No SasoDei. Surprised?

A really dear perv-, I mean friend - slip of a tongue, believe me - is having her birthday today and since I promised her (very) long ago to write something, here it is :3 The crackiest crackfic I could have written.

PS! The 'romance' genre is more mockery than anything else. Whoever says that threesome rape isn't romantic, can sue me.

Sorri et nii kaua läks ^^' aga noh, parem hilja kui mitte kunagi xD Dananananana ching chang chung. Ma reaalselt ei tea millised su lemmikficid on, nii et see läks suht huupi... naq ka Sherlock'i iseloom ja kogu ülejäänud kupatus xD Aga jhhhh, loodame et saame korralikult tähistada ka varsti :3 Ma loooooodan - et see fic su sünna veic paremaks teeb. Cheers, lol! (Oh, psst, review! Kokkulepe~ ja vaata et ma su ära ka tunneks xD)

Miscalculation

Shizaya + Sherlock

The foyer was brightly-lit and quiet, the only sound disturbing the silence being a dark-haired woman sitting behind a desk and typing on a keyboard. The clicking was not of high volume, but repetitive enough to get on the nerves of an otherwise calm appearing blond man, standing by the wall, hands in pockets.

There was a brief pause in the noise whilst the woman left to get a cup of coffee. A low growl escaped the man's mouth when the clicking continued. His hands were clenched into fists in his pockets. He peeked up from his dark shaded glasses at the woman to see, if she had noticed the discomfort her actions caused.

She had her back on him, hardly aware of anything.

The man let out a groan and grabbed a lighter from the inner pocket of his vest. He snapped a cigarette between his teeth and was about to light it, when the woman whirled around in her chair and made a coughing sound. "I apologize, sir, but smoking isn't allowed inside the building."

The blond man gave the woman a deadly glare that was met with a professionally indifferent look. "Sorry," he growled and pocketed the lighter, replacing the cigarette in the pack. The woman turned contently back to the computer. The clicking continued.

The man checked his watch. Ten minutes past the prearranged time. A growl.

The clicking.

At last, the dark door across the hallway was opened and a tall man walked out. He had a wide smile on his face that looked permanent, as though surgically placed there, and pale skin that gave off a faintly scary aura together with his dark hair.

He walked decisively to the blond man.

"I'm glad you came, Shizu-chan," he said, lazily drawling the last syllable and cocking his head to one said.

The one called Shizu-chan, more widely known as Shizuo, gave a growl, apparently unaffected by the other's formidable aura. "I-za-ya," he nearly snarled, pronouncing each syllable separately and slowly, "I'm only here on business. Make it quick. Say how you want me to repay you and I'll leave."

Izaya chuckled lightly, whipping around. "Of course." He motioned for the other to follow him. "We'll see to that in my office."

The office was lofty and tastefully furnished. Shizuo had only been there once and that was a memory he would have liked to forget. Everything seemed eerily familiar; teasing him by bringing back flashes of the memory. That wooden desk looked familiar; Shizuo clearly remembered what it felt like to lie on it. And that leather chair Shizuo recalled – or what it felt like to be pressed in it with another person's weight on you, anyway.

The only thing the blond man did not seem to recall was the man sitting in the chair now.

He was a foreigner; that much was clear just from one glance at him. Perhaps from Europe?

Dark brown curls surrounded his face; striking light grey eyes were what stood out most among his strong facial features. He was comfortably seated in the chair, his dark jacket draped over it. His elbow was propped on the armrest, a burning cigarette that was sometimes tapped against an ashtray on the desk in his hand.

Shizuo quirked an eyebrow. "Who's that?" he asked curtly, lighting a cigarette of his own. If the foreigner was allowed to enjoy some tasteful nicotine, so would he.

"Another debtor" was the carefree reply he received from Izaya, who then seated himself on the sofa in the middle of the room. He bent forward to reach out for the full glass on the coffee desk, sinking back afterwards.

