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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/?
- 9-9/?
- 10-10/?
- 11-11/?
- 12-12/?
- 13-13/?
- 14-14/?
- 15-15/?
- 16-16/?
- 17-17/?
- 18-18/?
- 19-19/?
- 20-20/?
- 21-21/?
- 22-22/?
- 23-23/?
- 24-24/?
- 25-25/?
- 26-26/?
- 27-27/?
- 28-28/?
- 29-29/?
- 30-30/?
- 31-31/?
- 32-32/?
- 33-33/?
- 34-34/?
- 35-35/?
- 36-36/?
- 37-37/?
- 38-38/?
- 39-39/?
- 40-40/?
- 41-41/?
- 42-42/?
- 43-43/?
- 44-44/?
- 45-45/?
- 46-46/?
- 47-47/?
- 48-48/?
- 49-49/?
- 50-50/?
- 51-51/?
- 52-52/?
- 53-53/?
- 54-54/?
- 55-55/?
- 56-56/?
- 57-57/?
- 58-58/?
- 59-59/?
- 60-60/?
- 61-61/?
- 62-62/?
- 63-63/?
- 64-64/?
- 65-65/?
- 66-66/?
- 67-67/?
- 68-68/?
- 69-69/?
- 70-70/?
- 71-71/?
- 72-72/?
- 73-73/?
- 74-74/?
- 75-75/?
- 76-76/?
- 77-77/?
- 78-78/?
- 79-79/?
- 80-80/?
- 81-81/?
- 82-82/?
- 83-83/?
- 84-84/?
- 85-85/?
- 86-86/?
- 87-87/?
- 88-88/?
- 89-89/?
- 90-90/?
- 91-91/?
- 92-92/?
- 93-93/?
- 94-94/?
- 95-95/?
- 96-96/?
- 97-97/?
- 98-97/?
- 99-99/?
- 100-100/?
- 101-101/?
- 102-102/?
- 103-103/?
- 104-104/?
- 105-105/?
- 106-106/?
- 107-107/?
- 108-108/?
- 109-109/?
- 110-110/112
- 111-111/112
- 112-112/112
- 54
- 55
- 56
"Do you hear water, Skippa?"
Skipper looked up from massaging Private's left pinkie toe. "You, too? I thought it was wishful thinking."
Private extracted his toe with a grateful look. "Thanks ever so, I got a cramp in it from doin' wot we did." He flexed his feet with a small wince. "Feels a tad better. Mmmm, think I'll rest a bit more."
Skipper stretched into a Tai Chi Golden Rooster Stands On One Leg for six reps and came down into Hold The Ball. "Little nap was just what I needed. You stay put and I'll explore. If you hear a scream, use your own judgment. If it's a scream of joy, come running towards me. If it's a scream of fear, run the other way. Got it?"
"As if I'd desert under fire, pffhhht."
"I'll make it an order if I must. I don't want to since we're on vacation, but - "
"Code words to holler when we're out of each other's sight, then? Routine Thirty-Two?"
"Confuse and Distract works for everything that we can handle above ground but under the ground, it's all a crapshoot. No, Routine Fifteen: Find Cover Fast. Shit gets real, penguins find cover and regroup. Them's my orders, er, firm suggestions."
Private regarded his toe. "I don't know, my health is compromised with my ickle bitty toe hurtin'. I am not hearin' too well, either, maybe it's all your moanin' - "
"I'm leaving. My orders stand. Over and out." Skipper took the brighter of the two Maglites and sidled, commando-like, towards the dripping sound. He disappeared behind a strip of cave bacon, extra crispy.
IOIOIOIOIO
It took some squeezing through fifty feet of narrow tunnel, but on the far side of an expanse filled with a carton of one dozen thundereggs and a full rasher of cave bacon spouted enough water trickling off a stalactite to call it a shower. Flowstone draped around the stalactite to term it a stall and the water drained through a penny-wide crack beneath his feet. The experience was delicious as smoked salmon, thought Skipper, as he twirled like a pretty little ballerina underneath the spray. He washed his pits, his feet, and everything in between. He saved his head and neck for last.
"Oh man, that felt good. Oh man." His voice echoed in the shower stall. "Echo!"
"Echo!" answered the shower.
"I love you, Private!"
"I love you, Private!" came the reply. Now that he was squeaky clean, he danced like an Egyptian back to where Private waited as he spun his Maglite in ecstatic spirals. He spied Private reclining just like Kowalski had when the scientist tried to seduce the Blue Hen with sexy dance moves that Skipper hadn't realized his lieutenant had in him. Skipper jumped a little at seeing Private in the same pose before he shook off the surprise.
"Guess what? Water ahead, boyo! We can refill the canteen, too. Don't faint from pleasure. Save that for later. No more stickies, no more dirt, no more nothing."
