#8 Talk Dirty To Me (Gil and Greg, CSI)
Pairing/Fandom: CSI, Gil/Greg
Theme: 8. The Phonebooth, or, "Aural Sex."
Title: Talk Dirty To Me
Author: tzi & zechsy
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Greg? Did we just have phone sex?"
Author's Note: Part of the Conundrum universe. Which means that it's smut. Smut with tiny bits of not-plot.
Disclaimer: CSI is copyright© CBS Broadcasting, Inc. All Rights Reserved. No profit is being made from this endeavor and we in no way lay claim to the characters or situations contained directly herein as they relate to the above mentioned copyright. In fact, we find that the more we love something, the more money we spend on it, and therefore the more in the hole we become as time goes by...
If it was 9 P.M. in Dallas, then it was 8 in Vegas. Gil was sure of that, even if his sleep deprived mind kept putting Vegas at Eastern Time. He just wasn't cut out for trying to readjust so quickly to being awake and functioning during the day and sleeping at night. The first night of the conference, he'd gone out with colleagues to a bar, and hadn't had any problem staying awake and alert long past closing time.
The bartender had seemed faintly horrified by the stories of bodily decay and crime scenes both horrific and funny. Their idea of a funny crime-scene probably didn't work for him, either, because every time Gil had started to laugh a little, every time any of them started to laugh, he'd surreptitiously stared at them from the other end of the bar.
Gil wasn't quite up to that again because he was tired. He'd gone a night, and a day, and half of a night awake in a row, slipped in five hours of sleep to cap off the first night of the conference, presented his paper on Muscid flies, led a panel, watched a few presentations, and now.... Now he was tired and sore from sitting still for so long, and Gil's mind wandered back to the lab and home.
Back to Greg.
The fact that the conference was spread over four days had made it impossible for Greg to come with him; everybody was short-staffed already, the lab getting by on a bare-bones skeleton crew with him at a conference, Nicky on vacation, and two members of the day shift in the hospital due to a perp trying to ram into them with her car. Still, Greg didn't have to be in to work for another couple of hours, and Gil could call home if he wanted.
For once, he was going to call Greg and then probably go to sleep. Pass out just as Greg was starting his workday. Gil closed his eyes, and stretched out slowly on the unforgiving hotel mattress while he started to dial the number. If he got an answering machine, then Greg had gotten called in and he'd missed him.
Brrrring.
Brrrring.
Brrrr…
~"Hello?"~
That was the best thing Gil had heard since he got into Dallas, and his mouth curved up involuntarily.
"Greg. It's Gil...." Gil didn't have to say that -- Greg knew his voice, but if Greg had worked a double and was just coming out of sleep, he might just benefit from the extra help in identifying Gil.
~"Hey…"~ Yeah, that was a sleepy Greg voice. He was going to be lucky if he made it in by ten. ~"Miss you. Oh. Damn. What time is it?"~ There was a faint pause, Greg obviously looking at the clock. ~"Oh, I've got plenty of time. Good. 'm glad you called."~
"Do you need a personal alarm clock call every night that I'm here?" Gil let his eyes slide shut -- it made it easier to imagine that he wasn't so very far removed from Greg. His voice was an intimate whisper in Gil's ear, albeit distorted faintly by phone lines.
~"Might be nice,"~ Greg chuckled, the husky sound making Gil shift just a little. ~"I mean, I can think of worse things than waking up to your voice, you know. A lot worse. Actually, I think this ranks way up on my favorite ways to wake up, right after screwed stupid underneath you."~
Gil sighed into the mouthpiece of the phone. "You have to suggest that when you're so far away, don't you? You have no idea how used to having you there I've become."
~"Are you kidding?"~ Greg yawned in his ear, a sound that Gil was grateful he didn't miss. ~"I had to work a double shift to be able to sleep without you. I spent all last night tossing and turning. Sara threatened to kick my ass if I showed up before midnight tonight. Even Ecklie was giving me the dirty eyeball when I didn't go home."~
"Tell them that...." Gil only wasted a moment to think up a suitable answer. "Tell them that you've learned my Zen technique for dealing with sleep deprivation. Drinking your coffee black."
