Hey guys. Just posting something I wrote awhile back, that's meant to be a spin-off of DD for two characters I love most. It's not worksafe and not really intended for younger audiences - if you can't handle adult sexual themes do NOT read this first installment.

As for After losing the real-life Leila to a horrible boyfriend, you know that my emotional health started to suffer. Well, the past few months has been nothing but misery and pain. My emotional and mental health are both very poor. My physical health is suffering too. I don't care about anything anymore and nothing can hold my interest for more than a few seconds. Having ADHD on top of the depression is NOT helping. I go through most days with just...apathy. I don't have any friends anymore and it took my drive to write. I'm sorry I let you all down again...

Anyway, here's the first part of this mini-series. Hope you enjoy.

Of Soldiers and Scholars: A Demon's Daughter Series

1 - Vernacular

He supposed he ought to feel at least a little guilty for using the thoughts this way. Or at least a little ashamed at how easy he was to please.

But all that Youran could really think about right now was the hardness in his hand, and one little four-letter word.

He had never been one for excessive masturbation, although he did indulge in self-pleasure fairly often. Right now, though, he felt like he could do it about five times in a row, and still be down for hitting the bed sheets.

But the source of his arousal – and his current boyfriend – was on his own home territory right now, making sure his beloved library was in good order.

It still seemed a little odd to Youran, how he and Patrick had ended up together. They were of two very, very different lands, and had very little in common, but somehow, an attraction formed. Youran's flirting had been simple jesting in the beginning. But Patrick had been receptive. Everything else had just fallen into place as time went on.

And now, they had a comfortable relationship, and balanced it between their respective duties. Youran was the dominant of the relationship, despite being four years younger. And it worked that way; the soldier courted the scholar, and they were happy together.

Making it even harder – clever pun, Youran noted as he mulled the thought – when Patrick was gone.

So as he lay in the bed they shared on Aravil, and his mind drifted to his lover, he allowed his hand to wander below his waistline.

He was no stranger to jerking off to thoughts of his boyfriend. What healthy male didn't touch himself to the thought of his partner? But the specific thought he was using right now…it was a little wrong.

But that little four-letter word…

Prim and proper Patrick, who almost never used such crude language, had cussed. And not just any word had flown from his lips – no, he had used the crudest of them.

Youran hissed in pleasure as he re-lubricated his hand with body cream and began stroking anew. It always felt amazing when he had new lube, no matter how long he had been at it. And coupled with the word replaying in his head like a dirty breathless mantra, it was a wonder he'd lasted this long.

It had slipped out on accident. Patrick hadn't meant to say it, but he had. And it spilled out because the librarian had made a simple mistake in his research. Youran couldn't remember exactly what Patrick had messed up – but it hardly mattered, because at the sound of that word he had burned just that moment into his mind and ignored the rest.

And he had gone back to the memory more than he should have, especially since he knew Patrick was embarrassed about cursing. But it was just so damned erotic and so foreign from that clean mouth.

And that was the root of it right there – dirty words from a clean mouth.

A clean, kissable, perfect mouth. A mouth Youran could remember feeling on him, taking him down deeply, sucking wetly, but always so clean.

So Youran slid into a steady rhythm, hand gliding up and down his own stiff length as he repeated that word in his head, over and over, not faltering.

And along with that harsh word, he now had the core idea of why he was so damned aroused by it, stripped down to its base: dirty words, clean mouth.

It was simple. Dirty words, clean mouth.

Simple, but erotic. It repeated itself over that word, riding together, pushing Youran towards release.

He could feel the heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. God he was so close. Just a bit more…

Youran closed his eyes, and thought of Patrick, naked and warm beside him, hair down and around his graceful, lightly-toned shoulders. In his mind, he could feel his lover slide closer, trailing his hand down the Red Dragon Guard's chest. His lips neared Youran's ear, close enough to feel him form a word.

Dirty words, clean mouth; dirty words, clean mouth; dirty words – God…

Dream-Patrick flickered his tongue over the shell of Youran's ear, and finally whispered that coarse, harsh, sexy word.


Youran jerked slightly as that low, breathy whisper tore through his mind, dragging a loud, throaty moan from deep in his chest to the open.

The pleasure came crashing through his entire body, making him shiver as he flooded into his hand in four short spurts. The ride was over quickly, but it was intense.

Exhausted, sweaty, and spent, he limply turned on his side, wiping his sticky, wet hand on the sheets while he finally caught his breath.

Youran always missed Patrick when he was gone. But – he had decided as he lay contentedly on his boyfriend's side of the bed – it wasn't always so bad.

At least not when he had the comfort of his new favorite word.