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Earn More Sessions By Sleeving	By : pronker Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar Views: 461 -:- 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.

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Title: Earn More Sessions By Sleeving
Author: pronker
Era: After the first and second Guatemala Missions stripped the team of Manfredi, Johnson, Xochi, and nearly Rico.
Summary: Commander and lieutenant jump from the frying pan to the fire with a stop in between.
A/N: Loosey-goosey followup to "Lay of the Land." Googling the title results in a cute little clip from "Roxanne" on YouTube. :)
IOIOIOIOIO
"So how about it?"
For the third time in as many months, Skipper and Kowalski had sex. Kowalski called the shots after the whole, you know, embarrassed-Skipper-asking part. The third time was not escape from anguish after the deaths of Manfredi and Johnson, which was the case the second time in the Maersk container ship Ikke Meget threading through the Panama Canal. No, this time celebrated Skipper promoting Kowalski to lieutenant in a novel way, so Skipper allowed the freedom to choose how they did it. At least, Kowalski told himself that celebration was the only reason he and Skipper played around because if Rico and Private found out how much closer he and Skipper had become, they'd be jealous, confused and who knew what else. The team would suffer; as its new lieutenant, he felt compelled to consider those consequences.
He was growing into liking the responsibility.
Standing before him was the responsibility forming reality, a scowling commander who scowled, Kowalski surmised, because he did not wish to seem too relieved when Kowalski nodded yes. Something had changed in Skipper upon the deaths of three of his team, a quality deep inside surfaced that Kowalski acknowledged but did not like. Sarcasm suffused many commands, their strategy meetings and even a good morning might produce a what's good about it.
"I just want to celebrate," stated Skipper at last. The scowl retreated and a small grin advanced. "There may be a song in that, but let's make history tonight while Private and Rico are quarantined at the Doc's with bad cases of cabin fever."
Kowalski looked up from the bottom bunk, where he perched on its edge in a mild state of nerves as he considered which sex options to pursue. "History?"
"Er, yes. You know how I favor threes and this time makes our third - "
"The history part being what, now?"
Skipper looked Kowalski straight on. "My history of turning catastrophes like the deaths of Johnson, Manfredi and Xochi into an opportunity for a fun thing. Sex is fun and this time we're not about to be squished by an earthquake like Numero Uno or staggering on the deck of a braaping Danish ship to hunt privacy for a quickie like Numero Dos."
"When I think quickie, sir, I don't think of eight minutes jacking each other off in a lifeboat under a yellow tarpaulin."
Skipper ladled on the charm. "Well, that's why I'm letting you pick the tactic this time." He plotzed beside Kowalski to stroke his lieutenant's thigh. Kowalski flashed back to an alley in Champerico, Guatemala and decided.
"I've picked. Lie down."
As expected, Skipper did not obey readily. "That was fast. No kisses first?"
Note to self: Skipper likes to start with kisses. Check. "I'm field testing new methods of foreplay. Bear with me." This time stretched before them, not life-or-death desperation like in Guatemala or choppy-and-brief like aboard a Danish container ship with Danes wearing stout wellies clomping all about their hiding place.
This time would be at home.
This time deserved preparation.
Kowalski departed quickly for his lab, rummaged for lube and found baby oil. Baby oil lasted, smelled nice and was Kowalski's favorite substance for his own alone times. When he returned with the oil and a packet of Uqora cleansing wipes to the bunk, he heard Skipper's breath hitch, slow down and then start up fast. Kowalski geared up his tongue to explain his options for the bottle that he placed on the floor nearby. He reseated himself, flung a flipper around Skipper's shoulders and awaited questions. None came. The ice seemed broken and the moment ripe to take over the situation.
Gauging that every muscle of his commander's body clocked at 59.7 per cent tense, Kowalski produced a jump from Skipper when he massaged his neck. Their eyes met as Skipper came down from high alert and actually might lie down. "Mmmm, sweet. You've developed uhhhn the perfect touch." Sapphire blue eyes blinked and then closed to let Kowalski himself relax. Somehow not being pierced by an alpha's assessing gaze transformed the experience to more than duty.
Science indicated that small talk eased the path to Sexland. "Are we preparing two more bunks for future replacements for Manfredi and Johnson? Rico tells me he can refine his C-4 blasting technique to make 36.98 per cent less dust." Kowalski added a second flipper to rolf the shoulders that had progressed from granite to softer soapstone. "Dust forces the air scrubbing system of our lair to work overtime and possibly fail - "
"Kowalski."
"Sir?"
"Less chat, more rub."
"Aye, sir."
Did adding a link to the chain of command loosen Skipper's tongue and provide a sounding board? It seemed so because Skipper was the chatty one this time, purveying intel that Kowalski handled poorly. "Let me know what you think, Kowalski," Skipper said as he reclined. "After our last strategy meeting, Rico suggested privately that he transfer because he's flaking out following the murder of his sweetheart. Xochi blasted her way into his affections as quick as anyone I've ever seen or Manfredi and Johnson told me about. Rico feels inadequate now as a team mem- "
"But he's not!" protested Kowalski, rolfing the biceps harder and harder until Skipper squeaked. "Sorry. I mean to say, he's .3 per cent off his standard action reaction time, and that's not nearly enough to ship him to a unit who can't understand him - "
"Sometimes we can't understand him, mi segundo."
