Once Spoken
Slow in the Head, Dog-Raised Son of a Whore, and Other Colorful Colloquialisms

Moonlight spills like silver water over his mattress.

Quan lies still on his back, barefoot and bare-chested with his back to the sheets. Loose jeans still cover his legs because he hasn't bothered to take them off yet, and his open eyes trace the spidery patterns that ripple and twitch over his ceiling, writhing like night demons, cast by the gangly trees outside his window; nearly leafless now, in deference to the autumn weather. Shutting his eyes, he unfurls his fingers from behind his head and lowers them to his waist, guiding his thoughts in a different, less listless direction.

Chloe Weaver.

Strawberry blonde hair that catches the gold in the sunlight like a sieve; creamy vanilla skin that warms and pinks at the slightest sexual innuendo, and a face full of pastel orange freckles that darken in the summertime when she tans. She moves shyly, in minute, subtle gestures, like a little girl not quite accustomed to her body yet, still learning the workings of her own figure, though outwardly she's obviously a blossoming young woman. Not a little girl at all, anymore.

He thinks of her the first time she showed up to one of Derik's pool parties in a two-piece and slides his palm down to rest over the front of his jeans. He draws up the memory of her fingers, of watching them slide over her bare shoulders, tracing quietly anxious patterns into her smooth skin, not used to showing so much; of her soft hair dancing back and forth over her mostly-naked back, like a golden pink veil pushed about by the wind.

He might have been bolder that day, and he approaches her in his mind instead of just watching, coming up behind her and resting his hands on the soft swell of her hips, guiding her back to fit her against his body and savoring the contrast.

Her thin swimsuit bottom wouldn't hide much, and at the thought of her cute, shapely ass tucked snuggly against his groin, Quan shivers and unfastens his pants. He pops the button, undoes the zip and slips his hand inside, cupping himself through the fabric of his boxers as he imagines the feel of a tight little bottom squirming nervously against his still-clothed cock, up and down. Rubbing. He swallows, face warming slowly and palms heating as he strokes.

What would an ass feel like? Bent over in front of him, slickened and glossy with lubricant. Hot, tight – fuck – so much tighter than a pussy and smooth.

Softly, Quan groans, his lashes fluttering distractedly against his cheeks as he pushes his pants and boxers further out of the way, shimmies them down to his knees impatiently, past his knees, to his ankles. Rocking his hips up, he sheaths one hand tighter around himself and brings his other hand down, cradling his sack and rolling it gently in his palm, tugging lightly.

He's never actually seen a girl's ass naked at that angle before, but he's seen Derik's ass bare as his first day of life, dripping with warm water in the gym showers after a game or practice before he covers it up with a towel. He's seen it clothed and unclothed, seen the way Lorene occasionally grips at it when he kisses her after a victory and, fuck, Quan's hand stutters in its pace but doesn't stop, he hates watching her kiss him but he loves watching Derik kiss.

It's his guiltiest fascination to date.

He loves the intent look Derik gets, right before he closes his mouth down over someone else's, and it's not like Quan watches for sport, but it's hard not to see when Derik cycles through girlfriends like disposable cups (though he always comes back to Lorene). He loves the way Derik's body language works, the way his hands slide up into the hair at the back of the other person's neck and the way he kisses like he owns the place and like he's looking for something at the same time (though he never seems to find it).

Distractedly, Quan wonders what it's like to be on the receiving end of that kiss, to have Derik's tongue painting a slick stripe across one's lips, delving into an open mouth, dominating it. He wonders what Derik tastes like, what it would be like to be able to respond to that kiss, to nip at Derik's mouth with his teeth, draw his tongue in and hold onto his hips as he ground forward.

A short, breathless sound escapes him, and Quan's mind darts back to the image of Derik in the locker-room showers: dripping wet, skin pink with heat and blonde hair soaked and plastered about his face, water skittering in tiny beaded ripples down the dips and grooves of his upper body. Nothing on him but the water.

Abruptly, he pictures them in the same stall, Derik looming in front of him, water cascading about them and making a steamy, drizzly fog to blanket them as Derik leans in. His beautiful blue eyes are intent and focused, and his hand slips up and back and catches behind the nape of Quan's neck, broad, lightly calloused fingers lacing into his hair, teasing his skin, mouth dipping down as their naked bodies brush and grind and-


Quan comes with a surprised grunt, hips jerking up as he spills, hot and wet over his exposed stomach, and he spends the next thirty or so seconds shaking, breathless and dizzy, feet knotted up in the sheets at the foot of his bed and heart a wild dragon in his chest, beating the blood fast through his veins with each pulse of its giant wings. When he comes down from his high, slowly settling back into the cool, real world of his bed, the moonlight, shadows, and rapidly chilling and drying semen on his chest, he frowns. His brow knits together, and as it dawns on him what exactly he just spent himself thinking about, a guilty, confused knot starts to build, winding up tight in his chest.

Scrunching his eyes shut, he drops his head back flat to the pillow beneath him. "Gai si." (Shit.)

After a mechanical and distracted cleanup process, and much uncertainty and mental anxiety, he convinces himself it was a mistake. That's all, an accident. He started off thinking of Chloe, after all, and he's always thought of girls in the past. Why should this mean anything? He simply shouldn't have let his mind wander, that's all.

He just happened to accidentally think of Derik in the middle, and because he was still…touching himself, naturally it felt good and, well, it lead to the inevitable result. But that didn't have to mean he was actually attracted to Derik in any sort of perverse, unnatural way. He'd just thought of him at the wrong time, and so, as long as he doesn't ever think of Derik again at such a time, he should be fine.


Nothing to worry about.

Two weeks later (not for the first time since the original 'incident'), Quan comes, groaning and cursing Derik's name into his spare palm as his body shakes, spilling his release onto his shower wall. Long after the beating water has swept away the soiling evidence of his sins, he opens his eyes and glowers accusingly at the spot on the wall.

"Ni yu'chun de, gou niang yang de…wangba dan." (You stupid, mother fucking…son of a bitch.) He spits at the tiles. "Qu si." (Go to hell.)

When he gets out, shutting off the stream of water and frustratedly wrapping a towel around his waist, he resolves to ask Chloe out. Perhaps having a girlfriend will distract him.

Gai si – Literally translates to "ought die" or "should die" (has nothing to do with feces), but it's used like "Damn/shit!" etc..

Gou niang yang de – This phrase actually means "raised by a dog mother," but since we don't really have the equivalent in English, I again translated it to something that makes "more sense" in an English context. It is, however, the inspiration for the, ah...subtitle. :P

Qu si – This phrase literally means "go die" (since the Chinese don't really have a concept of "hell"), but it's generally said with similar intent.

A/N: If there's any confusion, this is set before all the other one-shots for these characters I've published so far.

Originally I had tones on his speech in-story and Chinese characters to accompany the definitions lower down, but apparently AFF doesn't accept either of those things (translated them into a bunch of nonsensical symbols), so I got rid of them, and now that I'm posting it here I can't be bothered to go back through and redo it all. Sorry for being a lazy ass.

I have him speaking Chinese in this because he's alone and it's his native language; when I'm living in China but alone, I still revert back to English, so...yeah. His aunt and uncle are fluent in both, but his grandmother hates speaking English, so they speak Mandarin (Chinese) at home.

Also, I apologize for this being short as fuck. My bad. I almost didn't post this here (or, well, I DIDN'T post this here for a long time) because I don't like it as much as the others BUT...whichever. Maybe some people will find it amusing/worth reading.