Chapter Text
Khun Aguero Agnis, son of Khun Eduan, was a well-educated man (if by unconventional means). He had learned hundreds of words over the course of his education, each differing in implications and nuance. Aguero had learned how to weild them like weapons – to cut through the air like a knife and pierce the armor of his opponents. Aguero had learned how to reshape them and clothe himself in them like the finest chain mail. Aguero had learned how to twist his many words into falsities and illusions, binding them over the eyes of his enemies. Khun Aguero Agnis knew how to use words.
Yet, as he gazed into those shimmering pools of gold he knew so well, he found himself speechless. Bam's eyes were so close to his, luring him in and electrifying the air between them. Khun's cheeks flushed from the proximity despite what they had already done, never quite prepared for the intensity of everything that was Bam. Khun's breath had already been taken away and here he was, trying to grasp onto his words as he stared into the hypnotic warmth of Bam's eyes.
All Khun could think of was Bam. That one name repeated endlessly in the blankness of Khun's mind. Like falling rainwater on a sunlit morning.
"So," Bam started, drawing Khun's attention to those soft lips of his and, oh, how Khun knew they were soft, "Did you like it?"
That brought Aguero's attention back to Bam's eyes, bright and shining with uncertain hope. It was unfairly difficult to answer, especially for a man who always had the right words to say. Khun swallowed, cheeks darkening as Bam's eyes dipped down to follow the movement.
"Yes," Aguero admitted, long lashes brushing his cheeks as he averted his gaze.
"Good," Bam replied, all uncertainty gone from his voice. Khun even thought he sounded a bit smug (yet another thing that was unfair). "Can I do it again?"
Aguero's gaze swept back up to meet Bam's eyes. At a loss for any other words to say, he simply repeated, "Yes."
Bam's eyes brightened, filling Khun with honeyed warmth as he leaned in. Gentle fingers touched Aguero's face, curling around his jaw as if he could press his affection into Aguero through his fingertips. And then they were kissing again, all red lips and stuttered breaths and bruising presses. They clung to each other like it could be the last time. Perhaps it would be.
Pressing his forehead to Bam's with closed eyes, Khun uttered the only words he could think to: "Again. Please, just once more," Khun rasped, grasping at the thing they had found with the desperation of someone who knew loss too well.
Khun had not learned a single word that could capture this moment. Perhaps there was nothing to describe it. There was only this precious thing that they had found. This tender, indescribable thing that was silent in its torment — fragile and beautiful enough to shatter them both. It was a glass vase of words they had never learned to say.