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The lamb. The lamb was definitely better than the beef. It just had a more robust flavor, more complex, more refined...for dog jerky.

Marshall gnawed on one end of the treat, nipping off bits and pieces and savoring each one before he swallowed. The jerky treats were a rarity over the usual bones, and therefore carried a higher value; given after an especially harrowing mission, they signified that the Paw Patrol were, indeed, all good pups.

The best part was, no matter who went on the mission for the day, everyone got a treat at the end. Score!

Like today, when Alex had to call Ryder after he chased a butterfly into the middle of a marshy area and couldn't get himself unstuck from the mud. As usual. It seemed like the residents of Adventure Bay possessed almost no idea how to solve their own problems, but hey, it kept the pups busy. They smiled and helped out but really...in between games of Pup Pup Boogie they couldn't help sharing stories of how silly the humans could be.

And so it had been up to Marshall and Rocky to rescue Alex while the rest of the Patrol stayed behind on standby, which meant they lazed around and played Boogie until Ryder returned with their teammates. Marshall had used his ladder to offer the boy a grip to hang on, and Rocky had brought out some old wooden planks he had on hand to make a pathway back to solid ground. Rocky had a way of making most of the stuff in his truck reusable. That was kind of his thing.

The Dalmatian yawned in between bites and stretched his legs. Yesterday he'd had a big dinner and conked out early to fitful sleep, so when the call came he'd still been groggy. He'd made it through okay, but all he wanted to do now was take a nap. Setting the rest of the jerky aside for later, he pressed the button to close the door on his doghouse/fire truck and curled up.

Right before he heard a knocking.

"Awwww, come on!" he shouted at the door. "I'm trying to take a nap in here. Skye, we can play more Boogie later, okay?"

"Do I sound like Skye to you?" came a high-pitched voice that wasn't as high-pitched as the Cockapoo's.

Marshall pressed the button while managing not to move from his bed. "Hi Rocky," he yawned again. "What's up? Please don't tell me Ryder needs us again."

"Nope!" The grayish mutt padded into the small space and kicked the door button with a hindpaw. Soon the two stood bathed in darkness, with only their night vision to see by.

Marshall made it about four seconds before he felt awkward enough to reach his tail back to flip the toggle for his night light. When it turned on, Rocky's eyes had an odd shine to them beyond their usual bright hazel. "So, what's up?"

Rocky sat down and scratched at one ear, and the Dalmatian noticed the absence of not only Rocky's signature cap, but his communicator collar as well. He looked weird with nothing on. He looked...naked, though that only existed in the human world. "Nothin', just wanting to spend some time with my best bud spotty," he said, canting his head to increase the cuteness factor a billion percent.

"Where's your collar?"

"I left it in my truck. It was making my neck all itchy."

"You sure it's not fleas?" Marshall giggled, and then squealed as the mutt leaped to tackle him. The two rolled around, paws flying every which way, until the mutt won--as always; the Dalmatian was too clumsy to put up a fight--and lay atop him, panting hard. "Okay, okay, I give!"

"No, I give," Rocky growled, even though he was clearly the victor. What had gotten into him?

Marshall decided to get serious. "Alright, Rocky, what's going on? Is Rubble playing another prank? This is getting weird." As an answer the mutt settled atop him, front to front, and gazed into his blue eyes. But that just made it weirder.

"Nobody's playing tricks. Can't I spend some quality time with my best friend?" Rocky nuzzled at the Dalmatian's neck and began to nibble at the fur along his collar, and it was then Marshall noticed the change in scent. Rocky still smelled like Rocky, but different somehow. And he could swear he could smell Zuma...

"I guess...though usually you want to play outside in the sun." At one point Rocky had said he might as well be solar-powered, which made everyone laugh.

More weight against his chest. "So I'm changing it up a little, so what?" he said in what could be described as a husky voice, despite the fact that Everest sounded nothing like this. Humans and their words. While Marshall wasn't very uncomfortable physically, the mental side was another story. But he didn't want to upset the mutt, so he kept passive.

