Warnings: R M/M sexual content, leather, chains, rock music, Francesca.
Promises: A leather bar, a hankie, Benny and Ray naked, and a very special gift for a very special man. Quiz by Laurie Taylor.
Francesca Vecchio followed the tall, dark haired leather clad man into the night club. Heads turned in their direction. *All* the heads in the club. Benton stopped at her side on the top step and she surveyed the room. She felt a pang of envy for just a moment that these people should be so mesmerized by the Mountie. At one time she'd been just as enthralled as so many of them obviously were. Frannie sighed and stepped down to the floor. Oh! Half the heads had followed her movement. A broad smile flashed across her face and she straightened her shoulders, feeling the delicious creak of leather on leather as she moved forward.
Fraser trotted quickly after Ray's sister, determined to keep sight of her. She said Ray would meet them here but the Mountie had more doubts about that with every passing moment.
"You interested in a little partying?"
Fraser turned around and was surprised by the unusually attired gentleman at his elbow. The gentleman wore a hood, amazingly close in appearance to that used by Falconer's to quiet their birds. Except this one was made of some type of shiny material. Fraser suspected it was rubber.
"How do you do? I'm Constable Bento--"
Frannie jerked Fraser away from the rubber freak and pulled him to a table in the corner of the dark club. "You are so terrible. I can't leave you alone for one minute without you getting in over your head."
"Speaking of heads, Francesca, did you happen to notice the cranial garment that gentleman was wearing? I believe it is an adaptation of--"
"Fraser, Fraser, Fraser, if you get any more ideas from coming to this place Ray is gonna kill me. I hope you know that. Now forget rubber man. He's way outta your ball park."
"Yes Francesca." Benton sank back in the booth, eyeing the club's door.
Ray gratefully dispatched Sergeant Frobisher outside the Canadian Consulate. He had to admit that Buck's knowledge of bayonets had helped him close the case in an amazingly short amount of time. But of course that left Buck free to keep his date with Ray's mother. He glared at the broad back in red serge as it disappeared inside the consulate.
But he was out of time. If he was going to take Frannie's advice and get Benny over this crazy little desire of his to join the leather crowd or become a gay bear he had to move fast. Oh, the things he did for that Mountie. He shook his head and roared off across Chicago to the address his sister had given him. Amazing, the things Frannie knew about, the resources, the acquaintances. He shook his head again as he parked and locked the Riv. Twenty minutes later he was back unlocking his precious vehicle, pleased to see there wasn't a scratch on it. Parallel parking had its perks. He tossed a garment bag in the back seat, knowing full well that it would land stretched out straight. Armani wouldn't dare land any other way.
His black leather chaps squeaked a bit as he slid into the driver's seat. Ray couldn't help but tilt down the rear view mirror to catch a glimpse of himself. He grinned. Oh yeah. Black pull-over shirt, leather vest with more metal on it than a Mississippi chain gang, wrist band with chrome spikes, wicked bike link necklace, a silver cross dangling from one ear and a biker cap, worn, crushed just right and so macho it stunk. He jiggled the chains around the right boot ankle before stepping on the gas. Even if Frannie was wrong and this didn't get Benny off his bear kick, it would still be a fun night.
Ray pulled the cap bill low and sauntered in the club door. He stood on the top step, one thumb tucked in the strap of his chaps, the other smoothing out his left eyebrow. Yeah, Benny looked good doing it. So? The Mountie didn't exclusively *own* the action, did he? Ray dropped down to the first step and allowed his gaze to swivel right to the chain-clad punk hanging on the meat rack. The hopeful look on the guys face faded a bit but he stepped closer to Ray anyway.
"Not tonight, dear," Ray said with a sneer. "I have a headache." He followed up his last word with a tug at his bulging crotch. The punk gasped and faded back to his spot on the stairs. His co-hopeful nymphos twittered. Ray sauntered down the remaining steps, surveying the crowd, searching for just the right face. He spied the Mountie, plastered to Francesca's back. "Ah. I see a bottle of aspirin. Just what the doctor ordered," he muttered as he strolled through the milling patrons.