~"With lots of sugar,"~ Greg laughed, and it made Gil smile, too. ~"There's only one real problem, here, though."~
That Gil was still two days away from heading home, or that there were roughly one thousand and two hundred miles between them? "What is it?"
~"I'm horny and you're not here,"~ Greg sighed. ~"I mean, I've got this…"~ Gil could hear their box sliding out from underneath their bed, Greg fumbling around in it. ~"But you know, even having your dick here in latex? Just isn't the same."~
"I don't even have that here with me. I have.... A very stiff mattress, and that's it." He shifted, dug the heel of his foot against the mattress, and then toed his shoes off. They landed heavily on the floor. "So, what're you going to do without me?"
~"That's not the right question,"~ Greg told him, and Gil could hear the amusement in his voice. ~"The right question is… What do you want to tell me to do?"~
"Tell you to do?" Eyes still closed, Gil loosened his necktie. Tell Greg to do? Oh. Oh, and his brain caught onto the idea with surprising speed. There was very little that Greg could throw at Gil now without him catching on. "Are you naked?"
~"Mmmmhm. Totally, in the middle of our bed. I kicked off the covers when you called, and… unh. Oh, God. I'm so hard. You have no idea…"~
He breathed out slowly, and shifted his hand down to squeeze himself through his pants. "I can sympathize. Greg.... Drag your fingers over your stomach."
The images in his head were so good. Maybe they should try this later, with Gil sitting at the end of the bed watching. The sound of Greg groaning in his ear was exquisite. ~"God, that feels so good. Not like your hand, but…. My fingers, sliding around my navel, down just to my hip and then back again, up towards my…fuck…ribs…"~
Vivid images, and with his eyes closed.... Gil shifted, left, and fumbled to turn off the bedside lamp so he didn't have that distracting him. "How does it feel? Sensual, Greg, or just teasing? The prelude to something better than stroking?"
~"Prelude…"~ Greg sighed. ~"Like soon I'll have my hands on my cock for you, or fingers sliding in like I like it best when you do it…"~
"Not just yet." Gil was still getting his shirt unbuttoned, and then he was fumbling with his belt. "Circle your nipples with that hand."
Greg whined, the sound not quite a protest, and Gil could imagine him shifting impatiently on the bed, hips pushing up just a little. ~"No fair,"~ he declared, but Gil could imagine him doing it all the same, fingers sliding up, around, tiny nipples puckering at the touch. ~"Uuunh, God, that's.…"~
"Hot," Gil supplied for him as he ran his own hand over his chest a little roughly, like he had to catch up with Greg. Touch. Even if it was both of them masturbating over the phone. "Pinch the right one."
The strangled groan that came through the phone let him know when Greg did it, how it affected him. Gil was going to do just that when he got home, pinch that nipple, nip at the other one with his teeth. ~"Ooow, fuck, I… that's so good, Gil. Oh, fuck, yeah."~
Greg's nipples were small, and mostly flat, and Gil knew how sensitive they were. When he got home.... "Rub your hand down your stomach again, Greg. Slowly."
Slowly, the way Gil liked to do it, palm flat, fingers trailing like his tarantula's delicate legs touching in tiny taps of sensation. Greg was panting just a little, an unsteady sound. ~"Come on, Gil, come on, let me. Let me…."~
"You don't have to do it the way I tell you," Gil told him, voice falling soft and ragged. "But I'd appreciate it if you did, Greg. Not.... yet. You can't touch yourself there yet."
~"I do,"~ Greg murmured, and Gil could almost hear Greg's shift in thought processes. ~"I do have to do it the way you tell me. Oh, god, yeah…. Unnn."~
"Good. Very good, Greg...." Gil shifted, kicking his pants and underwear off at the same time. "Now run your fingers down to the base of your cock." Beautiful thought, Greg's hand wrapping there against bare skin, and that was another kink that Gil had found deeply enjoyable. Being able to see all of Greg, to run his fingers over the freshly hairless space, was delectable. It tasted delicious.
