up to wrap around her and she finds herself trapped in his embrace. His chin settles over the crown of her head.
“Is that so?” He murmurs and Summer finds heat rising to her face.
Stupid, stupid—why the fuck had she said that him?
Rick interrupts her internal berating’s.
“Fuck, Summer—y-you mind telling me why your husband isn’t home fucking you right now?” He asks and the irritation lacing his words has her brows furrowing. “Jesus—if you were mine, well, you wouldn’t even think about a, a fucking dildo, Summer.”
He dips his head, whispers in her ear:
“The only thing you’d ever want is my fingers, my mouth, my cock—I-I-I’d make you cum every time, baby.”
Something flutters low in her core at his words and she’s ashamed to feel herself become wet.
God, has she really been in a dry spell so long that one crude remark has her hot and aching? From her grandfather no less?
Her hands come up to fist against the sleeve of his lab coat and she gives a ragged breath when his free arm trails down to finger the elastic band of her night shorts.
“How ‘bout it, baby?” He breathes and Summer can smell the alcohol on his breath. “W-want, uh—y-you want grandpa to show you?”
Summer knows in the back of her mind that this is wrong but that doesn’t stop her from nodding her head and giving out a meek, “yes.”
Rick doesn’t hesitate as he shifts his hand past her shorts and panties until his fingers find the slick heat of her pussy. She jumps as his fingers slide along her entrance, long fingers circling over her tortuously. His body curls over her as he drags her back further against his body and she’s practically on his lap now.
She blushes when she feels his erection press against her ass, and a small part of her yells at her to stop what she’s doing right now because she’s married and this is her fucking grandfather.
A bigger part of her wants Rick to stop teasing her and to just do it already and she finds herself spreading her legs, giving him more access to her embarrassingly dripping cunt.
She distantly wonders if she had ever been this wet with Ethan or if Rick just had a way of bringing this heady arousal out of her.
“Shit, baby,” He murmurs huskily, lips brushing against her neck as he buries his face there. “You’re already soaking.”
He slides a digit in and Summer whimpers softly at the intrusion. He shifts behind her, presses a kiss beneath her ear and softly pumps in an out of her.
“Fuck—y-you feel amazing, so fucking amazing,” He praises and Summer preens under the compliment because Ethan hardly even looks at her unless it’s to ridicule her and she’s never heard him speak with nearly the same passion as Rick is. “Ethan’s a fucking dumbass.”
Another finger joins the first and Summer moans at the long forgotten sensation of being filled.
“Like that, baby? Like when grandpa fucks you with his fingers?”
She nods wordlessly, tears edging at her eyes because fuck, it’s been a while and she forgot how good it felt to be touched like this.
His thumb drags along her clit as he plunges his fingers deep into her cunt and Summer can already feel herself slinking over the edge.
“I-I bet you wish it were my cock inside you, huh, baby?—j-just want me to fuck that tight little pussy…”
“Yes,” She nearly cries and arches into his hand.
It is a testament to how long it’s been since she’s last gotten laid when only five minutes of Rick fingering her and whispering filth in her ears brings her to an orgasm.
She is breathless when she comes back down from her climax, sleepy, and sated. Rick’s fingers slip from between her legs and she whimpers at the loss.
“Shit,” Rick cusses from behind her. “Shit.”
His arms unwrap from around her and he moves back until Summer slides from his lap and he’s pressed against the very end of the couch. Summer turns to speak to him, not really sure what to say but knowing she wants to say something. Rick interrupts her before she can even get a breath out.
“Th-that—that was a mistake.”
The air rushes out of her lungs at his statement.
“What?”
Rick glances at her before quickly looking away. His attention settles on the television and the program that plays on it.
“Go to sleep, Summer—this—j-j-just forget this ever happened.”
She stares at him beseechingly but he didn’t turn to her and he didn’t speak again. Despair washes over her and she stifles it down with a scowl. Tears once again dance along her vision but instead of pleasure she only feels anger.
She stands up and walks stiffly back to her bedroom, sopping panties rubbing against her and fueling her rage with every step she took.
And as she lays in bed—no closer to sleep than she was before— it suddenly occurred to her that she was more upset with Rick for ignoring her then she was at the realization that Ethan was cheating on her.
.
.
.
The next day Summer went out of her way to ignore Rick.
Like it really mattered—he did a spectacular job of pretending she didn’t even exist. In fact, the majority of the day went with him being silent; the only time she’d heard him speak was to make a scathing remark to her dad and some particularly vicious ones to Ethan whom returned about midday.
