Buck and Change 6   Warnings: R M/M sappy stuff, jeans, (gasp)
symphony music, American, Brittish, Canadian slang(I'm so *proud* of me).
I tragically left the following out of #5's warnings, sorry Katrina, the
*Riv* in *peril*. Quiz, disclaimer. Actually the quiz should come off the
warning list now that Laurie T. is writing it. And as instructed by Del.,
a new promise - ice may be necessary to read this episode. 

Promises: Buck and Mrs. V on a date, so sweet, and Fraser learns a new
trick. And *more* sex, for everyone who sent me a comment on the last 5
eps. A nut or two.  Quiz by Laurie Taylor. Ltaylor@provider.uk.   A BUCK
AND CHANGE - Episode 6	 or A Nut for a Nut By Mitch Hudson 

The theater darkened and the curtains rolled open. Sofia glanced at the
handsome man seated at her right. He gazed back at her, his eyes sparkling
with reflections of the dim chandeliers high overhead. He smiled broader
and gently took her right hand in his. She sighed contentedly and turned
back to see the musicians bedecked in their formal attire. None looked
even close to as distinguished as her Mountie friend in his red uniform.
Her Mountie friend, or should she be thinking her boyfriend? She
suppressed a giggle. He made her feel so vibrant. 

The director approached the podium and the audience began to applaud. Buck
didn't release her hand. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed her
fingers. Sofia glanced shyly down at her lap until he returned their
entwined hands to the padded arm rest. 

The music swelled over them and it's passionate strains enveloped them in
a world of their own. * * * 

Chicago streets weren't even *remotely* a safe place for an unlocked car.
Even occupied cars. The epaulette man screeched to a stop at a red light
and repeatedly checked the rear view mirror for signs of pursuit. He
fingered the small pouch in his right jacket pocket. The stolen doorman's
uniform had worked perfectly tonight. And that old duffer handing him
those keys had just made his escape that much quicker. He could drive the
five blocks to the Trosk hotel and make the exchange and be gone by dawn.
Simple. He smiled. 

The arm rest of the driver's door jerked away from his body as a scruffy
man opened the door and grabbed the epaulette man by his collar. He
recoiled in surprise and kicked out at his assailant. During the struggle
he heard ripping and grabbed at his right pocket to clutch the bulge to
his body. He was pulled from the idling vehicle and stumbled to the
pavement while the green car squealed away through the intersection.
Hastily he stumbled by the two winos on the curbside bench and made his
way down the block into the Trosk. 

Patrolman Smith saw the green flash of Detective Vecchio's prized Riviera
as the car hurtled by his radar setup. And that *wasn't* Detective Vecchio
or his Mountie partner driving it. In the precious seconds it took him to
spring into action the car was out of sight. He set off in pursuit and
radioed for assistance. 

All of the 27th precinct's patrol cars that were currently on the streets
joined the chase before bothering to radio to the dispatcher. Several cars
from bordering percents joined in. It had to be a carjacking or simple
theft. None of them thought for even a moment that the detective would
have loaned out the car. And even faced with a murdering carjacker they
didn't believe it was remotely possible that the Detective would
relinquish his car. Probably not even *after* death. 

And he'd want the car back. Oh, how he'd want that car back. 

Patrolman Smith grimaced at the memory of the time they'd all suffered
horribly after the detective had been forced to blow up his first Riviera.
This one couldn't be lost to him. Some of his fellow officers might not
survive this time. 

Smith caught sight of the vehicle in question gliding under the garage
door of a warehouse. He radioed for back-up. Immediately two dozen CPD
marked cars and three unmarked cars converged quietly on his location. 

Lieutenant Welsh barreled from the first vehicle and stalked over to
Smith. "In there?" he snapped. 

"Yes, sir. The car was undamaged the last I saw it. Could Detective
Vecchio be a prisoner in it?" 

"No. I checked and he's still at his assignment. His mother and some
Mountie were out in it at the symphony. It's been verified that they're in
their seats apparently completely unaware that his car's missing." 

The lieutenant was now surrounded by worried and anxious police officers.
Welsh glanced around, reading the fear in their eyes. This place looked
too much like a chop shop. They probably had a very short time to rescue
the car before it was hacked to bits for it's parts. He couldn't help it.
He shuddered. "All right, listen up." He outlined the plan and motioned
them into action. 

