** This chapter contains depictions of non-consensual sex**

Felicity kept her eyes closed, not wanting to watch Oliver. He lifted his weight off her torso and she heard the clink of the belt buckle and the rasp of the zipper.

"Please stop, Oliver," she whispered. His hands were on the sides of her face again, he kissed her mouth, gently.

"Kiss me," he sighed.

"No, Oliver." She wouldn't fight him but she wouldn't respond, either. Today was about survival, her future psychiatric health depended on what she did in the next few minutes. Kissing him now, caressing and encouraging him would taint any future embrace she encountered.

"No?" His question surprised her. She opened her eyes and saw his flushed face. His eyes were bright and fevered but focused. He took her hand and pushed it down, into the open front of his jeans and he wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft. He was so hard he throbbed at her touch.

"Oliver, I don't want to do this." She brought her hand back up to cup his face. "I don't want to do this."

"Okay." He nuzzled her neck and kissed her ear, rolling to the side and pulling her on top of him. Felicity kept one knee on the mattress beside his leg and tried not to feel his enormous erection poking her in the hip. She pushed off him, sliding to the edge of the bed until her foot touched the floor. He sat up and held the knee that remained beside him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tightly. He pulled her other leg back up onto the bed so she was straddling him and she held his bare shoulders for balance. Feeling her touch on his skin, his grip on her waist tightened. She wasn't sure he understood what she'd been saying.

Felicity wondered if Merlyn had more cameras; the humiliation of having such an intimate violation occur with an audience added more weight to the basket of feelings she currently carried. She tried to slide off his lap but his hands gripped the fabric of her dress and he stood up, abruptly. He barely swayed now, moving his hands under her bottom and pressing his lips to the side of her neck.

"Oliver," she said, calmly when her back touched the wall. His breathing was getting heavy and currently her underwear was the solitary barrier standing between their bodies. Felicity closed her eyes when she felt him brushing against the cotton fabric. The sedative wasn't keeping him physically weakened any longer, and he was too strong for her to fight. "Oliver, please stop," she said, her voice rose in pitch. She was suppressing the urge to push him, or strike him. She felt him continue to kiss the side of her neck, gently biting her nape. He rubbed against her in slow, thrusting waves. She dug her fingernails into her palm to stop herself from hitting him. He was trying to excite her and it was almost worse than if he'd been rough.

"You smell so good." When he whispered the words against her neck he moved her panties aside. She felt him, swollen and hot against her entrance, pushing inside and she gave in. She shoved at his shoulders, sobbing frantically. "Let me go, Oliver. Please, you need to let me go, now." He stopped and set her down, gripping a fistful of hair. She winced but he didn't strike her or try to kiss her. He was holding her still and staring into her face. She couldn't stop her tears long enough to focus. She held her arms between them and he drew her against his chest. His skin was slippery with sweat and he still gripped her hair, pressing her face against him.

Oliver's fingers relaxed slowly and he stroked Felicity's hair again. He set her away from him and stumbled to the bathroom. She dropped to her knees in relief as she heard the water turn on in the sink. With shaking fingers she re-buttoned her blouse and leaned back against the bed.

It took several minutes before the cold water managed to cut through the fog in Oliver's brain. He'd been in a dream-like state, and could recall only flashes of what happened since the airstrip. He remembered Felicity crying and pushing him away, the way she had in her apartment. He forced himself to count, slowly. When in doubt, focus on math, he reminded himself. He counted to three, and then ten, and then twenty before his mind started to clear. His hands shook and he splashed more water over his face and chest. He noticed the state of his body and gingerly tucked his aching erection behind his zipper.

"Felicity?" he called out.

"Oliver?" he heard her watery voice from behind him.

"Stay there, don't come in here." He splashed his face and put the plug in the drain, filling the sink bowl with water. He submerged his face, holding his breath for as long as possible while his synapses started to fire again. Once he felt clearer, he returned to the bedroom. Felicity looked a bit tousled and her face was blotchy and streaked with tears. "Get in the corner," he said, moving to the other end of the small room.

"Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," he said, sinking to the floor with his back against the opposite wall. "What happened?"

"Merlyn tranquilized you, he said it was Ketamine. He sprayed me with more of that synthetic hormone and locked us in here." She sniffled and wiped her face on the corner of the sheet from the bed. "He told me it was necessary for you to know what you're capable of doing."

"Like Thea, he wanted her to feel like she was a killer, so she'd be like him."

"How do you feel now?"

"I thought I was dreaming," he said, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall. He glanced up at the naked light bulb and the shiny piece of silver caught his attention. His memory sparked, briefly. He'd embraced her while she was crying and trying to pull a wire out of the wall. He looked at the wall and saw the video cable dangling down to the carpet. If it was still functional, it wouldn't show anything but carpet fibers. He glanced up at the light and focused on the silver piece of jewelry. He felt a rush of heat to his face, temporarily blurring his memory.

Felicity stood up when Oliver rose to his feet. He stared at her, naked to the waist with his hands clenched at his sides. His chin was lowered and he was breathing heavily.

"Oliver?" She backed away from him as soon as he took a step in her direction. His jaw was clenched and the veins in his neck and forehead stood out.

Oliver walked across the bedroom to where Felicity stood. She had her hands fisted and pressed together under her chin.

Malcolm Merlyn watched the video monitor in front of him. He was in the basement of a home that had gone into foreclosure following the arrest of a wealthy man who'd kept illegal aliens living as slaves. The small, windowless bedrooms had already had peep holes in them, so he'd just added the cameras. He'd bought it at auction under one of his aliases. He pressed his lips together as the one remaining, untouched camera showed a view of the bed from behind the mirror in the bathroom. The audio still came through, in spite of Ms. Smoak's attempts to block it.

He'd watched the pair as Oliver Queen's body took over his common sense. He'd chuckled at the clumsy attempts the younger man made to make love to the pretty blonde. She'd kept her cool throughout most of his pawing but trying to get away from him triggered a more aggressive response. The doorway had partially blocked his view of them when Oliver lifted her against the wall, but her panicked screams told him the archer had likely had some success. He'd been surprised to see Oliver break away and soak his head in the sink but his patience paid off when he saw Felicity stand up, suddenly, and back away to the wall.

Oliver came back into view, walking towards her with tense posture and he heard shouts from the microphone.

"Why are you backing away?" He shouted at the young woman who was clearly petrified. "I love you and you're running away!" She made to bolt past him and Merlyn laughed, where did she think she could go? But Oliver caught her by an arm and with a single swing, tossed her onto the bed. She bounced before scrambling over to the other side. She was backed into a corner and Oliver took a shortcut jumping up and walking over the mattress to her. He faced the camera now, with Felicity in front of him. He tore open her blouse and tried to kiss her. She turned her face away but seemed to have given up. She was probably afraid he might break her arm if she fought too hard.

Merlyn shifted, uncomfortably and looked away when he heard Felicity's screams. This kind of thing really wasn't his cup of tea. It was a necessary evil, he told himself. Her words came back to haunt him. You'll be the one raping me. She was back on the bed, curled into a ball on her side, facing the camera and Oliver was unfastening his jeans. She'd lost her glasses at this point. He reached for her and she shuddered, flinching. He dragged her up to her feet, pulling her against his chest so her back was pressed to his front. She gripped his forearm which was now locked around her neck and he pawed at her chest.

Oliver lifted the back of Felicity's dress and pulled her panties down, and lowered them both to the floor. Merlyn could see Oliver's back above the top of the low mattress. Felicity's screams came through loud and clear. He looked away from the screen and lowered the volume when her cries appeared to be punctuated, regularly by the grunting of the man on her back. He watched as Oliver eventually rose to his feet, fastening his pants and backing away from her. He watched the young man stagger backwards, clutching his chest and doubling over in pain. He collapsed on the floor and lay still.