Upcoming attractions…

Well, apart from regular Soulmate Shorts – I still have over 50 on the to-write list and people keep sending me more suggestions – I have a few things under plan. But the next fic which will start to be posted, I'm 15,000 words into writing and should start to put up a chapter every couple of days or so sometime in the next week. Here's a sneak peak with a few extracts from a fic I'm calling Stockholm Syndrome Works Both Ways

Grant Ward couldn't look into Brock Rumlow's golden eyes. Not for long. He'd known the other man before SHIELD fell, not well – Rumlow had kicked his ass on the training mats as a rookie recruit a few times, and Garrett had spoken highly of him – but this Rumlow was a very different animal.

Ward shuddered as he thought of just how appropriate that analogy was. He'd heard how badly Rumlow had been injured in the Triskelion wreckage. He'd been barely alive when Whitehall got hold of him. A perfect, expendable subject for Whitehall's experiments. And then the Doctor had joined in, added further modifications.

Somehow, Ward didn't think there were going to be many volunteers for the process which had transformed Rumlow into something other than entirely human. Not considering the side effects.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Skye woke slowly, blinking her eyes open. Staring up at the ceiling in confusion. It was rough wooden planks, not the plain white paint of her room at the Playground, nor the smooth grey panels of the Bus.

Where the fuck am I?

Her arms were flung up beside her head and a little numb; she tried to bring them down and to her horror heard a clink of chain. She thrashed, twisting, and screamed when she realised that she was chained to a bed, heavy shackles around both wrists and ankles.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Kill me and you won't last a week," Rumlow warned softly. "Destroy the cabin and I might be able to keep you alive a little longer, but I can't swear to it."

She just stood there, her small fists clenched, dark eyes full of impotent rage. And then she leapt down the porch steps and took off running towards the trees, a helpless sob bursting out of her.

He stood there, calmly leaning on the porch rail, and watched as a few trees took the brunt of her wrath.

It was almost an hour later when she came walking back towards the cabin and stood at the foot of the porch steps looking up at him.

"What are you going to do with me?"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rumlow headed into the kitchen, and she twisted around on the couch to watch him go. "I don't get paid if I don't deliver you 'untouched' as your boyfriend put it," he called back. "So keep your hands to yourself, princess."

"Oh!" she was so outraged, she didn't know who she wanted to hit more. Rumlow for even thinking that she might want to – with him – or Ward for being – well, just fucking Ward. She settled for punching a cushion on the couch with her unhurt hand.

"You asshole," she settled for saying as he came back into the room. Got even angrier when he just chuckled. "I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last man on earth!"

Rumlow's golden eyes raked over her, and then he smirked. "You're not my type anyway, princess."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

He shut his eyes. Stop it. You have to stop. You can't have her anyway, even if she was willing. She's not yours. The thought of Ward and Skye together made him bare his teeth, though, hackles rising on the back of his neck. The thought of just meekly handing Skye over to Ward was getting more unpalatable by the minute. She clearly didn't love Ward, obviously genuinely despised him. The bastard would break her spirit, Rumlow thought, and clenched his jaw at the thought of Skye subjected to the kind of abuse he suspected Ward would deal out.

She needed gentle handling. Soft touches, light caresses until she was ready for more, until her pliant body arched up into his touch.

Rumlow wasn't even aware that his hand was on his hardening cock through his cargo pants.

He'd use the shackles, chain her down to the bed and explore every inch of her skin with his lips and tongue, take his time with her until she was writhing and begging for him to take her. He'd gaze into those exotic dark eyes as he sheathed himself deep in her welcoming heat – perhaps she'd whisper his name…

"Shit."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Will it make it any easier for you to hate me if I tell you that I still want to kiss you?" Rumlow offered when they couldn't quite stop staring at each other.

"Unfortunately not." Because now I know how you kiss I want a whole lot more

"Shit." He couldn't stop looking at her, devouring her with his eyes. Her lips were still a little swollen, he hadn't been gentle when he kissed her – but then she'd given back as good as she got. "Skye." His voice was a low, throaty growl.

Hope that whetted your appetite for more! And yes, this is the were-Brock fic. All the begging got to me in the end and I decided to incorporate it into the kidnapping story I'd already had the idea for. Subscribe to me as an author to make sure you're notified as soon as it's posted!