Because of their reluctance to risk a stray bullet hitting the Riviera the
assault was amazingly quiet. And just as amazingly over with no struggle
from the perps inside. 

Smith ran his hand lightly down the smooth fenders, needing to verify by
touch that it was unharmed. 

"Get it back to the symphony, Huey. And for God's sake don't touch the
lighter or open the . . . Just don't press *any* buttons." 

"Got it, sir, Huey answered somberly. You, Smith, and you three. I want an
escort. No road hog or air-head is gonna bump into *that* vehicle while
*I'm* behind the wheel. *** 

"That was wonderful, Buck. I'm so glad you asked me to come with you
tonight," Sofia said as they stood in the queue of patrons making their
way from the performance. 

"I wouldn't have enjoyed the evening at all if you had been unable to
accompany me, dear lady. *Any* occasion spent in your company is nothing
but sheer delight." Buck placed a protective arm around her back as they
moved slowly through the press of elegantly attired people. "Perhaps we
could make it a habit, attending the symphony." 

She lifted an eyebrow. "I'd like that. But not too often, I think. You
might prefer a bit of outdoor entertainment. No?" 

He smiled and gave her a quick squeeze. "I fear you know me too much to
put up with any nonsense, eh?" 

"Yes, caro. Tomorrow would be a lovely day for a picnic. The grandchildren
could come?" 

"Perhaps a place along the shore? Young Fraser mentioned a spot he and
Raimondo went to a few weeks ago. Excellent hiking and a beach to fly
kites on. Would you like a stroll along the shore?" 

"A slow walk? With you, of course, caro." 

Buck was delighted to see the Buick waiting at the entrance for them. A
young man in a dark uniform stood there holding the passenger door open.
Glancing at the fellow's name tag he said, "Thank you, Smith. Excellent
valet service in this town." Then tipped him generously. 

The officer stared down at the blue bill in his hand. "Oh dear," he
murmured. *** 

The key didn't even make it into the ignition slot the next morning before
Ray spied the shiny bit of metal on his beloved Riviera's carpet.
Instantly down on his hands and knees he examined the item with suspicious
distaste. A metric threaded nut. 

"Whew. Baby." He patted the Riv's dash, "For a minute I thought you'd lost
a nut from somewhere. Now why don't you tell me where *this* came from?
And what's it doing inside *you*?" With extreme caution and a pen he
rolled the nut into the handkerchief a very mellow Benny'd stuck in his
jacket pocket an hour ago before leaving Ray's bedroom via the window. 

Ray tucked the nut in his pocket and began going over the Riv's interior
in minute detail. *** 

"Just check the nut and the scrap of paper for prints," he told the lab
technician. He stomped back upstairs to his desk and glared at the copy of
the paper's scribbled message. Seven hundred thousand dollars, eight p. m.
and scrawled almost illegibly, the word ice. 

"Hello, Ray." 

He jumped and felt his heart thud in his chest. "Benny! Do you have to
always try and scare me to death? And stop standing over me like some
vulture waiting to pick at my bones." 

A tiny smile played across the Canadian's lips as he leaned close and
whispered, "I'm sorry Ray. I certainly had no intention of *frightening*
you or of *picking* at your boner." 

Ray gaped. Benny experimenting with American slang words could be
horrifying. He struggled for a reply and couldn't think of one. "Sit down.
Now. And I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going to ignore that last
remark. Lemme finish this form and we'll go to lunch." 

"But Ray, it's not even ten o'clock," Fraser protested as he tugged at the
tight jeans stretched over his thighs and sat in the chair by his lover's
desk. 

Ray arched his brows and tilted his head at Benny. "And your point is?" 

"Ah. Nothing, Ray. Lunch sounds like an excellent idea." 

"Fine. I just need to clear away a few things." The form was ground into
the typewriter and Ray banged away on the loud machine, ignoring the
rippling sound of the form as it wrinkled in the advancing carriage. As he
pulled the finished form out his phone rang. 

"Vecchio." He listened tensely for a moment and jotted notes on the back
of the form, then stuffed it in his pocket. "Yeah. Thanks," he said as the
receiver was on its way back to its cradle. "We're outta here, Benny." 

