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Undertow	By : pronker Category: +M through R > Penguins of Madagascar Views: 11341 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this fanfiction set in Dreamworks' Penguins of Madagascar franchise. I do not own its characters, basic premise or settings.

Chapter List
- 1-1/?
- 2-2/?
- 3-3/?
- 4-4/?
- 5-5/?
- 6-6/?
- 7-7/?
- 8-8/?
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- 96-96/?
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- 101-101/?
- 102-102/?
- 103-103/?
- 104-104/?
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- 109-109/?
- 110-110/112
- 111-111/112
- 112-112/112
- 52
- 53
- 54
Protectprotectprotect, thought Private as he powered up the dildo to turtle setting with an Oh! from Skipper. Skippa's never goin' to let this happen, he'll wriggle away or order me to retreat, and I can't, I cannot let that be the end of this, I must sail against the wind like Admiral Bloody Nelson to protect our relationship. Here goes nothin'. He leaned closer and then straightened. Wait, wait! Marlene says you can never use too much lube on a dildo! With a gauging eye to Skipper's every shudder and blink, he switched the dildo to his left flipper, reached for the lube at his right side and placed the tube to his beak. He mouthed the cap off because crikey, sliding back to square one by shutting off the dildo, dropping Skipper's legs to the blanket, putting down the dildo to use both flippers to open the lube's cap, and relubing the thing before hoisting Skipper's legs once more spelled disaster to his plan. His sense of morale was one hundred percent positive the delay would jolt Skipper out of his semi-agreeable mood.
Skipper would slap down all retry attempts.
Private would fail as unofficial morale officer.
Their relationship would stall out, Skipper would find another love or lose himself in his work forever.
Private's breath hitched. Why, oh why, had he taken Marlene's advice about using a dildo and not duplicated the first time that Skipper prepared him for going all the way with sex? Stick with what you know, right? To discard the dildo idea now would jar his scheme and he'd planned so very carefully, he had, he had. He dithered, knowing he was dithering, and got close to tears before mentally slapping himself. If Uncle Nigel could hare off chasing the Red Squirrel following decades of no intel regarding the sneaky spy's last reported position, then his nephew could accomplish no less because he possessed intel now and he knew what to do.
Private squelched a blob onto the dildo, tossed the lube back onto Hello Kitty, lost the lube's cap somewhere and in the process smeared his dry flipper and a good expanse of his belly with the slick stuff. He rubbed the lube all over the dildo this time, uncaring of mess, and took stock of the sitch. So far, so good: Skipper appeared lost in thought as he stared upwards past the lighted part of their campsite at where he knew stalactites, pointy, hurty stalactites reminded him of space squids and alien invasions piercing where no alien ought to go. Or maybe he was trying to settle himself down through facing bad memories? Was it working? How could he help?
Private planted a firm, calming flipper on Skipper's right ankle, the one that threatened to clench to its mate with Private's neck strangled in the middle. He slithered the tip of the humming dildo around the ruched ring of the opening. Skipper jumped a mile, or so it seemed, and a mmuuuh escaped him.
The lubed feathers parted even more to disclose the entire ring and where plasticky Faux Skipper would have squeaked as Private slipped in the dildo, the real article flinched. Private held his breath. This was the crux of the technique that Marlene had coached him in. Easy, easy, a dollop of torque - he twisted a quarter turn, pushed, and the dildo slid in like Flynn if Flynn would have been content with dipping in one half of himself - and then Private rested his cheek on the ankle that quivered atop his shoulder. He stroked the ankle without fully letting go of his grip in case of an escape attempt, and he licked the solid knob of bone as he allowed Skipper to adjust.
"I don't think it's possible to lick someone cl-clean," murmured Skipper, trembling. Private shied away from wondering what condition his commander would be in without some Dutch courage to warm his blood.
"Everyone's a comedian," smiled Private. He stayed stock still until Skipper's shoulders dropped a trifle as he breathed easier. Then Skipper asked that which neither Private nor Marlene had considered.
"D-Did you practice this on yourself?"
Honest answers were easier to remember than lies. "No."
"How about on Marl- "
"No! I mean, she told me wot do to without demonstratin' like, like that, and I said I understood. I do understand, Skippa."
"Then you're one up on me."
A notion flitted through Private's brain, too wispy to be caught by his mind's broad, kind meshes. He was left with a fleeting comparison of an outer space squid's rude invasion of personal inner space to Skipper's vow never to inflict the same on anyone he loved. At least, it remained in character for his leader to swear an oath to himself like that, similar to the one he'd sworn to never visit Hoboken, New Jersey. He'd remained close-beaked regarding such an oath about not hurting a loved one, but he had frequently cursed Hoboken, New Jersey.
Except for their feelings, it stood to reason that Skipper never hurt Kitka or Doris. Private didn't think he had hurt any of his other loves, either, whoever they were. Most likely, he had been gentleman enough to slip away in a dignified fashion after breaking things off in person.