No reply, either. Private had fallen asleep with his head on his crooked elbow, aw wasn't that sweet? Damn, the diluted minerals in the cave water must have misted his eyes. Skipper swiped them and bent down low. "Reveille, Private," he husked.
Nothing was more adorable this side of the Eternally Foggy Sea than Private's yawn, blink and stretch. "Eh? Wot's up?"
"A shower, babe, an actual honest to the Endless Iceberg shower, as refreshing as the one in our HQ, just not as warm. Come on, I'll carry you."
By Clara Barton's meatwagon, Private's toe needed pampering and Skipper was just in the mood to cosset. It helped that nobody else was around to see him princess carry Private through the narrow passage and set him down under the spray. Private artfully tossed the Maglite he'd been toting to land it pointed towards them. Muted photons spotlighted the pair as if they played in spring rain puddles.
"Honey, I'm in heaven. Join me?"
"Always."
Private submitted to being scrubbed like a baby on back and nape of neck before turning face to face with Skipper. It didn't seem the time to giggle, so neither did. As solemn as church mice, they slicked every feather, every claw and every beak clean as Alice's zoo cart after she hosed it weekly to follow up with a Simoniz wax job. To Skipper, it seemed impossible that he could love this bird any more than he did yesterday, but he did.
A warning gonged in his head as they preened each other, nuzzling glands, stroking waterproofing oil through chest and belly feathers, down muscular thighs and shapely shins, and back up to pure white throats. Happy? Sure, he was happy. Was anyone from his romantic past around to curb his happiness? Kitka? Doris? Araceli? Juana? Fanny? Anyone?
His gut reminded him that well, no, he'd never gotten it on with Fanny, that's right. Her sister, Estrellita, now that was another matter. Estrellita had worn him to a blissed out nubbin just by being, well, Estrellita. Bouvet Island probably registered a whump on the nearest Richter scale when they -
"Skippa, I declare us clean."
"Me, too. I love you, Private." Skipper resolved that this would be the last time he'd say this today, Sunday the 18th of March. No use getting into the habit of repeating a mishmush of what everyone knew, anyway. Everyone in the HQ, that is. And Marlene. Nobody else, he was certain of it. He'd never given anyone like busybody Pinky or gossip Burt cause to suspect the romances going on at the penguin habitat. Hmmm, he'd better remind Rico and Kowalski when he got back that covert operations remained their standard.
The water felt incredibly good, borderline perfect. The dimmed Maglite provided the best light ever for a rhapsody, reverie, or rapture, Skipper wasn't sure which. He didn't often indulge in them and Private always seemed to be around when he did.
An hour later they were back in bed at the Bronze Anteroom, bathed, fluffed and dried on a late afternoon. Such riches to be able to rest when they felt like it! Private snuggled into Skipper's belly and turned off the Maglite. He muttered something sleepily.
"Mmm. Yeah, babe. Me, too."
A mumbled say it broke the mood.
"I did say it," Skipper affirmed.
A whuff.
Skipper sighed, exasperated enough to growl, "Saying 'me too' is the same thing as saying it."
A much crankier mutter.
"Oh look, we feel too good. Just go to sleep, okay?"
Private subsided with a loving phrase and settled back down.
"Yeah, babe, me too."
A while later, soft snores came from their blankets. "Private, are you awake? Private?"
More hbhbhbhhbees.
Feathers rustled gently against a tender touch. "You know, I do love you," said Skipper under his breath.
A delighted wheeee filled the air.
"Private, put me down, that's cheating!" Skipper said in outrage. "You were supposed to be asleep!" A soft thud was followed by whispering on the blankets.
Private made a contented noise that Skipper echoed.
"Yeah, me too. Now get some sleep. And hey, don't forget to inventory what we used on the trip before we leave tomorrow."
But from the other side of the blanket there came only the slow, even breathing of a young commando drifting off to sleep.
IOIOIOIOIO
It may have been two hours, it may have been five hours later that Skipper awoke with morning wood. He played with himself after rising to get rid of one third canteen of water. He tilted his head to gather information from Mama Nature and all he could determine was that the atmosphere possessed that middle of the night flatness in the dark hours before dawn. He could have consulted Kowalski's smartphone for the hour, but why bring tech into such a peaceful, natural time? He knew that above him, stalactites extended downwards all unseen, slivers of crystal bright against the velvety dress of the bronze flowstone. No longer did they seem threats, but jewels in his treasure house of memory, jewels to string on the necklace of a life well lived.
An artistic thought, Skipper? Are you channeling Kitka and her throwing a clay pot on the pottery wheel or are you channeling Private flashing his knitting needles? He shivered at needles and switched to contemplating Kitka. She was only a flicker in his mind's eye; she had been important to him once. Guilt over how quickly she had disappeared lasted until Private stirred beside him and ended abruptly the moment Private grasped his slowly moving elbow.
