Lay of the Land

BY : pronker
Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar
Dragon prints: 76
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction using Dreamworks' Penguins of Madagascar franchise and I do not own Dreamworks or the franchise.

Kowalski felt he had to step up to unofficial morale officer. The team needed him to, Skipper needed him to, and Xochi would have wanted her death to provide meaning.

"I know he will," he said stoutly.

Then he caught sight of Tracy dancing with a female Humboldt penguin wearing a barracks cap. The barkeep arched a brow at them.

It was time to leave.

They wound up in an alley between two hotels for humans. Kowalski surmised that sailors from ported ships rested in the wee hours in the human hotels to prep for early departures. For himself, he felt like he never needed to sleep again.

Once in the shadows, Skipper acted fast. Kowalski kept his eyes open as Skipper dove headfirst into kisses because Kowalski planned to catalog his experiences to form hypotheses when his senses cooled. He turned his eyes upwards. How bright the stars glimmered through the racing clouds on high! Rain puddles reflected many points of light now that the typhoon's aftermath subsided. He straddled his legs to shorten his greater height so he could bump crotches with Skipper. The evening promised untold delights to savor.

The first earthquake tremors rippled the sparkling pools and Kowalski took notice as he broke from the kiss. Skipper whined when Kowalski pulled back his head to rest it on Skipper's shoulder to watch the stars dancing on the turbulent waters. The commander pushed Kowalski against the brick wall again as he leaned in for more kisses and ended Kowalski's daze.


The two moved together with their backs flat up against the wall, sidling in fluid motion to a place of relative safety. They had been dependent upon and trusting each other with their very lives for longer than they wanted to think about, Kowalski considered, as he indicated a doorway ten feet down the alley to take cover in and how lucky was that?

They had been enjoying a boisterous, obscene good time between a crumbling brick hotel for those traveling on the cheap and a more upscale combination hotel and restaurant. In fact, their wanderings through the town led near the sea, because wasn't that the slap slap of waves against riprock? How could he not have noticed? How could Skipper not have noticed instinctively that fifty feet beyond the end of the alley, the susurrus of waves arose there from the edge of a cliff? Did the coke fire their senses but only for each other? What was the cost of dismissal of the outside world? Did he ever want to pay that price again?

Another tremor and the framing of the more unstable building swayed into their alley to the shouts of awakening humans. The rippling earth pushed bricks and plaster down onto them and the doorway proved unreliable as a shelter. Coughing from the mortar dust, they willed gravity not to work because the slipping tectonic plate twitched the two buildings forty more feet towards the cliff. Now they nearly overhung the ocean thirty feet below. Another tremor rumbled and collapsed the framing of the poorly constructed hotel in upon itself. As tops of the walls kissed each other and the stars disappeared, the two were thrown tightly together into a small air pocket.

Skipper's cheek was flattened against the alley wall, which still held, although both their earholes rang with sounds of asphalt breaking, water pipes gushing, and cracking strategic supports of buildings up and down the street. His flippers were flung out, their tips leveraging against the wall.

Kowalski had been flung up against the bird's back; his pelvis nestled up under his commander's buttocks.

The two huddled closely together as they waited out whatever might follow the unexpected, hoping that the walls of their prison would hold and that this wasn't the precursor to an all-out catastrophe.

When groans and cracks and snaps lessened, Kowalski spoke: "Are you all right, Skipper? Anything broken or hurting?"

"No, Kowalski, I seem to be in one piece, but you've got me pinned to the wall. Can you give me some slack?"

"I don't think I can. I have something biting into my back behind me here."

"Well, you have something pushing at me down here, you horny Gentoo."

"Sorry, it must have been our talk and me thinking of how I stuck it to Tracy." At a hnh from Skipper, Kowalski added, "Naturally, the kisses helped."

The structure shifted, and the two felt it totter toward the ocean below.

"Hold on, Kowalski! Can the walls possibly last? Are we gonna die crushed in here?"

Kowalski's chest was heaving between Skipper's shoulder blades from fear for their predicament, and his flippers wrapped around the bird's chest, his flippers buried themselves in the pecs that tensed with the need to move. He couldn't help it; he was still horny from their earlier conversation, and his cock was filling and pushing between butt cleavage. The coke's effect lasted longer than he thought it would; he filed away that fact.

"You know, Skipper," he said, his voice shaking, "This could be it for us. These could be our last moments." One of his flippers slowly slid down the bird's abs and belly and settled on the penguin's cock, which responded immediately. Skipper must have used the last line of coke, right, since he'd been adamant on buying some? Or did he abstain? Or offer it to Tracy in a gracious and grateful gesture? The coke accounted for his ready response to all this, right?

"Yes, I know, Kowalski. But what are you doing? Stop -"

But Kowalski didn't stop. He buried his face insubordinately in the hollow of Skipper's neck and kissed and sucked at him there. He stroked Skipper's cock and caressed the slick knob until Skipper stopped fighting him and started rocking in time with Kowalski's stroking.

