due South: A Buck and Change #16   Warnings: R M/M sexual content,
dominance, submission. 

Promises: Something completely different from all the other Buck episodes.
Quiz by Laurie Taylor A BUCK & CHANGE - Episode 16 or Key In The Hand by
Mitch Hudson 

Fraser adjusted the collar one more time. He patted the slight bulge where
the lock from his  collar rested at the base of his throat and smiled.
He'd be able to feel that little weight all day, even during guard duty.
Donning his Stetson, the same one that had been driven over by that bus
last week but was again in pristine condition, he set out for the
consulate. It was only a seven minute walk. Today his only back-up would
be Diefenbaker. 

At the apartment door he paused, called verbally to a deaf animal who
responded then closed the door after them, rattling the handle to be sure
it had latched properly. It had he noted with another small lift of his
lips. This was turning into an excellent day. His steps were lively and
his thoughts bright. Little did he have to smile about today. Nonetheless,
smile he did. 

His lover, is *master*, his Ray had collared him last night in a dance
club that catered to a most select clientele and Fraser was absolutely
thrilled that he was one of them now. He belonged. He fit in with a social
group. He had peers now, fellows with whom he shared something on a deep,
personal level. Oh yes. He *belonged* to Ray. His steps were indeed
lively. 

But the cloud that silver lining encircled loomed thick overhead in his
mind. Ray had left him last night, left angry. With a little indrawn
breath Fraser cleared that dark cloud from his mind and resolved to face
the day as his grandmother had taught him. Seven fewer muscles to smile
than to frown. And all that angst wasted energy. While he didn't need to
save energy for childbearing there was no sense in *waste*. * 

Ray scowled. He adjusted the Riv rearview mirror, momentarily puzzled that
it was in place on the windshield instead of in the back seat or the
filing cabinet at work.  (This was the Riv used for interior camera
shots.) Dismissing the mirror from his mind he studied his scowl. "What
right do you got to be pulling such a face?" he berated himself. "Just
because you got some nut from the north chasing after your mother doesn't
give you the right Shit! I sound like my old man." He shook his head. 

The traffic light changed from red to green and the car behind him honked
as the driver expressed his impatience. In true Chicago style Ray flipped
him the bird then roared off down the street exceeding the speed limit by
at least twenty miles per hour. He'd be late to work and Welsh would chew
his butt good. 

"Oh! What a *gross* thought! Why do people come up with such stupid
expressions?" He slid the Riv into his customary parking space and climbed
out. 

Entering the bullpen he scowled at Elaine who started beaming a smile at
him then stopped. 

"Hey, Vecchio. What're you doing with that frown on today? I thought you'd
be all smiles and humming Carpenter's songs. I talked to your sister,
Frannie this morning and she said" 

"What?" Ray demanded, interrupting her and drawing more than his usual
amount of stares from an outburst. "And don't you people have anything
better to do with your time than stare at fine Italian tailoring?" 

without a word Elaine grabbed him and hauled him squawking and protesting
down the hall. Her hand to hand combat skills were finally getting put to
use. She shoved him in the closet, *their* closet, the one she'd seen
Fraser and Ray disappear into so long ago when she'd been the one humming
tunes by the carpenters. The door clicked shut and she flipped on the
light bulb. Ray stared up at it dumbly. 

"Didn't know this closet had a light, did you Vecchio?" she teased then
sobered quickly. She shoved him against the wall and rifled through his
pockets, getting little gasps, awkward slaps and shoves from the startled
man. Digging deep in his front left pants pocket Elaine felt what she was
searching for, then moved on to the other thing and drew it out. She held
the shiny little key before his eyes. "A ha!" 

"A ha? A ha?" he repeated with a definite nasal quality. "A ha, what? And
give me that key," he demanded as he made a grab for it. 

"Not till you listen to me," she declared, holding the key behind her. 

Ray narrowed his green eyes and glowered. He could wait her out, try
grabbing it again or just leave the closet. No. leaving without that key
wasn't an option. He glowered harder and crossed his arms. Obviously she
took this for acquiescence because she started jabbering. Ray rolled his
eyes. 

