Work Text:
“Would you suck yourself if you could?”
The question comes so abruptly, spoken in such an offhand way— like he’s being asked about his preferred brand of potato chips or favorite burger joint that it catches Rick off guard.
It takes a moment for the question and its meaning to sink in. Rick’s hand clasped around the cool neck of a Corona jerks with the realization, causing a delayed spray of limey beer to fountain from the top, shooting up his nose and soaking the lower half of his face.
He chokes, coughing up what went down the wrong way, tears pricking his eyes. He can hear— no, feel Prime snickering beside him, shoulders shaking as he drags the back of his hand across his wet face.
“What?” He asks weakly, still reeling from the audacious question and the unexpected assault from his bottle of beer. His nose is stinging and everything is wet. Foamy liquid rapidly dissipates, trickling down his chin and neck and Rick hastily pats at some of the damp patches on the sofa, soon to become yet another mysterious stain on the already blemished and tired couch cushions.
“Would. You. Suck. Yourself. If you could.” Prime repeats himself. Deliberately enunciating the words slowly and clearly as if Rick was hard of hearing. It’s meant to come off as patronizing.
“Wh— huh? N-no—“ Rick is defensive, his shoulders tense as they rise up towards his ears like he can block the question out, hiding his face that’s trying to fight off the blood that’s rushing to it, prompted by the indecent question. “Why would you even— what—“
“Come on,” Prime tilts his neck to the side, regarding him with a glint in his eye, “you’re telling me you’ve never once thought about what it would feel like to fuck your own mouth? You’ve never even tried to, you know—“ he bends over his own lap and bobs his head, miming something lewd.
“No way!” The answer comes out sharp and the tips of Rick’s ears burn. He never needs to use much imagination around Prime.
“Liar.” Prime grins at him. “You suck at lying, you know that right?”
Prime sits back on the sofa nonchalantly, one hand finding its way into his boxers again as he resumes scratching his balls. It looks like he’s jerking off. Rick feels a little hot as he tries to avoid glancing over at the rhythmic way Prime’s hand is moving under the dark fabric of his underwear. His other hand brings a lit joint to his face, tall strings of smoke weaving their way toward the ceiling like incense. He exhales and sags into Rick’s sofa like it’s his own, scattering ash carelessly.
“Sh- shut up. Whatever. Weirdo.” Rick spits out, a little more than flustered. Determined to ignore Prime, he makes a big show of turning his body to face the television set, punctuating the end of this line of questioning.
Lifting his now half empty Corona, he busies himself with taking a sip out of it, feeling the other half of it seep and settle into his wife beater coldly.
Sometimes Rick forgets that they’re the same person. Or rather, there are times when Rick simply can’t relate to his cosmic twin’s tangential thoughts. But there are more times like now, when Rick is utterly unnerved by the reality of sharing the same spacetime continuum with his alternate self. Something that should technically be impossible and yet, the very proof of it was scratching its hairy balls in his living room. There are far too many things Prime knows about himself that both prove to be a curse and a blessing at times. It definitely feels like a curse right about now. Some things are just too private to air out and should remain locked in the confines of his mind and his mind alone.
The TV is playing a low budget action movie. Lots of guns, lots of blood and lots of cliche quips. It's popcorn for the soul. It's their Friday night tradition. But Rick can’t focus on the gritty flick.
Yeah. Of course he’s thought about sucking his own dick. It’s not like he didn’t try when he was thirteen and home alone that one time. It was a silly experiment based on a hypothesis that mouth had to be better than hand. Rick can still remember how his neck had cramped up and how stupid he’d looked, rolling around on the bathroom floor like an upturned turtle trying to accomplish this sexually impossible acrobatic feat. Needless to say, he hadn’t made a second attempt since then. Besides, apparently you had to remove a couple of ribs for it to be feasible and it just really didn’t seem worth the effort.
But that’s not what Prime is asking. He knows this. Rick isn’t stupid.
Fine. He admits the thought might’ve crossed his mind in the high school locker rooms once. Or twice. But in the same way one might briefly wonder what it’d be like to kiss the coworker you’re on shift with. Or what it might feel like to step in front of a moving train. A brief, silly thought that was only worth an iota of attention before quickly being brushed out of sight, out of mind. It’s not like anything would ever be achieved by dwelling on the matter.