Until Rocky clamped his lips over the Dalmatian's and ground their sheaths together. That was a different story.

At first it took a few seconds to realize what Rocky was actually doing, and a few more to process it. This wasn't just some nose-nuzzle like sometimes when they greeted each other, or even a friendly lick. This was a full-on, lip-to-lip human-style kiss, made even more humany when the mutt stuck his tongue out to try to pry Marshall's teeth open. By the time the Dalmatian noticed the odd hardness against him his brain had recovered enough to make him scramble out from under Rocky and over to the nearest wall. His cheeks burned but he didn't know why.

"What are you, crazy?" But all the mutt did was sit on his haunches, dangling an inch of pink something out of his sheath. "And what's wrong with your thingy?"

Rocky giggled, licking saliva from his jowls. "Nothing's wrong, silly," he said. "It's supposed to do that. Zuma said so."

"Zuma put you up to this?"

"He didn't put me up to anything!" Now the mutt sounded indignant, almost hurt. "He's just...been showing me a few things, is all. Things that make you feel good."

Checking between his own legs to make sure he wasn't in the same condition, Marshall replied, "Felt pretty weird to me."

"Bad-weird, or naughty-weird?" asked Rocky, the grin having returned. "Just because it feels naughty doesn't mean it's bad. Not always."

"Who taught Zuma?"

The mutt shrugged. "He said he found out one day when he was bored. Had his paw down there for a little too long and his thingy got all stiff, and then it felt good, and then it felt really good." Rocky's paw had gone back to idly stroking his bit of pink, making it bigger and turning it from grayish-blue to grayish-red. "And then he went on the Internet, and man, there's a lot of thingies on there. So that's how he found out stuff."

"So what does that have to do with me?"

"Well," Rocky started, looking a little crestfallen, "I kinda wanted to share some with you." He looked at the floor. "It's not bad for you, and Zuma said that once I showed you he was sure you'd like it. He didn't even want Chase to know about it yet until the three of us had...you know...done stuff." The way the mutt was talking about it did sound very naughty, maybe even the kind of naughty you got in trouble for, so you had to keep it secret, but not naughty enough to where Marshall didn't trust him.

After some thinking, mostly about hurting Rocky's feelings, the Dalmatian asked, "It doesn't hurt?" Rocky didn't answer right away, not too encouraging, but he appeared to not be thinking too hard.

"Yes and no?" The mutt weighed his paws on an invisible scale. "It really depends on what you're doing. Maybe it'll hurt at first, a little, but this it's better, but Zuma said he didn't hurt at all...don't stare at me like that!"

"Well, Rocky, first you say it hurts and then you say it doesn't and then you're trying to lick inside my mouth...what am I supposed to do?"

Rocky gave an exasperated sigh and said, "You could start by getting on your back again and just letting me show you." He looked genuinely hurt that Marshall didn't trust him. Rocky had never looked so despondent, least of all as the result of something the Dalmatian had done or said. So, because he couldn't stand seeing that down-turned face, Marshall slowly padded up to Rocky and rolled over.

"Alright, get it over with. I still want my nap."

Through a beaming smile, the mutt said, "I don't think you'll wanna nap once I get started." The next thing Marshall felt was a coldness under his balls that made him yelp and start to jump away, but Rocky put a paw on his pink-white sheath and held him down. The pressure wasn't entirely unwelcome. The spotty looked down between his legs long enough to see the mutt begin licking around, warming him up. First it tickled, but quickly settled down to a nice glow.

"Whoa..."

"Tolja," Rocky said around his own tongue. "Just lay back, okay?" considering nothing hurt just yet, Marshall did as he was told and stared at the roof of the space and wondered if Zuma really figured out all of this stuff on his own. Yeah, it felt kind of cool to touch the bits down there, though the humans left the pups to their own devices at bath time regarding that. But this feeling, this focused attention on his sac (and now rapidly swelling sheath) was something entirely different.

