The Other Side of Paradise
originally written by dwaynepride.tumblr.com
âSo, how small is your room?â
Gibbs canât 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. âYou know the guest bathroom I got back home?â He asks.
âYeah.â
âLittle smaller than that.â
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 thereâs work to be done, and also, he did promise to call you every chance he got. That was the deal when Gibbs told you heâd be shipping out on a ship for a week or more. But itâs 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. âSo, how was your day? Anything eventful?â He asks lightly. Some of his attention is still on the case files, however. Believing work would help with the fact that heâs not home with you, right now.
You simply let out a small exhale, and he imagines youâre rolling your eyes. âNot really. Just went to the store. Did the dishes. Cleaned the bathroom,â you tell him. Thereâs a slight pause, and the next time you speak, itâs louder and harsher. âBy the way, Jethro - Iâve got a bone to pick with you.â
He blinks once, eyes flickering to the side as he shifts in his chair. âWhatâd I do now?â
âHow many times have I asked you to clean up after you shave?â His shoulders go slack in relief; itâs nothing too serious. âI swear, itâs like you donât even hear me when I tell you something. Like, how hard is it to wipe down the counter after youâre done?â
For once, Gibbs is thankful to be a couple hundred miles away. Because you canât see him when he smirks. âNot hard,â he replies. âIâll make it up to you when I get home, âkay?â
âI doubt that,â you respond immediately. You donât sound too angry, thankfully. Still, itâs something Gibbs has got to prove.
âI will. Iâve always made it up to you, havenât I?â
âI donât know what you mean.â
âYeah, you do,â Gibbs drawls, voice low and smooth. âMissed dates, late nights - youâve always forgiven me, one way or another.â
Carefully, Gibbs twists his head around to eye the metal door of his tiny room, just to make sure itâs still closed before turning back. Youâre silent, likely thinking on his words and even Gibbs himself wonders why heâs poking this particular bear. He knows heâs on a Navy ship and itâs 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. âAlright,â you finally say in a wispy voice. âWhat are you gonna do, then? To make up for trashing the bathroom?â
âWhat do you want me to do, honey?â
âNah, thatâs not how this works.â His lips quirk up in a smile - youâre too smart for him. âYou tell me, since youâre bragging.â
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. âTake you out to dinner. Share a bottle of wine. Maybe dance, if you wanted to,â he says.
âI like to dance,â you tell him, voice so sweet, itâs like youâre here with him.
âYouâd look real pretty, like you always do. Iâd have to scare people off because theyâd want to come and talk to you.â
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. âProbably,â you reply. âWhat about when we get home?â
âWhen we get home, Iâll take you upstairs. Getâcha into something more comfortable.â
âNo drinking bourbon?â
âNah,â he replies easily. âI donât want you too drunk. Iâd want you to remember everything I did the next morning.â
Gibbs hadnât 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 hadnât somehow crossed a line. And Gibbs hears you breathe for a moment before your soft voice hits his ear again. âYou must be doing something pretty good if youâd want me to remember it.â
Your voice is small and hitched. Distracted, almost. Jethroâs focus is no longer on the case files - instead, he leans back in his chair, legs spread, hand resting on his thigh. âOh, I am,â Gibbs murmurs. âSweetheart, lemme ask you something.â
âYeah?â
âWhatâre you doing right now.â
Thereâs a small pause. âTalking to you.â
âOther than that,â Gibbs replies. âI know you.â
And just as soon as his hushed sentence ends, you gasp a little. Itâs quiet and stifled, like youâre 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. âIâm laying in bed, wearing your shirt, cuddling your pillow,â yeah, Gibbs was right. But thereâs something else heâs looking for⊠âWishing you were touching me. You always touch me better than I can touch myself.â
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 youâll get away with touching yourself and making yourself cum without him finding out.
âDammitâŠâ Jethro breathes out. His head moves to check the door again, finding it still closed. Maybe he was silently hoping thereâd be a knock. Something to interrupt and give Jethro a chance to keep himself from doing something stupid.
But youâre still on the phone. Even the faint static from a weak signal isnât enough to mask the edge in your voice. âI miss you, Jethro,â 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.
âI wish you were here,â you continue. âIf you were, youâd probably just go slow. Make me beg for it. I know you like it when I ask nicelyâŠâ
âI do,â Jethro cuts in. âAnd I would.â
You let out a slow hum, like youâre stretching in bed. Getting comfy, and Gibbs has never been so eager to get home in his life. This phone sex thingâŠitâs 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 thatâs making him harder by the second.
