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Ike knew that walking through the back alleys alone at night was asking for trouble. He knew at the back of his mind that it would backfire someday, but on wet, miserable nights when the ground was icing over before one's eyes, it became a tempting shortcut. Just this once, he'd always tell himself, knowing really that he'd do it again as soon as the weather got bad.
He couldn't have predicted how badly it would backfire, though.
He'd fought valiantly, but he was caught off guard, weakened after a long day of walking, errands, and far too long spent awake; both his strength and his running had failed him, his weight slipping from beneath him as his heel hit a slippery patch of concrete. He'd crashed down painfully, crying out as he landed backwards onto his tailbone, only to be almost immediately muffled by a large hand.
He tilted his head back, straining to slip away from the assailant's grip on his face, although he knew now that there was no escaping. The hand that was tugging down his pants was now pinning him down onto the dirty, freezing ground by the hip. The hand on his face slipped down just a little as Ike squirmed backwards; seizing his chance, he bit down hard, a quiet crunch coming from the fingers, a metallic taste in his mouth.
The attacker, who was already pressing his way inside, hissed in pain. Without saying anything, he pulled his fist back and struck Ike squarely in the side of the head; his glasses snapped at the hinge, making an almost playful metallic noise as they bounced along the concrete, thrown by the impact.
The hand was removed from his face, although Ike knew better than to cry out for help if he wanted to survive. Looking down at his body, at his rapist slamming into his hole, at his still-limp dick being grabbed and pulled roughly with the bloodied hand, he knew that a normal person would be upset by this. Maybe they'd cry until they lost their voice, like Mysta. Maybe they'd throw up, like Shu.
Ike was dully aware that he was not a normal person, however. More than anything, he felt furious. A bubbling, seething anger rose in his chest, but he bit it back down for the time being - no, there was no point in reacting rashly when he was in a state like that. Instead, he studied what he could see of his rapist's face. It was dark, and he had to squint without his glasses, but he could make out the general shapes; he knew whereabouts he was, which flats were nearby, how far he was from his own house.
"Are you done?" Ike snarled impatiently as his assailant withdrew, hot cum leaking out of him and onto the ground below. They zipped their fly back up and left without another word, running, leaving Ike laid inelegantly on the ground.
With shaky hands, he reached for his glasses, tutting as he saw the broken hinge. He pulled up his pants rather matter-of-factly, his white clothes now see-through and dirty from the wet ground, and winced as he picked himself up from the floor.
Massaging his bruised temples, he glared in the direction his rapist had left to. He stood as calmly as someone who had just been mildly inconvenienced, and tutted as such.
"Run, coward."
