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fic: Table Manners

Title: Table Manners
Author: fengirl88
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/Lestrade
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Wordcount: ~1850
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.
Summary: He is not going to look under the tablecloth. Because even Sherlock wouldn't, not really –
Would he?
Lestrade finally makes That Speech at the Police Federation's fancy lunch.
A/N: written for the exhibitionism square for kink_bingo. Completes the trilogy that begins with Dressing the Part and continues in Sherlock and the Art of Public Speaking; this probably makes more sense if you've read those two.
kalypso_v suggested how to write a third fic when I didn't think I could, and was more a collaborator than a beta on the resulting draft. Heartfelt thanks to her and to blooms84 for additional brilliant suggestions.

Table Manners

He's always hated making speeches, but it's never been like this before.

Lestrade's knees are buckling, his heart is racing, and he knows he can't keep going much longer. It's like that bloody fitting-room in the posh department store all over again.

With a couple of crucial differences this time. One: the beautiful new designer suit is not round his ankles. Two: Sherlock's not sucking him off.

Sherlock, in fact, is nowhere in evidence. Which is seriously worrying.

He'd thought that at least if he wangled Sherlock an official invitation to the Police Federation's fancy lunch it would stop the bastard from sabotaging his bloody speech the way he'd sabotaged the rehearsal last week – don't think about that now, Lestrade, for fuck's sake. So he'd had to persuade the Police Federation organizers that Sherlock should be invited to their session on Police and Community in Partnership. Got a few funny looks in the process, not surprisingly. Still makes him sweat, thinking about that conversation.

Sherlock had a fucking nerve, suggesting he could come as Lestrade's plus one. The Police Federation doesn't do plus ones, and if they did he wouldn't be bringing Sherlock as his.

Because they're not in a relationship. Whatever being in a relationship means. Just because the mad bastard keeps jumping him –

Concentrate, Lestrade. Nearly there now.

Gregson's looking like he's swallowed a rotten frog, but that's par for the course. Dimmock's nodding sagely as Lestrade gets to the bit about maintaining proper boundaries and the danger of compromising investigations. (Surprised Sherlock passed that bit of the speech, in retrospect. Probably distracted by kicking up a fuss about grammar.)

Still no sign of the bastard. Shit.

He knows Sherlock was over there at the far end of that big table when lunch started, but he's not there now. Must have gone to the loo or something, bloody typical, probably missed the whole thing, at least Lestrade hopes that's what's happened –

He is not going to look under the tablecloth. Because even Sherlock wouldn't, not really –

Would he?

It was bad enough in that fitting-room cubicle last week, shoving his fist into his mouth to keep quiet, hearing the shop assistants going about their business just the other side of the wall. Or right here, the same afternoon, worrying that the hotel staff might come in at any minute, trying to keep going with his speech while Sherlock sucked him off. But this

Christ, he can't remember the last time he had this much adrenalin pumping through his veins. Apart from when he's been having sex with Sherlock, obviously, not helping seriously not helping stop thinking about it NOW.

The words seem to be coming out all right though. Ironic if that mad bastard was right and the distraction did help with his stage fright. Because that fucking speech is the least of his worries right now.

Last paragraph, why the fuck did he make this speech so long, feels as if it's been going on for hours though he's timed it repeatedly at fifteen minutes exactly, aaaand –

Made it. Jesus.

Lestrade's knees give way and he sits down thankfully, boggling slightly at the enthusiastic applause – they can't possibly be as glad as he is that it's over.

The president of the Met branch gets up to make his little thank-you speech and introduce the Police Federation's new short film. Lestrade breathes a sigh of relief and –

What the flying blue fuck?

He feels his zip being pulled down and the first touch of Sherlock's fingers as they trace the outline of his cock, oh god. Feels the moist heat of Sherlock's tongue lapping at his rapidly growing erection, teasing caress of warm air on damp fabric and ultra-sensitive skin as Sherlock blows deliberately along the line he's just licked. Intensifying wet heat as Sherlock begins sucking him through his boxers.

Lestrade bites the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out and hopes to God nobody's filming this event, because he doesn't like to think what his face is doing right now. The sensation stops unexpectedly, and Lestrade quickly pretends to drop his napkin so he can bend down and glare at Sherlock under the long white tablecloth.

This is not a good idea, as it turns out. Because the sight that meets his eyes is Sherlock freeing Lestrade's now fully hard cock from his boxers.


