ATLAS'S PENTHOUSE
They rode the elevator in silence. Ninety-two floors. Noah watched the numbers climb. Atlas watched Noah.
The doors opened directly into the penthouse.
Noah stepped out first. Got three steps in before Atlas grabbed his wrist, spun him around, and backed him against the wall.
"Been thinking about this all day." His voice came out rough. He crowded closer, one hand braced on the wall next to Noah's head, the other gripping his hip. "Couldn't focus in meetings."
"Atlas—"
Atlas kissed him.
Deep. Demanding. His tongue swept past Noah's lips, and Noah made a sound he'd be embarrassed about later—something between a gasp and a moan. Atlas swallowed it. Kissed him harder. His hand slid from Noah's hip to his ass, pulled him closer until they were pressed together completely, and Noah could feel—
Oh God. He could feel—
Atlas pulled back. Just far enough to breathe. His forehead rested against Noah's. Both of them panting.
"Shower," Atlas said.
"What?"
"Take a shower with me."
Noah's brain short-circuited. "We're not—no. We can't—I'm not ready for—"
"Just a shower." Atlas pulled back enough to meet his eyes. Something in his face shifted. Softer. "Please."
The word didn't fit his mouth. Came out wrong. Too quiet. Too genuine.
Noah blinked. "Did you just say please?"
"Don't make it a thing." Atlas's jaw tightened. But his hand on Noah's hip gentled. His thumb traced circles through Noah's shirt. "I just want to hold you without clothes between us. That's all. I promise we won't do anything else."
"I've never..." Noah stopped. Started again. His face burned. He bit his bottom lip. "I've never been naked with someone. Like that. Just—naked. I don't know if I can—"
Atlas's eyes tracked the movement. His pupils dilated.
"Then we won't." He kissed Noah's forehead. His temple. His cheek. "We'll just sit on the couch and watch something mindless and I'll keep my hands to myself like a good boy."
The offer was genuine. Noah could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes.
But the thought of being that close to Atlas, that vulnerable—skin to skin, nothing hidden—
"Okay," Noah whispered.
Atlas's smile spread slow. He kissed Noah once more—deep, thorough, a promise—then grabbed his hand and pulled him through the apartment.
THE BATHROOM
Steam filled the space before Atlas even turned on the water. The bathroom was massive—all white marble and frameless glass and lighting that made everything look softer than it was.
The tub sat built into the floor. Huge. Big enough for four people easily. Jacuzzi jets lined the sides.
Atlas stripped off his jacket. Hung it on a hook. His watch came next—set it on the counter carefully. Then his shirt. Each button slow. Deliberate.
The shirt came off. Atlas's chest was lean, defined. Muscles from rowing. A dusting of dark hair.
Belt. Button. Zipper. Pants pooled at his feet. He stepped out of them. Folded them. Set them aside.
Boxers next.
Noah looked away fast. He rubbed the back of his neck, awkward. The movement made his shirt ride up slightly.
"You don't have to do this," Atlas said softly. "We can just—"
"No. I want to." Noah's hands went to his shirt. Stopped. Started again. His fingers shook on the buttons. "I just—give me a second."
Atlas walked over. Completely bare. Stopped in front of Noah.
"Let me."
He unbuttoned Noah's shirt slowly. Each button careful. Like it mattered. Pushed it off Noah's shoulders and let it fall.
Noah's breathing went shallow. Fast.
Atlas's hands went to Noah's belt. Paused. "Okay?"
Noah nodded. Couldn't speak. His teeth caught his bottom lip again.
Belt. Button. Zipper. Atlas knelt—actually knelt—and helped Noah step out of his pants. Folded them. Set them with his own.
Then looked up at him. "Last thing. You ready?"
Noah nodded again.
Atlas hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Noah's boxers. Pulled them down slowly. Let Noah step out.
Then he just—stopped.
Stared.
Noah stood there completely naked, and Atlas was still on his knees, frozen, staring up at him.
"What?" Noah's face burned. His hands twitched, wanted to cover himself. "Is something—"
"No." Atlas's voice came out rough. He stood slowly, eyes tracking up Noah's body. "Fuck, Noah. You're—"
He stopped. Swallowed hard. His hands clenched at his sides like he was physically stopping himself from reaching out.
Noah's face went hotter. He pushed his hair back again, nervous. The movement made his stomach muscles shift. Made his body lean and graceful in the bathroom light.
Atlas's jaw tightened. "You have no idea, do you?"
"Idea about what?"
"How you look." Atlas stepped closer. His hand came up, hovered near Noah's ribs but didn't touch. "You're fucking stunning."
"I'm not—"
"You are." Atlas's thumb brushed against Noah's hip bone. Barely a touch. "I knew you would be. But this—" He exhaled shakily. "I need a second."
Noah laughed nervously. "You're the one who wanted to do this."
"I know." Atlas's eyes tracked to Noah's mouth. Stayed there. "I'm regretting it already."
"Why?"
"Because I promised we wouldn't do anything else." His hand slid around to Noah's lower back. Pulled him closer. "And right now that's the hardest promise I've ever made."
Noah's breath caught. They were pressed together now—skin to skin, nothing between them—and he could feel everything. Atlas's heart pounding. His chest rising and falling. His—
"Water's going to get cold," Noah said. His voice came out too high.
