MONDAY MORNING
Noah stood in front of his closet. Pulled out a shirt. Put it back. Another one. No. Third time. Navy blue. Simple. Professional.
He showered. Longer than usual. The water burned hot against his shoulders. He braced both hands on the tile wall and let it run down his spine. Last night replayed behind his closed eyes. Atlas's hand in his. The way he'd smiled. That almost-kiss.
Noah twisted the faucet off.
Water dripped from his hair onto his shoulders as he stood there. Staring at nothing.
He grabbed a towel. Dried off. Got dressed.
His usual cologne sat on the bathroom counter. He reached for it. Stopped.
His hand moved to the drawer instead. Bottom drawer. Back corner. A bottle he'd never opened. Gift from last Christmas. Creed Aventus something.
He uncapped it. The scent hit—citrus, something woody underneath. Different.
He sprayed it once on his wrist. Brought it to his nose. Then his neck. Twice.
Looked at himself in the mirror. Same face. Same hair falling across his forehead. But something felt different.
Noon.
Noah sat at his desk. The spreadsheet on his screen blurred into meaningless numbers. He blinked. Refocused. Lost it again.
His office door was open. Footsteps passed in the hallway. Someone laughed at the coffee station.
His phone buzzed. He glanced at it. Work emails. Nothing important.
He went back to the spreadsheet. Column D still didn't make sense.
A shadow fell across his desk.
Noah looked up.
Atlas stood in the doorway. Dark suit. White shirt. Tie still perfect at noon. Just—there.
Noah's stomach dropped.
"Atlas." He stood too fast. His chair rolled back and hit the credenza. "What are you—"
"Had a meeting nearby." Atlas stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him. "Wanted to see you."
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Atlas walked toward the desk. Each step deliberate. Unhurried. He stopped right in front of Noah. Close enough Noah could see the fine weave of his suit fabric.
"Hi," Noah said.
Stupid. But his brain wasn't working right.
"Hi."
Atlas's mouth curved slightly. His eyes tracked down Noah's face. To his neck. Back up. Something shifted in his expression.
"You smell different."
Heat crept up Noah's neck. "New cologne."
"I like it."
Atlas stepped closer.
Noah's hip hit the desk edge. Nowhere to go.
Atlas's hand came up. Cupped Noah's jaw. Warm. Steady. His palm rough against Noah's skin. His thumb traced Noah's cheekbone—light, deliberate.
Then his other hand slid around Noah's waist. Lower. Rested on his hip. Warm through the fabric.
Noah's next breath came shallow.
Atlas leaned in. His forehead almost touched Noah's.
"I wanted to see you," he said again. Quieter this time.
Noah's hands found Atlas's sides. Held on. Expensive fabric under his fingers. Solid warmth underneath.
They stood like that. Office sounds muted outside the door. Just them.
Atlas's thumb moved against Noah's jaw. Back and forth. His other hand pressed slightly against Noah's hip. Not pulling. Just—there. Like he was memorizing the shape.
"I'm picking you up at six," Atlas said.
Not a question.
Noah nodded. His throat too tight for words.
"Dinner."
Another nod.
Atlas smiled. Pulled back just enough to look at Noah's face. His thumb traced Noah's lower lip once. Quick. Deliberate.
Then he stepped back.
Noah's pulse hammered in his ears, but something in him sparked—that streak he couldn't quite tame.
He tilted his head slightly. Let his mouth curve.
Then, just as Atlas reached the door, Noah winked—quick, right eye—tongue peeking out for half a second before he caught his lip between his teeth. Dimples showed.
Atlas froze mid-step.
His hand still on the door handle. His knuckles went white.
His jaw flexed once—a muscle jumping in his cheek—before he turned his head back.
That easy smile was gone.
What replaced it was quiet heat.
His gaze dragged down Noah's face. Stopped on his mouth. Stayed there.
He wet his bottom lip once.
"Six," he repeated. Lower. Rougher.
He didn't smile this time. Just held Noah's eyes for a beat too long before walking out.
The door clicked shut.
Noah stood there for a full minute. Staring at the empty doorway. His hip still warm where Atlas's hand had been.
EVENING
Five-fifty-five.