Lestrade briefly considers stabbing Sherlock, but the only cutlery left within reach is his dessertspoon. Even that's got chocolate mousse on it, which the mad fucker would probably take as encouragement.

Sherlock looks up at Lestrade and grins, the bastard, then starts gently lapping at the head of his cock before closing his lips over it and sucking in earnest.

“Enjoyed your speech, Lestrade,” the chairman murmurs, as Lestrade straightens up again and tries not to moan. “Well delivered, too, very good. But where's your consultant friend got to – is he all right?”

Sherlock responds to this acknowledgement of his existence with a wicked movement of his tongue that nearly makes Lestrade go cross-eyed.

At which point, mercifully, the big screen for the film rolls down, the lights go out, and Lestrade prays to whatever gods watch over poor bloody DIs that the film is both long enough and loud enough. From the pace Sherlock is setting and the delicious torture of his skilful licks and touches, Lestrade can tell this is going to be one of those blowjobs. The ones that usually end with him begging for release and shouting Sherlock's name as he comes. The kind where what you really need on the soundtrack is the 1812 Overture.

When he gets out of here – if he gets out of here alive and doesn't expire from the strain of trying to keep quiet, that is – he is seriously going to do...something to Sherlock. Not sure what it is yet and his brain's certainly not working well enough to come up with anything, and anyway he's probably just going to have a coronary, oh fucking hell Sherlock oh god

After what feels like hours but can only be a matter of minutes, Lestrade is sweating and shaking, thighs taut with the strain of approaching orgasm. The annoying voice on the film soundtrack is saying something particularly crass about the challenges of working with laypeople and freelance consultants in twenty-first-century policing, and Lestrade can feel Sherlock laughing silently around his cock.

Lestrade hopes he can explain away his groaning as sudden indigestion. But he's past caring now, nothing short of the roof falling in would stop him from coming and he's not too sure even that would do it. He gives up the unequal struggle, grips Sherlock's hair and comes till he sees stars in the darkened function room.

“Are you all right?” the president whispers, and Lestrade mumbles something about sudden illness, probably just heartburn, get some fresh air. Feels Sherlock wiping him off and shoving his hanky down Lestrade's boxers again. Bastard. Going to have words with the evil little fucker about that and a few other things. Just as soon as he stops feeling so dizzy.

Somehow Lestrade manages to stagger from the room, too preoccupied to wonder how Sherlock's going to escape undetected. Finds the smug bastard waiting for him in the alley round the side of the hotel. Department of No Surprise.

“What the fuck do you think you're playing at?” Lestrade yells.

“I should have thought that was obvious,” Sherlock says, smirking.

“Sherlock, I swear I am this close to putting your head through that wall –”

“I was expressing my appreciation of your speech,” Sherlock says, like this is the most natural thing in the world. “It was really quite good. Largely thanks to me, of course. And that's definitely the best you've done it –”

Lestrade is – well, speechless. Appropriately enough. He stares at Sherlock, wishing he felt strong enough to thump him properly. Still doesn't, unfortunately.

“Not bad at all,” Sherlock says, clearly still preening himself. “I felt it deserved more recognition than you were going to get from that bunch of stuffed shirts.”

“Sherlock,” Lestrade says, through clenched teeth. He unclenches his teeth again: talking through them isn't as easy as fiction makes it sound.

Listen to me, you complete and utter wanker,” he says, grabbing Sherlock by the throat. “They may be stuffed shirts to you. But I work with these people. Some of them are friends, almost.”

He lets go of Sherlock, who looks slightly abashed. Doesn't have a snappy comeback for once. Kicks moodily at a discarded cigarette packet.

“You could have got me sacked, you fuckwit,” Lestrade says. “Anyone had twigged, it'd be all round the Met by tomorrow and all over the tabloids by Wednesday. Do you want to find yourself working with Dimmock again? Or Gregson, for fuck's sake? Always assuming they'd let you anywhere near a case, which frankly –”

“'M sorry,” Sherlock mutters, shuffling.

Lestrade's seen more convincing performances from three-year-olds. Says so.

“You know I can't resist you when you're wearing that suit,” Sherlock says defensively. He starts stroking Lestrade's lapels again, and his expression goes a bit glazed.

As if Lestrade has done this on purpose. As if it wasn't Sherlock's doing that he'd bought the bloody suit in the first place.

“Fine excuse,” Lestrade grumbles. “Oh, for crying out loud – Stop it, Sherlock!”

