Title: Coffee
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/Lestrade
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Wordcount: 221
Disclaimer: They're still not mine.
Summary: He doesn't like breakfast, but this is perfect.
A/N: written for suzie_shooter, who requested it on my writing meme.  221b ficlet: 221 words, last one beginning with b.


Coffee


He doesn’t like breakfast but this is perfect. Hot sweet liquid moving down slowly through his body, even as the kick of it makes his heart race. Nobody makes coffee the way Lestrade does and nobody ever will, though he doesn’t know that yet.

Lestrade sucks the last of the Provençal honey from his spoon. The jar’s nearly empty; they both know what that means. An arbitrary limit but you have to set one somewhere. It’s not the last time but it will be soon. Can’t mix sex and work, and for both of them work comes first.

France is fading, holiday’s over. Just one of the Paris cigars left; Lestrade had scolded him for buying them but smoked them anyway, so blissful he was almost dancing.

“Save that for later,” Lestrade says. “Christ, I want to be inside you.”

It’s what he wants too, more than anything else.

He’ll miss the scent of Lestrade’s skin, the solid heat of him, the taste of coffee in morning kisses, bitter and sweet and thick and hot. He’ll live with a man who drinks tea at all hours of the day and night, and he’ll grow to like it.

Decades later, the first taste of coffee with honey from his own hives will flood his body with arousal, sudden and unexpected and blinding.