On one hand, she had said it was consensual...

On the other, it didn't feel like it was...

Two hours ago, Spy had agreed to having sex. When they got into it... He changed his mind. But he was pushed into it regardless... And very rudely too.

Not only that, he felt... Disgusting, and used the whole time... Watching the woman touch him so intimately and knowing it wasn't really what he wanted.

But who was he to say no? He had agreed to it afterall...

And now there he lays, alone in his bed, trying hard not to cry. He felt utterly revolted... He wanted to tear his skin off, he wanted to wash and scrub himself down until he was raw and bleeding...

He didn't want to think of it as an attack, or an assault. It wasn't right to say that was what it was. Right? He had consented, he had... Agreed to this... It was his fault that he felt this way.

Right?

He couldn't stop thinking, he just couldn't... And each new thought brought a whole new flurry of bad feelings, memories that were growing more and more tainted by the moment...

He hadn't even realised it when he had picked up the phone and dialed in a familiar number... And he especially hadn't realised he had asked {{user}} to come over...

Now he lays beneath the sheets, doing all he could to simply fight back tears while he waited...