Sherlock, not one to let an alley go to waste, is pulling Lestrade close and rubbing up against him in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. Lestrade tries to remonstrate, but remonstrating is bloody difficult when Sherlock Holmes is snogging you within an inch of your life. Nothing for it but to push Sherlock against the wall and unzip him, grab his cock and do the best you can to render him temporarily harmless. Won't last, of course: on past showing Lestrade's got half an hour, tops, before Sherlock starts in again, even though Lestrade makes him come so hard he's almost doubled up with it, shuddering and moaning.

Patron saint of posh tailors must be working overtime, Lestrade thinks. Because the beautiful new designer suit escapes unscathed yet again. Bloody thing seems to lead a charmed life.

“Right, you,” Lestrade says to Sherlock, who's still gasping. “Home. Now. Before you start getting any more ideas.”

Sherlock clings to his waist – knees obviously not working too well at the moment. Lestrade feels a brief flicker of triumph.

The taxi driver's not so cheerful about it, muttering “Bloody drunks!”, but he takes them anyway.

A post-orgasmic Sherlock is safe in taxis, more or less, slumped against Lestrade's shoulder, making occasional little whickering noises. But even though the journey back to Lestrade's flat is comfortably within the half-hour mark, Sherlock's already starting to perk up by the time they arrive. His refractory period seems if anything to be shorter these days, which is probably contrary to the laws of nature or something.

“You do realize this bloody suit is coming off the moment I get through that door?” Lestrade says warningly. “And not going back on again for a very long time.”

Sherlock looks at Lestrade and grins. “You read my mind, Inspector,” he says.

Also posted at http://fengirl88.dreamwidth.org/54695.html with comment count unavailable comments.


( 37 comments — Leave a comment )
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Sep. 3rd, 2011 10:42 am (UTC)
Marvellous! What a great thing to find at the top of my flist this morning.

I love how you hand;e dialogue by the way. You have such a deft hand with it.
Sep. 4th, 2011 09:13 am (UTC)
thank you very much! *beams*

glad you liked it - it has been a very long time coming but it's good to have the trilogy finally completed!
(Deleted comment)
Sep. 4th, 2011 09:14 am (UTC)
thank you very much - I'm glad you enjoyed it! *grins*
Sep. 3rd, 2011 12:38 pm (UTC)

Lmao, bb!

Dear God! I think that was one of the funniest things I've read in a very long time!

The lines about the dessert spoon and the 1812 overture _slayed_ me! And the charmed life of the suit....! Just wonderful!

Sep. 4th, 2011 09:16 am (UTC)
yay!!! thank you very much - so glad you liked it.

the dessert spoon incident was based on a couple of brilliant suggestions from blooms84 - she and kalypso_v did a lot to turn a more than usually sketchy draft into a finished thing, THANK GOODNESS.
Sep. 3rd, 2011 01:28 pm (UTC)
Mean, sexy Sherlock! :)
Sep. 4th, 2011 09:16 am (UTC)
thank you - very glad you liked it!
Sep. 3rd, 2011 01:39 pm (UTC)
I've been waiting for the actual speech for ages! Love this series, and your Lestrade in general. The magically immaculate suit of sex had better show up in Series II, as had Sherlock 30 minute recovery period on seeing Lestrade in said suit, or I'll be sad.
Brilliant stuff!!!
Sep. 4th, 2011 09:21 am (UTC)
thank you very much - I'm glad you liked it! I couldn't see how to write this one for ages, and it was kalypso_v who suggested having Sherlock pounce after the speech, which I thought was a brilliant idea.

"magically immaculate suit of sex" should be an icon, I feel...
Sep. 3rd, 2011 01:41 pm (UTC)
Dear Lord, that was hot. And echoing the above comment - what a wonderful thing to wake up to!
Sep. 4th, 2011 09:21 am (UTC)
*grins* thank you very much - I'm glad you thought so! it's a relief to get the trilogy finished at last.
Sep. 3rd, 2011 05:37 pm (UTC)
Mmmmm, yes, please. *stares dreamily* This was delightful!
Sep. 4th, 2011 09:22 am (UTC)
thank you very much - glad you enjoyed it! these two remain great fun to write, despite my current affair with XMFC...
Sep. 4th, 2011 09:48 am (UTC)
yay for the return of this fic! very hot indeed :)