Fraser hurried to catch up with the detective and jostled against him down
the stairs. He did quite a bit more jostling against Ray's hip than was
strictly necessary on the wide staircase. * * * 

"This place, Benny. Just gonna pop in for a minute and ask a couple of
questions." Ray patted his lover's inner thigh and slid out of the Riv. 

Fraser watched the tense man walk away and squirmed uncomfortably in the
car seat. These jeans were definitely too tight. Perhaps because of the
extra bit of muscle he'd put on in his thighs of late. A bit too much
calisthenics. Or a result of other vigorous, repetitive motions. Yes.
Definitely. He'd just have to reduce his adherence to one of the forms of
exercise. And he had no doubt which one it would be. Perhaps the other
could even be increased, thus completely eliminating the requirement for
the more *standard* form of exercise. 

Ray opened the driver's door and sat down with a heavy sigh. "No leads
here." 

"Perhaps if you explained the case to me I might be of some assistance,"
Fraser suggested as he ran his fingers over Ray's right leg and up to the
juncture of his legs. 

Ray was silent. Absently he covered Benny's roaming hand. "It's not a
case, really. More of a personal thing, you know? I think we need to take
a break, clear our minds." 

"That would be nice," Fraser agreed as Ray drove down the block to a small
motel. 

With the registration complete Ray led Benny to the room on the third
floor. He scooped a newspaper from the doorstep and unfolded it as they
stepped inside. His lover attached himself to Ray's back, arms and mouth
keeping their bodies as close as possible. 

Fraser pushed his hands inside Ray's Armani jacket, tugging buttons open
as hastily as possible. A hairy chest met his touch and he thrust his
fingers down into the lose slacks. Ray was almost hard. The heat thrilled
the Mountie and he shifted his grip. "Ray, are you actually reading that
paper?" 

"Hmm?" Ray scanned the headline article as his hips shifted from side to
side. 

"I want to pick at parts of you, Ray. Put the paper down." Fraser
unbuckled the supple belt, unbuttoned the tailored slacks and pulled the
zipper talon down. "Are you finished reading?" 

Ray groaned and ground his ass against Benny's jeans. "Just another
second, love." 

"Well, sit here," Fraser directed as he maneuvered Ray to the side of the
bed and down on its edge. Ray continued to read so Fraser pulled Ray back
up, tugged the slacks and underwear down then pushed him down again. That
lovely penis bobbed out, pointing at him. He darted forward and took a
quick lick along the length of its underside. The fat cum vein glistened
with his saliva. Fraser admired his work. The penis was rock-hard now. He
licked again and it bobbed up and down for a moment. 

Ray's breathing was growing heavier but he never lowered the paper. Fraser
felt a bit of annoyance at not being able to see his lover's face. He
decided to see how long Ray could keep reading. With his perfectly
proportioned hands he pushed Ray's thighs wide and planted his mouth on
the man's hairy balls. 

This time Ray jolted under the onslaught of Fraser's lips and tongue.
First the Mountie drew one into his mouth, tonguing his way around it as
thoroughly as he could. Then he worked carefully to fit the other in.
Ray's wet cock lay along his cheek and Fraser turned his head from side to
side to feel it caress his face. Deeply he inhaled the scent of Ray's
musky sex. It washed across his senses and sent his mouth to the tip of
his lover's shaft. 

Ray lowered the paper over Fraser's back for a moment and Fraser saw him
struggle to open his eyes. Pages were turned in the paper and Ray resumed
reading while low moans interspersed with gasps of pleasure escaped from
him. Fraser didn't know if he should be insulted or aroused. Was this a
game Ray was playing? The sensitive flesh in his mouth twitched against
his palate and he pushed his lips lower. 

The thighs bracketing his shoulders squeezed in against him but Fraser
held his place and began to suck as he drew his mouth away and plunged it
down again. Over and over he did this as Ray's love sounds grew louder.
More rustling and a page was turned. Fraser doubled his efforts. Ray was
gasping now and the paper started to shake noisily. 