"No business storming around here acting like some hard up virgin. You got
a good thing, Vecchio, and you got it under lock and key. I expected to
see a change in you today but *amazingly* you seem to be even more grouchy
than usual. I don't get it. What's up?" 

"Nothin" 

"Bull!" She wagged the key under his nose. "You should be on cloud nine
today." 

That's the second stupid expression you've used in the last two minutes.
Did you ever stop to think how ridiculous some of the crazy expressions we
use sound? On cloud nine. Chew your butt off. No wonder Benny gets so
confused about American expressions and . . .  and . . . " Ray closed his
mouth and swallowed at the sudden dryness in his mouth. "Uh. Just what do
you know about that key?" 

"I know it could be called by another one of those "stupid expressions".
The key to your heart," she added softly. She laid a hand on his arm.
"Ray. Tell me what's up. You should be *happy* today." 

For several long agonizingly silent moments he stared at her. Finally he
dropped his gaze to his fine Italian footwear. "I should be. You're right,
you know. It *is* the key to my heart." He shuffled his weight from one
foot to the other. "I just . . . Well I'm a little preoccupied I guess.
And oh, Elaine! Last night I was *rude* to . . . somebody. My lover." 

The civilian aide smirked. "Like it's the first time *that's* ever
happened. You being rude to Frto somebody." 

"Yeah." He couldn't help but grin. 

"But you need to find out what's making you so unhappy." She took his hand
and placed the key in the center of his palm and curled his fingers over
it. "If I were in your shoes I'd be the happiest person on this planet." 

Ray nodded as he stared at their joined hands. Slowly he looked up into
her face, warm with honest affection and friendship. "You know? You know
about him and me?" 

A smile flitted across her face then broke out beaming, crinkling her eyes
and showing off her even, white teeth. "Yes. Since the first time I
watched you two duck into here." 

Ray grinned lopsided and ran his other hand back over his shorn scalp.
"Well I guess there's no use pretending that you've guessed wrong. You
wouldn't buy it." 

"Nope." She patted his hand then released it. "So you need to find out
what's bothering you and get it settled." 

"I know what it is. And I don't think I can settle it short of shooting a
certain Mountie." 

"Oh dear." 

His eyebrows rose. "You sound just like him. Not the one I wanna shoot.
The other one. I mean, you sound like Benny. It's *Buck* that I wanna
shoot." 

"Oh. Frannie mentioned something about Sergeant Frobisher. She said he'd
been coming to your house for dinner a lot lately. I thought maybe Fraser
was bringing him over." 

"I wish. I really wish that's all it was." Ray sank onto his usual mop
bucket. 

Elaine sat on Fraser's bucket and propped her elbows on her knees. As Ray
began to spill his guts, one of those expressions again, she rested her
chin on her hands and listened to his fears for his mother, her happiness
and his deep dread of Buck causing her heart ache. * 

Fraser concentrated on the fifth leaf from the end of the twig that
truncated precisely five point three meters from the earth's surface on
the elm across the street. It sustained a caterpillar at the moment. 

He breathed in. the lock on his collar shifted against his skin sending a
warm sensation down his arms to his fingertips. The caterpillar began the
arduous task of reversing its course and Fraser checked his leg posture.
Perfect as was humanly possible. 

He breathed out and the leather collar shifted a few microns against the
material of his red serge tunic. This also sent a warmth down his body.
But in a different direction. He consciously did not smile. 

Suddenly inspector Thatcher was toe to toe with him. Fraser didn't blink
but he did lose site of the caterpillar as it made the seventh shift
forward on this circuit of the leaf. His superior officer trained her eyes
on his chin. He sensed her gaze go lower to his neck. Finally she stared
at the collar region of his tunic, then down past the first gleaming gold
button. Her gaze rose slowly. It stopped just below his eyes. 

"My office. No more than thirty seconds after your shift at guard duty
ends, Constable. That's an order." 

She was gone. He concentrated on not swaying as the caterpillar made what
he estimated to be its tenth forward undulating movement. 

His shift ended at 1600. He was at her door at 1600:21, hand poised to
knock when the door was jerked open by the inspector. She hooked a hand
through his lanyard and yanked him in then slammed the door. "Take off
your tunic, constable." 

"Are . . . are you needing a wire precisely five and a half centimeters in
length, sir?" 