Sep. 4th, 2011 07:09 pm (UTC)
thank you very much! I know it's been ages since the first two - it's good to have completed the trilogy at last. very glad you enjoyed it.
Sep. 4th, 2011 01:37 pm (UTC)
What a lovely surprise! I always enjoy a wicked Sherlock tormenting poor Greg for the better good of everyone concerned. And now that chocolate mousse is giving me some lovely mental images. Great work!
Sep. 4th, 2011 07:11 pm (UTC)
thank you very much - I'm glad you liked it!

the chocolate mousse was one of blooms84's inspired suggestions - she and kalypso_v were an enormous help with this fic.
(Deleted comment)
Sep. 4th, 2011 07:53 pm (UTC)
hurrah! I'm so pleased it made you grin. *grins back*

I was very happy when kalypso_v suggested how I could write this story, and even happier when she and blooms84 came up with so many excellent ideas about how to finish it! I am very lucky in my friends...
Sep. 4th, 2011 08:25 pm (UTC)
It was definitely worth waiting for that. I love the thought of police and community partnerships getting so interesting, the urge to stab Sherlock with a chocolate mousse-coated spoon and Lestrade having to ungrit his teeth. But I also enjoyed the slightly grittier side of Lestrade pointing out about keeping his job and Sherlock being at least vaguely abashed. Although trust Sherlock to make being in a sort of relationship with him even more traumatic than not being in a relationship with him for Lestrade. Still, at least he gets occasional 30 minute breaks...
Sep. 5th, 2011 08:32 pm (UTC)
thank you very much - I'm glad it was worth waiting for, because that really has been a long wait! the grit is mostly thanks to kalypso_v, whose excellent suggestions made all the difference to a very rough and sketchy first draft.

I think Lestrade had better make the most of those breaks, because Sherlock is clearly just going to keep jumping on him at every opportunity...
Sep. 5th, 2011 02:44 pm (UTC)

Oh the patron saint of posh tailors, and (not) safe in taxis and oh my oh my oh my! I love it all!

*spins* *collapses*
Sep. 5th, 2011 08:34 pm (UTC)

thank you very much - glad you liked it. and thank you again for betaing the previous instalment.

Sep. 6th, 2011 02:34 am (UTC)
I'm ashamed to say that I almost forgot about this series, so it was great to be reminded of it when you posted this story! :-) Sherlock is completely incorrigible and has an evil streak a mile long! However, Lestrade did kind of ask for it when he snagged an invitation for Sherlock to the Police Federation's fancy lunch. And at least Sherlock didn't deliver that blow job when Lestrade was actually delivering his speech. Although Sherlock obviously didn't feel guilty at all, it was kind of sweet when he congratulated Lestrade on doing a good job and informed him that sucking him off was his way of showing his appreciation. *g* In any case, this was entertaining, hot, and hilarious! I agree with what being_here said about your gift for dialogue, especially when you're writing Sherlock and Lestrade. :-)
Sep. 6th, 2011 09:40 am (UTC)
thank you very much - so pleased you enjoyed i!

I'm not surprised you'd forgotten about it - I'd almost given up hope of ever writing it. I'm very glad kalypso_v suggested the right way to make it work - that Sherlock should let Lestrade make the speech unmolested but then pounce just as Lestrade thinks he's safe.
Sep. 6th, 2011 02:15 pm (UTC)
Hooray, what an unexpected delight to see more suit!porn S/L from you! This is just...HOT, and hilarious, and oddly sweet in a messed-up Sherlocky kind of way. Great fun!
Sep. 6th, 2011 11:01 pm (UTC)
thank you very much! so pleased you liked it. yes, it's all very messed up but I'm glad you think it's sweet as well. in this version of the two of them, Sherlock just seems to want to keep jumping on Lestrade. not that I blame him...

this fic has been such a long time coming that I thought I would never manage to write the darn thing, even when kalypso_v gave me the idea for how to do it. thank goodness for kink_bingo...
Sep. 6th, 2011 05:17 pm (UTC)
Naughty, naughty Sherlock! Although, how handy for Lestrade to know what he can turn Sherlock on with - imagine him trying to turn him on to get him away from a crime scene/wherever he's brooding/Donovan in a foul mood!

The Lady 529
Sep. 6th, 2011 11:03 pm (UTC)
thank you very much - I'm glad you liked it! that's an interesting suggestion about Lestrade, though I don't know how easy it would be for him to keep changing into the suit!
(no subject) - lady529 - Sep. 7th, 2011 09:55 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - fengirl88 - Sep. 7th, 2011 10:06 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - lady529 - Sep. 8th, 2011 07:55 pm (UTC) - Expand
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( 37 comments — Leave a comment )


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