Skipper moaned and flung back his head when Private tugged his commander's flipper off the hardness. Skipper clenched and unclenched the blankets, panting as Private raised Skipper's leg to sweetly infiltrate the place that demanded attention with a questing flippertip. With a cry, Skipper mourned when Private abandoned the touches to dump Hello Kitty's contents. It must have been only one minute that Private neglected him but it seemed like the entire sultry month of August passed when Private snatched the last of Frances Alberta's large candles, four of the birthday cake sized candles, and six of the glowsticks. He lit the candles and snapped the glowsticks. They sounded like Fourth of July firecrackers.
We're going patriotic, thought Skipper as the large candle dispersed the scent of cardamom. All right! Plus we'll save on the Maglites! Excelente, Private! Skipper stroked lightly to keep up momentum, ignoring Private's excitement which remained tepid. That was okay because it was Skipper who felt on the cusp of full recovery from his imp- er, improbable problem. Private resumed his attentions by thrusting aside his commander's flippers in a not-quite-pushy fashion, replacing Skipper's wanking with his own that had grown in confidence during the last two days.
Private planted a flowery path of kisses from chin to groin. He groaned along with Skipper when lifting one of his love's legs high, the better to see the path of a good long lick followed by a tickle followed by a sly taking of the beachhead. The place where tongue thrust into flesh gleamed in the candlelight in a way no calcite could.
Skipper flopped his leg bonelessly onto Private's head. Gah he said or maybe it was Guh when Private took hold of himself with his unoccupied flipper, his fist pumping in time with the rocking of Skipper's hips.
Skipper anchored himself on the blankets and sucked in air, moving faster. Free as a pretty little songbird, Private's tongue disengaged and his laughter echoed throughout the Bronze Anteroom, rolling around and around as much as the two of them did when Skipper's anchor came loose. Wild and exultant, Private's laughter continued until he commanded, "Dance!" before dipping inside his love again.
Saying the word appeared to send Private over the edge because Private's body tightened, he stabbed deeper and then when Skipper's body tugged on him like a hungry mouth, he scattered ten pearls atop Skipper's pecs.
With a shudder and groan, Skipper closed his eyes. He remained on the cusp, his body relaxing, his cock slackening. Not yet, not yet, Private, I still need you to - hold on. Who's the commander here? As usual, it all comes down to me, the skipper, and I shall and will dance.
Skipper kept his eyes closed as he pushed Private away from him. No, he didn't need help to do this. He had his own fire. He dipped into Private's cum, ran through several fantasies before deciding on one and gave a preliminary arch before starting feather light touches on a struggling cock.
Private rolled to the far side of the blanket, watching.
"Well, Skippa, you got your subterranean combat yesterday, happy now?"
How come the mellow afterglow of getting one's rocks off faded so fast? Crankiness infused the words and Skipper couldn't figure Private out. They'd both been jittery after the Zombie-Alberta Incident, but Private's state of nerves lasted longer than it ought. He resolved to weather the latest emotional storm because really, it wasn't worth him grilling the younger bird over reasons to be touchy. He admitted to looking forward to the end of their vacation despite its success in vital areas. Vacations meant that sometimes birds spent too much time together without the comfort of routine. He considered witnessing the mighty mecha, the amazing glimpse of Frances Alberta and her defeat which had been aided by her buddy, the Hunchback of Howe Caverns. He considered the pleasant shower amid the splendor of Howe and how faithfully Private had attempted to help him just now. He concluded, "Yes. I am. Next question?"
Private stood up and fluffed his feathers in irritation so fast they made a fwomp noise. "Three times is all I'm gettin'? That's it? Are we goin' to have another go or not? I've been waitin' forever for the hiatus to end, crikey, and just three times isn't enough - "
It took an effort of will not to fluff his own feathers. Skipper resolved to make light of the situation as he stood up, too, entranced by Private's youthful ability to go twice in quick succession. The half-filled cock peeping from between Private's tense thighs said it all. "Bull Halsey's bollocks, so I still float your boat? Good to know." Honey dripped from his voice. "You turn me on, babe, too. Care to elucidate your new technique again? You got me all, er, gobsmacked and the instructions ran in one earhole and out the other." He turned his back on Private and wiggled his butt. Private made an impatient noise as he spread the blankets next to a goodly sized boulder.
"Oh, for the love of - Skippa! It's just another routine to learn!" Private flounced down and pulled Skipper onto his lap. "Here! Now lean back between my legs."
Mentally, Skipper scrambled to be the learner rather than the instructor. "I can't do this without you."