Kowalski pursued his thoughts with a vengeance. "I don't mean his words, I mean his good heart and purity of purpose. Turn over."
Skipper did, nestling into his hard pillow, head to the side as Kowalski probed deeply into lumbar vertebrae. The force of the massage pressed Skipper's belly into the bunk with the rare unfortunate result. "Sir, that's rank."
"Better out than in. I'm glad it happened."
Kowalski fanned the air. "I'm not. Computer, increase oxygen circulation by 32.8 per cent."
"QUERY: STAT?"
"Yes!"
The scrubber whirred for some minutes until Skipper said, "Okay, yeah, I can see where that could be mildly off-putting and a mood buster, too."
Kowalski continued the massage downward. Upon reaching the pert tail area, he really put his back into probing, squeezing and effleurage until Skipper jelloed back and forth like a Hawaiian monk seal rippling onto Wailea Beach. "Hrnnnugh you have a mmmnnnwhsh gift for understatement grrnh but I can breathe now. Computer, air circulation nnnnngh per standard parameters at my mark. Uhnghn. Mark."
"NORMAL PARAMETERS RE-ESTABLISHED."
The louder than usual thrumming had served to intensify thoughts into overheated overdrive, and now it was gone. To keep up momentum as they voyaged into Sexland, Kowalski ceased massaging to plaster himself at Skipper's brawny back after rolling the relaxed form onto its right side. By design, Kowalski's right flipper pillowed Skipper's cheek. "Nice. Isn't this what you history geeks call packaging, Science Boy?"
"Bundling. It's called bundling. Puritans used to keep courting couples warm and at the same time, virginal, by cuddling in icy weather though fully clothed. They placed bed linens atop the unwed pair and a bundling board separated each lover from the merest touch."
Skipper nodded, his feathers rasping over Kowalski's flipper. "Seems practical for American Puritan sensibilities but hell, if nobody touched then how did they share warmth? Good thing we're Antarctican by birth." He squirmed his tail into Kowalski's crotch. "Because I am not ready for sleep."
Kowalski hissed at the sensations slurrying through his groin. "Me, neither."
"So metaphorically chainsaw the metaphorical bundling board and let's get this party started." Skipper made to turn over into a full on face to face, but Kowalski stuttered an order.
"N-No, face away to the inside of the bunk and, and shut your eyes. Let me take command."
Skipper said thoughtfully, "I did say that you could, didn't I. Seguro, let this be the next step in your lieutenant's training. At your mark." And the cheek pressed deeper into Kowalski's flipper as Skipper deposited either a kiss or a lick at its tip.
"Mark." Now was the time to celebrate and by celebrate, Kowalski meant control, as in scientific control and experiment. He would be the control, so he began by experimenting with his subject. As he rolled away to reach down for the lube to slick his flippers, he noticed that Skipper flinched at the climpt of the squeeze bottle opening, cringed at the sploopsh of the oil squirting and shuddered at the climptch of the bottle closing. After rubbing on oil up to his elbows and slithering his right flipper back where he wanted it, he curled the flipper around Skipper's forehead to steady him while he rocked them both gently from behind, his crotch against firm butt cheeks. Softly, softly, catchee monkey, popped into his head as he reached around for the cock that needed easing so badly. Skipper lolled his head against Kowalski's clavicle and groaned when quarter-hard turned semi-hard.
"This monkey dwarfs King Kong," muttered Kowalski as he felt what he could not see. There were three large veins running its length and the ridges rising from the surface throbbed in time with a speeding up heartbeat.
Kowalski turned his head away from where he was sucking a hickey into Skipper's neck so that he could gaze down Skipper's body to where his flippers were about to play with another bird's cock. His own cock with its bellend dripping pressed against Skipper's side. Kowalski did his best not to pay too much attention to how much he wanted to grind himself against the perfectly preened feathers. It wouldn't take much to make him come, he knew – but this was about Skipper, Kowalski wanted this to be about Skipper, about getting to know and touch and explore Skipper, and, and a scosche grinding couldn't hurt, right? He calculated the odds to 82 per cent certainty. He kissed Skipper's neck again at the spot where white dimpled flesh peeked through a divot of black spit-slicked feathers, a hot and needy kiss with an open beak. He bit back a moan as he ground against Skipper so hot so thermo-regulated while the take it slow strategy burnt to ash as medium speed ahead took over.
Kowalski gave in to to his own desires cheerfully and the flipper that curled around Skipper's cock matched the rhythm of his grinding. He added achingly controlled slides with a slight twist at the end, all the way up and down Skipper's length, the way he himself loved best. It became a little dry, but he didn't want to pause to squish more lube. Skipper didn't seem to mind, judging from the way that he pushed up into Kowalski's flipper.
Hold on a minute. Wait a sec. He had hold of a beast. He'd seen it many times during their life in close quarters, heard its bubbly release in a dark Guatemala alley, wrung a brisk come out of it aboard the Ikke Meget and never before realized it was a beast. To bury that beast in beak or body would take lengthy preparation and even then, even then ...
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Earn More Sessions By Sleeving