#[[ but this is what Evil Rick gave me -facepalm- ]]

[countlessrealities]

Kinda 👀 Prompts || Selectively accepting !

@mcltiples sent: [KNIFE] sender uses a knife to rip receiver's clothes { To Evil Rick from Weird Rick >:D }

There were a lot of things that Rick found fascinating about his partner. Some more entertaining, others more frustrating, but all undoubtedly worth his interest and attention. Even when he wasn't directly involved, he liked to watching, observing the other going through his motions, speeches, choices, hows and whys with the same focus he usually reserved exclusively to his experiments.

His alternate's mood were one of Rick's favourite phenomena to monitor. They were so volatile, and mostly unpredictable. They could be as explosive as the weapons the man enjoyed building or as subtle as a the light twitch of an eye. They jumped from an emotion to the other, always close to the extremes, always shying away from mildness.

He could tell that his partner wasn't being honest with his feelings whenever they were played out with strict moderation or calm.

However, this didn't mean, as one could think, that apathy was something unknown to his alternate. It was a rare show to witness, but it did happen. Just as everything else, it was deep, absolute, totalising, and it required a very special, very careful handling.

That, though, wasn't the situation at hand. Rick wasn't dealing with one of his partner's most violent moods, whether on the heated side of anger or with the ice cold quality of pure detachment. The other seemed to be in a quite cheerful mood, lively and playful, with a clear side of mischief.

And, of course, lustful too, judging by the way his alternate had shoved him into the closest wall and was assaulting his neck with his teeth and tongue. Judging by the viciousness of the attack, by the time their encounter ended, he would have sported quite the collection of bruises.

One of those hands was insistently grabbing at the front of his shirt, alternating pulling at it and pressing against his chest, as if to make sure that Rick's back would remain firstly pinned against the wall.

His partner's other hand was somewhere by his side, oddly not trying to touch him as he would have expected, and the reason for it became instantly clear when the sound of cloth ripping filled the air between them without a warning. Oh, so this was the game of the day.

The blade was so sharp that it cut through the fabric as if it had been melting butter and nicked the flesh underneath, drawing a steady red line from the top of Rick's sternum to the line of his navel. Thick droplets of blood gushed out of the wound, their warmth in contrast with the cool air of the underground hideout.

Rick's only reaction was a raised eyebrow, conveying the barest hint of judgement. He didn't mind the sting of the wound since pain had little meaning to him nowadays. If something, under the right circumstances he could even appreciate the way it lit up his nerves, forcing his whole being to feel connected, even if just briefly, with the universe that surrounded him.

In a different situation, he would have given into the urge of voicing what his gaze was already hinting at, but his partner seemed delighted and even more turned on by his handiwork. He could tell by the way the other was leaning more heavily into it, hard, hot and solid against Rick's thigh. Those hips were moving, slow and almost imperceptibly, seeking from his body a hint of satisfaction that could take the edge off.

How could he deny this pleasure to the man who owed each and every atom of him?

His features relaxed back into a more neutral expression and he let his nape rest against the wall, focusing on the feeling of that tongue teasingly lapping at the cut. His alternate's hand had slipped under the torn shirt, wrapping itself around his side, tight and possessive.

Rick's fingers found their way in the other's hair, tugging sharply at those blue locks and using them to press that face more into his chest. He wanted to smear his partner's chin and cheekbones with his blood, so that he could lick it off later.

A hum rumbled in his chest, as the knife worked to get rid of his belt and slash through his trousers, leaving behind more stinging cuts. Clothes could be easily replaced, he mused, distractedly registering the fabric falling off him piece by piece, until he was left bare for his partner's eyes to feast on.

This man who had made himself into a god and the twisted, unbreakable thread that linked them together? It was one of a kind even in a universe made of infinite realities.