And Jethro doesnât even notice you talk until your soft voice comes through. âWhat?â He asks dumbly.
You huff in amusement. âDo it, then.â
âDo what?â
âMake me beg.â
He swallows hard. âHoney, I canât. Not âtill i get homeâŠâ
âPlease, Jethro. Really wanna cum.â 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 youâd 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 thatâll help keep this whole ordeal more of a secret, somehow. âJust keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Do it how you know I would,â Jethro says, voice low.
âHow would you do it?â
âAny damn way you want,â 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 thatâs not a good idea. Itâll be way too messy and wouldnât be worth the trouble if someone were to come knocking.
You, howeverâŠJethro has now made it his mission to hear you cum.
âIâd make you cum right on my fingers because I love when you moan right into my mouth. I can watch your face - thatâs 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 deeperâŠâ
Jethro shocks even himself, saying all that. Though, is it still considered dirty talk if heâs simply telling the truth?
He hears breathless little mews of his name. A sharp breath, and Gibbs can guess what youâre doing. âDonât hold back,â he says; voice hard, like an order. âDonât be shy. Lemme hear you.â
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, heâd be sucking hickeys into your skin while pumping his fingers just as hard as he could.
âKeep goinâ, angel. Get a little deeper for me.â
âJethro, pleaseâŠâ
âRelax. Rub your clit - tight little circles. That always gets you all wound up for me. Every single time.â Jethroâs right, of course - heâs remembering each and every time youâve cried out and clung to him because of those little circles heâd do.
Youâre breathing so heavy into his ear. He knows from experience that youâre 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 heâs wrapping his head around more things to tell you before youâre speaking up, yourself.
âCanât wait until youâre back home.â Your voice is a tight plea - keening and desperate. His cock twitches at the sound of it, begging to be released but Gibbs wonât allow it. âCanât wait for you fuck me.â
âI would. As many times as you want. Neighborsâll hate me, but I donât care.â
You huff once - from amusement or arousal, he canât 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 heâs not even the one about to cum.Â
He sighs into the phone, his hand adjusting his pants but Jethroâs entire focus is on you. Your noises. Your voice⊠âJethro, âm close.â
âFuck, I know, angel.â Itâs truly unfair that Gibbs is in such a situation where he canât be there with you. To make you cum himself because itâs his job and heâs fucking loves it. But itâs extra bitter in the fact that he canât 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. âYou gonna cum? Right on your fingers? Is that how fuckinâ desperate you are, honey?â
âYeah.â The word comes out as a broken moan. Jethro can guess that you arenât too focused on speaking, right now.Â
He brings the phone even closer, panting lightly in his own arousal. âWell, câmon. Let me hear you - loud and clear. Make me proud, angel.â Jethro closes his eyes, hoping his imagination is good enough for him to picture your orgasm in his mind. âI bet you look fucking beautiful, right now. Legs wide open, pussy all wet and-â
âFuck- fuck, Jethro!â
The static on the line is ultimately his downfall. Your cries are so loud, so broken, itâs 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 heâs too focused on hearing you mewl out his name to really feel it.
Youâre panting hard. He hears it right in his ear. Jethro waits a few moments, simply allowing himself the opportunity to listen without obligation. Usually, heâd feel compelled to start cleaning you up or maybe get you some water. At least thereâs one positive to phone sex - he can just sit back and listen.
ââŠHoney?â
âJethroâŠ.â
âYou alright?â
After a couple more breaths, you let out a small, contented moan. Jethro canât help but smirk. âYeah. Iâm good.â
âThatâs good,â he replies. AndâŠnow what? Phone sex itself is uncharted territory. But phone pillowtalk? Jethro rolls his eyes at himself - this shouldnât 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 itâs almost midnight for you.Â
âMaybe you outta head to sleep.â
âNo. Wanna talk to you.â
That pang in his chest comes back. But instead of loneliness, itâs more like affection - itâs softer, sweeter, and doesnât hurt as much. âIâll call you again tomorrow. I promise,â Jethro tells you softly. âRight now, you need sleep.â
You pause for a moment, and he thinks you might argue. But after another soft yawn, you sigh into the phone. âAlright,â you reply. And he nods once. âI love you.â
He swallows, feeling odd saying this over the phone after something so dirty. âI love you, too.â But, in a way, itâs natural. Maybe because Jethro can so easily imagine you smiling when he says it. âGoodnight.â
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 isnât chased away. Not even as Jethro tries to lose himself in the paperwork again.Â
But he forces himself to. Because the sooner this case is over, the sooner he can get home to you.















