The Other Side of Paradise
originally written by dwaynepride.tumblr.com
“So, how small is your room?”
Gibbs can’t help but smirk at your naive question. For a moment, his eyes break away from the case files to look up and around his little metal box. He was used to the cramped space, of course - Navy vessels never really afforded much space. Especially for federal agents.
His attention falls back down to the papers, tucking his cell phone closer to his ear. “You know the guest bathroom I got back home?” He asks.
“Yeah.”
“Little smaller than that.”
You laugh out loud, and despite the shitty reception and hundreds of miles between you, the sound of it makes Gibbs smile.
He should be asleep. He knows that. But there’s work to be done, and also, he did promise to call you every chance he got. That was the deal when Gibbs told you he’d be shipping out on a ship for a week or more. But it’s already been three days, and Gibbs is surprised at how much he misses you already.
The laughter dies down and you sigh a little. Gibbs can already imagine you tucked up in bed - probably wearing one of his shirts, pulling his pillow closer, cradling the phone as if it would bring Gibbs physically closer to you, somehow.
It brings a pang of loneliness to his chest, but Gibbs pushes it aside. “So, how was your day? Anything eventful?” He asks lightly. Some of his attention is still on the case files, however. Believing work would help with the fact that he’s not home with you, right now.
You simply let out a small exhale, and he imagines you’re rolling your eyes. “Not really. Just went to the store. Did the dishes. Cleaned the bathroom,” you tell him. There’s a slight pause, and the next time you speak, it’s louder and harsher. “By the way, Jethro - I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
He blinks once, eyes flickering to the side as he shifts in his chair. “What’d I do now?”
“How many times have I asked you to clean up after you shave?” His shoulders go slack in relief; it’s nothing too serious. “I swear, it’s like you don’t even hear me when I tell you something. Like, how hard is it to wipe down the counter after you’re done?”
For once, Gibbs is thankful to be a couple hundred miles away. Because you can’t see him when he smirks. “Not hard,” he replies. “I’ll make it up to you when I get home, ‘kay?”
“I doubt that,” you respond immediately. You don’t sound too angry, thankfully. Still, it’s something Gibbs has got to prove.
“I will. I’ve always made it up to you, haven’t I?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yeah, you do,” Gibbs drawls, voice low and smooth. “Missed dates, late nights - you’ve always forgiven me, one way or another.”
Carefully, Gibbs twists his head around to eye the metal door of his tiny room, just to make sure it’s still closed before turning back. You’re silent, likely thinking on his words and even Gibbs himself wonders why he’s poking this particular bear. He knows he’s on a Navy ship and it’s possible McGee might come knocking on his door without warning, but fuck, he misses you.
He hears you breathe softly - so quiet, he thinks he imagined it. “Alright,” you finally say in a wispy voice. “What are you gonna do, then? To make up for trashing the bathroom?”
“What do you want me to do, honey?”
“Nah, that’s not how this works.” His lips quirk up in a smile - you’re too smart for him. “You tell me, since you’re bragging.”
Gibbs takes a moment to think. Reconsiders going down this road, but now, his heart is pumping a little faster and his stomach is twisted up with anticipation. “Take you out to dinner. Share a bottle of wine. Maybe dance, if you wanted to,” he says.
“I like to dance,” you tell him, voice so sweet, it’s like you’re here with him.
“You’d look real pretty, like you always do. I’d have to scare people off because they’d want to come and talk to you.”
You let out another laugh - softer, this time. Squeezes his heart with affection even as Gibbs shifts in his chair because his pants are suddenly getting a bit tight. “Probably,” you reply. “What about when we get home?”
“When we get home, I’ll take you upstairs. Get’cha into something more comfortable.”
“No drinking bourbon?”
“Nah,” he replies easily. “I don’t want you too drunk. I’d want you to remember everything I did the next morning.”
Gibbs hadn’t even expected those words to come out so easy. Usually, playful dirty talk was not his strong suit. His ex-wives had sometimes tried to get him to talk dirty to them and it always ended with him feeling awkward and them feeling disappointed. But right now, it was almost natural.
