The Darker Universes

In An Alley

((This is a thinly-veiled trauma fic written and published for my own personal therapeutic reasons. Please do not flame a SA survivor for writing through his trauma.
TW's again for sexual assault, drugs and alcohol, queerphobic language))

Karnak knew he'd had a little too much to drink. He'd gotten in an argument with Mischa about showing up at their last concert still riding high. He didn't care. No, actually, he did care. He cared too much. And so did Mischa. And the rest of the choir. He was still pissed that Mischa had told the rest of them about his personal habits. He had shared that in confidence, and for months, he'd been improving. One little relapse, and Mischa told the whole choir. How fucking could he?

He was hoping to get a little fucked up that night. He could be mean when he wanted to. He was just so sick and tired of people relying on him to be a responsible adult. He couldn't handle the responsibilities. He couldn't handle the bills, the taxes, the work, everything that was expected of him. He just wanted to stay in and get high all day. When he did the cocaine, he finally felt a bit of happiness that his mood stabilizers didn't allow, a high he hadn't reached since before therapy. When he did the heroin, he felt like he had back when he was a robot: completely numb. Tonight, it was the heroin that won out.

And then he had had way too much to drink. The choir had wanted to talk to him, planning to meet him at his place. All the texts and phone calls had come flooding in, and he just silenced his phone. Turned it completely off. Then broke it in half. He didn't want to talk to them. He didn't want their pity or their help. They were children. Children should stay out of adults' business.

He knew they'd still be at his place when he returned home. He thought of going to the den tonight, but he hadn't been in ages, and he owed some guys more money than he had on him. Better to stay away from there for a while. And honestly, his bed was calling him. He turned into a side alley without thinking, just trying to find the fastest way home. It was cold, and he just wanted a warm blanket to cuddle up with. He had no idea at that moment that he was being trailed. Turning into that alley had just sealed his fate.

Just as he was out of sight of the main road, his tail attacked. Karnak was slammed against the wall of a building face-first, his head hitting the brick with a resounding, thunk. He blinked, trying to focus through the drug and alcohol-induced haze even as his eyes saw spots. He caught a glimpse of his attacker when he turned his head. They were big, taller and far more muscular than Karnak. Clean shaven with a buzz cut. Karnak might have found them hot if it weren't for the current situation he was forced to be in.

"Don't got much on me," he slurred into the bricks his head was shoved against. This was not his first mugging. "Wallet's in my back pocket. Try not to cop a feel grabbing it, hot stuff."

"Not looking for cash, fag." Karnak's blood ran cold. He let out a shaky sigh and tried to focus. He needed to get out of this situation, right now. He tried to move his arm, but that, too, was pinned. The other (Karnak had seen them around–Sam, or something) grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head against the wall. Karnak was spun around, forced to look his captor in the eye. Well, chin. They had quite a few inches on the seer. Gotta focus.

"What are you, looking for–?"

His words were cut off by a kiss. It was rough and bruising and hurt. He tried to fight back, but Sam pushed him further into the wall, pressing their bodies against each other. Karnak was disgusted by the feeling of their growing erection pressing against his thigh. He gagged. They used this as an opening, slipping their tongue into his mouth and biting down on his bottom lip, hard. He could taste the blood and the whiskey on the other's breath.