Spy Games

by Periwinkle

The agent sat by the window, moving restlessly in his chair. Sweat was rolling down his back between his shoulder blades and he'd long ago given up trying to look well dressed and had discarded his jacket across the chair. The air conditioning, such as it was in this cheap hotel room, was barely doing anything other than stirring the hot air around and he had opened the window a crack in the hopes of getting a little bit of a breeze. It wasn't helping.

His blond partner returned to the cheap dingy hotel room with a greasy bag in his hands. Tempting aromas of grease and salt emerged from it, mixing with the slight odor of sweat emanating from the man, and hung in the humid air. He dropped the bag of lunch on the bed, wiped away the moisture from his forehead with the back of his hand and then looked at his partner. "Anything?" he asked.

The man by the window put down his binoculars and stretched. "Nothing. I don't think they've returned from their mission yet. How did we get stuck with a simple surveillance job anyway? Any rookie could have done this."

The younger man looked up from the sandwiches he was laying out and said with a slightly acerbic tone, "You know perfectly well why. You just want something to complain about."

The man at the window, picking the binoculars back up, simply shrugged his shoulders and gave his partner a disarming grin, causing the other man to roll his eyes. Joining his partner at the window, and resting a hand on his shoulder, he quietly said, "Is your back bothering you from sitting so long?" He massaged the older man's neck for a minute, then turned and started laying out lunch for the two of them, bringing it over to the window so that they could continue their observation. He opened one sandwich, spread mustard on the roll and added some pickles so that it would be just the way the other man liked it, then opened two straws and placed them in the drinks.

The first man picked up his sandwich with one hand, holding onto the binoculars with the other. He looked longingly at the drink, but decided to save it for last and then, speaking with his face still turned toward the window, muttered, "My back is just getting tired. You know that it's tough sitting at this angle for a long time. And there hasn't been much to see. Looking at the room from slightly above and from down the street, I can only see most of the bed and a bit of the floor."

The blond, who was steadily working his way through his sandwich, grunted in reply. After he took a sip of his iced tea, he said, "Be grateful for it. If they had been directly across from us, they probably would have shut the curtains tightly. Where they are now, with no building by them, they can be a little lax and leave the curtains open a crack. They probably want to catch a breeze from the window as badly as we do. Not to mention that only an idiot would be sitting in this heat with binoculars trying to watch."

"And what does that make us? Two idiots?"

"It makes us two agents that know better than to disobey a boss's orders. He wants surveillance; he gets surveillance."

"Which brings us back to my question," said the first man, who was trying to push his dark hair off his face but losing the battle. "Why can't we just wire the room and use hidden cameras? Then we don't have to worry about losing the creases in our pants."

"I wasn't worried about my pants anyway, as I wasn't trying to impress you with my style. In this heat I'm more interested in practicality. Still, don't you remember the briefing? Or were you concentrating on the legs of the new secretary?"

"Not her legs, no," and the first agent smirked a tiny bit.

His partner sighed and started picking up their trash from lunch. "Just to humor you, I'll actually answer your question, although I'm sure you already know the reason. It was stressed how the powers-that-be are always looking for something they can hold over these guys. Those agents across the way are known to be both good and clever. You saw their files; we've never found out anything incriminating about them. Leaving the curtains open is unusual for them, but their room is probably as unbearably hot as ours is."

His speech was rewarded with a scowl. "We're good too, remember. Probably even better. Much too good to be sitting in a hotel room when we could be out on a serious mission. Or in nice cold working air conditioning."

His partner smiled. "Only you would complain about having a few days to sit and rest and not having to worry about anyone shooting at you. Personally, I find it a nice change of pace. Dodging bullets is getting old. And I really dislike it when you get captured or hurt. It takes the fun right out of the job."

"Far be it from me to ruin your one chance at fun. But if you wanted a few days sitting in a hotel room, couldn't you have gotten us an assignment in Hawaii or something? A flea-trap in Brooklyn is not my idea of a few restful days. And it seems to me, now that I think about it, that someone is avoiding taking his turn at the window."

"Someone has to take out the trash, you know. I don't suppose you want to sully your hands with it."

"Clever, very clever. So, tell me again, why don't we just use microphones and cameras? Why this old fashioned spying?" the brunet asked.

"Because, as I said, and as we were told in the briefing, these guys are good. They always sweep for hidden devices. We can't rely on technology."

Suddenly the taller man stood up. "They're back. You keep an eye on their actions and I'll keep notes."

"Oh, for...," said the blond, but he sat down at the window and raised the binoculars. "Yup, they're doing a security check."

"Let me know what happens next, in detail," ordered the first agent, laying down on the bed with his head on the pillow and a pen in his right hand. The blond shot him a look that implied that he was not as imbecilic as his partner apparently thought he was, but he nodded obediently and looked back across and down the alley into the other hotel room. Meanwhile the older man stretched out a little on the bed, trying to return his spine to something resembling its normal position.