"Suppose it isn't a coincidence we're here at the same time."

Izaya laughed lightheartedly, his calm eyes resting on the blond. "You never cease to impress me with you sharpness, Shizu-chan."

Shizuo's gaze hardened, but before he could say anything, the perfect stranger coughed and bent forward to extinguish the cigarette, then said, "I'm still waiting to find that out too." His eyes momentarily glanced at Shizuo, before settling on Izaya. "Perhaps you'd stop wasting my time now."

Izaya did not look even slightly uncomfortable under the demanding gaze. "Of course, Mr. Holmes. I'll get to that right away." He set down his glass. "As you know, gentlemen, you both owe me. And I need you to collaborate to pay me back."

Neither of the guests said a word, but everyone could sense how the atmosphere had grown tense. They waited for their host to elaborate.

"I want you to start a fight in the central station tomorrow around noon. Go on for about ten minutes. Then stop. That's it."

The fag in Shizuo's hand snapped. "Damn, are you fooling with me, Izaya?!" he growled, dropping the pieces on the floor.

Mr. Holmes got up from the chair and took the jacket, hanging it under his arm. In an even pace he crossed the room to the door.

"You're leaving?" Izaya called with no detectable interest in his voice.

The man halted in the doorway. He turned his head and gave a curt nod before stepping out. His hand left the door, letting it swing shut in a slow-motion.

"Before you go, you might be interested in the consequences of refusal."

Shizuo eyed the door. A second before it could close completely it was pushed open from the other side and the stranger returned. He stood in the doorway silently; after a moment of consideration, he took a step forward and let it close behind him.

"I'm sure you haven't forgotten our last encounter in Manchester?" Shizuo frowned at the unfamiliar name. Izaya continued when finding recognition in Mr. Holmes's eyes, "I haven't, either. I also happen to be aware of your unwillingness of others finding out, if you catch my drift."

Izaya leaned back and relaxed, resting his arms on the back of the sofa. Seeing as he'd succeeded in making one of his guests stay, he proceeded to convince the other one. Nothing could have been easier. "As for you Shizu-chan, the photos are still in my possession."

Shizuo's fists clenched at the reminder of his last visit to this office. How long would he have to regret it? "Izaaayaaa!" In a second he was by the sofa, his hands already clamped down on it. "You won't do any persuading when dead!" Making it seem effortless, he lifted the sofa in a swift move and flipped it over, hoping to crush a few bones.

But Izaya had not got this far by being a weakling. By the time the couch fell over, he was already standing on his feet many meters away. Arms crossed, he eyed the other's actions in amusement. "Why so hasty?"

But at the same moment, he was smashed against the wall by a hand that did not belong to Shizuo; gleaming gray eyes stared down at him as a strong hand pinned him to the wall by his neck.

"I agree with the gentleman," Mr. Holmes hissed, his grip tightening at the sight of Izaya's grin.

"Yo foreigner," Shizuo called, drawing the man's attention to himself.

"Sherlock," the man corrected.

"Shizuo," the blond continued with the introduction. He walked up to them and pinned Izaya to the wall by his hand, motioning for the other to do the same. Izaya was left gasping and coughing after his neck was released.

"I've always wondered how this skin stayed so spotless with a bastard living in it," Shizuo muttered and whipped out a pocket knife. Sherlock watched as the long sleeve shirt on Izaya was cut into shreds, so that the sleeves were the only ones that stayed on the man. Other shreds fell to the floor, baring a milk-white torso.

Shizuo let out a barking snort. He took the cigarette from his mouth and pressed it against Izaya's chest. Under his hand he felt the other's body tense and a gasp escaped the other's mouth. Shizuo squeezed the cigarette and pressed harder. When removing it, there could be seen a dark red burn mark on the otherwise perfect skin.

Shizuo and Sherlock regarded him in mutual distaste.

