Warnings for explicit violence, language, and rape.

Original Prompt: Mike Ross gets in to a spot of bother at a bar. He's been drinking. He's alone. He's caught the attention of someone unsavoury. He's physically assaulted or raped. It's brutal and he fights all the way (or he's drugged, thrown for a loop and hasn't a clue as to what is going on.)

Somewhere, though, Mike mutters 'I said NO! Back the fuck off RIGHT NOW!'

Either a) He turns up at Harvey's all bloodied and traumatised because by now it's been drilled in when something happens he goes straight to Harvey. And he's scared and wants Harvey to make everything all right. (or alternatively, he turns up bloodied snd confused and Harvey hasn't a clue what happened, but knows it's BAD...)

or b) Mike attempts to carry on and work as usual. But he's jumpy. twitchy. rattled. clearly distressed. near tears. PTSD'ing. And Harvey has noticed. (bonus points if Harvey catches sight of some bruising - maybe Mike's sleeve rides up and there's restraint remarks on his wrists?

Gen or pre-slash because this is quite sensitive material (unless, of course you can do slash very senstively).

Mike was sitting at the cheap bar, sucking down his third beer and avoiding the curious looks of the bartender.

He'd not had a great day, and it had all been his own fault, really.

No! It hadn't! It was totally Harvey's fault.

He'd been trying to work on three projects at once, which wasn't exactly unusual for him. He was juggling Louis's bullshit case, Harvey's far more important, multi-million dollar corporate client's contract proofing, and Harvey's much less important to the firm but more emotionally rewarding pro bono case.

This wasn't really anything new, but he hadn't been sent over the edge by any of that. It just pushed him really close.

No, Kyle had been the one to actually give him that extra shove into oblivion, with his snide remarks, his flirtations with Rachel, and his running to Louis about everything.

And what had Harvey done? Why, piled more work on Mike, of course! And to make it worse, he'd yelled at him about needing to act more like a grown up, while Louis was right around the corner.

Granted, its not like Harvey had been able to see Louis eavesdropping, but it was still his fault.

Louis had heard about Mike's little mistake that had lost him a big lead on his pro bono case and caused him to misfile the important one, from Kyle. And after hearing Mike be chewed out by Harvey, Louis took the opportunity to ream Mike himself.

So here he was, at 2AM, drowning his miseries on a Tuesday night—wait, Wednesday morning—in some cheap, questionable bar with creepy suspicious bartenders.

Mike drained the bottle and waved for another one.

The bartender came over and eyed him with distaste. "We don't run tabs, here. If you can't pay for another, then you're done."

Mike dug into his wallet and found himself short. He grumbled something unintelligible.

"I'll buy it," a voice to Mike's left said. Its owner was well dressed, wearing a light grey, tailored suit, but minus the vest, and he had a look that suggested he'd had a long day.

"Thanks," Mike said as the bartender slammed two beers down on the counter.

"Sure thing, buddy." The man raised his bottle to Mike, and Mike met it with a clink of his own. "Cheers."

The suit took a long swig and leaned onto his hand, elbow propped on the counter, and bottle swinging from his fingers. "So, what are you in for?"

"Bad day at the office," Mike said uncomfortably. He hadn't really wanted to talk to anyone, but the guy had bought him a drink, so he felt slightly obligated to at least make small talk.

"Tell me about it," the suit groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Heh," Mike muttered and returned to his beer.

They sat there, side by side, for what seemed like hours, until they'd finished their drinks.

"Want another round?"

Mike looked at the guy. With a suit like that, he was probably loaded. Mike could go for some more booze, but he didn't want to have to stay and chat. But they'd done well with a round of silence so far. Maybe he could get away with it. Besides, one more couldn't hurt. He was already going to be late to work after that fourth bottle.

So he nodded and thanked the man again.

"Get us something on draft. These suck," the suit said to the bartender, who rolled his eyes, but proceeded to pour two mugs full of what Mike knew was the most expensive brew they had.

"Here's to shit days," Suit said, hoisting his glass up again, and Mike complied a second time.

After a big gulp, Suit said, "You don't say much, or what?"

Mike was feeling rather unsteady now. He could hold his alcohol pretty well, but this stuff was definitely worth its price. Not to mention it was his fifth one. He knew, somewhere in his mind, that he should probably just get a cab, but his gut told his brain to shove it.