The blond was silent for a moment, then announced, "They are taking off their jackets, looks like they are in for the night. Yeah, the dark-haired one is taking off his shoes. Looks as if that man is heading for the shower as he's walking in that direction. One step more and he'll be in the part of the room we can't see. No wait, he's..." and the rest of the sentence was lost.

"He's what?"

"He, um, he, he was heading for the shower and then he hugged his partner. Now they are holding onto each other. Tight, very tight."

The brunet bolted upright from where he'd been lounging on the bed. "They're gay?" he asked incredulously, crossing to stand at the window, leaning against his partner so that their sides touched.

"I don't know; they are just hugging. Oh, now he's heading for the shower after all. It was just a hug."

"For a minute there you really had me going," the first agent said, placing a hand on his partner's shoulder and squeezing.

"Think of how I felt," said the blond, giving him a quick glance and a smirk. "Okay, the second guy is getting undressed. He's got a really nice build. Quite a sight for sore eyes."

The first agent snatched the binoculars away. "Let me look." He peered through the lenses and gave a low whistle. "You ain't just whistling Dixie, partner mine. That guy is a hunk."

The blond snatched the binoculars back, glaring at his partner. "You go write. I get the binoculars, remember?"

"There hasn't exactly been a lot to write so far," said the brunet with a shrug. "How come you're getting to have all the fun?"

"I wasn't the one who made up the rules, remember?" The blond shifted slightly to get a better view. "Looks like it's going to be a quiet night, the one guy is getting in bed. I didn't realize he slept in the nude, though."

His partner dropped a kiss on his neck. "That gives me some ideas."

The blond swatted the older man away. "We're on a job, remember? We agreed—not when we were in the field."

"Spoilsport," said the brunet with a mock look of hurt, but he went back to his notes. His partner just rolled his eyes once again.

"The other guy just came out of the shower. He's getting into bed too. Um, he's also nude."

"Really?" said the brunet. "This assignment is beginning to have possibilities."

The man at the window responded with a nod, then announced, "They're kissing. And I mean really kissing. The one is sliding his body over the other and they are in a really tight liplock."

"Forget the notes," said the brunet, "share the binoculars." For a few minutes, they just gazed at the enemy as bodies entwined and lips stayed glued together. Then the enemies' hands began to move, up and down, stroking, caressing, touching each other in intimate places. The men at the window felt their pants getting uncomfortably tight while they struggled for control of the binoculars. Finally, the brunet turned to his partner and said, "Next time remind me to bring two pairs of binoculars."

"You're just jealous because it's my turn to sit at the window," said the blond.

The older man nodded, saying, "About that 'not in the field' rule?"

"Right," said the blond, and he reached over with his free hand, pulled down his partner's zipper, freed the weeping and stiff cock and began to stroke. His partner did the same to him.

Meanwhile, the men on the bed were getting more involved. The agents at the window couldn't keep their eyes off the targets as the one man started moving downward, sucking and kissing. Unfortunately, the agents were too far away to see the action clearly, but they had vivid imaginations. Responding to the sight of the two men on the bed, the brunet reached down to his partner's chest, first stroking the lean musculature through the man's shirt and then taking a nipple between his fingers, tweaking it and making the nipple hard. Belatedly remembering the mission, the agents stopped for a moment to look through the binoculars, taking note of the expression of pleasure on the one man's face as the other's head moved down his body. Vivid images of what the enemy must be caressing and kissing flew through their minds and they put the binoculars down again for a second to exchange a long and deep kiss, tongues meeting between them. Normally the two men would have been all hot and sweaty by now, but the weather had taken care of that from the beginning.

When they next looked at the men in the bed, one of them had turned so that the two men were now curled with their heads next to each other's groins. The watchers' breath caught as they imagined doing the same thing. They settled for the best they could do at that moment and reached for each other's organ, stroking and squeezing it. The brunet put his lips by the blond's ear and said, "When we get home, my love."

Just the thought of what they would be doing later pulled an exclamation of pleasure from the blond. He could swear he could hear it echoed by two exclamations from across the alley. The observing men continued to slowly stroke each other as they watched the sex, no, making love, occurring before them. They took their eyes from the window to share another kiss, affirming that what they themselves felt was also more than primitive desire, but affection and love.

When they finally returned their eyes to the other room, the one man had lifted his legs in the air. From what they could see with the lenses, his partner, his lover, was gently preparing him, scissoring him open, making sure he was ready to receive him. The man in the bed had his eyes closed in pleasure, while his partner was gazing at him with adoration as he finished the preliminaries. He stroked lube on his turgid organ, causing the voyeurs to stroke each other harder in response, and then slid into the waiting body. The two men in the bed moved together in ecstasy until all four men reached their climaxes almost simultaneously, seed spilling everywhere. The two men across the alley collapsed into each other's arms and lay on the bed.

In the first room, the blond leaned against his partner and softly said, "What are you going to say in the report?

"That we couldn't see them because the curtains were too thick."

"Good," said his partner, brushing his lips across the other man's gently. "Let's go home."

The two Thrush agents kissed each other, picked up their binoculars and exited the room. On the way out, they threw their notes in the trash.

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