Private left Lola out of the mix deliberately because he'd never known what to think about her.
It was time to saddle up and move. A smidgen at a time, Private shuttled the dildo in and out. His grip slipped once on the gloopy, vibrating plastic and Skipper's breath caught, but there was no discomfort on his dear face. Private mined deeper and as he built momentum, he added more torque. Skipper panted now, clutching the blanket in excited spasms, rolling his head with eyes shut. He moaned.
Perversely, Private stilled his movements. Pulling out the dildo and gentling the legs onto the blanket, he straightened up to survey his love's urgent need. He rubbed his back before he buttered one flipper against the other until both gleamed to the elbow in the dim light. Somehow, Private's nerves quietened and he knew what he had to do next: scissoring, yes that was the term Marlene had used. He glanced down to note that Skipper was receiving his attentions very well, indeed. He told his own excitement to wait.
There was a low sob and then the thud of a curled fist hammering a blanket as Skipper opened his eyes to command, "Ramming speed, Private! Ughnn!"
There was no reply worthy to the order except to continue as the otter had directed. If her instructions failed, then as last resort there remained the rabbit setting on the dildo. Private stooped directly above his target, nibbling the inside of Skipper's thighs just for fun, first right and then left. He circled the preening gland with a tender beak tip and when it ladled a drip of oil, he wanted to dance as he smeared the stuff to good effect into the lube. This was going almost exactly to plan, he thought, and then stopped cold after replacing Skipper's ankles on his shoulders. Private, you git! You don't have digits to scissor with! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
He just knew he had a constipated look as Skipper locked eyes with him. Private offered a cheesy smile. Skipper shook his head no no no what's wrong?
Then, as feared, the ankles drifted from Private's shoulders and Skipper's face fell, among other things. Resignation swamped disappointment on the face as quickly as a chameleon could change color while Private fought his demons of doubt and won. Whatever came of this effort, the results would be all on him, not on Marlene, not on Skipper. "Never give up, Skippa, that's wot you'd do, righto? Lie back and let me work so you can just feel. I'll save us." He pushed Skipper's legs up and apart and Skipper seemed to divine that the mission was to hold them that way. He did, abs taut, as he curled forward on braced elbows to see what Private was doing while curiosity replaced resignation.
Private ducked under the legs to grab the lube and slather both flippers thick with it. He eased them inside his love, the second alongside the first. Skipper bit off a whimper and lay flat, surrendering to skills he'd marvel at later. The legs settled on Private's shoulders once more.
Inside the tight canal Private grabbed his own flippertip and formed a ball. Working his two appendages as a unit, he began to pump cautiously. Skipper's frenzied movements urged him further in as a cock at parade rest filled in its own good time.
One thrust knocked Private's flippers into perfect position. With his tongue hanging out in concentration, the young bird began to torque his two flippers like a Kenmore washing machine agitator, back and forth, back and forth. One rolled over the sweet spot, the second tantalized the opening. Gradually, he increased his speed while the cock stood to attention as if the Big Boss inspected her Central Park Zoo base personnel.
Thick, fast pants filled the air. Skipper's hips snapped as a moan built in the semi-darkness.
Private fell against Skipper and pressed his cheek against the slickened belly feathers. He murmured something he'd never remember. Whatever it was was lost in the passion of Skipper's cries.
Private smiled broadly as his cheek bounced. He could control this part enough to have a bit more personal fun before solving the final problem. He slid out and wrapped his flippers tightly around Skipper's waist to pull Skipper hard against his body. Slithering forward like Savio pursuing a tasty small mammal, jamming his own excitement into the soft feathers of Skipper's shin before plowing forward to kiss the strong jawline, he ground down in earnest on Skipper's cock while he peppered more kisses. Skipper did not kiss back while his hips pistoned faster and faster as if set on overdrive. It was all right that Skipper remained absorbed in pursuing his own pleasure; the next step was split seconds away. Private reluctantly quit kissing to look back over his shoulder.
And there was the signal. The feet waving in the Maglite's diffused glow spread their toes, six sharp-clawed spearheads to win this battle that wasn't actually a battle. "He spreads the toes, now in he goes!" Marlene had chanted in her lesson. Perhaps she meant to sprinkle a lighter mood on his worried face that day, he didn't know. The rhyme was a smashing good memory helper, though.
If Private shouted as he yearned to he'd break the mood, so he whispered. "Now." He disengaged enough to present his back to his love as he rolled in the loose embrace, kneeling up to drag Skipper's enthusiastic flippers around his neck. He bent as far as possible and when he felt Skipper's body align properly, he reached back to slick and then spread himself. "Now, Skippa. It's all right. I'm ready for you."
The most welcome groan in the world filled Private's earholes as Skipper knelt in turn behind Private and shoved himself into warm depths until it was simply too much to bear. Skipper came after five pushes and Private followed not long after.
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Undertow