Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine.

Why do we have to disclaim? If this is indeed Fanfiction, then we shouldn't need to disclaim that the characters are not ours, because it IS fan-fiction! Of course, if someone makes up a a character, they're free to disclaim. I see no reason in disclaiming.

Shackled

She wanted him. Oh yes. So much. She craved him, his body, his anguished cries of pain and anger. And when she saw him writhing on the floor, moaning as the drug coursed his veins – she felt like ripping his clothes off. His shirt were so tight, it was pretty much stuck to him. And there was a dangerous air around him that she felt attracted to.

She couldn't tell anyone. Oh no. Jigsaw would think she is crazy; how many captives had crushes on their captives? And amazing fantasies that made her gasp for more? Not many.

Maybe she should see him. Just look at him. She won't do anything. And maybe it will quench her lust enough for her to ignore Eric Matthews until he died. Yeah. That's what she would do.

Amanda slowly padded towards the bathroom where Eric was lying unconscious, making sure that Jigsaw didn't catch her going there; she carefully veered around the cameras, cautiously checking if she was leaving evidence behind that Jigsaw could spot. He was amazing at noticing the finest details. But she was smart as well. She won't be caught. Hell, she was Jigsaw's apprentice; if she was good enough for Jigsaw, she obviously had the capacity to be as good at observation and sneaking as him.

There. The rust-covered bathroom door. Behind lay a treasure so tantalizing, Amanda felt shivers go down her spine with excitement. She suddenly felt breathless, and she leaned against the wall, trying to calm herself down. For goodness' sake, it was only a guy! And to make it worse, it was someone who wouldn't hesitate to kill her. How could she have forgotten that he planted drugs in her room as 'evidence'? But even as the rational thoughts crowded her mind, she knew deep down she really didn't give a crap. He was damn sexy, and she was damn horny.

Strengthened with this sense of logic, she grabbed the handle and violently slid it back, evoking a terrible screech. Almost immediately, Amanda reprimanded herself. Stupid. So stupid. Did she want to be caught? But it was good. That screech jolted her to her senses. She shook herself out of her lingering fantasies and checked herself. What the hell was she doing? What the hell was he doing to her? What the hell did she want? An animalistic side answered as quick as a whip. Him, it growled. You want him. Go get him. Take off those thin garments and embrace him, press your body against him, kiss him, rape him...

Amanda dazedly stumbled into the bathroom, her rational side quickly stating that there were no cameras, and her irrational size wondering what she would do with him... he was entirely at her mercy. And that sounded pretty good to Amanda.

She flicked the switch. And the room burst into light.

He was lying on his back, shirt rumpled and slightly hitched, exposing his belly button. A thin trail of hair collected around navel, extending up his shirt and down his pants. His eyes were shut, hair still ruffled untidily, gun far out of reach. Good. No shooting. That's one risk off the list.

His large hands were clenched by his side; his teeth were gritted, head tilted back. Of course. The drug. His body was instinctively fighting it. Amanda couldn't help but admire at such resolve. She knelt next to him, and hesitating, brushed his feverish brow with the back of her hand. Eric let out a moan, and rolled his head, eyes fluttering under the fever. He was whimpering at unseen terrors, kicking his legs at random intervals, body rolling slightly on the ground.

Amanda couldn't help herself. He was so pitiful... and so handsome. She did wonder why she thought he was hot though. He wasn't obviously good-looking, yet... his gaze caught you, his body language entranced you, his voice soothed you. Even in court, as she was being tried, the look he gave her was so intense, she felt herself melt slightly inside. And when he spoke, he spoke with such confidence, she hung onto every word.

Suddenly, Eric grabbed Amanda in an iron-like grip, eyes open, yet unseeing. Amanda cried out; because of the heat of his skin, the feeling of being touched, or the pain of his fingers digging into the wounds she received in the syringe pit, she didn't know.

"Daniel," he whispered. Then he collapsed, back arching, arms feebly waving at his sides as he attempted to wave off fears and danger. Amanda pinned him down, and after half a minute, he abruptly stopped, and gave a contented sigh. The touch of her was enough to calm Eric down; Amanda marveled at how muscular he was and yet soft at the same time. She couldn't help running her hands over his large shoulders, and then she slowly trailed them down his broad chest, lightly flicking over his nipples, down, down until his belly button. She took a deep breath. The plunge. She lifted the shirt slightly and slid her hand underneath, her hands touching his feverish skin. He was... smooth. Her fingers followed the path of hair to his chest – and she had trouble controlling herself. She was so lustful, eyes wide, breathing quickened as she feverishly skimmed her hand across his body, feeling every scar received from police training. Damn, she wanted him.

His breathing started to become more shallow, and every so often a moan would come out from between his lips

"Kerry," he muttered as he pushed his chest into Amanda's hand. She froze. Kerry. That woman? The one who was tracking Jigsaw for months? No way. Eric and Kerry... Amanda felt repulsed, and slowly slid her hand out from beneath his shirt.

No sooner had her hand lost contact with him when he growled.

"No!" he snarled, and he blindly groped for her hand. He succeeded, and proceeded to shove it down his pants. Amanda gasped. Eric groaned. He started thrusting wildly, crying out with pleasure.

She couldn't move. She just sat still as his hard member thrust into her hand, his own hands scrabbling across the surface for purchase. She could imagine him in bed, bucking as someone's hands stroked him, while he moaned and gripped the bed-sheets. Almost blinded by her fantasy, she unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped him, letting his member breathe. Her breath caught. It was pretty large. Almost shyly, she gripped it hard and started pumping her fist. She knew how to masturbate a guy; she often did sexual favours for her drug dealers. But never did she feel so strong, so powerful... so in control. Eric didn't know what was happening consciously. She could stop anytime she wanted. She controlled his pleasure.

She used her other hand to fondle his nipples and her mouth to shower kisses on his naval. He was so warm. So hot. He was crying out loudly now; such a noisy lover. He suddenly stiffened, not able to withstand the triple pleasure she was giving him. He ejaculated hard, his seed shooting out so much that it covered Amanda's hand. She had an overwhelming urge to taste him. Carefully, she gave a tentative lick; she's had bad experience with sperm. Once she was forced to swallow a whole cup of seed, the result of giving head to her drug dealer.

It wasn't any better. She grimaced... and had a sudden notion. She brushed Eric's lips with one hand. They opened instantly, hungry for whatever their lover had to offer. Smiling almost sadistically, she brushed her dripping hand over them, and he feverishly licked it. Once her hand was clean, she zipped his pants and stood up, studying the person before her. He was still in the drug's embrace. A shame, really. He wouldn't know what had happened.

"See you tomorrow," she whispered, as she stepped out the bathroom. "I guarantee more to come." And she left him, lying on the ground, delirious and lustful.