“Are you going to be off tonight?” She asks Ethan from the privacy of the kitchen as her family watches whatever New Years Eve program is running on the television.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m actually just here to grab some stuff and I’ll be leaving again.”
For a moment Summer thinks about revealing to him that she knows, she fucking knows. But then the fear of him leaving her—of her being alone—it wraps around her like a vice until the thought is roughly pushed from her mind and she is left watching her husband leave out the front door.
When night approaches fireworks spark in the sky and there are loud pops and bangs from outside. Summer somehow finds herself sitting next to Rick on the couch and she watches him unscrew the cap off of a bottle of whiskey and drink straight from the bottle.
There are four empty bottles and an empty pack of beer beside him already and Summer worries that he is drinking an excessive amount.
What do you know, a voice chides in her head. It has been years since she’s interacted with her grandfather; this could be his average alcohol consumption nowadays.
The rest of her family seem unperturbed by how much he’s already drank but she contributes that in part to the eggnog they’ve been steadily drinking through out the night and the program that is playing on the tv.
“Where’s your husband?” A snide voice breaks through her reverie and she cuts her gaze back to her grandfather. The amber liquid is a third down already.
“…He has work,” She says after processing his question. Rick scoffs and brings the whiskey bottle back to his lips.
“He sure does—h-he sure does work a lot—p-plenty of, of late nights, I take it?”
Summer feels a flare of irritation at the implication in his words and makes an effort to temper it. She looks away from her grandfather and stares pointedly at the television, a move reminiscent to his from last night.
She feels Rick shift at her side and she chances a surreptitious glance at him. There’s a downward tilt to his mouth that radiates something akin to sadness.
He has no right to be sad, not after the way he treated her last night.
The words reverberate in her skull but she can’t help the pang of sympathy that rises up in her at the uncharacteristic expression.
He takes another drink of his whiskey and drains the entire bottle in one go.
“I-I’m gonna get more,” He mutters to no one and lets the bottle slip from his grip to fall against the couch. Beth makes a noncommittal noise of agreement but other than that no one seems to notice his departure.
She watches as he strides away but instead of going to the kitchen he walks to the staircase and ascends them. She debates for a moment before she gets up and follows after him. She catches him as he is midway through the hall by latching onto his coat sleeve and swinging him around.
“Summer—“ He yelps out in surprise. Summer cuts him off before he can get any further.
“I want to talk about last night.”
He stares, opens his mouth and then shuts it.
“I—“ He starts but then stops suddenly and turns away from her probing gaze.
“No,” She hisses and reaches out to grab the sides of his face. She turns his head sharply until he is once again facing her. He looks surprised at her audacity and she surprises him again when she steps forward, bringing them flush.
“Stop avoiding me,” She demands. Her voice cracks and her expression wavers and soon it is not a demand so much as a plea.
“Stop avoiding me.”
She feels her eyes sting and she blinks them furiously
Rick stares, face still shocked, but then he seems to notice how close to tears she is as his expression suddenly softens.
“I’m not avoiding you,” He tells her, and Summer feels a spike of indignation well up in her chest at his statement.
“Bullshit,” She says with heat. “The last time I spoke to you was the night before my wedding—you didn’t even come to my wedding, grandpa! And last night, last night you—” Her voice cracks and it dies in her throat.
His brows furrow and his mouth tips down sadly. He looks like he wants to turn away from her again but her hold keeps his face directed at her.
“Summer,” He begins and then lets out a heaving sigh. She sees his hand move and she thinks he is going to push her away but he instead reaches forward to tenderly move a strand of hair behind her ear.
The gesture is startling and she feels her heart skip a beat as his fingers card through her hair until he cradles the back of her head. He gazes down at her with some unspoken emotion in his eyes that confuses her, makes her nervous even, and she finds it hard to maintain his stare.
Now she wants to look away but it would be hypocritical at this point. Instead she drops her hands to her sides and gives him the freedom to move.
He doesn’t. He just lingers in the darkness of the hallway with her and Summer feels the atmosphere subtlety shift; it no longer feels like she’s there confronting Rick. Rather it feels like something secretive, more so than the night prior.
She swallows at the memory and her heart pounds ruthlessly as Rick stares down at her.
She can hear in the distance as their family starts the countdown to the New Year.
“10, 9, 8—“
“Grandpa,” She starts and watches as his lids fall heavy. She feels butterflies flutter in her stomach.