He finds himself holding his breath, awaiting your response, hoping he hadn’t somehow crossed a line. And Gibbs hears you breathe for a moment before your soft voice hits his ear again. “You must be doing something pretty good if you’d want me to remember it.”
Your voice is small and hitched. Distracted, almost. Jethro’s focus is no longer on the case files - instead, he leans back in his chair, legs spread, hand resting on his thigh. “Oh, I am,” Gibbs murmurs. “Sweetheart, lemme ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
“What’re you doing right now.”
There’s a small pause. “Talking to you.”
“Other than that,” Gibbs replies. “I know you.”
And just as soon as his hushed sentence ends, you gasp a little. It’s quiet and stifled, like you’re trying to hide it from him. But Gibbs has got good hearing, and the sound twists his stomach up a little tighter. Makes his cock start to strain against his jeans a little harder. “I’m laying in bed, wearing your shirt, cuddling your pillow,” yeah, Gibbs was right. But there’s something else he’s looking for… “Wishing you were touching me. You always touch me better than I can touch myself.”
There it is. The sudden mental image that hits Jethro makes his head tilt back, eyes shut, imagining you in bed, hand under the covers, thinking you’ll get away with touching yourself and making yourself cum without him finding out.
“Dammit…” Jethro breathes out. His head moves to check the door again, finding it still closed. Maybe he was silently hoping there’d be a knock. Something to interrupt and give Jethro a chance to keep himself from doing something stupid.
But you’re still on the phone. Even the faint static from a weak signal isn’t enough to mask the edge in your voice. “I miss you, Jethro,” you whine lightly. Gasping again, and he guesses you hit a good spot.
You miss him. Yeah, he misses you, too. Misses you more than anything.
“I wish you were here,” you continue. “If you were, you’d probably just go slow. Make me beg for it. I know you like it when I ask nicely…”
“I do,” Jethro cuts in. “And I would.”
You let out a slow hum, like you’re stretching in bed. Getting comfy, and Gibbs has never been so eager to get home in his life. This phone sex thing…it’s never been something he was remotely interested in. Especially not when the real thing is so much better. But you sound good. Those pretty little noises that’s making him harder by the second.
And Jethro doesn’t even notice you talk until your soft voice comes through. “What?” He asks dumbly.
You huff in amusement. “Do it, then.”
“Do what?”
“Make me beg.”
He swallows hard. “Honey, I can’t. Not ‘till i get home…”
“Please, Jethro. Really wanna cum.” His eyes fall shut when you let out a slow moan. Deep and throaty and just the way he likes it because you always sound so fucking pretty. If Jethro tries hard enough, he can imagine himself in the bedroom with you. His hands replacing your own between your legs, and you’d be asking him for more instead of just begging for the bare minimum.
He lets out a slow exhale. Pulls the phone closer to his cheek, like that’ll help keep this whole ordeal more of a secret, somehow. “Just keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Do it how you know I would,” Jethro says, voice low.
“How would you do it?”
“Any damn way you want,” he answers immediately. Gibbs hears your breathing, quick and tight, right in his ear. Without even thinking, his own hand comes over his zipper. Jethro was damn tempted to open up his pants and chase his orgasm alongside you. But even now, he knows that’s not a good idea. It’ll be way too messy and wouldn’t be worth the trouble if someone were to come knocking.
You, however…Jethro has now made it his mission to hear you cum.
“I’d make you cum right on my fingers because I love when you moan right into my mouth. I can watch your face - that’s my favorite part, sweetheart. You always look so pretty, like that. And then you get this little look in your eye when I get my fingers in deeper…”
Jethro shocks even himself, saying all that. Though, is it still considered dirty talk if he’s simply telling the truth?
He hears breathless little mews of his name. A sharp breath, and Gibbs can guess what you’re doing. “Don’t hold back,” he says; voice hard, like an order. “Don’t be shy. Lemme hear you.”
Instantly, you whimper. High-pitched and keening and it sends goosebumps down his back. Jethro imagines that your legs are spread out wide, muscles tight, head tilted back and if he were there, he’d be sucking hickeys into your skin while pumping his fingers just as hard as he could.
“Keep goin’, angel. Get a little deeper for me.”