"My bosses are dicks," Mike said, surprised his voice was slurred.

The suit chuckled. "Who's aint?"

"I can't be perfect all the time, can I?" Mike shouted angrily. The bartender gave him a glare and miraculously, Mike managed to not flip him off.

"I don't know. You seem pretty perfect from where I'm sitting." Suit was eyeing Mike like he was checking him out. For some reason, this made Mike giggle. It reminded him of when he'd show up to work in one of his cheaper suits, all wrinkled from his bike ride or from a late night. Harvey would usually eye him just like that, but he would frown, and this guy was smiling.

"You're smiling. That's so nice, y'know?" Mike said gratefully. "It's nice t'be 'preciated."

"Oh?" suit asked, his voice purring. Mike didn't know voices could purr. Maybe it was the alcohol?

"Yeah. I never compl'n! Don't say a word! Ugh! Stupid H'rvey! Louis! And Kyle. I hate Kyle!" Mike tried to slow down. He knew he sounded funny, knew he should probably cut himself off. He was surprised they hadn't kicked him out of the bar already.

"Well, I appreciate you…?" suit said expectantly like he was waiting for Mike to say something.

"Huh?" Mike tried to keep the room from spinning. Not that it was actually spinning yet, but he wanted to be prepared.

Suit chuckled. "Your name?"

Mike knew he shouldn't answer. But this guy had gotten him two beers for free. So he just took the middle route and lied. "Ben," he said, thinking of the IT man. He was the only one who'd been nice to him all week, mainly because he hadn't seen him except in the elevator, but still.

"Ben," Suit said, like he was testing its sound on his tongue.

Mike felt like he should probably go home and get some sleep. He did have to go into work the next morning, after all. So he thanked Suit for the beer, left the two remaining ones from his wallet on the counter, and headed for the door.

He waved his arms to hail a cab, before realizing how late it was and what neighborhood he was in. He started to panic before remembering that he only lived four blocks away.

Pulling his coat around him more to ward off the chilly air, he set off down the street for his apartment.

A brand new, black Mercedes with ads for plates pulled up next to him, windows rolled down. Mike risked a glance over and saw Suit sitting in the front seat.

"You need a lift?" Suit called out, pulling closer to the left of the road, where Mike was walking.

"I'm good, thanks," Mike said. "You're on the wrong side of the street," he warned, because really, that was a safety hazard.

"It's a one-way. Come on, it's freezing out. Hop in."

For some reason, maybe it was the five beers, maybe it was the depression and loneliness, and maybe it was the fact that it really was freezing out, but Mike walked round to the passenger seat and hopped in.

"I live about three blocks south on the right. You can just drop me off on the curb. Thanks for the lift."

The suit smiled at him and drove on.

He pulled up by the curb and parked, following Mike out and up to the door.

"Thanks," Mike said as he fumbled for the key.

"Nice place," Suit said sarcastically, and it reminded him of Harvey.

"Yeah, it's not the best area," Mike admitted, feeling as though Harvey were the one standing here with him.

"You need an escort? This building actually looks scarier on the inside."

Mike laughed. He had to admit that it was pretty bad. Suit was reminding him too much of Harvey to say no, and his buzz was still on, though it was wearing off and threatening to turn into a hangover headache. "Sure," he said. "But, uh, only 'cause my place actually is kinda scary. I live on top."

"Me too," the suit said suggestively and Mike swallowed. The suit had a stunning smile. It wasn't as dashing as Harvey's, but it was nice nonetheless.

They headed up the stairs of the building and past the door on the top floor with bullet holes in it. Suit eyed it distastefully.

"Well," Mike said. "Here I am. Thanks for the ride! Maybe I'll see you again!"

Suit smiled that smile again, and nodded. Mike turned back and fumbled with his keys before jamming the right one in the lock and opening the door. He turned back to the suit and gave a little wave before closing his door.

A foot in the doorway and a hand on the door stopped it. Mike blinked in surprise long enough for the suit to manage to shove inside.

"What're you—"

"I did tell you I'd appreciate you, didn't I?" Suit said, grabbing Mike's shoulders and forcing his mouth onto Mike's.

Mike shoved his hands against Suit's chest, forcing the man off. "Hey, sorry if I led you on, or something, but I'm not interested."

Suit frowned at him, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

"I'm not gay," Mike said lamely.