“7, 6, 5—“
“We should go back to the living room,” She advises but Rick doesn’t respond and she is frozen, unable to move from this moment. The hand against the back of her head shifts and she watches as Rick leans down towards her.
“Grandpa?” She asks breathlessly, confusion intermingling with anticipation. His breath fans against her face and she meets his eyes.
“4, 3, 2, 1!”
“Happy New Year, Summer.” He says softly and then kisses her. Cheers erupt from the living room and it drowns out her pulsing heartbeat. Rick’s lips are warm against hers, his touch unexpectedly gentle and Summer never realized how long she’d been waiting for him to kiss her until he finally did.
Her hands shook at her sides and she lifted them up with the intention of either bringing him in closer or pushing him away—she’s not sure. But just as suddenly as the kiss happened it ended.
Rick pulled away and strode down the hall and Summer was left with the faded cheers of celebration as she watched his figure slowly disappear.
.
.
.
Summer stays up all night, tossing and turning as her mind continues to replay what had happened.
Rick had kissed her.
She’s not sure why she’s more shocked by that then by him having fingered her to an orgasm. Perhaps the intimacy in the gesture is what really pricks at her mind; Rick had looked—she can’t even describe how he looked.
It was…it was something.
His expression stays in her head even when her parents, Morty, and Emma decide to go to shop around town and she stays home to tidy up around the house. Rick doesn’t make an appearance and she briefly wonders if he had portaled out to get away from her. The thought is disheartening and she travels upstairs to clean up her room.
And it’s as she’s in her room, pulling off the bedspread with the intention of washing it, that she finds it.
A fucking G-string.
She knows it’s not hers because it is two sizes too small and she stopped wearing G-strings after her first year of being married. She stares at it for a long while and thinks, well, here it is.
Irrefutable proof.
She’s not sure how long she sits there, holding the scrap of cloth in her hands, mind whispering to her that Ethan had cheated on her and in their fucking bed no less.
She must’ve been sitting there long enough for Rick to make an appearance because she hears him call her name. She hastily shoves the underwear under her bed.
“You okay?” He asks when she turns to greet him; his eyes running over her face in a concerned fashion. Summer swipes a hand over her eyes and finds them curiously dry. She expected some tears. She expected more than the numb feeling that blankets over her form.
“I’m good,” She says monotonously and Rick gives her a look that conveys he doesn’t believe her. He jerks his head to the stairs and indicates for her to follow him.
“Let’s have some ice cream,” He says in a tone that brooked no argument. They travel downstairs and into the kitchen where Rick serves them ice cream he digs out of the freezer.
“I’m not supposed to have this,” She tells him when he settles into the chair next to her. He scoffs around his spoon.
“Says who?”
Ethan, her mind supplies silently. Feeling rebellious, she takes her spoon and scoops a mouthful of the dessert into her mouth.
“Are we going to talk about last night? Or the night before that?” She asks and Rick grunts.
She takes that as a no and loads more ice cream onto her spoon.
They eat in silence when she hears the front door creak open. She thinks their family has come back from their shopping spree and so her heart lurches when it is Ethan that enters the dining room.
Ethan furrows his brows when he spies the bowl of ice cream before her and Summer already feels the first dredges of insecurity wrapping tightly around her chest.
Her arms curl around it, a futile attempt to hide her perceived sins from her husband, and she can see from the corner of her eye as Rick watches her with a heavy frown upon his lips.
For a fleeting moment she thinks that Ethan will not say anything, especially not with her grandfather in the same room, but then she sees his mouth part and so she hunches her shoulders and prepares herself for his acidic gibes.
“Summer, honey…is that ice cream? Are you seriously eating ice cream? Really?” She feels humiliation flush through her body at his tone. Rick shifts at her side and she can feel his rising agitation brush against her.
Her voice cracks as she speaks and she hates herself, hates how she’s become. She had never been this weak, this despondent.
“Y-yeah, I just wanted a snack—“ She begins but Ethan interrupts her timid excuses with a gusty, put upon, sigh.
“Honey, honey,” He says, tone so painfully patronizing that Summer feels herself sink low in her chair as whatever power she might’ve held was swept away from her.
“I thought we talked about this. You’re on a diet until you shed that extra weight you’ve gained.”
“What the fuck,” She hears Rick snarl at her side and the table creaks ominously from where he grips it. Heat spreads across her face and she feels her eyes burn. She suddenly wished Rick had gone out with the rest of her family because now he was a witness to her husband’s insensitive remarks.
