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Mycophilia

“Eager to get started, huh, Rick?” Morty cupped Rick’s cheek, the intimate gesture interrupted by the cumbersome respirator. He allowed Rick to sniff at his palm in search of the sweet smell, before taking it away and abruptly backhanding him across the face. He enjoyed Rick’s annoyed grunt too much to mind the sting across his knuckles. “Sit,” he snapped.

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