The Ox Who Got the Cream

Apologies for the long absence. I am still writing, and for some reason sat on this chapter for more than 6 months. There's the saying 'done is better than good', so here you go. Thanks to EGRI and Semiosis for keeping me entertained and to those who sent nice little notes and feedback during my sabbatical. I appreciate you.

***

Truce gazed at the ceiling, holding Layla to his chest.

Layla quietly observed him. The morning light always brightened his dark brown eyes to warm caramel. "What are you thinking?" she asked, trailing a finger across one pec.

Truce looked at her. "I was thinking about the night I punished you for meeting The Poker."

"Oh."

Truce rolled on top, trapping Layla under the bulk of him. "It's been killing me. How did you do it?"

"What?" she said innocently.

"How the fuck did you get out of the chair?"

Layla's satisfied shrug made Truce want to rip the bedsheet away and give her a screaming orgasm.

"Well, it was new, right?" she answered. "That contraption wasn't designed for a villain."

Truce narrowed his eyes. "Go on."

"So, it was probably from a sex shop. Not devised by Felix for bad guys."

Truce nodded.

Layla grinned. "And most bondage sex contraptions designed for

mainstream

sexual activities-"

"I would hardly call our activities 'mainstream'," Truce interrupted, then the light-bulb moment struck. "Damn it."

Layla laughed. "I figured you weren't thinking with your head when you bought it. These things always have some kind of emergency release."

"Touché, Layla," Truce smiled. "You were right to assume I shopped with my dick-brain." He tickled her chin and kissed her upturned face. "I don't know whether this makes you clever, or me very stupid."

"Both?" Layla grinned, wriggling when Truce leaned in closer to kiss the corner of her mouth and down her neck.

"Truce!" she whined, when his lips wrapped around a nipple, sending tingles down her belly. "We have to get up!"

"Mm-hm. I

am

up."

"You have to stop making that joke," she retorted, though her legs moved encouragingly up his sides.

Truce's cock slipped against her moist centre, searching. Layla wriggled to line him up properly, then groaned with delight when he found his way and pushed inside her.

"So thick," she sighed appreciatively, arching into the bed as the mattress began to bounce.

"So tight," Truce grunted, thrusting in slow, measured strokes.

Nibbling along Layla's neck, he felt her lightly bucking to meet his thrusts, his cock quickly saturated in her juices.

"You're so wet. Hold on, kitty," he said huskily.

He sat up, lifting Layla so she remained sheathed in his lap. He appreciated the look on her face; aroused, sultry, confused but going with it. Her eyes were so strikingly green, he could lose himself gazing into them.

Wrapping an arm around her, he guided her to a rhythmic bounce.

The minutes ticked by. They were hot, sweaty and obscenely tangled. Gripping Truce's smooth, broad shoulders, Layla often questioned her reality; whether she was really engaged to the city's most coveted superhero. Status aside, Truce was physically delectable. Handsome, strong, muscled in all the right places. A cock that took her places she never knew existed.

Layla hotly kissed him, feeling her climax hurtle closer. She clung to Truce with a gasp, frantically grinding, her mouth open and silent.

Truce tightened their embrace and bit Layla's neck, groaning against her soft skin while his cock exploded inside her. He shuddered with pleasure, holding her tightly.

Truce fell back to the bed, keeping Layla against his chest. He liked the way she felt after sex; soft, panting, shivering with tired satisfaction. He rolled so he could be on top again.

"I'm in meetings all day," he murmured, squeezing her lithe figure until she squeaked. "And you're booked in with Felix."

"I am?" Layla said distantly. "Another modification?"

"Layla, if he adds anything more to your suit, you'll be a hazard," Truce chuckled, lifting his head to peer down at her face.

Layla lazily smiled back. Her green eyes seemed darker in the afterglow. Her elegant cheeks were beautifully flushed, her mouth swollen from kissing. Blonde hair splayed against the bed. She always took his breath away.

"What's it about, then?" she asked.

Truce arched an eyebrow, fighting a smile. "I'll leave it up to him to tell you."

****

Layla's eyes cynically moved across the glossy portfolio. "No. No... No. Next." She impatiently flipped the page.

"Layla, you're not giving this a chance," Felix reasoned, tentatively turning the page back. "At least consider them. Your father won't walk you down the aisle in a bikini-"

"Nor would he want me wrapped in a conveyer belt," Layla argued, firmly slapping the page forward. "These look like costumes from old sci-fi movies."