Izaya's gaze was directed downwards; his reaction was waited for patiently. Once he raised his head, there was a mocking grin plastered on his face.

"That's the best you can do? On a second thought, the two of you fighting would've looked perhaps too pathetic, even."

Sherlock and Shizuo exchanged a brief look. Neither of them appreciated being made fun of; revenge would've been sweet, since Izaya had never been to either of their liking. A manipulative bastard, to be more exact on their thoughts of him.

A mutual understanding was reached quickly between the two and Shizuo shot Izaya a malicious look, before swiftly undoing his pants and ripping them off him, whilst Sherlock held him still. The clothing was disposed of quickly. Izaya was pushed to the ground then.

Oddly enough, he did not attempt to escape. Perhaps he knew he would have inevitably been caught, had he tried. Or maybe it was not because of that; no-one could have known what was going on in that head of his.

Shizuo flipped out his phone and switched on the camera, while Sherlock undid his own pants. He grabbed Izaya's wrists harshly and forced him on his hands and knees.

"It's like I'm being assaulted by mongrels," Izaya commented, to which Shizuo responded with a kick in the face.

"Piece of shit," he muttered.

Izaya's chuckle was low, yet clearly audible. "Woolf," he said.

Another kick sent blood running out of his nose. His head was lowered and scarlet droplets fell on the floor. Izaya may have had another witty remark in store, but his chance to say it was forcefully taken away when he felt something hard enter him from behind.

Even with all his pride, he could not lock the loud "AAAAHHHH" behind his lips. Sherlock gave a look of content; he slid out and rammed in again, digging his nails into the other male's sides.

Shizuo regarded the in-progress footage on his phone with a wry smile. For a split second he wondered whether the woman working in the foyer could hear them; on a second thought, he decided, he didn't really care.

Izaya felt weak being on his knees and hands like that. The pain from the cock rocking into him was tremendous; like he was being ripped in two from the inside. Sweat dripped off his forehead on the floor. His hands were shaking and eyes clenched shut. Crying out from time to time, whether from the overwhelming pain or occasional pleasure – it was all caught on tape.

He was sure Sherlock could distinguish his cries and was only sometimes aiming to embarrass him even more. Was Izaya embarrassed? Hard to say, but he sure had a loud voice; especially when coming. The sound of his scream filled the entire room and surely reached the lady in the foyer, too.

Tired of playing the spectator, Shizuo unzipped his own pants and said, "Alright, time to put your mouth into better use."

He grabbed Izaya's chin and yanked it up harshly, staring at his blood-covered face and dull eyes. "Maybe this will teach you a lesson." He took a tight hold of the other's hair to make him open his mouth and shoved his cock in. Hearing the other gag as he pushed in deeper, he added, "Hardly believable."

There was really nothing Izaya could do, but suck. He could have bitten, but this would have resulted in his head getting ripped off and a minute self-preservation instinct, somewhere deep inside of him, prevented him from doing that.

The cock was soon evenly lubricated, sliding in and out of Izaya's mouth with ease. Shizuo's eyes were half closed and, before long, it became difficult holding the camera still. At some point, he decided it didn't matter much, since he'd got enough footage already. He let his hand drop; all the noise – his, Sherlock's breathy moans and Izaya's cries were still recorded.

Shizuo's knees buckled as he came into Izaya's mouth and, with full satisfaction, he pulled out. He saved the clip on his phone and shut the device, doing his pants then. So did Sherlock. He got up and zipped up the jeans, before eyeing the pale man lying on the floor. He nudged the figure with his foot.

"Rape is tiring," he muttered. "I'm all out of breath."

Shizuo didn't say anything after that. He only shrugged. His business here was done and it was time that he took his leave. Pocketing his phone and whipping out another cigarette with a lighter, he turned around and walked to the door.

"I take it I'm not in debt anymore," Sherlock muttered as he shrugged into his jacket. Tracing after the blond, he left the room.

THE END