----------------------------------------
Voyeurs
by Lianne Burwell
February 1999
----------------------------------------

Mac Ramsey was very good at what he did. He'd had a lot of training in 
breaking and entering, first from his father, then from the Tangs and 
finally from the Agency. He'd used it to break into banks and private 
homes and high-security military facilities.

Tonight, he was going to put that training to the ultimate test.

Ever since he'd been 'recruited' (a polite term for blackmailed) to work 
for the Agency, one thing had tickled his curiosity. Tickled it to the 
point of distraction.

What was up those stairs that the Director liked to descend?

Of course, there might just be a landing. The stairs could simply be a 
prop so that the flamboyant woman could make a grand entrance (not hard 
to believe).

Or there might simply be a basic office, where she actually worked 
(assuming that she did anything more than make their lives hell).

Or maybe that was where she lived. Maybe there was a four-poster bed with 
bondage equipment attached and a closet full of those leather outfits she 
wore to that sex club of hers.

Or...

Well, the possibilities were endless, and Mac wanted to know.

He'd waited until late at night, parked in a car a small distance from 
the Agency's Toronto headquarters. He'd watched LiAnn leave, later than 
either himself or Vic. Jackie had left even before them. Dobrinsky had 
left at nine.

Then, jackpot! He watched the Director as she walked to her car, climbed 
in and drove away.

Just to be safe, Mac waited another half-hour, in case she decided to 
come back for something she might have left behind. As a result, it was 
well past ten before he made his move.
Getting in was not a problem. He simply used his own pass-card. Once he'd 
satisfied his own curiosity, he'd go use the gym for a while, providing 
an excuse for his signing in during off-hours. So what if he hadn't done 
it before? If there were any questions, he'd make sure that he repeated 
every so often for a month or two, until suspicion died down.

Inside, it was eerie. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the empty 
halls. It always creeped him out; how quiet the place was. Even in the 
middle of the day, he almost never saw anyone except his partners, the 
Director, Dobrinsky and Nathan. Victor claimed to have seen another team 
of operatives, but Victor was... well, *Victor*.

And very nicely Victor, too.

Not wanting to risk running into anyone, despite the low chance of that 
happening, Mac made his way quickly to the briefing room. The Director's 
desk was in one corner, lit by one spotlight. The briefing table stood in 
the middle of the room, lit by another. Those were the only lights in the 
room.

And the stairs.

They beckoned to him, promising the answer to the question that had 
plagued him. They called, they cajoled. They sang with a siren song.

And now he could finally answer.

Stealthily, he crept up the stairs. At the top, he found a landing with a 
single door opening onto it. Mac reached into his pocket for his lock-pick 
set, hoping that it would be up to the challenge.

Then, after a moment's thought, he reached for the door handle. It turned 
easily in his hand, and the door swung open. He grinned.

Who needs a lock-pick when the door wasn't even locked?

Mac stepped into the room and waited for his eyes to adjust.

There wasn't an overhead light, but the room was as bright as if there 
were. The light came from the banks of monitors that circled the room, 
several layers deep. Mac walked around, looking at them.

He saw living rooms and bedrooms and bathrooms. Car ports and gyms and 
nightclubs. He even saw familiar faces. There was LiAnn, all curled up in 
bed, sleeping the sleep of the just.

She was so cute in those flannel pjs.

On another screen, he saw Jackie working with a set of free weights, 
heavier than he would ever consider using. He shuddered. Jackie was an 
attractive young woman, but she scared the hell out of him. She wasn't 
exactly what you would call *sane*. That combined with her strength made 
her someone you wouldn't want to have angry at you.

Another screen showed another bedroom. Lying on the bed was Murphy, one 
of the pair of Agency assassins known as the Cleaners. He wasn't alone, 
Mac realized. He grinned, remembering the over-sexed red-haired designer 
he'd seen the man with.

Then Murphy rolled over and Mac's jaw just about hit the floor.

It was Camier. The other Cleaner.