The detective thrust his hips forward and shouted an almost bass cry of
passion. The untranslatable sound rang through Fraser's head as he felt
the spread paper blanket his upper body. Ray's hands crushed it to his
head, filling Fraser's hearing with the sharp crumpling sounds. His mind
was divided between the sensations of bringing Ray to orgasm in his mouth
and the sensation's on his body of the paper and the pressure of Ray's
hands and thighs. His knees were lifted centimeters from the floor by
Ray's powerful grip and the detective slid his pulsing shaft deep past the
ring of Fraser's throat. 

It was impossible to suck any longer or to breathe well but he hung on,
encouraging Ray to ride his mouth and his throat to the peak of maddening
pleasure. A last groan and Ray's cum was sliding down Fraser's throat. He
pulled away and swallowed several times. Stunned, Fraser sank back against
his heels and watched Ray collapse back on the bed. Bits of the newspaper,
crumpled and torn lay scattered about them. 

Hesitantly Fraser rose up to see Ray's eyes. Open and staring at the
ceiling. He touched his lover's chest. "Ray? Are you all right?" 

"I didn't know you could do that, Benny." 

"Do what?" Fraser asked, concerned about the strange, still look on his
lover's usually animated face. 

"Ice." 

"It was nice?" 

"*Ice*. That diamond merchant from Haifa. His metal cases in the newspaper
pictures would be metric. Half the CPD is on the trail of the thief. Very
bad PR for the city, you know. It was last night, about seven. Funny
coincidence, huh? The time and the amount?" He scooted to the side and
redressed himself. "Well, come on, Benny. I *have* to find out." 

"About what, Ray?" Fraser was unable to keep a shadow if irritation from
his voice. He stopped at the door to adjust his very uncomfortable
erection. The jeans pulled and pinched at him and his patience with his
lover grew thinner by the minute. * * * 

"Okay. Gerome said the Riv stopped here and the driver was hauled out by
some freak. He disappeared into that flea-bag hotel over there." 

Fraser moved closer to hear better. He rubbed his bulge against Ray's
folded hand and Ray gazed over his shoulder down the crowded street. 

"The Riv came back through about an hour later with a police escort." He
drummed his fingers against his thigh and felt Benny's gasps of breath
against his neck. "So first we check out the dive." He tugged at Benny's
blue sleeve to get him in motion. 

The clerk wasn't much help so Ray forced the registration book from his
grimy hands. "Holcomb, Holcomb. Don't see it, you?" he asked Benny. His
lover leaned hard against his back and peered over his shoulder at the
scrawled list of names. The book in Ray's grasp now thrummed against the
counter. 

Fraser took a deep breath and forced himself to stop humping against the
slim hip. "I don't see that name, Ray." 

"You two need a room?" the clerk asked with a wicked grin. 

"Shaddap, you little weasel. I've already given you your bribe an' you're
not getting another dime outta me." 

Fraser hastily searched the pockets of his jeans and sighed when he found
no money for a room. His wallet was in his jacket that he now recalled
he'd left at the 27th precinct. 

"What's that look like to you?" 

"That? Um, V, A, and an I and that must be an L." 

Ray clapped him on the back. "Yup. Vail. Holcomb, Vail, both mean valley.
That's our man, Benny. Let's go." 

"You're lucky. That fellow missed a meet last night or he woulda been
outta here by now. Into threesomes, eh?" the clerk asked. 

Fraser shot him a dark look before following Ray up the stairs. On the
second flight he moved up behind Ray and placed his hands on Ray's ass
cheeks. The feel of the muscles working under the fine linen exhilarated
him. 

Ray paused outside room 209. "Benny, you wanna step to the side of the
door?" he asked motioning his partner to the right. 

Fraser gave his lover's round cheeks one last squeeze and reluctantly
moved to the indicated spot. Ray's skilled hand with its delineated
knuckles rapped softly on the door. 

"Super," Ray called in a rather lazy drawl. "You got a toilet leakin'?" *
* * 

Mr. Vail, or rather, Mr. Holcomb, twice convicted felon, known jewel thief
and suspected smuggler from London, England sat in the 27th precinct's
interrogation room. Fraser watched the turmoil surrounding his stoic
lover. Two captains, his own lieutenant and the commissioner with several
of his aids were shouting at Ray all at the same time. The detective
perched on the corner of Huey's desk with his arms crossed and his lips
pressed tightly together as he stared at the closed interrogation room
door. 