Noah stood outside his building. Checked his phone. Again. Smoothed his shirt down. Again.
A car turned the corner. Aston Martin. Dark gray. Silent.
It pulled up to the curb.
Atlas got out. Same suit from earlier. No tie now. Top button undone.
He walked around. Opened the passenger door.
"Hey," Noah said.
"Hey."
They looked at each other.
Atlas's eyes dropped to Noah's mouth. Quick. Then back up.
"Get in."
Noah slid into the passenger seat. Leather. Expensive. The kind of car that smelled like money.
Atlas got in. Started the engine—low purr.
His hand went immediately to the gear shift. Then moved. Landed on Noah's thigh.
Noah glanced down at the hand on his thigh, then up at Atlas.
"You always drive like that?" His mouth curved.
Atlas's eyes stayed on the road. "You complaining?"
"Not yet."
Atlas's thumb moved—slow circle. "Then don't start."
Noah bit back a grin. "Bossy."
"You like it."
"Maybe."
Atlas finally looked over. One eyebrow arched. "Maybe?"
Noah turned to the window. Hid the smile tugging at his mouth. "Guess you'll have to earn it."
Atlas's laugh filled the car—low, quiet, satisfied.
Noah's breath caught.
Atlas pulled into traffic. His hand stayed on Noah's thigh. Warm. Steady.
"Where are we going?" Noah asked.
"You'll see."
They drove. Manhattan streets blurred past.
Atlas's thumb moved. Small circles against Noah's leg. Probably didn't even realize he was doing it.
Noah couldn't focus on anything else.
The restaurant was Le Bernardin. Midtown. Three Michelin stars.
They got a corner table. Private. Away from the main dining room.
Atlas sat across from him.
A sommelier appeared. Atlas ordered wine without looking at the list. French name Noah didn't catch.
Menus came. No prices.
Wine arrived first. The sommelier poured, left.
"How was your day?" Atlas asked.
"Good. Busy."
"The Henderson report?"
"Almost done. Needs final review."
"Send it to me tomorrow."
"Will do."
Normal work talk. Professional.
Except—
Atlas's foot found Noah's under the table. Pressed against it.
Light. Casual. Like he wasn't currently making Noah's brain short-circuit.
Food arrived. They ate. Talked about the project. Market trends. Some acquisition Atlas's father was planning.
All very professional.
Atlas's foot stayed against Noah's the entire time.
Their eyes met. Held.
Atlas smiled. Slow. Knowing.
Heat crept up Noah's neck.
He looked down at his plate.
Heard Atlas's quiet laugh.
The waiter disappeared. For a moment it was just them—soft light, quiet music, wine glasses catching gold reflections.
"You look different tonight," Atlas said.
Noah raised a brow. "Different good or bad?"
"Good. Distracting."
Noah laughed under his breath. "You're not exactly helping me focus either."
Atlas's mouth curved. "That's intentional."
"You really don't do subtle, do you?"
"Not when I want something."
Noah looked at him over the rim of his glass. "And what do you want?"
Atlas didn't blink. "You. To stop pretending you don't know that."
Noah's lips parted—just slightly—then he smiled, soft and dangerous all at once.
"Maybe I just like watching you try."
Dinner ended.
They walked back to the car. Close. Not touching. Almost.
Atlas opened Noah's door again.
Noah got in.
Atlas walked around. Got in his side.
Started the engine.
Didn't pull out.
Just sat there.
His hand found Noah's thigh. Rested there.
"Want to come over?" Atlas asked.
"For what?"
"FIFA. I got the new one."
Noah blinked. "FIFA?"
"Yeah. Unless you're scared you'll lose."
Noah's mouth curved. "I'm not scared."
"Prove it."
"You're on."
Atlas's grip on his thigh tightened slightly. Squeezed once.
"Nothing you don't want happens," he said. Looking right at Noah. "Ever."
Noah's throat went tight.
"Okay."
Atlas pulled into traffic.
The penthouse looked different at night. Warmer. Lived in.
Atlas led him to a room Noah hadn't seen before.
Gaming room.
Floor-to-ceiling windows showing the city. Massive TV on one wall. Sectional couch that looked custom-made.
Controllers on the coffee table. Snacks already laid out.