Mac shuddered, and moved on quickly. That was *not* an image he wanted in 
his mind.
He stopped suddenly, recognizing his own apartment. He turned red. She 
could watch him anytime she wanted, he realized angrily. Sure, 
considering what else he'd seen, he should have expected it, but there 
was a difference between knowing that it was likely and *seeing* the 
proof.

For a moment, he was tempted to smash those monitors, but it would be a 
dead give-away that he'd been there. Instead, he continued on.

A few feet further, he stopped with a grin. There was Victor Mansfield in 
all his glory. He was stripped bare (and a very nice bare it was too, Mac 
thought to himself) and climbing into his shower stall.

Mac frowned, and examined the angle. It looked like the camera was 
*inside* the shower head.

It certainly provided a great view. Vic was *not* hard on the eyes, for 
an old guy. Mac pulled over the one chair in the room and dropped into 
it, deciding to watch his other partner for a while.

It was certainly more entertaining than watching LiAnn sleep or Jackie 
pump iron.

First Vic stepped under the spray, slowly turning until he was completely 
wet. Mac noted that the camera was better than the standard sort of 
surveillance camera. Sure, it was in black and white, but the image was 
so crisp that he could see the rivulets of water streaming down the other 
man's face. The only thing missing was sound.

Then he noticed the slide control on each monitor. Curious, he pushed 
the one on Vic's monitor upwards.

Immediately, the sound of water cascading down spilled from hidden 
speakers. He fiddled with the control until the volume was loud enough 
for him to hear everything, but not for anyone outside of the room to 
hear. Wouldn't do to be interrupted while he was enjoying the show.

Thoroughly wet now, Vic reached for a bottle of shower gel. Mac was a 
little surprised. He would have figured the other man as the ivory soap 
kind of guy.

Vic started at the neck, and worked his way down. Mac resisted the urge 
to groan, watching the other man soap up his chest with his usual 
attention to detail. Unlike his own chest, Vic's was smooth, almost 
hairless. It was also nicely muscled, firm without being overly pumped. 
Mac's fingers twitched, wondering what it would feel like.

Covered in suds, Vic turned again, letting the water rinse him off. Then 
he squeezed out another handful of gel and started the process again, 
starting at the feet and working his way up.

Mac pouted when the man stopped just short of the groin. Vic had a nice 
package, and he wanted to see him play with it. The cock wasn't overly 
long, but it looked like it would probably be nice and thick when erect.

But instead, Vic reached for the shampoo, completely skipping his groin 
and ass.

The over-aged choirboy probably wouldn't know what to do with them, Mac 
told himself as he watched the man shampoo his hair. He sighed in 
disappointment as the man rinsed, figuring that was probably going to be 
the end of the show.

But to his surprise, instead of stepping out of the shower, Vic reached 
for the gel again.

Vic squirted a generous amount into his hand, then reached down to touch 
himself. Not much. Just a long sweep of his fist over his cock. Then 
another.

Mac sat up in his chair, noting that the man's cock was growing, and felt 
his own swell in response.

That was all, at first. Long pulls, gradually coaxing an erection to full 
size. Vic leaned against the side of the shower stall, his eyes falling 
closed as he gently teased himself.

Then his other hand got into the act as well. It came up to his chest and 
the thumb started to rub over his nipples. The resolution was good enough 
that he could see the little buds raising up into peaks. Without him 
noticing, Mac's hand came up to play with his own nipples through the 
fabric of his shirt. When Vic pinched and pulled at his nipples, Mac did 
the same.

A soft moan came across the speakers -- the first sound he'd heard from 
Vic -- and he echoed it.

Then the hand dropped below the one still softly caressing a now fully 
erect cock, and reached to cup Vic's testicles, gently rolling the balls 
in their sack back and forth. Mac swallowed. As he'd expected the 
erection was unusually thick, even if it was shorter than his own. He 
felt his ass twitch at the sight, and he wondered what it would feel 
like, sliding in, stretching him until he couldn't be stretched any more.