~"I.... I… Yeah,"~ Greg panted, and Gil felt a fierce wave flash through him at the sound. ~"Oh fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, I want...."~
"Squeeze yourself. You can't come yet." Gil didn't keep himself that tightly reigned in, concentrating on Greg's voice, the images he painted behind closed eyes, while he loosely stroked himself off. He could see the way that Greg's fingers would shake a little, almost knotting up before he did what Gil told him, knuckles brushing over shaved skin.
~"I wanna come,"~ Greg protested, but his voice was shaky, and Gil knew he was going it just like Gil wanted him to do it. ~"This is so hot. I love your voice. I love you telling me what to do…"~
"And you miss that I'm not there to watch it. But you have such an expressive voice.... Slide your fingers down, Greg. To your balls. Roll them slowly."
Slowly was the hard part, and Gil knew it. He could hear Greg whining, whimpering, on the verge of pleading. It made giving the orders that much more enjoyable, particularly since he knew that Greg would do what he told him. ~"I want… I want…"~
"You want me there, don't you? You.... want to see me lubing up, getting ready to push your legs back and fuck you. That's what you want, don't you?" He squeezed the base of his own cock, holding himself back.
~"Jesus. Jesus. Yeah. I want your cock, I want you fucking me, I want you so deep I can't walk at work without my legs bowed. Oh, fuck, fuck, I need, to, I've got to, I'm gonna…."~
Gil closed his eyes tightly, and went back to stroking himself. He could see Greg on their bed, legs splayed wide, over-highlighted hair crushed down against the mattress while he arched into his own touch. "Slow down, Greg. Squeeze the base of your cock again, and don't touch your balls."
The sob of Greg's breath in his ear was sweet, and the whimper when he obeyed was even sweeter. ~"Oh-oh-oh-kay. Okay. Okay. Oh god. I'm…."~ Hot, gorgeous in Gil's mind's-eye view, splayed open and wanton, ready to be fucked into the mattress. ~"Please…."~
He wished he was there. He wished he could lean in and lick the sweat that had to be gathering on Greg's chest, grab Greg's balls himself, and fondle him to orgasm. It was such a hot thought, and Gil started to stroke himself harder, faster, balls tense as his fingers on the phone. "Now stroke yourself. Make yourself come."
~"Huh… Huhhhh…"~ Permission was the ultimate aphrodisiac for Greg, and the sound filtered over the phone, fast motions of hand that sounded in a steady slap-slap-slap sort of noise that was unmistakable. Coherent sounds, sentences, were long-since faded, and Gil knew that Greg wouldn't be making any others anytime soon. He was sobbing, and just that sound made Gil grunt, made his own palm stroke just a little quicker.
Hearing was usually the most important sense for Gil, and hearing Greg, hearing Greg speed desperately towards orgasm was almost as good as seeing, as feeling and helping, as tasting and smelling.
It was enough that when Greg made a strangled moan that could've been a curse, Gil didn't take long to follow after him, spurting all over his hand and his belly, shaking fingers stroking until he became too sensitive to bear it any longer. The phone was still in his fingers when he could think, and he could hear Greg on the other end, murmuring softly, epithets and love-yous, and he almost wanted to laugh.
~"I expect one serious fucking when you get home."~
"I expect you to be ready for one. And no 'bugs make you hot' jokes," Gil murmured. He was going to have to get up and clean himself off, but he could fall into bed and doze easily after that.
Maybe he could just grab a tissue and then kick the sheets down and give up for the night.
~"You make me hot,"~ Greg assured him with a yawn. ~"I have to go to work. I'd rather stay here in bed and wait for you to get home."~
"That won't be for two more days." Gil shifted, reaching for the green, unopened box of facial tissue that he remembered was on the stand that the lamp was on. "Have a good shift and be safe."
~"I'll be good,"~ Greg promised him, giving a little laugh. ~"Or maybe I won't, but if I can't be good, I won't get caught. Not until you get home, anyway."~
"Okay." Gil snagged the box, and popped it open while he cradled the phone between his shoulder and his ear, trying not to touch anything with his sticky hand. "Greg? Did we just have phone sex?"