"Look," he finally shouted, holding his hands up for their silence. "I'll
fill you in on the details of how we found him *after*," and he paused to
glare at each of their faces, "I ask him *one* question." 

"One question?" the commissioner repeated. 

Ray nodded sternly. 

"Fine. But not without his council and us present. 

Ray slid off the desk and stalked to the door. Fraser watched his catlike
movements, so reminiscent of a mountain lion, hungry and close to a kill.
The grim Italian flung the door wide and marched to the suspect. He loomed
over the short figure. Fraser scrambled to the opening, straining to peer
past the knot of Chicago Police personnel. 

"One question, pal," Ray snarled roughly. "And you *really* ought to
answer me. And quick." 

The hapless public defendant stared fearfully at the detective and made no
protest on behalf of his client. His client nodded vigorously. 

"How did you end up driving my . . . mint condition . . . 1971 . . . green
. . . Buick . . . Riviera last night?" 

"Pinched it. At the symphony house. Some old duffer in a red coat handed
me the keys." 

"Your *car*, detective? You only wanted to ask the most notorious thief in
all of Chicago about your *car*?" the commissioner asked in a escalating
voice. 

Lieutenant Welsh snaked an arm out and restrained the commissioner.
Luckily he pulled his superior away from the door milliseconds before the
too-silent detective stormed out through it. 

The commissioner shouted at Ray, "You said you'd tell us what led you to
Holcomb." 

"The nut!" Ray exclaimed without a pause in his stride. 

"The Nut?" 

Ray shot an exasperated look back at the congregated superiors. "His print
was on the metric nut he dropped when he was carjacked." 

"Red coat, Ray?" Fraser asked as he once again jostled against his lover's
hip as they descended the stairs. This time there truly was cause for the
close crowding. The news had already spread and the precinct house was
under siege by police officers and reporters alike. Suddenly a camera
flashed in their faces. Fraser flinched but Ray marched on. The Mountie
darted through the throng and dodged several restraining grasps as he
joined Ray in the subject of his short exchange with the diamond thief.
The entire inventory of stolen diamonds now rested on Welsh's desk, well
guarded and currently being examined under a stereoscopic microscope by
their rightful owner. 

Two television station vans followed Ray from the parking lot onto the
street. Fraser eyed them with disdain and sighed heavily. He stretched his
arm low and left to his lover's thigh. "Where can we go, Ray? I *need* to
be alone with you." 

"First to your place to make sure you locked your closet door. Then, we're
gonna make a little call on a certain gentleman who likes to run around
town in his red uniform." 

"Oh dear." ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Will Ray receive a reprimand for his
unusual investigative priorities? Or will the Police Commissioner and the
Mayor come to appreciate the value of a 1971 Buick Riviera too? Will the
media dog our duo and find out what's in Fraser's closet? Tune in again
for more exciting adventures on A BUCK AND CHANGE EPISODE 7 or The Mountie
Who Knew Too Well.  ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Quiz 

1 What did the epaulette-wearing man finger at the red light? 

2 How did Sofia refer to Buck in the first scene? 

3 What made Lt Welsh shudder in the chop shop? 

4 Who did Ray think had lost a nut? 

5 What did Ben jostle against going down the stairs? 

6 What had made Fraser's jeans tight across the thigh? 

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

Answer all questions correctly and receive your choice of our "on order"
chocolate Detectives and Constables, coming to you by train from the
territories and provinces of Canada. 

Prize awarded to eligible entrants in UN recognized countries who have no
ban on the return of dueSouth. Void where prohibited or taxed. Not open to
management or employees of; National Football League, Air Freedonia,
Canada Hosers Inc., Cuffs R Us Industries or AstroGlide and it's
subsidiaries. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ Quiz Answers: 

1 The small pouch in his jacket pocket. 

2 The 'handsome man,' 'he,' 'her Mountie friend' and her 'boyfriend.' 

3 The thought of the Riv being chopped up for parts. 

4 The Riv - Ray thinks of it as a person! 

5 Ray's hip. 

6 Horizontal jogging and calisthenics. 

* * * * * * * * * * * 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