Suit studied him again, until, very slowly, he turned around and stepped towards the door. Mike's shoulders relaxed.

"Sorry," he added, feeling slightly guilty. Suit froze, hand midair, reaching for the door knob.

"Don't be," he said coldly, and turned the lock instead. Mike freaked and backed away, eyes scanning for something blunt to swing in a panic.

The suit reached him quickly, more quickly than Mike had anticipated, and he tripped in his efforts to get away. He fell onto his knees hard, gasping at the shock they absorbed as they hit the wood floor. He didn't have much time to process the pain, however, as he was kicked in the back and knocked completely on the ground.

Mike struggled as hard as he could to slip free, kicking and clawing the floor, trying to find enough leverage. He managed to turn his body enough to lift his torso off the floor, but Suit delivered a quick punch to his jaw, knocking him back until the back of his head hit wood.

Mike winced in pain, gasping as he struggled to break free. He managed to wildly catch his fingernails on something and they came away wet. He glanced at his attacker to see he'd scratched him clear across his left cheek.

The suit had been stunned enough for Mike to wriggle partially free. Now he managed to stand up, albeit hunched forward, with his back to the other man.

He took one step forward and away from him, when the suit lashed out and grabbed the waistband of his jeans, pulling Mike down and backwards. He fell with a thunk and a shouted oof!

Mike was reeling from the pain in his skull and his knees. He'd hit his head again that last time, and his shoulders had landed with all his weight behind them. He knew he had to get up, but the alcohol had made him slow, and his adrenaline rush was almost spent, making him feel drained and exhausted. He couldn't move beyond sluggish motions, and he managed only to roll onto his stomach and begin crawling away.

He vaguely wondered in his delirium, where the suit had gone. He couldn't see him from where he was, but Mike was pretty certain he was still there.

He was answered by the sound of duct tape being pulled and ripped and he looked frantically for the source.

It occurred to Mike, finally, to scream for help. It was past 3AM now, and he doubted anyone in his building would help him, but he had to try at least. He managed to get out about three seconds of an ear-piercing shriek for help, when the suit landed atop him, pinning his arms and stuffing something soft and fabric-y into his mouth. He attempted to spit it out, struggling against his captor, but the rag was stuffed further in and covered over with a long strip of duct tape.

Mike thrust his head upward as far as it would go, hoping he could hit his attacker in the jaw with his skull, but it only earned him an amused and slightly breathless chuckle.

"Now, now, princess. Wouldn't want anyone interrupting us, would we?"

Mike bucked, trying to throw the suit off of him. But he was tired and dizzy, and he was now finding it hard to breathe. The suit easily overpowered him and with a few tugs he'd removed Mike's jacket and practically torn his shirt off. He then wrapped another strip of tape around his forearms, painfully stretching them so they were parallel and across his back.

"I didn't get to give you that ride I offered, did I, Ben?" the suit was laughing! Mike tried desperately to pick himself off the ground, despite his restraints, but Suit just shoved a hand roughly on his back and slammed him back down. Mike felt the panic swell in his chest as he realized he was out of energy, that he wouldn't be able to escape.

"I knew you were going to be fun, from the moment I looked at you. And you were so easy at first! I was worried I'd picked wrong." Mike shuddered as he wondered how he'd ever thought this man could resemble Harvey!

Suit lifted himself off of Mike, keeping his hand on Mike's back for balance as he kneeled over Mike's thighs. With a quick and rough tug he pulled Mike's jeans and boxers down, scraping some skin along the way. Mike gave a last futile struggle, his body awash with uncontrollable panic.

With one hand, Suit pried Mike's cheeks apart and poked a finger past the tight ring of muscles. He pushed it in as far as it would go, and Mike shuddered at the sheer agony of it. He'd never felt anything so acutely painful or invasive. He tried to pull his body forward, away from the finger, away from the pain, but Suit's hand on his back held him firmly in place.

"Heh, you're so tight. This is gonna be difficult. I should have brought something." The suit removed his finger suddenly and Mike panted through his nose in relief. Until he heard a zipping sound.

The suit took out his hard erect dick. He spit a few times on his hand to ease the burn and then started giving it a few quick strokes. It was practically quivering in anticipation. He pulled a condom out of his inside jacket pocket and slipped it on.

He quickly spit some more on his fingers and on Mike's asshole, and then shoved two in at once. Mike screamed, the sound muffled by the rag. Suit chuckled.

