#[[ well this one wasn't as bad as the D M K one xD ]]

[countlessrealities]

What's with you and the moon prince guy?

The question has Rick raising an eyebrow. He knows whom they are referring to, also because Virote in question is the only person ruling over a mun he currently has a proper relationship with, but he doesn’t want it to look like his thoughts have instantly moved on the younger man. They have, for the aforementioned reason, but people tend to draw the most annoying conclusions, even when the logical ones are right under their nose.

“M-Moon prince guy? W-Who, Virote?” He asks crossing his arms on his chest and shrugging. “W-What sort of question is that? I-I mean, shit, not is any of your business, b-but if you’re waiting for me to admit some funny business, w-well...you’re barking up at the wrong tree, pal.”

Is this Summer hiding behind the anonymity of the internet? He can’t rule it out completely, but he also knows that his granddaughter is smoother than that.

“H-He’s Morty’s and Sum-Sum’s friend. I-I don’t like how much he tries to mother Morty, b-but for now it’s been harmless, s-so I let him do it,” he goes on then, with a little huff. “W-We drink and smoke together. Y-You could say that he’s my fuckin’ drug dealer when it comes to those moon flowers. B-But I’ve been trying to grow my own, s-so he might not have that role for much longer.”

Virote insists that there is no way that someone can grow Solar Golds and Royal Frangipani somewhere that’s not his moon. Good thing that Rick isn’t “someone”. Not to mention that the more he gets told that he can’t do something, the harder he tries to prove that he can instead.

“W-We ended up under a fuckin’ mistletoe, s-so I kissed him. An-And then, for some demented reason, he thought that making out with me again would be a proper payback.” A snort. He still doesn’t get the logic behind that. “I-If you ask me, I kissed him stupid an-and he had to get another taste ‘c-cause I’m that good.”

He pulls out his flask and brings it to his lips to take a casual swing before speaking up again.

“W-What the fuck do you want me to say? H-He’s real fuckin’ pretty, he’s not a bad kisser...e-even if he could use some practice. An-And I’d tap that nice ass. I-I don’t see what the big deal is. I-I mean, shit, my type tends to be ‘consentient and not hideous’. Ha-Have you seen him? C-Can’t you really blame me for sparing a thought about shoving him down in his fairy tale gardens or-or in on the floor of his fancy ass wine cellars? B-Because if you do...you need your eyesight checked.”

{ @moonglittering - mentioned }