Felix snapped the magazine closed and placed it on the coffee table. "That's a

wild

exaggeration!"

"And bikini wasn't?" she mused, sitting back into the couch and crossing her arms. "Maybe I should wear a white bomb-suit, just in case?"

Felix bit the smile from his face. "Well, if that's a genuine offer..."

"Urgggh!"

Truce knocked on the open door. He was still in business attire, clearly done for the day and already loosening his navy suit tie. "How's my bridezilla?"

"Active," Felix answered impassively.

"Why do I need

fireproof gloves?

" Layla complained.

Truce chuckled. "That's a bit far, Felix, even by my standards."

"Truce isn't

that

hot!" Layla smiled mischievously.

Felix ignored her mockery. "You said to spare no effort to keep her safe," he shrugged, standing from the couch.

"There will be security at the wedding," Truce reminded him. "We just need to take some minor precautions-"

"No, Felix is right," Layla cut in. "Weddings are dangerous and even flowers pose a threat. I just need to decide the best colour netting for my bee-hat-"

Truce burst out laughing.

"Jesus!"

Felix muttered under his breath, snatched the catalogue from the table and stalked from the room.

Truce glanced after Felix and turned back to Layla. "Don't push him too far. The man knows how to get even. Your dress might fall apart before you reach the altar."

Layla rolled her eyes. "That's something

you

would do!"

"True," he agreed. "For all of his vindictive potential, Felix isn't a pervert."

Layla pursed her lips. "Did you see what he wanted me to wear?"

"That would be bad luck, and I can't afford any of that in my occupation," Truce smiled, hands in his pockets. "Want to go out tonight?"

"Another schmooze fest?" Layla said reluctantly, perking up when Truce mysteriously shook his head.

"A mission?" she breathed, jumping up from the couch when he raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," Truce affirmed, catching her in his arms, his eyes on her mouth. "No big names. Just sending a message to a bad guy who hurts kids."

Layla had been obediently idle since her abduction, letting Truce do his Oxman duties solo, as he always had before her arrival.

They both knew the Poker was determined to trap her. The ongoing threat didn't make it any less painfully boring for Layla.

"Ralphred will have an early dinner with us, then we suit up," Truce said, kissing her forehead. "I'll save a nice champagne for when we get back."

Delighted, Layla kissed him, opening her mouth to deepen it the way he liked. Truce made a lusty sound and reached back to close the door.

"Not in Felix's office!" Layla gasped, feeling the hem of her skirt edging up her thighs.

Truce pushed her onto the couch, dragged the tie from his neck and discarded his blazer. He unclicked his belt, tilting his head at Layla.

She watched him breathlessly, not even bothering to pull her skirt down, her vibrant blue gusset on display. "W-We can't do this here!"

"You're wearing the underwear I can't resist," Truce mused. "And you're not exactly running for help."

"Would I get very far?" she retorted, though her green eyes were excitedly fixed on Truce's erection.

"No," Truce admitted, straddling Layla on the couch. He began to wrap his tie around her wrists.

"Truce!" she protested as her arms went up over her head. "This will be awkward if he comes back."

"I'll risk it," he purred, securing the tie to a metal stripe on the back of the couch.

"But what if he comes back?" Layla hissed, trying to twist her hands free. Her heart raced from nervousness, but she was already aroused. Truce had that effect on her.

"Then I'll give him another raise," Truce grinned, moving down her body and peering between her legs. "But I have a feeling he knows what we're up to."

Paranoid, Layla gave a humiliated squeal and clamped her thighs together, her eyes darting about for security cameras.

Truce spread her legs in an easy motion and cupped her pussy. "I love this damp heat," he said, his fingers sliding against the fabric and making her whimper. "How you're always wet for me."

Layla huffed at him, then jerked with surprise when he slapped her pussy.

"And that was through the gusset," he grinned, his fingers curling around the edges of the material.

Layla was panting when his fingertips gently brushed her soft, pulsing flesh. She jumped when he ripped the material.

"No, no," Truce said gently, holding her long legs open when she tried to close them. "Spread for me, Layla."

Layla hesitantly let her thighs fall wide, then squealed indignantly when Truce smacked her pussy again.

"Truce!"

she implored, clamping her thighs again, feeling her pussy throbbing. Truce easily forced her legs open again.

"Do you have any idea how long I've waited to spank your naughty cunt?" he said conversationally, oblivious to her dismay. "So. Fucking. Long."