Marshall would have to have a talk with Zuma later about all this.

A few more minutes of attention got his groin feeling almost uncomfortably tight, and the Dalmatian held off as long as he could before piping up. "Hey, Rocky?"

"Mhm? Oh, you probably want out. You're pretty big already. Don't want you to get stuck." None of these statements made sense before Marshall was engulfed in heat, and they still didn't make sense after. All he knew was that Rocky's muzzle was sliding along his thingy, which felt like a swollen ankle but much better. And the more he tried to look, the harder the mutt sucked, keeping him wriggling like a bowl of Jell-O.

Oh. The mirror. Of course. The mirror Marshall used every morning to check his fur and spots before heading out for the day. The mirror just to his right that, when he turned his head, showed him a full-on view of Rocky nursing on a big pink thing that had somehow come from his own sheath. And it felt good.

Though Rocky's technique wasn't perfect, he knew what he was doing, sliding his lips gently along the short length before lapping at the golf-ball-sized swelling towards the base. Marshall's first reaction was to panic because something was REALLY wrong with him, but he had to trust the mutt to some degree. This was apparently supposed to happen, so he let it. And the feeling swelled and grew, almost to the point where the spotty had to pee, but just before he let go Rocky pulled off and came up for air.

"How was that?" he panted, drool and who knew what else all over his mouth. In the mirror his dick hung down, larger than Marshall's own, dripping and angrily red.

Marshall propped himself up and got his first good look at his erection. Shorter and thinner than Rocky's, but still more than he'd ever seen. "Is that my thingy?"

"It's called a dick. And yes, it's always been there. Zuma had to calm me down too; I thought I was sick or something," the mutt giggled. "But you're not sick. You're working just fine."

"If you say so."

"You said you could trust me. Here, let's get this off." Rocky trotted behind the Dalmatian and nipped at the back of his collar until it fell to the floor. "Don't want it all messy."

So there was more. Oh boy. On his back, exposed from head to tail, Marshall felt really really naked, and he was glad it was just the two of them here. "N-now what?"

Rocky's grin did not foster much in the way of trust. "Turn around."

"Oh my gosh, really? What're you gonna do, bite my tail now?" Yet Marshall did as requested, feeling even clumsier than usual due to the new appendage between his legs. As soon as he turned his back Rocky dug in under his tail and started licking. The Dalmatian let out a squeak and stiffened, but soon let his tongue roll out because this felt even better. Somehow, a tongue in a tailhole ceased to be gross when you were the one getting tongued.

Marshall found himself panting, staring at the floor...and spreading his hindpaws to give Rocky better access. It was like his brain was on cruise control. Finally, he understood why Rocky had been so eager to share.

"I didn't think I'd like the giving part," said the mutt between licks, "but it turns out there's a lot of musk back here. And you smell pretty awesome." A paw crept between his legs and started to rhythmically squeeze behind his knot. Marshall would have to take his word for it; he wasn't sure he'd be able to return the favor.

Around the time Rocky had a good inch inside, the Dalmatian's legs began to tremble. Everything back there had started to tighten up, like when Ryder put the pups through exercise drills. But at the same time he felt an impending release, if only he waited long enough. However, right when his hips began to buck the mutt let go and backed away.

"Whoa there, not just yet." Marshall failed to stifle a whine. Rocky slid under the spotty's belly and took a long, slow drag off his dick. The sensation was incredible, intense and almost too much. Rocky went back behind and spit on the hole, working back inside for a bit. "You almost came. Wouldn't want that."

"What's coming?"

"You'll see." Marshall watched Rocky bend double in the mirror and slobber on his thingy. "It's when all the good feelings explode and you squirt. But now it's my turn. This might hurt a little, but I tried to make you looser."

"What might hurt?"