He shoved them in as far as they would go, pulling them apart and twisting them to widen the space and work the entrance open enough to fit him inside. Mike never quieted, just kept on producing muffled shouts through the gag.

Suit shoved the fingers in deep one last time, and pulled them out quickly. With his free hand he lined up his dick with Mike's entrance and shoved in as hard and fast as he could. The muscles forced open, swallowing suit's dick, suffocating it. He gave a grunt in pain. Mike screamed a silent scream, the gag not necessary to hide the sound. The pain was white hot intense, and Mike thought he'd never felt anything so wrong. He could barely think past it, could barely move, and he finally gave up the struggle. He had lost. There was no point fighting; no energy he had left to fight with.

The suit pushed in to the hilt and held himself there, reveling in the tightness of Mike's ass. "You're so fucking tight, Ben!" he said. "I told you you were perfect, didn't I? Oh, God! Fuck!"

And then he moved. Slowly, at first, trying to adjust to Mike's ass, working it open, wider, as he went.

With each thrust, Mike's body ground forward into the hardness of the wood floor. His bruised cheek lay on the ground, the boards rolling across it at each movement. Mike grunted involuntarily, trying to hold the sound in, trying not to give the suit the pleasure of hearing him through the gag. But he couldn't hold the tears that started spilling out of his eyes.

As Mike let go of fighting, the suit removed his hand and instead started abusing more of Mike's body. He leaned forward and bit Mike's neck, kissed his back all along his spine, and licked anywhere he found. His hands snaked beneath him and teased his nipples. His fingers dug into the flesh around his ribs, his hips, and finally wrapped around his flaccid cock, stroking it, squeezing and twisting it painfully.

Mike cried harder at that. He didn't want to be touched further by this man. He didn't want to come for him. He didn't think he could, but he knew the suit would drag it out of him.

Eventually, the thrusts came faster and harder, losing the rhythm they had built up, until the suit pushed so hard and deep inside of him that Mike's vision went white in pain as Suit's dick held its place inside of him. Mike could feel him coming even through the condom. He could feel everything, and the new tears burst forth until he was sobbing, choking on the gag.

"Shh, shh, baby. It's okay," the suit said panting. "You're so perfect, Ben." He pulled out of Mike then, and stood, ripping the condom off and calmly wrapping it in paper towels from Mike's kitchen counter. Mike's eyes widened at the red liquid on the latex. The suit stuffed the evidence in his pocket and then wiped himself down.

Mike was staring at his front door, which was only a few feet ahead, looking longingly at it. He could feel every sting, every thrust, as the memory lingered in his mind. He sobbed out some ragged breaths, and tried to will himself unconscious.

"You're so fucking adorable," the suit said. And suddenly he was atop Mike, flipping him over and looking at him. His skin held marks from Suit's fingers and teeth, his jaw sported a blossoming bruise, and his eyes were red and puffy. The suit ran his fingers down Mike's stomach, pressing on the strip of skin in between each rib. He took hold of Mike's still flaccid dick and started stroking it. Mike groaned, trying to maintain control over some part of his body. But he couldn't control it, not really. He started pouring out new streams of tears and screaming curses at the suit through the gag as he approached climax.

Right as he was on the edge, the suit gripped the base of his cock tightly, cutting off any hope of release for Mike. He jammed three fingers into Mike's sore and bleeding ass, and started finger fucking him.

Mike thought it had hurt before. He was wrong. This felt like overkill. He writhed with unexpected energy, trying vainly to escape the abuse.

He shoved his fingers into Mike's prostate. "That's it, baby. Come for me," Suit said, and released his grip on Mike's dick.

Mike came. And it hurt so bad, he was pretty sure he'd blacked out. When he opened his eyes, the suit was wielding Mike's food scissors, looking psychotic as ever. Mike blanched, his eyes widened in a new kind of fear.

"Shh, relax, Ben. I'm not gonna hurt you." The suit chuckled and began cutting the duct tape on Mike's wrists. Mike let his released arms flop to his sides. They'd been cramped behind him, and now they tingled like they were on fire as the nerve endings fired off.

Suit looked down at Mike, like he was a work of art, and smiled that Harvey smile. "Thanks for the fun times. Trust me, I appreciate you. It's been swell, Ben, but I've got work in the morning." And then he was gone.

Mike didn't even bother taking off the gag first. He just passed out right there.