"Get comfy," Atlas said. "I won't be long."
He disappeared down a hallway.
Noah sat on the couch. Leather. Soft enough to sink into.
He picked up a controller. Put it down. Picked it up again.
A door opened. Closed. Water running. Brief. Then stopped.
Atlas came back.
Different clothes.
Soft black t-shirt that hugged his shoulders. Black joggers. Hair slightly damp. Barefoot.
Noah's brain stuttered.
"What?" Atlas asked. Small smile.
"Nothing."
"Liar."
Atlas sat down. Close. Right side. Their thighs pressed together.
He reached for the controllers. Handed one to Noah.
"Ready to get your ass kicked?"
"Big talk for someone who's about to lose."
Atlas laughed. Actually laughed.
The game loaded.
"Pick your team," Atlas said.
"Real Madrid."
"Of course you would."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." Atlas was grinning. "I'll take Man City."
"Typical."
They started playing.
Twenty minutes in, Noah was winning. Not by much. But winning.
Atlas's jaw set—that quiet, competitive edge showing.
Noah's character landed a combo. Final hit. Victory.
The screen flashed WINNER in bold white letters.
Noah turned to Atlas. Leaned back against the couch. Completely relaxed. One arm draped along the back, the other holding the controller loose between his fingers.
He tilted his head slightly and let the corner of his mouth curl up slow. Just the left side. His right eye crinkled. Dimple barely showing.
"You okay there?" His voice came out low, teasing. "You look a little... frustrated."
Atlas's controller creaked in his grip.
Noah's smile widened—both sides now. Then he caught his lower lip lightly between his teeth—just once—like he couldn't quite hide the grin. He released it. Tongue barely visible as he wet his lips.
"Guess Real Madrid knows a thing or two after all."
Atlas went completely still.
The controller slipped from his hand. Hit the couch.
His eyes locked on Noah's mouth. Dropped to that tongue. That smile.
His breathing changed. Deeper. Faster.
"You—" He had to stop. Clear his throat. "That thing you just did."
Noah's smile widened. Innocent. "What thing?"
"Don't." Atlas's hands curled into fists on his thighs. "Don't play innocent."
"I'm not—"
"You have no idea." Atlas leaned closer. "How hard I'm trying. Not to—"
He didn't finish. Just stared at Noah's mouth like he was drowning.
The heat in his eyes made Noah's skin flush.
"Atlas—"
Something in Atlas snapped.
"You think this is funny?"
Noah's dimples deepened. "A little."
That did it.
Atlas's hands went to Noah's waist. Gripped. Lifted.
Noah barely had time to gasp before Atlas pulled him forward—not onto his lap, but closer, between his legs, Noah's knees hitting the couch on either side of Atlas's thighs.
"Don't."
His hand came up to Noah's jaw. Not gentle. His thumb pressed into the soft spot under Noah's ear, fingers spreading across his throat.
Noah's pulse hammered against Atlas's palm.
"You have no idea," Atlas said. The words scraped out. "None. What you do to me."
Noah's breath caught. His hands found Atlas's shoulders for balance.
Atlas's other hand slid up Noah's back. Fisted in his shirt right between his shoulder blades. Pulled.
Noah fell forward. Their chests collided.
Atlas's eyes dropped to his mouth. Stayed there.
"Last chance," he said. Barely a whisper. "Tell me to stop."
Noah's tongue darted out. Wet his bottom lip. Quick. Nervous.
Atlas tracked the movement. His grip tightened.
"Noah."
"Don't stop."
Atlas closed the distance.
Their mouths met hard.
Nothing soft about it.
Atlas kissed like he'd been holding back for weeks and couldn't anymore. His teeth caught Noah's bottom lip—pressure, heat, almost pain. Noah gasped and Atlas was there, tongue sliding past his lips.
Noah grabbed onto his shoulders. Opened his mouth. Let him in.
The room tilted.
Atlas's hand in his hair now, gripping hard enough Noah felt it in his scalp. Good hurt. The kind that made his whole body light up.
His other hand dropped to Noah's hip. Fingers digging in through denim. Pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space left between them.
Noah could taste wine. Something darker underneath. Something that made his head spin.