But a curious mind wonders and wanders and opportunity is sitting next to him on his very sofa.
His eyes cut over to Prime sitting next to him at a comfortable distance on the couch, his gaze cautiously traveling up those gangly legs that are shamelessly spread, taking up at least 65% of the available seating. Even without turning his head, Rick can see that although his hand is still moving, Prime isn’t scratching his balls anymore. He does his best to suppress a twitch when he notices Prime looking directly at him from his periphery.
Another wave of heat is working its way up his neck and towards his face. Rick’s palms begin to sweat. It’s not like he hasn’t seen a dick before. But it’s different when it’s hard. It’s different when it’s not on his own body. It’s different when Rick knows it’s because of him. It feels strange to be the object of your own desire but Rick really can’t be bothered to untangle the philosophies and psychology around that right now.
The curiosity of the unknown and the desire to know the unknowable grips Rick around the throat. Would it be so bad? Just to see what it’s like… He clenches his hands, glass warming up in his fist. No. Obviously, Prime’s playing an elaborate joke at his expense again. He likes to watch Rick squirm with embarrassment and discomfort for some reason.
“Does talking about sex embarrass you?”
“N-no!” Rick retorts quickly. Too quickly to be convincing and there’s no getting by Prime. Not to mention, the goddamn stutter. Rick curses inwardly. “Fuck off.” He elbows his leering self out of his personal space and plucks the joint from his willing fingers easily as punishment.
Prime’s eyes dance and glitter and his knowing smile says it all. Liar. They roam over him like floodlights, exposing weakness and cracks in his flimsy facade to stay ‘cool’. If sitting half drenched in beer and two day old boxers could be considered ‘cool’.
“I’ve had— I fucked— I’ve fucked loads of people before.” If you could call awkwardly fumbling around in the dark with his lab partner from biochemistry in college and that one time he’d drunkenly let a girl drag him to her house ‘loads of people’. Rick doesn’t know why he feels the need to inflate his sexual history but Prime has always had a way of making him feel so inadequate and inferior. It’s maddening.
“Okay?” Prime snorts, “I didn’t know you were such a maneater— I better watch myself, huh? Look out— young Rick’s out here on the prowl for some fresh meat.” Prime growls, pretending to be a tiger, hands curled into clawed paws. “Rawr.”
“Sh—shut up! I am not. ” Color floods his cheeks, miffed by the mocking derision. Rick throws a handful of popcorn at him. Virgin or slut, Rick can’t win with Prime. He’s the butt of the joke every time and Prime can’t stop laughing, even as he shakes popcorn out of his hair.
Rick lifts the bottle to his mouth in an attempt to cover up his fluster. It's a shame when it empties out into his mouth with a sad trickle. There’s nothing left to distract him from the situation at hand. He could, of course, watch the movie that’s playing but how can he when there’s something far more curious tugging for his attention.
He slowly sets the bottle down on the nearest available space on the coffee table, already littered with empty cans and glasses acting as makeshift ashtrays. So maybe the thought has crossed his mind more than he’d care to admit. What it would be like. To suck his dick. To suck a dick, in fact. But hypothetically right, if he were to try it, who better to try it on than himself?
The joint is still burning warm between his fingers and Rick’s mouth feels lonely.
Somewhere deep down, Rick’s always known that he might be interested in more than just girls, but the opportunity to confirm much less explore that thought has been slim to none. Till now.
His lips close around the slightly moist tip. It’s a subtle reminder that Prime’s lips were here before his. It shouldn’t matter but it gives Rick a strange rush anyway. Thick smoke billows out of his mouth adding to the haze around them, reality distorting little by little.
It’s pure scientific curiosity, of course. Nothing else. Really. The alcohol has loosened his tongue and shoulders and the weed leaves Rick feeling buzzed and light headed. It’s enough for him to gruffly clear his throat, his voice a little scratchy with nervous tension.