Fraser's eyes had a mind of their own, staring at the floor and refusing to look up, to see where he was going. And that was fortunate for at the moment his consciousness was on overload. He clutched at Ray's sister as if his life depended on maintaining contact with her. Francesca elbowed him again as she tried to take another step toward the bar.
"Benton! If you wanna dance all you gotta do is ask. But not right now. I wanna go talk to that guy in the Hawaiian shirt. I think I recognize him from"
"Please! Francesca, I've changed my mind. I want to go home. I don't want to try to learn about the bear subculture. I don't want to grow a beard. I don't want to get a tattoo." He pulled her around and stared with stark terror into her eyes. "And most of all I don't want to wear these clothes in public again. Can we go home?"
"What? But you look *great*. You look positively edible in leather. You look"
"Edible? Yes. Yes. That's what I'm afraid of. While you were gone to the powder room several gentlemen accosted me. One of them touched my . . . private area . . . if you'll pardon my blunt speech. They all made rather lewd suggestions, requests. I can't"
Francesca took his hands in hers and peered up at him. It wasn't all that easy to see his face in the club's strobe and black lights. "Benton, what did you think would happen if you came out dressed like this? I mean you've been wanting . . . haven't you been wanting . . . Do you have the foggiest idea what you want in a sexual relationship?"
He stared down at her, his eyes brimming with doubt. Suddenly he gasped and lurched toward her, half spinning around. A greasy haired blond man stood inches to Fraser's left, his hand still at Benny's ass level. He grinned at the Canadian.
"I wanna go home, Francesca." Fraser rubbed at his offended cheek. It had been pinched rather viciously.
"Well maybe the hankie wasn't such a good idea," Frannie admitted as she took a look at Fraser's ass. A blue handkerchief protruded from his left back pocket, advertising his desire and availability to be the bottom partner in a particular type of sexual relationship.
A spike gloved hand shot around the blond man and snatched the cloth out of Benny's back pocket. Ray, in all his leather clad splendor, dark and menacing, face set like granite, slipped so smoothly between the two men that it seemed as if he'd teleported there.
"Ray," Fraser sighed the name like a prayer of thanks. "Oh, Ray, I've been so silly. I don't need to be" Suddenly Fraser managed to get his eyes to work. He took in Ray's chain adorned head gear, his unshaven cheeks, the ear ring, the metal necklace, the shirt, vest, studded gloves and wrist band, black jeans, boots and most of all, the leather chaps. They outlined and displayed in the most amazing way Ray's feature that was due south of where polite folk usually gazed.
Fraser gulped. He licked his lips. He swallowed. He wiped drool from his chin. "Oh," he sighed with a grin, "Ray."
With his left hand Ray took Fraser's chin, clamping down hard. With his right hand he hooked Fraser's belt and dragged the Mountie to him, crotch to crotch. "You wanna play?" he asked in his best "Welsh on a bad day" imitation. It was much more intimidating than his Clint Eastwood voice.
"Ray, I was just explaining to Francesca that I fear I've made a terrible error in judgemen"
"Yes or no, little chicken. You up for a real leather daddy? Or do I need to throw you back into the barnyard?"
"Yyes. I think" Fraser's eyes widened as Ray released his face and grabbed his ass. Both cheeks were still smarting from the rough treatment they'd been receiving since Francesca had abandoned him. He gasped and swooned against Ray's bulge.
"Fine." Ray released him and took a few steps toward the crowded dance floor. He had to side step a particularly burly gentleman who was dressed similarly to himself with the exception of a shirt. This guy didn't have one on. Ray eyed the metal that adorned his chest and realized the man was eyeing the Mountie he was towing along. Ray veered toward the wall, finding a small clearing. He stopped and turned to his lover. "Down on one knee."
"Whowhat?" Fraser stared at Ray.
"Get down on one knee. Surely you know how to do that. I've done it enough for you."
"But Ray," Fraser objected outraged. "Here? In . . . public?"