Layla cried out with every smack that accompanied his words. He was leaning between her legs now; she couldn't close them. "Truce, please..."

Truce kissed her roughly, reaching between them to release his cock. It bounced between them, hotly rubbing between her thighs.

Shocked, Layla realised she was about to cum. She tried to free her hands, urgently kissing him back.

When Truce's fingers slid across her wetness to position his cock and from that alone, she almost tipped over.

"Fuck. I'm gonna cum," she panted against his mouth, straining into him. "Truce, hurry, I..."

Truce thrust into her, his cock thickly stretching her tight little pussy. The shaft dragged along her swollen clit, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and cried out in ecstasy.

"Oh, God, fuck!" Layla whimpered as the pleasure flooded her body, heightened by his steady thrusts. It felt so good, she wouldn't have cared if Felix walked in.

Moving faster, Truce gripped the tie for support, his other hand sliding under to squeeze her ass. He grunted into her neck, pounding her into the couch. Finally, he stiffened, groaned, and Layla felt him fill her up.

"Uh oh," Truce muttered breathlessly, gently kissing her neck.

"What?" Layla said weakly, pulling against the tie. A moment later her hands were free.

"Try not to move," Truce panted, his voice slightly hoarse, shifting with her in his arms. "Keep your legs around my waist. I don't want to stain this couch. He wouldn't forgive me."

Tiredly wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tightening her legs around his torso. She let out a slow, shaky breath. The position was still very stimulating.

Truce felt her throbbing pussy lightly clench around him, gently pulsing. "Still feels good, doesn't it?"

"Maybe," Layla mumbled shyly, burying her face in his neck.

"I could go again, but this isn't the place," Truce gathered her in his arms and began to lift her from the couch. "This is indecent. You have to stop seducing me like this."

"This isn't

my

fault!"

"It is," Truce countered, standing tall. "It's your 'come-fuck-me' eyes. And that lush mouth that I can never stop kissing." He paused with Layla still impaled on him. "Mmm. This is pretty hot."

He suddenly pressed Layla against the wall, and she moaned breathlessly from the sensation; the heat of Truce's bulk against her, inside her, and the cool wall at her back. "You want to go again, don't you?" he teased huskily, lightly jerking his hips.

Layla's eyelids fluttered as she tried to gain control. "We...we can't?" she said uncertainly.

"Mm-hm," he muttered. "I might have to fuck you again."

A shadow floated by the opaque glass as someone walked past.

"Truce!"

Layla whispered shrilly, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Truce softly laughed and carried her to Felix's office bathroom.

***

The large, airy room was gloomily dark with a very high ceiling. The electricity wasn't connected, but shards of light streamed through the windows from streetlamps outside.

The swivel chair spun with the man tied to it, the force of Truce's punch sending him around several times.

Truce stood back to survey his handwork. He was in full costume; his cape lightly followed his movement.

In her shiny, sexy fox-suit, Layla observed from the background, appreciating Truce's agile strength.

"I was clearly remiss the last time we spoke," Truce smirked. "I thought I'd said your trading days were over. You must have heard something different."

The man wheezed irritably.

Layla danced from one foot to the other behind Truce. "Can I have a go?"

"Yes. Her." The bound man's one good eye was fixed on Layla, the other eye completely bruised shut.

His voice was husky and difficult to hear. He muttered a string of words, blood trickled down his chin and he gurgled a laugh.

"You don't really," Truce advised. "She's more spiteful than-"

"That's not what he said," Layla interrupted, gripping Truce's bicep. She bent in front of the man, who continued to eye her with interest. "What did you mean by that?"

"By what?" Truce asked.

Layla straightened and turned to him. "He said

'Poker's

coming for her'. How would he-?"

They turned to the man when he began to laugh, the movement obviously painful but his figure shook with it.

"Get away from him." Truce yanked Layla back as something clicked above. He ran, dragging Layla and using the last of his strength to throw her just out of the range as the steel net engulfed him.

"Ox!" Layla shrieked. She sprung up and kicked her heel-knife out, but the blade merely skimmed across the metal. "Fuck!"

She gripped the edge of the net and tried to lift it, but the border was magnetically fixed to the ground.

Truce tried to lift up and failed. "Fuck. Inspector Magnet. Don't exit the way we came in. Take the stairs to the very top. Go!"

"Who?" Layla hissed, fishing around her person for steel cutters. She clipped one hole in the net when a warning shot ricocheted beside her.

"Run!"