Atlas's tongue swept through his mouth—learning, claiming, taking everything Noah gave.
Noah's hands scrambled for purchase—Atlas's shoulders, his neck, finally tangling in his hair.
Atlas groaned against his mouth. The sound vibrated through Noah's chest.
They broke apart—not far, just enough to breathe.
Both gasping. Noah's vision blurred at the edges.
Atlas's mouth was red. Swollen.
"Fuck," he breathed. Then pulled Noah back in.
This kiss was different. Slower but not gentler.
Atlas's teeth dragged across Noah's bottom lip. His tongue followed, soothing the sting. Then he sucked Noah's lip into his mouth and Noah's brain short-circuited completely.
His hips jerked forward.
Atlas's hand on his hip tightened. Held him still.
"Don't," Atlas said against his mouth. "Don't move—"
He didn't finish. Just kissed Noah harder.
Noah's whole body felt like it was on fire. Every point where they touched burned—Atlas's hand in his hair, his fingers bruising Noah's hip, their chests pressed together so tight Noah could feel Atlas's heartbeat racing against his own.
Atlas's mouth moved to his jaw. Not kissing. Biting. Tiny sharp pressures that made Noah's breath stutter.
Then his neck.
Noah's head fell back. Atlas's hand in his hair guided it, exposing his throat.
Atlas's mouth found Noah's pulse point. Sucked hard.
Noah gasped. His hands tightened in Atlas's hair.
"Atlas—"
Atlas pulled back just enough to look at him.
Noah had never seen him like this. Hair destroyed. Eyes wild. Mouth kiss-bruised and wet.
He looked undone. Completely wrecked.
Because of Noah.
"You're shaking," Atlas said. His thumb stroked Noah's jaw. Gentle now. At odds with everything else.
Noah was shaking. His whole body trembling.
"So are you."
Atlas looked down at his own hands. They were trembling against Noah's skin.
A laugh escaped him. Short. Disbelieving.
He pulled Noah down into another kiss. Softer this time. But just as deep. Just as consuming.
Noah let Atlas take him apart with his mouth, his hands, the solid warmth of his body.
When they finally broke apart for real, Noah's lips felt swollen. Tender.
He touched them. His fingers shook.
Atlas tracked the movement.
"Don't."
"Why not?"
"Because." The word came out rough. "I'm trying to keep a promise."
Noah's hand dropped. "What promise?"
"That I wouldn't—" Atlas stopped. His gaze fell to Noah's mouth again. Stayed there. "That tonight wouldn't go further than this."
The air between them felt heavy.
Noah's face flushed. He ducked his head, trying to hide it.
Atlas caught his chin. Lifted it.
"No hiding."
Noah met his eyes. Still shaking. Still breathless.
Still wanting more.
Atlas saw it all. His expression softened.
"Come here."
He pulled Noah against his chest. Arms wrapping around him. Holding him while they both came down.
Noah pressed his face into Atlas's neck. Breathed him in. Sweat and cologne and something that made Noah want to bite him.
"That was—" Noah started.
"Yeah."
"I've never—"
"I know."
They stayed like that. Holding each other. Hearts still racing.
Outside the city hummed.
Inside, just them.
Breathing.
Being.
Real.
Minutes passed.
The rush had faded, but something heavier stayed.
Atlas's hand still on Noah's back.
Neither of them spoke. Neither wanted to.
Noah could feel Atlas's heartbeat against his chest. Racing. Matching his own.
He could feel the hard muscle of Atlas's shoulders under his palms.
It was overwhelming.
Perfect.
Noah's lungs burned. He pulled back just enough to breathe.
Atlas's mouth followed. Didn't let him go far.
Kissed the corner of his mouth. His jaw. Right below his ear.
Noah's breath came out shaky. "Atlas—"
"I know." Atlas pressed his face against Noah's neck. Just breathed him in. "Too much?"
"No." Noah's hands slid up. Into Atlas's hair. "Not enough."
Atlas groaned. The sound vibrated through Noah's chest.
Atlas didn't say anything.
He just pressed his face against Noah's neck—one long breath, shaky—like he was trying to memorize the way this felt.
Then his mouth was on Noah's again.
Slower this time. Deeper. Like they had all the time in the world.