Greg's laughter sounded in his ear.
Theme: 8. The Phonebooth, or, "Aural Sex."
Title: Talk Dirty To Me
Author: tzi & zechsy
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Greg? Did we just have phone sex?"
Author's Note: Part of the Conundrum universe. Which means that it's smut. Smut with tiny bits of not-plot.
Disclaimer: CSI is copyright© CBS Broadcasting, Inc. All Rights Reserved. No profit is being made from this endeavor and we in no way lay claim to the characters or situations contained directly herein as they relate to the above mentioned copyright. In fact, we find that the more we love something, the more money we spend on it, and therefore the more in the hole we become as time goes by...
If it was 9 P.M. in Dallas, then it was 8 in Vegas. Gil was sure of that, even if his sleep deprived mind kept putting Vegas at Eastern Time. He just wasn't cut out for trying to readjust so quickly to being awake and functioning during the day and sleeping at night. The first night of the conference, he'd gone out with colleagues to a bar, and hadn't had any problem staying awake and alert long past closing time.
The bartender had seemed faintly horrified by the stories of bodily decay and crime scenes both horrific and funny. Their idea of a funny crime-scene probably didn't work for him, either, because every time Gil had started to laugh a little, every time any of them started to laugh, he'd surreptitiously stared at them from the other end of the bar.
Gil wasn't quite up to that again because he was tired. He'd gone a night, and a day, and half of a night awake in a row, slipped in five hours of sleep to cap off the first night of the conference, presented his paper on Muscid flies, led a panel, watched a few presentations, and now.... Now he was tired and sore from sitting still for so long, and Gil's mind wandered back to the lab and home.
Back to Greg.
The fact that the conference was spread over four days had made it impossible for Greg to come with him; everybody was short-staffed already, the lab getting by on a bare-bones skeleton crew with him at a conference, Nicky on vacation, and two members of the day shift in the hospital due to a perp trying to ram into them with her car. Still, Greg didn't have to be in to work for another couple of hours, and Gil could call home if he wanted.
For once, he was going to call Greg and then probably go to sleep. Pass out just as Greg was starting his workday. Gil closed his eyes, and stretched out slowly on the unforgiving hotel mattress while he started to dial the number. If he got an answering machine, then Greg had gotten called in and he'd missed him.
Brrrring.
Brrrring.
Brrrr…
~"Hello?"~
That was the best thing Gil had heard since he got into Dallas, and his mouth curved up involuntarily.
"Greg. It's Gil...." Gil didn't have to say that -- Greg knew his voice, but if Greg had worked a double and was just coming out of sleep, he might just benefit from the extra help in identifying Gil.
~"Hey…"~ Yeah, that was a sleepy Greg voice. He was going to be lucky if he made it in by ten. ~"Miss you. Oh. Damn. What time is it?"~ There was a faint pause, Greg obviously looking at the clock. ~"Oh, I've got plenty of time. Good. 'm glad you called."~
"Do you need a personal alarm clock call every night that I'm here?" Gil let his eyes slide shut -- it made it easier to imagine that he wasn't so very far removed from Greg. His voice was an intimate whisper in Gil's ear, albeit distorted faintly by phone lines.
~"Might be nice,"~ Greg chuckled, the husky sound making Gil shift just a little. ~"I mean, I can think of worse things than waking up to your voice, you know. A lot worse. Actually, I think this ranks way up on my favorite ways to wake up, right after screwed stupid underneath you."~
Gil sighed into the mouthpiece of the phone. "You have to suggest that when you're so far away, don't you? You have no idea how used to having you there I've become."
~"Are you kidding?"~ Greg yawned in his ear, a sound that Gil was grateful he didn't miss. ~"I had to work a double shift to be able to sleep without you. I spent all last night tossing and turning. Sara threatened to kick my ass if I showed up before midnight tonight. Even Ecklie was giving me the dirty eyeball when I didn't go home."~
"Tell them that...." Gil only wasted a moment to think up a suitable answer. "Tell them that you've learned my Zen technique for dealing with sleep deprivation. Drinking your coffee black."
