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Earn More Sessions By Sleeving	By : pronker Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar Views: 462 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction set in Dreamworks' Penguins of Madagascar franchise and I do not own Dreamworks or the franchise.

Chapter List
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Options! You've got to come up with options! Think, Kowalski, think! In the name of Pierre Gassendi, don't you go losing it now!
Options One through Eighteen flooded a mind accustomed to multi-tasking and bingo, Option Three popped to the surface as exciting, appropriate and, and, and doable. Kowalski laved his tongue over Skipper's shoulder after he nipped there as a placeholder for real action. Skipper moaned as the lieutenant supposed that the commander couldn't help but buck into the empty air, desperate for some stimulation that Kowalski withheld.
Kowalski took all his half-conceived notions, hypotheses and theories about topping and bottoming and pitched them out the porthole. Without knowing quite how he did it, he doused the flame of his own desire to smouldering coals with thoughts clear as the water in Lake Tahoe. Any good second in command realized when to suggest another option, and thus he proposed a change in the course of the evening, although since he'd not defined aforementioned course verbally to Skipper, he actually did not need to say anything at this time. He allowed a quiver of relief that Skipper seemed to interpret as full speed ahead.
Kowalski tut-tutted as he firmed his grip on the writhing body, his breath hot against Skipper's earhole. "Patience."
Skipper flung himself back against Kowalski's belly, provoking a growl. Kowalski shook his head to clear the image of a rock hard length sinking into him, taking him apart, wrecking him. It was as if his own cock were a balloon and Rico uttered a gazillion decibel shriek to pop it, Kowalski thought hazily and unscientifically. Yowza. He idled his engines as the last desire fled, replaced by cold observation as his cock wilted back into his belly feathers. Naturally, Skipper could not access his thoughts as he continued thrusting into the cradle of love, er, no, that wasn't quite right. Kowalski would come up with a better, more accurate term later.
Option Three contained methods he'd never seriously considered even in dreams, wet or otherwise. It was new, untried and completely fascinating. The method required adept flippers, which he owned. It would work best in face to face position, which he was, um, building up to. He rambled to himself this isn't about me and how much I want to science the ever-loving dickens out of this so this must be consensual because I refuse to take anything without permission thereby invalidating the entire experiment. He barely recognized his own voice.
"Sir, I've got uhn stop that an exciting option. Are you up for it?"
Skipper's tail wriggled into Kowalski's underbelly so seductively that he needed to recite the first third of the periodic table to return to calm. Skipper then rolled onto his belly and onto his knees, rump upwards and with head bowed to the perfect, harder-than-hard cement of their shared bed. "Ahuh!" A beat. "No needles, right?"
"Never."
Even though his head bonked into the Portland Pozzalana grade cement ceiling of the bunk, Kowalski plastered his own front onto Skipper's arched back, speculating wildly as he covered the form awaiting his action based on his decision. Skipper's presented option would not do and he must push for his preference with all the beta-male strength he owned. "My option is better. Trust me."
"Uh - huh? Ahuh!" Permission granted despite me taking the lead for once, oh thank you Maker because I'd insist on Skipper's option being reciprocal for scientific accuracy and I'm positive I couldn't handle that. Fools are positive, Kowalski, whispered something deep inside him but he ignored his gut as he generally did. I brought him to this state to his liking and mine, this will prove a most excellent memory to wank to and what's the going price for that?
Time for real action. Kowalski took a deep breath and disengaged. "Be right back. Hold position." He sat on the edge of the bed to reach for the lube again, slicking his flippers to the point where he didn't care how slippery everything got because you can never use too much lube throbbed in his head. He concentrated so hard on his task that he didn't notice Skipper roll over to face him insubordinately until a touch softer than usual brushed his elbow.
He turned to meet questioning azure orbs. "What's next, compadre?"
Kowalski stared. Skipper smiled briefly, hungrily, and waited. There was only one answer. "We're going to dock."