Ethan seems to be oblivious to Rick’s rising anger as he circles the table towards her.
He reaches between them, hand curling under the porcelain.
“If you eat anymore of this that pudge around your belly will get bigger.” He says and lets out a laugh that stabs her in the chest. She makes the mistake of glancing at Rick and sees pure wrath in his face. She turns away quickly and feels mortified tears spring to her eyes.
She wonders what he must be thinking. Why does Summer deal with this? Why would she stay with this asshole? Why doesn’t she just leave him?
They are all questions she’s asked herself and the answer is simple.
She doesn’t know how to leave him. He’s the first boy to ever look at her like she mattered, like she was beautiful, like she was worth something.
But, really, the truth of the matter is that she is just patheti—
“Hey, motherfucker—you better put that bowl down before I cram it straight down your fucking throat.”
Rick’s voice is a growl and Summer turns and is surprised at the sight before her.
Rick has latched onto Ethan’s arm and his expression is near murderous.
His hold is tight enough that his knuckles have turned white and she hears a wince of pain leave her husband’s mouth.
“H-hey,” Ethan begins with a whimper and Rick squeezes tighter. Ethan cries out and the bowl leaves his hand to crack against the wood table.
“I hear you say shit like that again and I’ll fucking kill you,” He hissed. “Got that, asshole?”
Ethan nods his head rapidly.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Rick commands and releases his hold on Ethan. Ethan flies back and Summer watches as he scrambles away from them fearfully. She’s not sure how she feels as she watches him make a mad dash towards the front door.
When the door slams shut behind him, Rick turns his sights on her.
“Jesus Christ, Summer—th-that guy is a fucking dick.” He is spitting mad. He pushes away from the table roughly and begins to pace with his fury.
Summer doesn’t know how to respond; she is still too embarrassed to speak and being under the full attention of her grandfather’s ire doesn’t make it any better.
“I can’t believe you married that piece of shit.”
“He loves me,” Summer argues weakly and she doesn’t even know why she’s defending Ethan after his apparent infidelities and callous remarks. It’s probably just a reflex at this point.
Rick rounds on her at her statement.
“Love?” He echoes incredulously. “You call that fucking love?”
“What would you know about it?” She retorts angrily and is briefly surprised at the heat in her voice. Rick runs a palm through his hair agitatedly and growls at her.
“I-I told you not to—not to marry him!” He snaps at her and Summer feels her own composure snap. She leaps to her feet and draws close to him in her choler.
“Why, because marriage is a joke!?” She yelled in his face. “Because love isn’t real!?”
“No!” He yelled back, hands balling at his sides. “No, because I could tell that—I-I-I could see he didn’t love you and you—you deserve someone who does.”
“Oh my god,” She barks out a laugh. “How can you stand there and tell me that? You don’t believe in love, remember? Love is just—it’s just hormones compelling people to fuck, right? It’s just—“ Her voice cracks and she gives a rueful shake of her head.
“Well, I guess you were right. Ethan doesn’t love me and it seems like nobody loves me.”
“That isn’t true,” He interjected. “I lov—“
He broke off hastily, words suddenly dying on his tongue. Summer freezes.
“What?” She asks, all the anger fizzling out of her. Rick shakes his head mutely and darts his gaze away. Summer scowls and reaches up to grab his face and sharply turns it back to her. It is the second time she’d done it in the two days that have passed.
“Don’t do that,” She whispers angrily. “Don’t you dare do that to me.”
Rick stares at her silently before his hands reach up to cover hers.
“Okay,” He agrees softly.
“What were you about to say?” She asks.
Rick looks at her for a long moment and the hesitancy in his gaze unnerves her.
“I love you.” He finally says and Summer takes in a shuddering breath at his admission. Rick looks ashamed.
“Fuck, I—I-I didn’t want—“
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long have you loved me?”
“Longer than I care to admit,” He says and then sighs under the look she gives him. “Since before you got back together with your dumbass, Ethan.”
“I got back with him my senior year of high school.” She says faintly. Had Rick honestly—had he really loved her that long?
“Longer than I care to admit,” He repeats wryly and then sighs again. “Look, Summer I—I never wanted you to know and—w-w-well I still don’t want you to know but—i-if you think I’m going to, to let you continue this fucking joke of a marriage with that asshmph—“
She kisses him.
Her mouth swallows his words and she feels him rear back in surprise. When her tongue sweeps against his he suddenly throws his arms around her body and crushes her forward, deepening the kiss.