Instead of an answer, Rocky hopped up onto the Dalmatian's back, pulled further with his paws, and started jabbing under Marshall's tail. He was trying to stick his thingy in there...which seemed gross and weird and not pleasurable at all. "I'm glad I caught some of your stuff before you wasted it on the floor. Don't lose it; reuse it!" And then the pups made contact and Rocky's tip slid in.

Super weird. Like, really double super weird. Stuff had always come out of there, not gone in on purpose. There may have been a little pain, but mostly it was just plain big. Rocky had done a good job preparing.

"Ohhh man, you're so much tighter than Zuma," Rocky moaned as the rest of his shaft spread Marshall open until his knot stopped further entry. The Dalmatian found himself fighting an odd jealousy that the mutt had done this with someone else. He couldn't explain it. "I'm not gonna last long."

"Til you...come?"

"Uh huh." Rocky began...well...rocking his hips, only two or three inches moving around but it felt like so much more. Marshall made a face and felt heat creeping into his cheeks. "How's it feel?"

"Weird. But not bad?"

"Can I go faster? I just wanna finish so bad." Rocky sounded more plaintive than the spotty had ever heard him, so much so that he kind of felt sorry for his friend. And it didn't hurt, not really. Not anymore."

"Well, okay. But don't shove that big part in, okay?"

"Deal." Rocky's claws dug into Marshall's hips and the mutt went for broke. His thrusts started out purposeful but soon became erratic, while the Dalmatian struggled to support the weight and motion. Any thought of stopping was out of the question; Rocky was fired up and ready for a rough, rough ride. Green meant go.

The tightness was back, stronger than ever. Marshall had just enough time to acknowledge it before something back there snapped and a rush of heat washed over his body. He suddenly had to pee and blushed further in shame...but no pee came. Just a massive wave of pleasure and about a dozen spasms that caused him to clench around Rocky's dick. Both pups whimpered.

"Yeah..." the mutt managed to squeak before slamming his hips twice and holding still. "So good." Marshall thought he could feel his pulse in his own butt but soon realized it was Rocky, twitching, while warmth spread inside the Dalmatian. An overwhelming calmness came over him as he lay his chin in his paws.

He could definitely use that nap now.

After another minute, during which neither pup said a word, Rocky withdrew as gently as he could and popped out easily. Mutt cum dribbled down Marshall's balls and dripped onto the floor. He'd have to find a way to clean it up before Ryder saw; there'd be no explaining this. The spotty turned around to find Rocky licking himself back into his sheath.

"Will mine go back too?"

"Oh, sure. Just don't let it dry out. That's like a triple ouchie! Here." Rocky put himself away and came over to lick around Marshall's sheath. Once lubed, the shaft quickly lost its hardness and slid back into its home, sending tingles the whole way. "There, all better." Their eyes met, and the Dalmatian thought they'd go in for another kiss (not as awkward now, admittedly) but instead they merely touched noses and nuzzled along whisker beds. Somehow that was much more intimate and powerful than anything else they'd done.

"So...did you like it?" asked the mutt in a low voice, his eyes smoldering.

Marshall blushed, looking away and pawing at an ear. "Um...yeah. Not at first, but yeah."

"You wanna play again sometime?"

The spotty found himself nodding sheepishly.

"Maybe I could bring Zuma over?"

Just the thought made Marshall squirm. Who knew what kind of stuff they'd do with three pups in one place? And what about Chase and Rubble? It could get crazy.

"Looks like a yes. I'm glad you let me show you, Marshall. I've been dying to do that for days." And with a quick lick to his jowl, the mutt turned around and trotted out the door that opened automatically for him. Back in the semi-darkness, the spotty could only sit there, on his freshly-bred rump, and try to make sense of the past half hour or so.

But he couldn't. So he gave up, shrugged his shoulders, and curled up next to the puddle of fluids he'd have to clean up later, because right now all he could think about was sleep, missions be damned.

1/26-1/30/15

***

Story by Whyte Yote

Art by CrazedG

Characters belong to Nickelodeon/Nick Jr.