“Wh—…” Rick swallows dryly— smoke catching on his words while he stares straight ahead at the screen showing some burly guy firing off a machine gun into thick foliage, trying to sound as nonchalant as Prime when he’d sprung the question on Rick. “Why, have you?” The details hang in the air unspoken. Have you thought about sucking your own dick before? But Rick knows he doesn’t need to specify. Prime always knows what he’s thinking about.
He doesn’t dare turn his head to look at Prime, but his peripheral spidey senses are tingling, letting him know that twin holes are burning into the side of his face.
Rick’s heart thunders as loud as the gunfire spattering across the screen before them in anticipation of Prime’s answer that he nearly misses it.
“Duh. Tried it when I was thirteen but I wasn’t flexible enough.” Prime shrugs his shoulders and turns to face the TV, “call it an experiment of self exploration or whatever.”
Rick lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding in with a soft whoosh . A nervous giggle chases after that breath and Rick wants to kick himself for making such a stupid, girlish sound. He settles for chewing on his bottom lip instead.
“Oh,” he says at last, unable to think of anything else to say. Unable to bridge his wants and actions with the necessary words. There’s safety in familiarity but the lines of difference separate them like a glass wall. His hands find each other, twisting together nervously in his lap. His ankles cross and uncross restlessly, a reflection of his ambivalent mind trying to decide whether he should get up off the sofa or stay where he is. “An— an experiment, huh?”
“Uh huh. Purely scientific.”
Prime motions for the joint. A lanky arm drapes across the back of the sofa and Rick feels skin brush up against his back very slightly. He freezes, heart hammering in his chest.
They’ve maintained a casual distance all evening. Close but not touching. It’s sort of an unspoken rule. The slight touch against his skin feels accidental. But knowing Prime… Rick thinks there’s a very good chance that it was intentional. Calculated. Goosebumps rise from where he’s been touched and Rick suppresses a shiver. He’s far too tipsy and high for this. As a rule, Rick doesn’t like being touched. His skin vibrates and buzzes— sensitive and hyperaware. It sends his nerves into overdrive. Prime’s arm is lying just a few millimeters from his back, resting on the edge of the sofa. He can feel the heat of it radiating onto him. They might as well be touching. Rick sits there frozen, muscles tight with nervous energy. Should he lean back into the sofa? Should he sit forward and lean on his knees or—
Fingers find the back of his neck and Rick visibly jumps. Prime is snickering again but before he can turn around to scowl, those fingers are rubbing little circles into his nape, massaging out the tension. It’s… gentle. Intimate, even. It’s not like his brash, reckless self to be so… tender. For lack of a better word. He’s a little suspicious, but Rick finds himself melting into the unexpectedly sweet touch anyway. His nerves are soothed by those long clever fingers at his neck that seem to know where every single knot of tension resides. Knots of tension that he put there in the first place, but never mind that.
It’s the alcohol. He’s had too much to drink. Yes. That’s what he’ll say if Prime brings this up tomorrow. The buzzy feelings begin to ooze down his spine and Rick feels his head grow heavier, tipping backwards and leaning into the massage. Yielding to the unspoken desire and curiosity brewing between the both of them.
Prime has a way of making him feel inadequate. But he also has a way of breaking Rick out of his self-made shell like nobody else.
“So how ‘bout it, Rick?” His cosmic twin cocks his head at him, a sly smile while the joint hangs between his lips precariously. He tilts his head down a little and Rick follows it down to the very obvious tent in his dark boxers. “Wanna do some science together?”
And that’s how Rick finds himself kneeling in front of Prime, damp shaky fingers reaching for the elastic waistband snug around his hips.
He’s understandably a little nervous, glancing up at Prime every so often, as if to confirm he’s doing it right. Prime sits there, legs spread wide and feet planted firmly on either side of him as he reclines back on the sofa like it’s his throne. Like he’s quite used to getting off with a carbon copy of himself from an alternate dimension but Prime can’t quite hide the wildly curious shine in his eyes either. To Prime, this is just as novel as going on an adventure into unknown outer space. A new experience to gain and conquer. And Rick is sitting shotgun, coming along for the ride. As usual.
