By lthr_jock

As the police patrol car drove slowly past the end of the alley, the police officer in the passenger seat swept his torch down the darkened alley revealing nothing but half-empty rubbish bins and discarded McDonalds boxes blowing around in the wind and rain. The patrol car moved on and the alley remained still, the only sound being the falling rain, the distant sound of a window banging in the wind and the low rattle of the rubbish being blown away from the street.

After a few minutes, there was movement as four figures stood up from their hiding places — three from behind bins, the fourth from a darkened doorway. Without speaking, the four padded forward to the entrance of the alley and looked cautiously out into the road. After checking in each direction, the lead figure made a series of gestures with his hand and all four men ran into the lit street, swiftly moving along the pavement until they reached the door of a jewellery shop. Two took crouching positions either side of the door where they had a clear view of the street. The other two unstrapped packs from their back, one taking out a screwdriver and removing the cover of the alarm box by the door, the other pulling out a laptop and booting it up.

All four men could now be dimly seen in the illumination of a nearby streetlight. They seemed to be of a similar height — roughly 6ft — and they were dressed identically. Each was wearing a form-fitting black suit of a matt-black material that did nothing to hide their impressive musculature. Laced tightly on their feet were army boots which had clearly been tightly glossed before their foray into the rain. Their heads were covered with balaclavas made of the same material, with only eye holes revealing anything of the person beneath and on their hands they were wearing gloves of thin black leather. All four moved with the confidence of athletes, and the grace of people used to their muscle and the physical activity associated with it.

At the door, the cover was removed and the laptop connected directly to the circuit board. A scroll of numbers appeared on the laptop screen, rapidly running through combinations until after a few seconds 9 numbers began to flash. One of the men rapidly typed the number into the still connected pad of the alarm box, and the light on the outside of the box went out. As one man disconnected the laptop and began to put it away, the other took out a sophisticated set of lock-picks and began working on the door.

It took him no more than 3 minutes to open the lock. As soon as it was open, all four men swiftly stepped inside, shutting the door behind them.

Inside, all four stood close by the door, unmoving except for their heads which scanned the room, noting the CCTV cameras and the sensors at ankle level. Taking a can out of his pack, one man sprayed a fine mist into the room, revealing the red lines of lasers crossing the room. Touching one would set off the alarm. Beside the door was another alarm panel. Taking a slip of paper from his pack, one man typed a long number into the panel. With a click, the red lights revealed by the mist disappeared and the panel display turned to 5:00 and began a slow countdown. The man turned to the others and raised his right hand with the fingers spread indicating the number 5. Still without speaking, the four men split up around the room and began levering open display cabinets and removing the contents stuffing them into their packs.

As the CCTV cameras watched they continued to work efficiently, none noticing as the count down on the alarm pad jumped to 1:00. After no more than 2 minutes, the silence of the shop was shattered by the sound of the alarm. One man dropped the lid of the display cabinet on his arm and it smashed, driving a splinter of glass into his forearm. Still silent, he removed his balaclava to get a clearer look at the wound, revealing the reason for his continued silence. Under the balaclava he was wearing a tight leather hood, laced and strapped in place and locked with a padlock at the back. Part of the hood is a cover over the mouth, and presumably a gag beneath, which was also locked in place. He gently pulled the splinter from his arm and with the others shipped his pack on his back and hurried out of the shop.

The night was broken by the distant sound of sirens as the four men sprinted through the rain and disappeared into the alley as swiftly and quietly as they had come.

 

***

 

As Jim’s alarm went off he struggled out of bed, sitting on the side and shaking his head as he tried to clear it of the night before. After 6 weeks working undercover he was no closer to getting into the inner circle at Inferno. He was still attending every night and the 3am finishes was starting to take its toll on his normal early starts. His alarm was now set to 10am each day and even that was becoming difficult. Shaking his head, he padded through to his kitchen, took a carton of orange juice out of the fridge and took a few gulps for it. Then he wandered into the gym and began his morning workout. Two hours later, he stood sweating in front of the full length mirror. Something about this job was clearly agreeing with him, as he’d put on some muscle over the last few weeks. Jim smiled and flexed his pumped muscles and thought how much the guys at Inferno would enjoy seeing him like this. His cock started to rise at the thought and he started to stroke it. As he did so, he noticed a long gash on his forearm. Jim had no idea now the gash had got there, but as it ached it was obviously recent. Damn, must have been very drunk last night. Jim was glad that Steve had started providing him with orange juice at home and he decided that in future he should drink OJ when he was at Inferno.

Rubbing at his arm, Jim sat and sent off his normal report to Inspector Turner. Then he headed off to the shower and got dressed for the day. Steve had told him that tonight was Skinhead Night at Inferno, so he dressed appropriately — skin-tight bleachers, a pair of highly glossed black ranger boots ladder-laced with white laces and white Fred Perry shirt so tight that Jims’ pecs nearly burst out of it. He checked himself out in the mirror. His newly shaved head looked good over the skinhead gear and Jim rubbed at his cock as it made a bulge down his left leg. Adding leather wristbands, Jim pulled on a black MA1 jacket and decided to head down to Inferno early.

When the lift arrived, Mike the security guard was already in it. He grinned, his gaze travelling down Jims’ chiselled torso to the obvious bulge in his jeans.

“Afternoon, Mr. Davies. How are things? Busy?”

“Good thanks, Mike. No, just heading down to Inferno to hang out.”

“Nothing urgent then, good.” Mike leant forward and pushed the Emergency Stop button on the lift. Pushing Jim back against the wall of the lift, he snogged him deeply, one hand caressing Jim’s arse while the other rubbed Jim’s cock until it swelled so much that the material looked close to tearing. The two men grunted with passion as they kissed deeply, hands running over each other as they massaged each other’s muscles.

Mike stood back and spun Jim around to face the wall. Unzipping the arse zip on Jim’s jeans, he licked his fingers and began to work them inside Jim’s arse. Jim stood facing the mirrored wall, arms and legs spread, groaning and grunting as Mike’s fingers expertly worked his arse. All too soon, Mike stood up, grinning as he turned Jim around for a final snog and laughing at the stain of pre-cum on Jim’s bleachers.

“There, that should set you up nicely for Steve.” He said as he released the Emergency Stop button and the lift continued on its way. Jim laughed and zipped up his bleachers, fondling Mike’s crotch one last time before the doors opened in the foyer.

“See you later.”

“Count on it,” grinned Mike. “I have a day off tomorrow, so maybe I can come by your place for a longer visit.”

Jim grinned. “Feel free. Anytime after 1pm.” With that he left the building, heading for Inferno.

 

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“Undercover” originally appeared on the Eckie site. It is being re-posted here with the original author’s permission.

 

Copyright © 2007 and 2015 by lthr_jock.

 

All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

 

This story is erotic gay fiction and is for mature audiences only. It may contain supernatural themes, sex scenes, violence, coarse language, drug use and other adult themes.

 

Metal would like to thank lthr_jock for granting permission for this story, which has previously appeared on other websites, to be re-posted here.