Before he could lose courage, he plopped the lube back onto the floor and hugged his commander as he scrambled to fit them together lying on their sides. Kowalski felt heat and friction, Skipper's neck feathers rasping his own, Skipper's returning hug and the beast bumping Kowalski's belly in uneven fits and starts.
Suddenly Skipper's grip eased. "Whatever docking means, I trust you." It was all the permission Kowalski needed. He reached for the demanding cock with his right flipper, rolled the foreskin over its tip and slid his left flipper under Skipper's head as a pillow. Now Kowalski's larger form shadowed Skipper's more compact one so that he could only see the flash of the white of the eye before Skipper closed his eyes once more.
Encouraged, Kowalski felt rather than saw his efforts succeed. Moving solely by touch, he envisioned the foreskin of Skipper's cock doing a strip tease with the meaty head, appearing, disappearing, over and over again. He kept this up until it wore out its welcome before pinching the skin to enclose the head; he jogged the cock up and down to a pleased purr from Skipper. The noises after that made Kowalski slip right along into swirling his flippertip around the head, dipping inside the skin and then out to a hah what're you do-oooo-ooooing guh. He circumnavigated the head inside the foreskin, enjoying the little grunts and hisses as he filed them away to examine later.
By now, Skipper reached the stage of coming before Kowalski was ready; the signs were unmistakable. He began to thrust out of sync, his breath roughened and were his toes curling? Kowalski reared back to see and yes, the toes splayed and then curled tightly. Uh oh. A little soon.
Skipper was so ticklish, so how was he standing this? Was his control that complete that he could ignore the urge to giggle ... or was the sensation unlike tickling and more like burning? Note to self: interview Skipper afterwards on his physical reactions like you did his mental ones following last week's Guatemala Missions Disaster Skype hearing in front of the Big Boss. Check.
This would be the closest Kowalski could come to feeling that beast inside him. He'd give his commander the feel of coming inside a partner by pushing him to his limit, by making him come inside his own foreskin. He jogged faster, reacting to the touch starvation that Skipper displayed in clenching his shoulder while his other flipper spasmed a muted punch to Kowalski's gut. As he bent his own head near Skipper's cheek to drop a kiss there, Kowalski pushed for completing his experiment. "Come for me, sir. Now."
Skipper arched, crying out and a word echoed in the lair long after he had tumbled back into their bed's blanket, long after the shakiness had ceased.
Kowalski heard splupsh and smelled come. He felt a great quantity on his flipper, but not as much as he had aboard the Ikke Meget during that hurried encounter. Docking worked well, he concluded. A great deal of come must have flooded the foreskin, too much for it to contain every droplet.
He hadn't noticed his own breath matching Skipper's until he felt lightheaded from hypoxia. He panted along with Skipper as they quieted together, shoulders slumping, backs easing into comfort once more. Whatever led Skipper to seek sex must be satisfied. When their clock pinged bedtime and lights out, his nerves signaled their return to usual state by making him jump.
Skipper, on the other hand, remained lax as boiled rigatoni. "Relax, Science Boy. We've had enough glad-we're-alive sex to last us some years."
"Years?"
"Oh you know what I mean. A long time." Skipper lolled his head against the inner wall of their bed, scootching over to make more room for the two of them. He sounded mellow and that happened, glorioski, not very often.
Mellowness was not Kowalski's general state, either, so he considered long before answering, "I believe you're right. Are you on an even keel now? Feeling better?" Kowalski might never plumb all the reasons why his leader sought him out rather than wank himself; it was enough that the action tonight eased a commander burdened with recent losses and a grueling hearing.
"There's more to life than death oh you know what I mean," fumbled Skipper. A long beat. "Don't you?"
Kowalski did know. He began to ken the depths of his new responsibility and how much more responsibility that his commander owned when he sent out others on life-or-death stakes missions. He nodded against Skipper's neck. "I do," he whispered and the two simple words suggested something or other that was not right for himself and Skipper and maybe not for any penguin.