The thrill of trying something new and unprecedented together causes Rick’s heart to pick up making him feel dizzy and not all there. All five senses are hyper aware of this single moment and time seems to warp out of place, stretching each second out in high definition. Feeling as though in a trance, Rick hooks his fingers into the waistband and begins to tug it down only for Prime to catch his wrist, stopping him.
“Eager much?” He smirks, making it sound like Rick is some cockslut, hungry for dick. “No!” Rick retorts, his eyebrows pinching into a frown, annoyed at the implication. He’s about to stand up and call it on this ‘experiment’ when Prime speaks again. ”Why don’t you touch me first.” The cock in question twitches in its confines, as if agreeing with him. “Like this.”
Prime guides his hand over to the prominent tent in his boxers, letting go when Rick gently curls a hand around him.
Even through the cheap cotton, Rick can feel how hot and solid the organ is against his palm. He gives it an experimental squeeze and he hears the way Prime breathes through his nose, like he’d squeezed the air from his lungs at the same time too.
The movie playing behind him fades to white noise as Rick’s hand absentmindedly starts wandering over the solid flesh in front of him, squeezing lightly and exploring its form, genuine curiosity replaces some of his anxiety.
This is his dick. He knows it as well as the back of his hand that’s usually fisted around it. But he’s never held it from this angle and even if the girth, heft and curve is the same— it’s not like he’s receiving any feedback to his own body and that’s the weird thing. That and of course, the experience of holding another man’s dick for the first time. Even if it is his own.
He pushes his thumb against the underside of Prime’s tip, the pad of his finger lightly grinding into the soft flesh, parting it very slightly. He knows that’s a sensitive spot, if his own experience is anything to go by. Prime’s arms that had been draped over the back of the sofa suddenly twitch, his biceps flexing a little.
Rick can feel dampness seeping into fabric beneath his thumb and he looks up, his expression a little smug.
“Who— Who’s the eager one now?” He asks, a teasing, cheeky lilt to his voice. He’s a clumsy flirt— always has been, but being around Prime brings out every facet of his personality. Even the ones he’s tried to hide for so long, like he’s standing in front of a mirror.
Despite it all, Prime rolls his eyes but there’s a little bit of pink on his cheeks.
“Just suck it already.” Prime tugs the cotton of his boxers and his dick emerges from the slit. “Or I’m gonna have to think you’re stalling ‘cause you’re too chicken.”
Feeling it covered was one thing but to see a carbon copy of his dick in front of him is something else entirely.
Rick swallows, some of his nervousness creeping back in. He knows he isn’t small but somehow seeing it from this angle makes Rick wonder if Prime has magically grown a few extra inches overnight. The fat swollen head and the few thick veiny inches protruding from his fist seem to loom over him dauntingly. He’s almost cross eyed trying to eyeball the damn thing. Maybe he could get half of it into his mouth without gagging…? The whole package though…
“Scared?” Prime taunts, lips twitching a little. His hand comes down to cup Rick’s chin, forcing him to look up and away from the monstrosity between them. “You’re stalling.” The skin of his fingers is rough from hours of tactile work and mischief and Rick can smell— taste salt and smoke as they push up against his bottom lip impatiently imitating what he wants.
A muscle in Rick’s jaw jumps, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He jerks his chin out of his grasp.
“As if,” he scoffs, but he can’t stop sizing up the length, wondering what’s the best way to conquer this… challenge. “D-don’t rush me.”
“You could start by licking it,” Prime suggests, prying off Rick’s fingers that are unconsciously choking his dick and replacing them with his own. He guides the head to Rick’s mouth, tapping it against his lip lightly.
“I don’t need your advice!” Rick bristles, shifting on his knees a little and putting some distance between the dick and his mouth. “I’m— I’m just—“ he struggles to find the words. He’s most definitely stalling. It’s his first time giving head after all and Rick is a perfectionist. He wants to get it right. Even if it’s just for himself. Especially if it’s for himself.
“Relax, big guy, you’re overthinking it.” Prime starts running his fingers through Rick’s hair, making it stand on end, voice low and persuasive. “You know what to do. Trust me. We already know what feels good. You can’t fuck this up. Okay?”
A few long seconds tick by and Prime is so sure Rick is about to pussy out on him until he nods slowly. Damp nervous hands find the tops of his thighs, steadying himself, ready to take the next step.