~"With lots of sugar,"~ Greg laughed, and it made Gil smile, too. ~"There's only one real problem, here, though."~
That Gil was still two days away from heading home, or that there were roughly one thousand and two hundred miles between them? "What is it?"
~"I'm horny and you're not here,"~ Greg sighed. ~"I mean, I've got this…"~ Gil could hear their box sliding out from underneath their bed, Greg fumbling around in it. ~"But you know, even having your dick here in latex? Just isn't the same."~
"I don't even have that here with me. I have.... A very stiff mattress, and that's it." He shifted, dug the heel of his foot against the mattress, and then toed his shoes off. They landed heavily on the floor. "So, what're you going to do without me?"
~"That's not the right question,"~ Greg told him, and Gil could hear the amusement in his voice. ~"The right question is… What do you want to tell me to do?"~
"Tell you to do?" Eyes still closed, Gil loosened his necktie. Tell Greg to do? Oh. Oh, and his brain caught onto the idea with surprising speed. There was very little that Greg could throw at Gil now without him catching on. "Are you naked?"
~"Mmmmhm. Totally, in the middle of our bed. I kicked off the covers when you called, and… unh. Oh, God. I'm so hard. You have no idea…"~
He breathed out slowly, and shifted his hand down to squeeze himself through his pants. "I can sympathize. Greg.... Drag your fingers over your stomach."
The images in his head were so good. Maybe they should try this later, with Gil sitting at the end of the bed watching. The sound of Greg groaning in his ear was exquisite. ~"God, that feels so good. Not like your hand, but…. My fingers, sliding around my navel, down just to my hip and then back again, up towards my…fuck…ribs…"~
Vivid images, and with his eyes closed.... Gil shifted, left, and fumbled to turn off the bedside lamp so he didn't have that distracting him. "How does it feel? Sensual, Greg, or just teasing? The prelude to something better than stroking?"
~"Prelude…"~ Greg sighed. ~"Like soon I'll have my hands on my cock for you, or fingers sliding in like I like it best when you do it…"~
"Not just yet." Gil was still getting his shirt unbuttoned, and then he was fumbling with his belt. "Circle your nipples with that hand."
Greg whined, the sound not quite a protest, and Gil could imagine him shifting impatiently on the bed, hips pushing up just a little. ~"No fair,"~ he declared, but Gil could imagine him doing it all the same, fingers sliding up, around, tiny nipples puckering at the touch. ~"Uuunh, God, that's.…"~
"Hot," Gil supplied for him as he ran his own hand over his chest a little roughly, like he had to catch up with Greg. Touch. Even if it was both of them masturbating over the phone. "Pinch the right one."
The strangled groan that came through the phone let him know when Greg did it, how it affected him. Gil was going to do just that when he got home, pinch that nipple, nip at the other one with his teeth. ~"Ooow, fuck, I… that's so good, Gil. Oh, fuck, yeah."~
Greg's nipples were small, and mostly flat, and Gil knew how sensitive they were. When he got home.... "Rub your hand down your stomach again, Greg. Slowly."
Slowly, the way Gil liked to do it, palm flat, fingers trailing like his tarantula's delicate legs touching in tiny taps of sensation. Greg was panting just a little, an unsteady sound. ~"Come on, Gil, come on, let me. Let me…."~
"You don't have to do it the way I tell you," Gil told him, voice falling soft and ragged. "But I'd appreciate it if you did, Greg. Not.... yet. You can't touch yourself there yet."
~"I do,"~ Greg murmured, and Gil could almost hear Greg's shift in thought processes. ~"I do have to do it the way you tell me. Oh, god, yeah…. Unnn."~
"Good. Very good, Greg...." Gil shifted, kicking his pants and underwear off at the same time. "Now run your fingers down to the base of your cock." Beautiful thought, Greg's hand wrapping there against bare skin, and that was another kink that Gil had found deeply enjoyable. Being able to see all of Greg, to run his fingers over the freshly hairless space, was delectable. It tasted delicious.