"And it's not like I'm asking you to be a fulcrum or anything. I'll keep being the fulcrum but I'm a little tired of people thinking they can use your lever, Archimedes. Now down on one knee." Ray pointed at the floor. He smiled, satisfied when his lover dropped to his right knee. Ray leaned his compact derriere against the wall and put his left boot up on Benny's leather clad thigh. He worked at the metal and leather strap that had been wrapped with such care around his boot ankle. It came off and he dangled it in the air in front of his lover's nose. "Are you mine?"
Fraser stared at the short strap. It was about eighteen inches long, black, studded with short spikes that matched the ones on the back of Ray's glove. It also had an unusual buckle. There seemed to be an extra metal loop protruding from the strap. The other end of the strap had unusual, oblong holes cut in it, presumably to accommodate the extra loop.
Ray nudged Fraser's genitalia with the propped up boot. "I said, are you mine?"
"Of course I am, Ray," Fraser answered hastily, once again realizing he'd lost control of his eyes. They were staring at the strap Ray dangled before him. Then the most amazing thing happened. Ray bent toward him and buckled the strap around his neck. Fraser gulped and reached up to feel of it. Ray slapped his hand away. "What"
His lover arched his brow and stared at him reproachfully as he dug in his vest pocket. Fraser kept his silence and watched the lithe Italian. He pulled a small padlock out and inserted it through the collar's extra ring. Fraser gasped again as he heard it click closed. Ray briefly flashed a key in front of his face then put the key back in his pocket.
"Oh, Ray," Fraser sighed in total happiness. He was oblivious to the smattering of applause at his back.
Ray wasn't. He worked hard to keep the grin off his face as he bent forward and kissed his Mountie. But among the cheers he recognized his sister's wolf whistle. When he stood and led Fraser to the dance floor this time there were no challengers, no offers, no interlopers except those who gave him a quick congratulatory pat on the back. He was a master, a top with a collared bottom. He was on top of the food chain in this pond and everybody knew it.
The music was fast but Ray danced slow. He held Fraser in his arms tight, gripping the Mountie's ass, rubbing the leather, feeling the twitch and play of those muscles he'd be exploring in depth later. The music blared, hard and fast but Benny was butter, soft and sweet in his arms and Ray took several opportunities to partake of the taste before leading the man out and home to West Racine for a bit more private interaction.
"How did you know this was what I wanted?" Fraser asked as he lay naked under Ray, fingering the locked collar. "I didn't even know myself."
Ray sighed and scooted down to lay his cheek on Fraser's chest. "I didn't exactly know. I was stewing all day, thinking about Buck," he paused to shudder, "giving Ma that ring. I'm not sure either of them know what they want. So I just thought maybe, with all this exploring you've been doing lately, wanting to try new things and all . . . " his voice trailed off. "I dunno, Benny. I just know I want you to be happy."
"Do you think you're mother is happy with Sergeant Frobisher?"
"What?" Ray shouted as he erupted off his lover. "She's not *with* him, Benny." He grabbed up his leather pants and tugged them on. "And as far as happy is concerned, I'll have you know my mother was *perfectly* happy before that . . . that *Mountie* came into our lives." He snatched up the vest, forgetting the shirt. The boots were on his feet in a flash and he was stomping toward the door. "And *another* thing I'll have you know is that . . ." Ray opened the door and slammed it behind him.
Fraser sat on the side of the bed, his eyes wide, bewildered as he tried to catch the *other* thing Ray wanted him to know. He made out the words, flowers and Welsh before Ray's voice faded completely away. Fraser sighed, got up and wandered naked except for a locked collar to the kitchen. He got a glass of water then went to bed, sleeping amazingly soundly.
The end of another strange and unusual episode of A Buck and Change. What will become of our Canadian hero now that he's a collared love slave? Will this bode well for their future love life? And will the series ever get back to the title character? Tune in next time for A Buck and Change Episode #16, or Key In The Hand.
1 "His black leather chaps squeaked a bit" -- Explain the circumstances governing this statement with reference to oil, hamsters and quaint English expressions.
2 "Speaking of heads, Francesca" -- Fraser's reference to head is a reference to:
2. C
3. D
4. A
5. D
6. C