"No. Take off the tunic." 

"Are . . . Do you . . ." He fumbled with the center buttons, not bothering
to loosen the belt straps or the lanyard which she'd jerked quite tight
around his neck. "Am I in some kind of . . . trouble, sir?" 

"Do you understand English, Constable? I could repeat the order in French.
"Ou" 

"Not necessary, sir." He closed his eyes and bared his soul, laying the
tunic open, exposing his throat. Silence. He couldn't even hear her
breathing. He knew she was still in the room by virtue of not having heard
the door being opened. He hadn't heard the window open either though he
knew full well she rarely shared his penchant for that route of evacuating
a dwelling. So she was still there. Undoubtedly perusing his locked
collar. Undoubtedly looking at the band of leather that encircled his
neck. Undoubtedly visually inspecting the lock that Ray, his lover, his
master had placed on him, had locked on him last night in full view of
strangers, of Ray's sister, of anyone who cared to look. Ray had claimed
him, marked him, taken him. Fraser almost sighed with happiness then he
remembered where he was and what he was doing. He opened one eye. 

His superior officer stared. "Sir, if I may ask. How did you deduce that I
was . . . hiding something under my uniform." 

Margaret managed to close her mouth. "What? Oh. Uh. I've . . . I've seen
that particular bulge before." 

"You have?" He failed to hide his total shock. Instantly three questions
warred with each other to be first on his tongue. Fraser clamped his lips
together. 

"Yes. I know what a collar like that does to the line of dress reds. The
padlock took me a minute to figure out but eventually I knew what it was."


She stepped back to her desk and Fraser dared to open both eyes. 

"I've collared my share of submissives, Constable," she said with a touch
of rebuke in her voice. "but I'm not looking at some weekend lark, am I?" 

"No sir! It's not a  . . . lark," he said the word with abhorrence as his
right hand came up to caress the collar and lock. She'd collared people
before? "It's not a game. It's . . . " He shook his head, at a loss for
adequate words. 

"Love?" she said with a smile as she perched on the edge of her desk. 

Fraser blushed, beamed a smile at her and blushed some more. "Yes." He
should feel reticent in admitting this to her; she'd conveyed a desire for
him at one time. But he was so full of happiness he couldn't contain
anything. It must shine on his face, he realized. 

"I see. Well just make sure you comport yourself to the best of your
abilities as sub to your master." She shook a finger at him. "You know
your master's wishes come before your own when you're wearing the collar."


"Yes sir." 

"And you have responsibilities. You're not just along for the ride. You
have to" 

He listened, enthralled as she gave him instruction. Some of the things
she talked about he had figured out. Others were complete surprises to
him. Fraser listened intently. He left her office at five that afternoon,
even more confident in the new direction his relationship had taken with
Ray. * 

It was easy to sit in the Riv, eyeing the consulate front door, waiting
for his lover to come into view. Ray had done it more times than he could
count. Today would be the first time that he'd waited for his collared
sub, his love slave, his . . . His what? Things had changed last night,
mostly for Benny. The guy seemed somehow happier. 

"Yeah, you big dope!" he berated himself. "If you'd taken the time to
notice you'd have seen how calm and happy and . . . Well, happy Benny
looked after you snapped that collar on him. And then you go and shoot
your mouth off, yelling about that damned Buck. Benny was all smiles and
cuddling and loving and you gotta start yelling about Buck. Benny doesn't
deserve that kind of treatment. You locked him in that collar, and like
Elaine says, it has certain responsibilities. You better start meeting
those responsibilities." He stopped as a dashing figure in red serge
trotted down the consulate front steps. Instantly Ray responded, becoming
calm, mellow, happy and more alert. "Yeah. I'm a dope. A great big . . .
*damned* lucky dope." 

Fraser claimed his spot in the front seat, Diefenbaker in the back seat
amid stray wolf hairs. "Hello, Ray." 

For several moments Ray stared silently at his lover. "Hi." He reached out
a finger and traced along the almost imperceptible bulge at Benny's
throat. "You're wearing it." 