Private's bluster continued. Skipper wondered if his love were thinking how would Skippa sound. It would seem so. "Clear your mind of everythin', but don't blank your eyes like Rico does because I couldn't stand it." Fantasies spun between them in a whirlpool leading to a dark cave of pleasure and it didn't matter who started the whole shebang; these were outstanding images.
Skipper closed his eyes as scene after scene washed over him. Godfrey Daniel, these were great! He began to squirm and cranked his eyelids apart despite himself. The birthday candles had burned out before the glowsticks, but Frances Alberta's large candle's illumination displayed their shadows twisting on the nearest stalagmites' facets. Private grabbed Skipper's cock and Skipper's eyes opened wider after a prolonged hisssssss. Private's shadow form magnified to a surreal size as Skipper's mind was officially blown.
Now the tone turned bossy. "Do wot I tell you when I tell you to do it." Private yanked roughly at Skipper's cock with his left flipper as he pressed his back against the boulder. "Open your eyes all the way! Look at what I'm doin' and you do the same." Skipper braced himself with one flipper on Private's thigh as the other grasped Private's sliding purveyor of pleasure.
"Guh," said Skipper, his initial smirk at his submissive words evaporating. Why, he'd regained his momentum with no problem, good on him. "So close - "
Private sensed his love's remnant of distraction as Skipper's flipper trembled atop his. He added a twist at the top of the stroke. "Focus, Skippa! Or I won't finish it!"
"Focusing n-now! Ugghn!" Skipper would come or die in the next five seconds. He decided to come as his last fully coherent thought. His back slapped against Private's chest, safely held as the action intensified.
A cylinder stirred against Skipper's backside.
"Let me finish," Private growled after he mouthed open the lube's cap. "Right quick-like! Oh bother, I can't do this with only one flipper!"
Skipper shot back to complete consciousness to take over wanking as the dildo appeared in front of him. Private whipped it behind Skipper's back. "Um, wait a minute. What's the safe word?"
"Partypooper!" chirped Private.
"That's too longahhhhh!"
Through the haze of sex, Skipper barely registered the separate incidents: the caresses, the loosening, the positioning on all fours. It was true, the lube and the lust eased the entry and hey, he'd done this before. Skipper's stomach fluttered with thrill after thrill after the first stockstill minute of getting used to the feel of plastic again. He drooped, his cheek hit the blanket and he sighed as his thoughts centered on the one place in his body that opened to receive help when he needed it most. With the entry came the realization that Private would never let him down. "That's it, you're gettin' it, take it all, yes."
He felt Private rock the thing backwards until there was nothing left in Skipper, he heard a moment of fumbling, a squelch and then Private surged forward with the relubed dildo. Skipper crumpled in the contemplation of success in this mission cum vacation as he got shoved so that his head lopped over the blanket onto the gravel. He thought that if Private turned on the thing's vibrator, he'd come apart.
Skipper's beak scratched into the silt mixed into the gravel and he couldn't help his body's reaction. It was as natural as anything ever got.
"Huhuhuhskwapf!" Skipper lurched upward on wobbly flippers as Private pushed him six more inches in his eagerness to succeed in his task.
"Ahhhhshropppf!" After his impo-er, temporary crisis when he was not physically superior to all his men - became a thing of the unlamented past, Skipper would remember this cavern with gratitude.
"Guhhwoozle!"
IOIOIOIOIO
Private paused because he had to. He couldn't move the dildo without fear of damage. Did Skipper know how tight that sneezes would make him? He was sure that his love would think the progress was too good to lose and the next words confirmed it. "Again, Private!"
"Must follow orders, oh, if I can't, wot will he do? Wot will we do?" Private wasn't certain if he said his thoughts aloud. The smell of sex in the dank cavern and the gasps of pleasure added a driving rhythm to the atmosphere. He noticed that Skipper wasn't even trying to hold in sneezes now.
"Ooohpahplllshbll!"
Private changed position, arching backwards against the boulder as he maneuvered Skipper as he would a large stringed instrument, splaying the legs to either side of his own hips and strumming the heaving chest. Private reached around but instead of going for the usual spot, he angled his flipper upward and tickled Skipper's right nostril.
"Yes!" was Skipper's shout through Howe Caverns, powerful enough to make Private harden fully. He had the ultimate satisfaction of realizing his love hardened to the bursting point, too, as he gentled out the dildo and changed positions with a "Now!" Skipper spun around in Private's grip and the two birds rolled together as they had in the torrent that pulled them down deep on St. Urho's Day. Private knelt and gasped when the never to be forgotten feeling of being breached repeated itself. Skipper seemed to know that fast is best in these circumstances and came after eight uneven thrusts. Almost as an afterthought, Private came, too.
"I ... you ... uh, good work, Private!" Skipper flopped sideways and Private rolled away from him, grunting as they parted company. The stalactites glinted in the guttering candlelight and all was right in the world.
- 54
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Undertow