~"I.... I… Yeah,"~ Greg panted, and Gil felt a fierce wave flash through him at the sound. ~"Oh fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, I want...."~
"Squeeze yourself. You can't come yet." Gil didn't keep himself that tightly reigned in, concentrating on Greg's voice, the images he painted behind closed eyes, while he loosely stroked himself off. He could see the way that Greg's fingers would shake a little, almost knotting up before he did what Gil told him, knuckles brushing over shaved skin.
~"I wanna come,"~ Greg protested, but his voice was shaky, and Gil knew he was going it just like Gil wanted him to do it. ~"This is so hot. I love your voice. I love you telling me what to do…"~
"And you miss that I'm not there to watch it. But you have such an expressive voice.... Slide your fingers down, Greg. To your balls. Roll them slowly."
Slowly was the hard part, and Gil knew it. He could hear Greg whining, whimpering, on the verge of pleading. It made giving the orders that much more enjoyable, particularly since he knew that Greg would do what he told him. ~"I want… I want…"~
"You want me there, don't you? You.... want to see me lubing up, getting ready to push your legs back and fuck you. That's what you want, don't you?" He squeezed the base of his own cock, holding himself back.
~"Jesus. Jesus. Yeah. I want your cock, I want you fucking me, I want you so deep I can't walk at work without my legs bowed. Oh, fuck, fuck, I need, to, I've got to, I'm gonna…."~
Gil closed his eyes tightly, and went back to stroking himself. He could see Greg on their bed, legs splayed wide, over-highlighted hair crushed down against the mattress while he arched into his own touch. "Slow down, Greg. Squeeze the base of your cock again, and don't touch your balls."
The sob of Greg's breath in his ear was sweet, and the whimper when he obeyed was even sweeter. ~"Oh-oh-oh-kay. Okay. Okay. Oh god. I'm…."~ Hot, gorgeous in Gil's mind's-eye view, splayed open and wanton, ready to be fucked into the mattress. ~"Please…."~
He wished he was there. He wished he could lean in and lick the sweat that had to be gathering on Greg's chest, grab Greg's balls himself, and fondle him to orgasm. It was such a hot thought, and Gil started to stroke himself harder, faster, balls tense as his fingers on the phone. "Now stroke yourself. Make yourself come."
~"Huh… Huhhhh…"~ Permission was the ultimate aphrodisiac for Greg, and the sound filtered over the phone, fast motions of hand that sounded in a steady slap-slap-slap sort of noise that was unmistakable. Coherent sounds, sentences, were long-since faded, and Gil knew that Greg wouldn't be making any others anytime soon. He was sobbing, and just that sound made Gil grunt, made his own palm stroke just a little quicker.
Hearing was usually the most important sense for Gil, and hearing Greg, hearing Greg speed desperately towards orgasm was almost as good as seeing, as feeling and helping, as tasting and smelling.
It was enough that when Greg made a strangled moan that could've been a curse, Gil didn't take long to follow after him, spurting all over his hand and his belly, shaking fingers stroking until he became too sensitive to bear it any longer. The phone was still in his fingers when he could think, and he could hear Greg on the other end, murmuring softly, epithets and love-yous, and he almost wanted to laugh.
~"I expect one serious fucking when you get home."~
"I expect you to be ready for one. And no 'bugs make you hot' jokes," Gil murmured. He was going to have to get up and clean himself off, but he could fall into bed and doze easily after that.
Maybe he could just grab a tissue and then kick the sheets down and give up for the night.
~"You make me hot,"~ Greg assured him with a yawn. ~"I have to go to work. I'd rather stay here in bed and wait for you to get home."~
"That won't be for two more days." Gil shifted, reaching for the green, unopened box of facial tissue that he remembered was on the stand that the lamp was on. "Have a good shift and be safe."
~"I'll be good,"~ Greg promised him, giving a little laugh. ~"Or maybe I won't, but if I can't be good, I won't get caught. Not until you get home, anyway."~
"Okay." Gil snagged the box, and popped it open while he cradled the phone between his shoulder and his ear, trying not to touch anything with his sticky hand. "Greg? Did we just have phone sex?"
Greg's laughter sounded in his ear.