"Of course," Fraser said as a look of uncertainty flashed across his
features. "It's locked on." His voice grew hesitant, quiet. "You have the
key, Ray. I can't take it off ever without" 

"Oh, I know, Benny," Ray interrupted. "I know. I was just thinking out
loud. Admiring it, I guess." Then his eyes searched Fraser's face. "Benny,
I want to take you home and take that tunic off and lick every square inch
of your throat and face, all around that collar." 

With a flush coloring his cheeks Fraser closed his eyes and sighed. "Yes,
Ray. I want to please you in any way that you desire. You must also tell
me what I should do to bring you pleasure." 

"I will, lover. I will." Ray scanned the area for stray newshounds and saw
that it was clear. He took Fraser's hand. "I want the collar to stay on
half the week like Monday through Wednesday and only on the weekend if
I've planned something special for us. But Benny, I need you to be
uncollared half the time. I need you to be . . . my partner in more than
just our occasional officially sanctioned investigations. I need things to
be like they've always been in a lot of ways. I need . . . " 

Fraser opened his eyes and looked solemnly into his love's face. "I
understand, Ray. You need me as much as I need you." 

For a moment Ray looked stunned. Elaine hadn't said anything about how
much he needed Benny during her lecture. Perhaps she assumed he knew that
already. He should have. And here he was thinking this was just something
that had developed in the last few minutes. Boy, he was right! He was a
big dope! 

"Then this being Wednesday, Ray, perhaps we should hurry back to the
apartment. I suspect you have a lot you'd like to accomplish before
midnight?" Slowly Fraser grinned. 

Ray gaped at the bold Mountie. He stared. He guffawed. Finally he sprang
into action, starting the Riv and roaring off down the crowded streets of
the windy city. 

Alone behind a barred, barracaded, newly deadbolted door labeled 3 J one
very lucky detective got luckier. One exceedingly fortunate RCMP Constable
experienced more favorable fortune. One arctic wolf became imensely bored
and considered chewing on a field boot or a tassled loafer. Wisely the
wolf went for a handy leather chew toy instead. 

The whole of Chicago was none the wiser, oblivious to the interplay
between the two men. Two news hounds, desperate for a story staked out the
apartment for a short while but a late breaking story about a mutant space
alien halfbreed human baby found by an FBI agent at the museum had them
off and running at 9:15. 

Inside the apartment the lamp was turned out. Two naked bodies tangled
together on a narrow cot and indistinguisable noises were barely audible
outside the door. 

"Ray, could you move your . . . Ouch! Yes. Your left knee . . . just a
little . . . more." 

"That working for you, Benny?" the lucky cop asked as he pushed his hard
cock deep into his lover. "You feel me in you so deep I'm about to
strangle you?" 

"Mmm. Yes. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ 

End of Episode 16. Will Mitch ever get off his lazy ass and write another
episode? Will Ray regret his decision to collar the Mountie? We'll all
find out, if episode #17 or, Promises and Promises ever gets finished. ~ *
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ And now we present a Quiz by Laurie Taylor QUIZ 1
Name the different ways the collar is described in this story. 

2  What time did Fraser arrive at Thatcher's office door? 

3  What is cloud nine?	 a)  A burger bar  b)  A gay bar  c)  A cumulus
cloud.	4  Complete the following: "Without a word Elaine grabbed
------------ and hauled him -------- and protesting down the ---------" 

5  What happened after Elaine shoved Ray against the closet wall? 

6  Translate 'Take off the tunic' into French. 

7 From the known information, extrapolate the genus, weight, age and
gender of the caterpillar Fraser sees. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ ANSWERS 

1. A weight, slave collar, bulge, under lock and key, leather collar, band
of leather, something, particular bulge, it. 

2.  16:00:21 

3. B 

4. Him, squawking, hall 

5. She rifled his pockets. 

6. Strippe! 

7. 'Whogivesadamnus'; 3kg; 83; none. 
  
  End Disclaimer: This story is written for the private entertainment of
fans. No infringement of any copyrights held by Alliance Communication,
CBS, CTV, or any others is intended. This story is not published for
profit, and the author does not give permission for this story to be
reproduced in any form. The author makes no claims on the characters or
their portrayal by the creation of this story. Mitch_H@hotmail.com
geocities.com/soho/lofts/5843/mh-fict.htm