Kowalski fished out three Uqora wipes to cleanse themselves, all the while letting Skipper ease down slowly after coming apart. While Kowalski tended tenderly to bedaubed feathers and a spent cock, the natural haze of an afterglow widened Skipper's pupils to black sated holes until a chance flop of flipper contacted Kowalski's cock, or where it would be if it were erected through ivory abdominal feathers. "You didn't like it? You're soft as a Bavarian unsalted pretzel after three days in the Gulf Stream."
Oh blunt commander, from where do you scrape up the moxie to singe me with your opinions? grumbled Kowalski to himself. He answered only when Skipper blared, "I won't fail again! I'm going to braap the come out of you if you give me a chance to make things ri-"
"No, sir. Not this time, anyway. I'm good with you having most of the fun."
Skipper exploded. "I celebrated and you didn't and it's your promotion! It's not right! It's not right!"
"You don't have to do anything at all."
"The hell I don't. I can't leave you like this."
"By sheer force of odds, not everything is going to be right." That shut his commander up. "And maybe you don't realize it, but I had my own kind of fun. I got to observe and form hypotheses. Science is fun to me."
The rumbling under his breath died down until Skipper finally replied, "If you say so."
"I do."
A philosophical mood flavored their lair when Skipper opined, "I just needed a warm sleeve."
Kowalski laughed first. He supposed that when Skipper realized how those six words sounded, he would laugh as well and sure enough, he did. Kowalski chucked Skipper under the chin, a new familiarity he might never dare again, but for this once, it rocked.
"So this was crackalackin' estupendo."
"So thank you."
"So you think Rico will stay with the team 'cause I do."
What a strangely put question with its built in answer, thought Kowalski. He chose his words carefully. "Me, too, but I don't want to guess what would happen with him if Manfredi and Johnson hadn't gifted him that doll before they d-died. She helps him at night even if she can't talk. Sometimes I think he likes it better that way."
"Tee Em Eye, Kowalski, I don't need to hear what you overhear - "
"What? I don't overhear anything. I'm postulating how she fits into his bunk and reminds him of Xochi. She's somebody, er, something to cuddle."
"Oh. Well. Carry on then."
"Aye."
It would be agreeable to sleep the rest of the night together, thought Kowalski as his eyelids drooped, and he slung one leg over Skipper's hip. Maybe that movement sparked the return to officer space, he never knew, but the next moment held Skipper sitting up to swing his legs over the side of the bunk. He favored his lieutenant with a pat on the knee and then said, "You mentioned replacements for Manfredi and Johnson and my answer is no. I found out that three is the perfect number of team members under my command so that's that."
Note to self: Skipper likes to end sex with platonic pats. Check. "How about my options regarding the issue?"
"No. Uh, not right now, I'm good with my decision." Skipper added softly, "Thanks anyway."
And then he vaulted into the bunk just above Kowalski. Kowalski shrugged as he prepared for sleep and he heard Skipper's inhales and exhales easily in the HQ with only two occupants. Their breathing deepened at the same time and right before blacking out, Kowalski wondered if there would be a record breaking fourth time for the two of them.
Before Rico and Private's return after their complete cure three days later, Skipper and Kowalski were nearly over their hangovers from tieing one on with Gammel Dansk. Kowalski figured that the two of them waking up wrapped together like fishing worms added to their evolved lieutenant-to-commander relationship in a jolly, brotherly, all-for-one-and-one-for-all fashion.
When Kowalski fell in love with Doris the very next mission, ideas of continuing their liaison faded; after this third time, he ratified his and Skipper's new personal and professional relationship as the default, tweaked only slightly from when they were virgins to each other.
Another thing he never knew was that Skipper toyed with the notion of more sessions. He considered it, Skipper did, and then velleity took over; he simply was meh about exploring further and besides, it would have messed up his love affair with the number three. Everything worked out well in the end when Kitka soared into zoo airspace and she began their love affair. Much later, Skipper conquered his fear of needles, but that's another story.
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The End.
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Earn More Sessions By Sleeving