“Good boy,” he breathes out and he hears the way Rick sucks in air.
His fingers tangle into short hair and Rick feels his head being tugged forward as the tip of his dick is pressed against his mouth again. This time it’s not a suggestion. It’s a demand. An order to be fulfilled. Rick’s not really the type of guy that bends to an iron fist but… the sharp, brief sting from having his head guided like a leash sends a dark tingle of pleasure down his spine, and his cock twitches in his sweatpants with interest. He discovers he likes the way Prime is taking charge, taking ownership over his— their pleasure.
He groans and in that instant, the blunt head of that cock is forcing its way into his mouth, muffling the sound. He can’t stop the way his fingers dig into Prime’s thighs; instinctive resistance to the unnatural physical intrusion.
The swollen head is exceptionally warm and heavy on his tongue, wedging his jaws open. He can taste the salty musk, thick in his senses. It’s not unpleasant. He’s tasted himself before once or twice but this is… this is…
Rick moves his head back cautiously, letting the tip drag across his tongue and Prime gasps, fingers tightening in his hair. That salty musk takes on a slightly bitter quality, flooding his mouth and Rick’s tongue automatically slides up the slit, eager to taste more.
“Shit…” The thick muscles beneath his fingers flex hard for a moment, “D-do that again.”
He obeys and then some; his mouth closes over the tip, sucking on it till his cheeks hollow out. Every so often, his tongue traces over every valley and ridge, alternating between flat broad strokes and soft kitten licks tonguing between the leaking slit.
Rick remembers overhearing lewd conversation on the school bus, locker room talk and snippets here and there from those with more experience. Everyone talks about what it feels like, but no one talks about what it’s like to give it. But Rick’s a smart guy. He can reverse engineer anything— piece things together out of nothing.
He almost wants to ask if he’s doing a good job or not— but he already knows the answer. Rick must be doing something right because no matter how much precome he laps away, more seems to replace it. The saltiness stimulates his tongue and Rick’s mouth waters for it. An unexpected stream of drool escapes the corner of his mouth and in his haste to clear it, he sucks hard making a conspicuously wet slurp ing noise. The sharp sound rings in his ears, making Rick flush warm with embarrassment for a hot moment but—
All of that is forgotten when Prime lets loose a louder, unashamed throaty moan pulled from the depths of his core. Rick can feel the thick organ pulse powerfully in his mouth and he’s rewarded with another salty gush.
His breathing hitches. Startled by the sound. He didn’t know he was even capable of making such a noise… full of unadulterated, raw pleasure. A rush of blood drains from his brain, filling his already hard cock painfully. More. He needs to hear more of that sound.
Rick’s eyes flick up and he can see the way Prime’s head is laying across the back of the sofa. His arm rests on the side, the joint burning out, forgotten between his fingers. Rick can’t see anything except the sharp slope of his chin extending down that neck where his Adam’s apple bobs, flexing as though he’s mouthing something wordlessly to the ceiling above them.
A surge of heat wells up within him. Prime is usually so self-assured, confident and unbothered. It’s a heady feeling to be in control of his pleasure like this. It makes Rick feel drunk in a way that has nothing to do with the five bottles of beer he polished off earlier this evening, brazen enough to take this strange version of self exploration further.
Rick scrambles to try to get more of it down his throat, and it seems like Prime has the same idea, hips thrusting up at the same time. The result? That swollen head making painful contact with the back of his throat causing Rick to pull off suddenly, choking and retching. Unbidden tears spring to his eyes from the jarring experience but they’re quickly blinked away. He’s only giving himself less than a few seconds to recover before he’s diving down trying to take as much of it as he can. It’s impossible to breathe like this. His cock fills his mouth so fully, it feels like every space has been nudged aside to make room for it. Even so, Rick has never been a quitter and something like lack of oxygen isn’t going to stop him now.
“Ohh— fuck, like that— like that! You’re a— you’re doing so good. Don’t stop, keep going just like that…”
Not when he’s getting this kind of encouragement.