Like nothing else existed except this.
Noah melted into it. Into him.
Let Atlas hold him. Kiss him. Take him apart piece by piece.
His hands roamed. Down Noah's back. Up his sides. Into his hair again.
Restless. Like he couldn't touch enough.
Like he'd been starving.
Finally—after minutes or hours, Noah couldn't tell—they broke apart.
Their breaths tangled. Foreheads pressed together.
Noah's face felt hot. His lips tingled. Swollen from kissing.
He smiled. Couldn't help it.
Shy now. Real.
Atlas saw it. His whole expression softened.
His thumb found Noah's dimple. Traced it.
"What?" Noah asked. Voice barely there.
"Nothing." Atlas smiled back. Slow. Real. "Just—you."
He kissed Noah again. Soft. Sweet. Different from before.
This one felt like a promise.
When he pulled back, Noah's eyes were bright. Happy.
The dimples showing again.
Atlas stared at him like he was memorizing every detail.
The light brown hair mussed from his fingers. The green eyes hazy. The fair skin flushed pink. The kiss-swollen lips.
"Breathtaking," he breathed.
Noah ducked his head. Tried to hide his smile against Atlas's shoulder.
Atlas's arms came around him. Held him close.
"Don't hide from me."
Noah lifted his head. Looked at Atlas.
They just stared at each other.
Both smiling like idiots.
Finally Noah shifted. Moved to lie down on the couch.
His back against the armrest. Head on a pillow.
Atlas followed without being asked.
Settled beside him. Between Noah and the couch back.
They fit perfectly.
Atlas's arm came around Noah's waist. Pulled him back against his chest.
His face pressed into Noah's hair.
He breathed deep. Taking in the scent.
That new cologne Noah had worn. Mixed with his shampoo. Something minty. Something sweet that was just Noah.
It made Atlas's chest ache.
His hand found Noah's. Threaded their fingers together.
Brought Noah's hand up to his mouth. Kissed his knuckles.
"You free tomorrow?" he asked. Quiet.
Noah's thumb stroked along Atlas's palm. Small movements. Soothing.
"Work. Have to finish that presentation."
"You're busy."
"Yeah."
Pause.
Atlas's grip on his hand tightened slightly.
"So that's a no for tomorrow?" He tried to keep his voice light. Teasing.
But Noah heard the uncertainty underneath.
Noah twisted in his arms. Looked back at him.
"What? No. I didn't mean—" His face went red. Eyes wide. "I just meant I have work. Not that I don't want—"
Atlas's thumb pressed against Noah's lips. Stopped the rambling.
"Breathe."
Noah took a breath.
Atlas leaned in. Close enough their noses touched.
"Don't look at me like that," he said.
"Like what?"
"Like—" He stopped. His eyes dropped to Noah's mouth. "I can't—"
He kissed Noah again.
Softer this time. But just as thorough.
Took his time. Tasted. Explored.
When he pulled back, Noah was smiling again.
That same smile. Shy. Happy. Real.
His green eyes bright. Hair falling across his forehead. The dimples deep.
Atlas's chest did something strange.
Warm. Full. Aching.
He'd never seen anything more beautiful.
"What's that smile for?" he asked.
Noah just shook his head. Kept smiling.
"Tell me."
"Can't."
"Why not?"
"Because." Noah's eyes crinkled at the corners. "It's a secret."
"Secret?"
"Mhm."
"Tell me the secret."
Noah's smile widened. "Then it wouldn't be a secret, would it?"
Atlas growled playfully. Pulled Noah closer.
His hand slid back into Noah's hair. Gentle. Possessive.
"You're killing me."
"Good."
They settled back. Noah turned around again. Back against Atlas's chest.
Atlas's arm around his waist. Tight. Secure.
His face in Noah's hair again. Breathing him in.
Outside, the city glowed. Inside, just them.
Perfect. Right.
Real.
Atlas's thumb traced circles on Noah's stomach through his shirt.
Slow. Soothing.
But his heart was still racing. Noah could feel it against his back.
His phone rang.
Loud. Jarring.
Noah started to move. "You should—"
Atlas's arm locked around him. Held him in place.
"No."
"But—"
"Stay."
The phone kept ringing.
