#rickfic

the metal table beneath you doing nothing for your already sore joints.

worth it though

You watch as Rick stretches, arching his back, and turn away, running a quick hand through his sweat, dampened hair. He pulls open your fridge and grabs the first alcoholic beverage he can find. The domesticity of the movment is made humorous by his stark nakedness. You sigh, catching your breath, and give out a small laugh as your adrenaline rush calms and your brain catches up with you.

that was fun

You slide off the table and pull up your small, cotton panties from around your ankles and back onto your hips with a small snap. Fixing your hair with a swish, you follow Rick's initiative and grab a cold beer.

could have been better though. .

He's more than halfway done by the time you crack your own lid, and you continue to watch him as he gulps the rest down. His throat so slim and his collar bone so prominent, to a glancing eye he looked as wirey as a string bean; but you knew better. The muslce tone in those thin arms and narrow torso were a force to be reckoned with - and you had. On several, often unexpected, occasions.

but he was. . . off today

Rick lets out a burp, wipes his mouth with his wrist, and tosses the can into the sink. There's a moment of silence as you imagine what he might be thinking as his eyes begin to glaze over. The wrinkles forming there make no movement, and you touch your own skin absent-mindedly, wondering when your wrinkles might begin to show. You aren't old enough quite yet, but you aren't getting any younger either. You'd noticed plenty of stray grays in your thick, untamed hair by now. It doesn't really bother you, but something about those crows feet. . .

You light a cigarette and slump down into the aluminum chair next to the table. Its freezing compared to the heat your skin still radiates and your skin breaks out in goose pimples. You take a drag and let it warm you. Letting the smoke slowly drift through your nose, you speak, hopefully breaking Rick out of whatever reverie he's entered.

"Did I wear you out, daddy?"

He huffs a laugh, barely smirking, eyes still distant.

"Yeah. Wore out my bladder. I'm gonna go piss." You lift the corner of your mouth as he walks by, resisting the temptation to slap his bare ass. He snatches the cigarette from your fingers as he passes.

"That's my line, dickhead."

You lean back, tilting your head, and look at the ceiling. Stains on the stucco and flies stuck in the light fixture.

It had been three months since you'd last seen Rick, which was actually a pretty short amount of a time. He had seemed fairly edgey - more than normal - when he'd suddenly portaled into your bedroom as you were getting dressed for work. You had just gotten your top on, only to have Rick stalk over and tear it off your body and kiss you, all in one fluid motion.

work can wait

Work could go straight to hell for all you cared. One moment in Rick's arms was like forever in a thunderstorm of ecstasy. It was loud and elegant, dark and pure, and orgasms were like millions of lightning bolts in the heat of a summer night.

But edgey Rick was different. At least, an edgey Rick that was unsure of how edgey he really was, was different.

You hear the flush of the toilet and decide it was high time you put a shirt on over your bare tits - but glancing around the room, and not wanting to move, the prospect seems like more trouble than its worth. Rick walks up behind you and puts his hands on your shoulders, beginning a light massage. You hum and lift your hand up towards him. He gives the cigarette back and you bring it down for another deep drag before putting it out.

"I hope an empty bladder is gonna make round two more enjoyable."

You imagine him raising an eyebrow at your comment.

"It takes two to tango, sweetheart," he says.

You chuckle darkly.

"Yeah, well, it seems like you've got two left feet." You say as you quickly get up and spin around on him. His defenses are down so it doesn't take much for you to push him towards the couch and then shove him down. Your glad you neglected the shirt.

Rick is still fully exposed. When you straddle him, its all skin on skin, still cooling and still ever so slightly sensitive. He makes a low groan. You lean over him, his eyes looking into yours.

"Now that I have your attention." He looks down at your mouth, as you twirl you tongue behind partially parted lips.

"Sex won't solve your problems - as much as we act like it does. So whatever bullshit is going on up here," you say softly, poking his temple. His brow furrows slightly, and you lean in towards his ear.

"I'm gonna need you to get rid of it. Cause if you're looking for a therapy session, you've come to the wrong office. And if you make me work *now*, I'm gonna have to charge you."

He grins devilishly.

"Is that a threat, or are you switching professions?"

"Get your shit together, Sanchez." You say, not sure if "off" Rick is worth another go. "Or you really can go find yourself a Vantrexian hooker." He growls again, taking you by the hips and throwing your back onto the sofa. You let out a quick yelp that's muffled by Rick's mouth on yours. His tongue tangles itself into yours and you moan in response.

much better