Truce growled. Layla ignored him, methodically snipping at the intricate steel netting.

The gun went off again, this time at Truce. Layla twirled to her feet in a rage and froze.

It was a bald man in a burgundy coat almost reaching the ground, dark-tinted glasses, wearing a sleazy smile and holding a smoking weapon.

Zole was beside him, much taller, in a black and white pin-striped suit. His face was calmly handsome, but Layla remembered his maniacal expression from her last escape. Dread flooded her limbs at the sight of him.

"This is low, even for you, Zole!" Truce called from the ground. Though his tone was bantering, Layla could tell he was fucking furious.

"I agree," Zole called back pleasantly. "But you wouldn't have brought her to face anyone of importance. Like me, for instance."

"Don't flatter yourself," Layla sneered.

"Fox!"

Truce warned.

The Poker laughed. "You'll do more than flatter me." He fell silent and no one spoke for a while.

"Well?" Inspector Magnet finally prompted. "What're we waiting for?"

"I was just enjoying the moment," Zole said. "I love these personal quandaries." He came halfway down the stairs and paused. "Little fox, you're coming with me."

Zole briskly crouched and used his cane to deflect the knife flying his way. "Rude." He straightened.

"For that, you're going to kiss me. My demands will only worsen as your attacks continue," he added when Layla seemed to draw a small thin spear from nowhere.

"I could just shoot," Inspector Magnet offered. "It'll only wing her."

"That will spoil the fun of the game," The Poker replied, turning back to Layla. "Miss Fox, your boyfriend is currently under a steel trap which has enough power to constrict and suffocate him. Granted, his finely made costume will hold out several minutes more than the goon in the chair can endure, but he eventually

will

die."

Truce spoke to Layla. "Run," he ordered through the net. "This is what we talked about. Go."

"My offer is

very

generous," Zole said. "I could keep him as my prisoner, but I'm willing to compromise. Not only will I spare his life, I'll set him free." He smiled when Layla's eyes darted around the massive space. "Don't think for a moment that you can outrun me."

Layla stared down at Truce. "This is embarrassing for us, but I can't let you sacrifice for me."

"I'm just as mortified as you, but I'm not asking," Truce quietly countered. "I can take care of myself, and you can outrun him."

Layla sighed, turning back to Zole. "If I co-operate, you'll release the contraption and let him go?"

"Will I?" Inspector Magnet queried.

Watching Layla, Zole slightly nodded. "Come here. You know what's next." He puckered his lips to mocking kiss; his blue eyes unblinking and wicked.

"Okay." Layla threw the spear, immediately followed by a dagger. Then she fled.

Truce aptly continued to use the clippers Layla had stealthily passed him to make a hole big enough to reach through and seize Zole's ankle to halt his pursuit.

Zole grunted as he hit the ground and kicked free of Truce's grip, flipped and pushed off into a powerful sprint after Layla.

Inspector Magnet fired. The sudden force against Truce's shoulder knocked him back, but the net and his suit combined bore the brunt of the impact. He struggled to sever more of the clasps before the next shot came.

Truce was halfway out before the net began to shrink. He swiped his palm-pad and a small gun popped from his wrist guard into his hand.

Inspector Magnet ducked for cover when he fired, and the net loosened again. Truce quickly shimmied out of the metal snare, like extracting himself from a weighted blanket, and tore after Zole.

***

Layla powered down the abandoned corridor, hearing The Poker enter it as she went up the stairs. She had a head-start, but he was determined.

Both of them panted raggedly all the way, neither willing to waste breath on taunts, but the vibe was there.

At the top Layla burst through the doors into the night breeze, not stopping to catch her bearings, knowing Zole was almost right on her. There was a horrible curiosity, the urge to glance back and see how close he was, how he managed to run so fast in a suit.

But she smothered the insanity and continued for the roof's edge, focusing all her energy on reaching it. Her equipment was second priority, she'd figure it out once she was airborne, all that mattered was that she made it over.

The run was exhausting; her thighs, calves, lungs burned. But Zole's panting was louder, Layla imagined the heat of his breath on the back of her neck. She knew he was closing the distance.

Putting everything into her home run, she leapt into the open, her thumbs instinctively circling her palm-pads like Truce had trained her, the auto wings shooting out from her triceps. She opened her mouth to draw a deep, refreshing gulp of delicious, fresh night breeze.

But her gasp of relief vanished unpleasantly when two arms clamped around her waist, snagging her flight mid-air.