Dream on, he told himself. Dream on.

Mac bit his lip and reached down to unzip his own pants. He raised his 
hips up long enough to push his slacks and briefs out of the way. His 
eyes never left the monitor, as he reached to grasp his own erection.

Vic's hand was starting to speed up, and Mac could hear the other man 
panting. Unconsciously, Mac's hand sped up to match the pace. His eyes 
drank in the sight of his gorgeous partner jerking off in the shower. 
Could it get any better?

It could.

Vic pulled his hands away, and his hips jerked forward in protest. 
Reaching over, he grabbed the bottle of gel again. Mac held his breath, 
wondering what would be next.

What was next nearly made him come on the spot. Vic poured some more gel 
onto his hands, then reached back down with one hand to resume stroking 
his suds-covered erection, dropping back down to an unhurried pace.

And the other hand was reaching behind him. He couldn't see what it was 
doing, but the man's cock was responding eagerly, visibly twitching in 
the hand that grasped it.

Mac bit off a whimper when he realized what Vic was doing.

He was finger-fucking himself.

Mac raised his own hand to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, getting 
them moist. Then, kicking his slacks and briefs completely off, he 
slumped backwards and moved one of his legs over the arm of the chair he 
was sitting in, exposing himself. He brought his saliva covered fingers 
down and started probing at his own ass.

They quickly built a matching rhythm, despite the fact that Vic was 
completely unaware of his sexual partner in this little masturbatory 
session. Mac could feel the explosion building, and it was going to be so 
*good*.

But Vic beat him, in more ways that one. The man's hips started jerking 
uncontrollably, and his head fell back, exposing a long, ever-so-suckable 
neck. Mac could tell from the arm movements that Vic had thrust his 
fingers into his ass as far as they could go, and his other hand pumped 
furiously. A loud keening echoed through the speakers, until...

"Mac!" Vic shouted, as he came.

Mac froze in disbelief, then whimpered as his own orgasm shot through him 
like an electrical storm, a name pulled from his throat against his will.

When his breathing had calmed and his eyes had reopened, Mac found 
himself looking at an empty bathroom. Turning his head slightly, he could 
see a different camera pointing down at Vic's bed as the older man 
climbed under the covers, still as naked as a jay. Vic cuddled up to his 
pillow, sighed and quickly fell asleep.

Mac sat there for a while, content to just watch the other man sleep.

Then he remembered just where he was. He shot upright in the chair, 
already grabbing for his clothes. Underwear and slacks were quickly 
pulled on, and his shirt was tucked in. Most of his cream had landed on 
the shirt, but with the jacket buttoned shut, it wouldn't be noticed, as 
long as he went straight home.

He was going to have a bitch of a time trying to explain the stain to his 
dry-cleaner, though.

He headed for the door, until a twitch of memory sent him running back to 
put the volume back down to where it had been when he'd come in. Then he 
headed for his car as quickly as possible, forgetting his plan to cover 
his return by going to the gym. His mind was too busy going over what had 
just happened.

Vic was hot for him!

Mac's lips curved into a smirk, plans already starting to form in his 
head.

He wanted Vic. Vic wanted him. Now all he had to do was get the other man 
into bed.

The smirk turned into a grin as a thought occurred to him. If a fantasy 
Mac could make Vic shout, what would it take to make him scream?

Mac looked forward to finding out.

* * * * *

The Director reached over and turned off her bed-side monitor. She 
sighed, and reached down to pull her little toy out of its current home, 
the aftershocks making her shudder. She so loved a good show.

She'd wondered how long it would take for one of her favorite team to 
brave the danger of her wrath to check out her viewing room. She was 
pleased to see that Mac had fulfilled her expectations.

And what a sight he'd been too. She'd been able to tell from the angle 
which set of monitors he'd been watching, and checking out the possible 
channels had shown her just *what* he'd been watching. Then she'd gone 
back to enjoying the spectacle he'd been putting on.

It would be interesting to see what he did next.

END