Atlas didn't move. Didn't reach for it.
Just held Noah tighter.
Eventually it stopped.
Started again.
Atlas sighed. Reached across Noah.
Grabbed the phone with his free hand. The other still locked around Noah's waist.
Glanced at the screen. Hit decline.
Put it face down on the coffee table.
Far away.
His arm came back around Noah. Both arms now.
Wrapped around him completely.
"Not letting go," he said into Noah's hair.
Noah's chest felt too full.
He laced his fingers with Atlas's. Squeezed.
Atlas squeezed back.
They stayed like that.
Lost track of time.
Later. Much later.
Noah glanced at his phone.
"Shit. It's almost eleven."
"So?"
"I should go."
"Stay."
The word came out fast. Unplanned.
Atlas looked almost surprised he'd said it.
"I just—" He stopped. Started again. "I want you to stay. Just sleep. That's all."
Noah's eyes searched his face.
"I can't. Not tonight. Another time."
"When?"
"Soon."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Noah reached for his phone. "I'll get an Uber."
"I'll drive you."
"It's eleven. You don't have to—"
"I want to."
Atlas stood. Held out his hand.
Noah took it.
"Let me change first," Atlas said.
He disappeared again.
Came back two minutes later.
Jeans. Different shirt.
They walked to the garage.
The Aston Martin purred to life.
Atlas's hand found Noah's thigh before they'd even left the building.
The drive to Noah's place was quiet. Comfortable.
Atlas's thumb drawing circles against Noah's leg.
They pulled up outside his building.
Noah reached for the door handle.
Atlas's hand on his wrist stopped him.
"Can I come up?"
Noah turned. "What?"
"Just to sleep. I promise. Nothing else."
Atlas's face looked—
Open. Vulnerable.
A little desperate.
Noah couldn't say no to that face.
"Okay."
NOAH'S APARTMENT
They took the elevator to the seventeenth floor.
Noah unlocked his door.
"It's not much," he said.
"It's you."
Atlas walked inside. Looked around.
Modern. Clean. Small but nice.
Open concept living area. Kitchen on one side. Couch facing windows.
Atlas walked to the bookshelf.
Ran his fingers along the spines.
Stopped at the photos on the wall.
Noah with his family. With Marcus and Jared. College graduation.
All smiling. All real.
"You're really here," Atlas said.
Quiet.
Noah didn't know what to say to that.
"I'm going to shower," he said instead. "Make yourself—whatever."
He disappeared into the bathroom.
Water started running.
Atlas kept looking.
More photos. Noah younger. Laughing. That same smile.
He moved to the bedroom doorway.
Paused.
Smaller room. Queen bed. More windows. View of the city.
Simple. Clean.
Noah.
Atlas walked in. Sat on the edge of the bed.
Waited.
The shower turned off.
Door opened.
Noah came out in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Hair damp. Smelling like soap and something minty.
He stopped when he saw Atlas.
They looked at each other.
"I don't have anything that'll fit you," Noah said.
"I won't need much."
Atlas stood. Pulled off his shirt.
Noah's eyes went wide. Then away fast.
His face went red.
Atlas smiled. Left his jeans on.
"Bed?"
Noah nodded. Couldn't speak.
They lay down. On top of the covers.
Awkward at first.
Then Atlas's arm came around Noah's waist.
Pulled him close.
Noah's back against Atlas's chest.
His head under Atlas's chin.
They fit.
The windows showed the city. Lights everywhere.
"Look at the sky," Noah said. Quiet.
They did.
Clear night. Stars visible despite the city glow.
Atlas's hand moved. Found Noah's. Threaded their fingers together.
"I have rowing at six," Atlas said. "I'll be gone when you wake up."
"You row?"
"Every morning I can."
"Isn't it cold?"
"That's the point."
Silence.
Atlas pulled Noah closer.
His face pressed against Noah's hair.
Breathed him in.
Noah's eyes were already closing.
He felt safe. Warm. Right.
Atlas's heartbeat steady against his back.
Sleep came easy.
For both of them.
Outside, the city never stopped.
Inside, everything was still.
Perfect.
Real.
Whatever this was—whatever they were becoming—
It was worth it.
All of it.