Rick wasn’t aware that he could be a vocal lover. Even on his own, the most noise he could muster was a stifled grunt or a choked whimper if he came particularly hard. The thought of making any sort of lewd acknowledgment of pleasure brings heat to his cheeks and he gazes at Prime through lidded eyes, amazed at how vocal pleasure runs off his tongue so easily, so unashamedly, so naturally… Rick wonders if he’ll ever get to that point of being so comfortable with himself that he could make noises like that too.
It’s not a particularly technique driven blowjob but neither of them seem to care and it doesn’t matter. Drool slips out from the sides of his mouth, soaking into the cotton underwear making the edges stick to the base wetly. Rick’s fingers circle Prime’s length. For what he can’t fit down his throat, his fist picks up the slack, firmly sliding up the thick wetness chasing after his mouth.
“ Rick, ”
Oh. Oh. He’s never heard his name whimpered like that before. A needy noise escapes him, squeezing past the cock plugging up his mouth, mirroring Prime’s frenzied desire.
“ Nnf— “ Another hand joins the one on his head, fingers tugging at his hair unconsciously and the sting of pain sparks electric pleasure from brain to dick directly.
Before he knows it, his own hand is palming his arousal over his sweatpants roughly squeezing, trying to alleviate the hot pressure building up in his core. If Rick had the time to look down, he would have noticed the little damp patch he’s been soaking into the soft, gray fabric he’s tenting, turning it dark with need.
Even if he’s not on the receiving end, Rick finds the act of giving strangely fulfilling. Pride and satisfaction pulses through him to see Prime flushed and breathless over him like this. His mind wanders as his hips press forward into his hand; he’s desperate to know— to feel what he’s giving himself.
Prime has both of his hands fisting into his hair, hips straining under him as his head lolls back over the sofa, an endless slew of swears and moans issuing from his mouth rendering him a complete, babbling incoherent mess for once
It should have been brutal. Painful, even. But it’s not. Rick reads Prime so well. They’re both reading each other wordlessly. Rick instinctively knows how much pressure to apply with his mouth and when; Prime knows how much Rick can take. It’s nothing less than effortless teamwork.
The air is thick and humid from torrid activity. Rick can feel how sweaty Prime has become under him and when his leg starts to jiggle restlessly, he knows it’s not going to be long. He’s going to learn what it feels like to cum straight down his throat and the thought makes him grind into his hand.
Right on cue, insistent hands are pushing his head down, holding him down so that his nose brushes against soaking cotton. The back of Prime’s cock pushes up against the back of his throat causing Rick to gag loudly as his stomach twists and turns unpleasantly. His hand resting on Prime’s thigh squeezes hard in startled retaliation, blunt nails digging into thick muscle.
There’s no warning when Prime suddenly hunches over him, coming down his throat as he pants harshly. The first spurt of come hits the back of his throat so hard, it travels up and out of his nose. He jerks with surprise, eyes widening and then watering as his nose stings for the second time that night. He struggles to pull off but Prime’s hands are too heavy, keeping him pinned to his crotch, forcing him to ride out his orgasm till the end. He can feel every powerful throb followed by hot streams of salty come filling his mouth rapidly. He can’t swallow— not with the way Prime’s cock is filling his mouth and half of his throat and so Rick lets out a weak noise as he allows the evidence of release to dribble out and pool around his mouth messily— white soaking into dark cotton making quite the contrast.
By the time Rick is allowed to get up, they’re both breathing heavily— looking and feeling winded, like they’ve both been chased by cosmic horrors across an unknown terrain.
Behind him, the movie has long gone silent, playing nothing but a scrolling wall of credits.
He wipes a shaky hand across his glossy, swollen lips, wincing while he sniffles. His nose stings as salt burns the back of his throat. Prime is lying slumped against the sofa, chest heaving and looking boneless. Like he’s about to melt into the cushions at any moment.
“That was—“
“—That went so much better than I thought it would.” Prime sighs out happily.
“What,” Rick frowns, bristly and indignant, “did you think it was gonna be bad? I just sucked your soul out into the next dimension and you— hey! Are you going to sleep?!“
“…No,” but the mumbled answer isn’t very convincing.
“No the fuck you’re not,” Rick struggles to his feet, yanking on Prime’s tanktop. “My turn— it’s my turn now, asshole!”