“Jethro, please…”
“Relax. Rub your clit - tight little circles. That always gets you all wound up for me. Every single time.” Jethro’s right, of course - he’s remembering each and every time you’ve cried out and clung to him because of those little circles he’d do.
You’re breathing so heavy into his ear. He knows from experience that you’re right on the edge. And fuck, Jethro feels like he might bust in his pants from the noises alone, much less the mental image of you cumming on your own fingers. And he’s wrapping his head around more things to tell you before you’re speaking up, yourself.
“Can’t wait until you’re back home.” Your voice is a tight plea - keening and desperate. His cock twitches at the sound of it, begging to be released but Gibbs won’t allow it. “Can’t wait for you fuck me.”
“I would. As many times as you want. Neighbors’ll hate me, but I don’t care.”
You huff once - from amusement or arousal, he can’t discern. But the huff is followed by a moan and Jethro wants, more than anything, not to be on a fucking Navy vessel, right now. His skin is hot and tingling and he’s not even the one about to cum.
He sighs into the phone, his hand adjusting his pants but Jethro’s entire focus is on you. Your noises. Your voice… “Jethro, ‘m close.”
“Fuck, I know, angel.” It’s truly unfair that Gibbs is in such a situation where he can’t be there with you. To make you cum himself because it’s his job and he’s fucking loves it. But it’s extra bitter in the fact that he can’t pull his cock out and cum alongside you. Well, he could. But if he got caught, that would be a hell of a conversation with Vance.
Your breathing gets faster. Heavier. Jethro knows that sound intimately. “You gonna cum? Right on your fingers? Is that how fuckin’ desperate you are, honey?”
“Yeah.” The word comes out as a broken moan. Jethro can guess that you aren’t too focused on speaking, right now.
He brings the phone even closer, panting lightly in his own arousal. “Well, c’mon. Let me hear you - loud and clear. Make me proud, angel.” Jethro closes his eyes, hoping his imagination is good enough for him to picture your orgasm in his mind. “I bet you look fucking beautiful, right now. Legs wide open, pussy all wet and-”
“Fuck- fuck, Jethro!”
The static on the line is ultimately his downfall. Your cries are so loud, so broken, it’s difficult to hear them to their fullest extent. Gibbs groans a bit, but it seems his imagination does well enough. His cock is throbbing in his pants, but he’s too focused on hearing you mewl out his name to really feel it.
You’re panting hard. He hears it right in his ear. Jethro waits a few moments, simply allowing himself the opportunity to listen without obligation. Usually, he’d feel compelled to start cleaning you up or maybe get you some water. At least there’s one positive to phone sex - he can just sit back and listen.
“…Honey?”
“Jethro….”
“You alright?”
After a couple more breaths, you let out a small, contented moan. Jethro can’t help but smirk. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“That’s good,” he replies. And…now what? Phone sex itself is uncharted territory. But phone pillowtalk? Jethro rolls his eyes at himself - this shouldn’t be so damn hard. Not with you. Especially not after what you just did for him. He should already know what to do.
You yawn lightly. And it reminds him that it’s almost midnight for you.
“Maybe you outta head to sleep.”
“No. Wanna talk to you.”
That pang in his chest comes back. But instead of loneliness, it’s more like affection - it’s softer, sweeter, and doesn’t hurt as much. “I’ll call you again tomorrow. I promise,” Jethro tells you softly. “Right now, you need sleep.”
You pause for a moment, and he thinks you might argue. But after another soft yawn, you sigh into the phone. “Alright,” you reply. And he nods once. “I love you.”
He swallows, feeling odd saying this over the phone after something so dirty. “I love you, too.” But, in a way, it’s natural. Maybe because Jethro can so easily imagine you smiling when he says it. “Goodnight.”
You hang up first. Jethro tosses his phone on his desk, and suddenly, the silence of his tiny metal room starts to creep in. Suddenly, he misses your voice. Your breathing. Your noises. Even as his cock slowly stops its incessant throbbing, the silence isn’t chased away. Not even as Jethro tries to lose himself in the paperwork again.
But he forces himself to. Because the sooner this case is over, the sooner he can get home to you.