He blinks at her dazedly when they break apart and Summer gives him a beatific smile.
“He’s cheating on me,” She announces and Rick has a moment of confusion before sudden rage descends upon his features.
“What?” He growls out murderously. “That stupid, fucking—I’ll kill him.”
Summer laughs and tugs Rick down to press another kiss against his mouth. The anger in his countenance softens under her affection.
“I don’t care,” She says against his lips. “I don’t care.”
She slants her mouth over his and Rick reciprocates. Her hands slide from his face to wrap around his neck and his trail down until he’s grasping beneath her ass. She feels his erection when she presses forward and she grinds against it, needy.
She doesn’t remember the last time she’d acted so wantonly, so lasciviously. Rick groaned and scooped her up to settle her on the table, knocking over their bowls of ice cream.
The porcelain shatters against the floor and she still doesn’t care—in fact, the only thought that manages to cross her mind is how she’d never thought she’d be turned on by impatience.
She dips her hand beneath his pants and he sucks in a breath when she strokes along his shaft. It’s hot and thick beneath her fingers and she tightens her grip with her next stroke.
“Fuck,” Rick murmurs raggedly. He fumbles to unbutton his pants with one hand—his other still glued to the curve of her ass. When he finally manages it he shucks it down low enough for Summer to spring his dick free from the confines of his underwear.
She blushes when she takes in the size of it—the girth alone is much wider than she imagined, never mind the length—and she feels desire throb between her legs as she circles the head of his cock.
Rick’s fingers curl into the waistband of her shorts and he drags them to her knees before she kicks them off the rest of the way. His hands tug on her shirt and she pauses her ministrations to raise her arms up, allowing him to pull it up over her head, revealing her bare breasts.
Air hits her exposed body and Rick takes a step back to admire her as she sits before him, naked.
His eye peruse over her form slowly and her insecurities push forward under his gaze until her hands are moving to cover her soft belly and faded stretch marks and her less than perky breasts and—
Rick’s hand curl around her wrists and he pulls them away from her body gently.
“Stop,” He whispers and the tone of his voice halts her. There’s an unexpected tenderness in his words, in his eyes, and the way he looks upon her is worshipful—like she is a treasure.
“You’re beautiful, Summer,” He tells her, raw honesty in his voice and Summer feels her eyes tear up. “So fucking beautiful.”
He leans down and presses a kiss against her mouth and Summer rises to pull him closer.
He breaks away, lines his cock up with her and pushes in slow. Summer gasps, eyes fluttering shut and she’s clawing at his chest, his shoulders, her hips moving desperately to bring him in as deep as she can. Rick groans lowly as she rocks against him. His head falls against her shoulder, his fingers digging into her hips, and she hears him speak.
“I wanted this for so long,” He tells her, lips pressing against her collarbone, shoulder, neck. “I wanted you for so long.”
He pulls out, thrust back in and Summer wraps her arms and legs around him, still trying to bring him in further until the empty feeling that gnaws and echoes around her is gone.
She’d always imagined Rick as a violent lover, ruthless and unforgiving in his selfish thrusts. She never expected him to be gentle; for him to press loving kisses against her body as his fingers ghosted reverently over her form.
Pleasure kindles slowly, rising higher and higher until she is left gasping at the enormity of it. Her eyes clench shut, voice cracking as she moans. Rick’s breath fans against her, hot and moist.
“God, I love you,” He says into her skin. “I-I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you, too,” She says, breathless. He kisses her fervently; his cock sliding in and out of her wetly, filling her filling her until he grunts and fills her entirely.
Rick wraps his arms around her; form folding over her protectively, possessively— chasing away her loneliness.
“I love you, too,” She repeats and clings to him as the empty feeling in her chest finally disappears.
END.
Haha, I don’t—I don’t know what I’m doing.
I’m not good with writing sex scenes so forgive me if this seemed really fucking weird. I’m pulling shit out of my ass at this point. This will be edited after tonight so, like, have a good laugh at my garbage lol.
And, hey, if your SO isn’t making you feel beautiful call me the fuck up. I’ll be your Rick Sanchez, baby. Hahahaha jk jk.
No, but really, they do not deserve you.
You are beautiful.
Hope you enjoyed this, Boop! You know I’ve been stressin’ for a while but I really wanted this to be good for you, homie. I feel like my pacing was off so imma slow it down when I write that Pocket Summer fic. Whenever the hell I decide to get to it anyway.
As usual send me SumRick trash to my tumblr blue10spade.