Kowalski brought his left flipper down, ran it where buttock joined thigh and reconnoitered the area. He brought his flipper up, spit on it a couple of times, and rubbed the wetness into and around Skipper's asshole. He spat again into his own flipper, and he rubbed that into the fluid that was already bubbling out of his eager cock. He placed the head of the cock at the asshole and just let it bump there, slowly at first, with a lot of objection and huffing and puffing from Skipper.

But as Skipper shot off his own load down the cracked brick wall, he arched his back, lifting his pelvis against Kowalski, giving him wider entry. Instead of his earlier ambitious target, Kowalski's length slid up between Skipper's corded thighs and, grasping hard enough to bruise Skipper's hips, Kowalski started pumping hard. Loose plaster dust rained upon them as they swayed back and forth and clashed against each other. The whatever-it-was smacked him in the back at each thrust but he was so stoked he didn't even wince.

Skipper's objections and pants and huffs had slowly changed into sighs and moans and dirty talk of being plowed thoroughly and loving it. Kowalski treasured the term of endearment pendejo, cooed as it was in tones he'd never heard from his sir.

At first Kowalski just saw this as a relief of the stress of the moment. But as the helmet of his cock was welcomed by Skipper's body and drawn in, Kowalski began to think this was almost as good as braaping Tracy. The head of his cock rubbed against the underside of Skipper's cock and the commander shuddered and moaned. Kowalski's flippers went to Skipper's hard belly and followed the muscled midline up his abs and to his chest, curved but flat, cleft but hard, pecs standing out taut as they leapt like eels at Kowalski's touch. The brick wall grated against the backs of his flippers but he didn't mind losing feathers when he was gaining much more.

Kowalski, the worshiper of Science, realized that this body of Skipper's was even more of a turn on than the soft curves of any female he had ever been with. His flippers traveled down to Skipper's waist and hollowed hips and rounded, but solid butt cheeks. Down to those hard, heavily muscled thighs. His cock leapt with joy at the new-found intoxication of the swaying of the musk-smelling body under his command, responding to him as females rarely did. He realized that this, in fact, was a whole lot sexier than braaping Tracy. Skipper's body was tighter than anyone else's and the tendons in his thighs flexed, sending Kowalski into ecstasy and lengthening him as females had never done.

Skipper reacted to the ever-deepening plowing and pumping by turning his face to Kowalski's as much as he could and going into a deep, moan-filled sideways kiss. Kowalski divined that Skipper knew nothing had gone to the center of him and stirred his desires as did this churning cock of Kowalski's. After a tiny aftershock garnered them more wiggle room, Skipper snaked his flippers down and behind Kowalski and dug them into his ravisher's butt cheeks, holding him in, willing him to plow even deeper, giving permission to fountain come up as far as his belly.

Through their panting and moaning, they heard human voices and the sound of wood and bricks being thrown aside. Salvatruchan Spanish blended with Mexican, Tican, Chapin and other varieties that Kowalski could not identify.

"I think they've found us," Skipper moaned. "I think they're coming for us. I think they're coming for us."

"And I think I'm coming too," Kowalski muttered through a clinched beak. And he did just that, shooting off inside Skipper's crotch in heavy and deep spasms. This had been a whole new, rock-busting experience. He now thought he could get it up for a hottie like Skipper tonight before he could for Tracy if she were here, drenched in My Sin perfume and covered in sparkly violet eyeshadow.

The two adjusted their feathers as best they could and waited. The sounds of human voices came closer, calling names, calling encoragement to each other, calling again and again in languages too numerous to list. Wooden supports creaked and cracked, mortar dust drifted over them again and the whole town flickered its lights once before all power faded. They had been saved. It was the good guys, the good humans who risked aftershocks to clear the damage away in search of whoever they could rescue under black cloudy skies.

"We'll not mention this to the others, I don't think," Kowalski whispered to Skipper as they skittered into cover in the darkness.

"No, for sure not," Skipper answered.

"But I won't forget this," Kowalski said.

There was a moment of silence.

"Want to go out again after we clean up?" Skipper ventured. "Maybe after a quick dunk in the ocean?"

"Sure. And then we'll have to go looking for someplace real private like." Kowalski couldn't stop Johnson and Manfredi's speech patterns even if he wanted to.




"So, sir."

"So, Kowalski."

"Shall we, er, return to the default setting on our personal and professional relationship?"

"I think it's best. Go with what you know, right?"


They had told each other they couldn't wait to try something new, but their courage failed them as it never had on any mission and all that resulted was a mutual flipper job behind a tower of crates.

Life took over when they rejoined their team after the coke high faded, reports were made to the Big Boss when they hit the U.S. and protecting the zoo filled their days.

A followup mission to Retalhuleu in search of more intel three weeks later cost the lives of Johnson and Manfredi in an utterly stupid way.

"Ma'am, mark my words, I will never go back to Guatemala," reported Skipper via Skype the day after the four returned to Central Park Zoo.

The Big Boss nodded. "I understand. I've got you in mind for a deep cover solo assignment in México."

"I'm up for it."


The End.

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