"Right." Atlas didn't move. Just kept staring at Noah's face. "Yeah. Water."
He finally stepped back. Turned toward the tub. Added something from a glass bottle. Bubbles rose, smelling like eucalyptus and mint and something else. Cedar, maybe.
He stepped in. Sank down. The water came up to his chest.
Turned to look at Noah. Waiting.
The water was almost too hot. Noah stepped in anyway. Stayed on the opposite side of the tub. As far away as he could get.
His whole body shook. He wrapped his arms around himself.
Atlas didn't move. Just watched. His eyes were soft now. Understanding.
"Come here," he said finally. Quiet.
Noah moved closer. Slowly. Until he was right in front of him.
Atlas's hands found Noah's hips. Guided him around. Pulled him back against his chest.
Noah went completely rigid.
"I've got you." Atlas's voice rumbled against his back. His arms wrapped around Noah's waist. "Relax."
Noah couldn't. Every muscle locked up tight. He could feel everything—Atlas's chest against his back, his arms around his waist, his legs on either side of Noah's hips, his—
Oh God.
"Breathe." One of Atlas's hands slid up. Pressed against Noah's chest. Over his racing heart. "Breathe with me. In—" He inhaled slowly. Noah felt his chest expand. "Out—"
Noah tried to match it. Failed. Tried again. His hand went to his hair, pushed it back nervous and wet. Water dripped down his arm.
"That's it," Atlas murmured. His other hand traced patterns on Noah's stomach. Back and forth. Slow. "Just breathe. I'm not going to do anything. Just breathe."
Gradually—so gradually—Noah started to relax. His body melted back against Atlas's chest. His head fell back onto Atlas's shoulder.
"There you go," Atlas said softly. His lips pressed to Noah's temple. "See? Not so scary."
"You're naked."
"Very observant."
"I'm naked."
"Also true."
"We're both naked. Together. In a bathtub."
"That's generally how this works." His arms tightened around Noah. "You doing okay?"
"I don't know." Noah laughed. It came out shaky. "This is insane."
"What is?"
"All of it. You. This." His teeth caught his bottom lip. "Yesterday I was still lying to myself. Still pretending I was straight. And now I'm—" He stopped. "Now I'm in your bathtub. Naked. With you. Another man. And I can't—I can't believe this is real."
"You want to leave?"
"No." The answer came out fast, almost tripping over itself. "No, I just— I don't get how you're so calm about this."
"I'm not." Atlas's hand pressed over Noah's chest, right above his heartbeat. "I'm not used to this... trying not to fuck it up."
Noah turned his head, water rippling between them. "You think I'm gonna run?"
Atlas gave a small smile, tilted his head. "People usually do."
Noah snorted. "That's depressing."
"I'm a realist."
"You're a buzzkill."
Atlas laughed, low and quiet, his breath warm against Noah's ear. "You always this mouthy when you're nervous?"
"Maybe." Noah's lips curved, but he didn't look away. "You like it though."
"You think?" Atlas's fingers traced slow circles over his chest, down to his ribs. "You're kinda growing on me."
"Kinda?" Noah turned all the way this time, facing him. Water sloshed. "That's the best you've got?"
Atlas leaned in, their noses almost brushing. "You're dangerously addictive. Happy now?"
Noah grinned. "A little."
Atlas's hand slid to the back of his neck. "You're impossible."
"You love that about me."
They both laughed—soft, breathless, the kind that comes from finally exhaling.
The tension melted, replaced by something lighter, warmer. Atlas brushed a wet strand of hair from Noah's forehead. "Better?"
"Yeah," Noah whispered. "Way better."
Atlas smiled. "Good. Then stop thinking so much."
"Can't help it."
"Sure you can." Atlas leaned in again, lips ghosting just above Noah's jaw. "Let me help."
His mouth found Noah's. Soft at first. Careful.
The kiss deepened slowly—water shifting around them, their breaths mixing with the sound of rain against the glass.
Noah's hand came up, fingers curling into Atlas's wet hair. Atlas tilted his head, caught Noah's lower lip between his own, a quiet sound escaping from both of them.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads stayed touching. Steam curled around them. The city lights spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows—gold, white, and endless.
Neither of them spoke. They just sat there, shoulders pressed together, watching the skyline blur through the mist.
Far below, the city moved in silence—cars like threads of light, people reduced to motion. Up here, there was only wind and heartbeat and the soft hum of rain.
Atlas's hand found Noah's again under the water. Fingers laced.
Noah leaned his head on Atlas's shoulder.
For a long time, they didn't move.
The city kept breathing. So did they.
After a while, Noah spoke, his voice barely above the sound of the water.
"I have dinner Thursday," Noah said. "Family thing at my parents' house. My mom wants me to stay over."
"All night?"
"Yeah. She was weird about it on the phone. Wouldn't tell me why."
"You close with your parents?"
"My mom, yeah. My dad—" Noah shrugged. The movement made water ripple. "He's complicated. The company is his life. I'm just—I'm the heir. The legacy. Sometimes I think he forgets I'm also his son."
Atlas was quiet for a moment. Then, "I get that."
"Yeah?"
"My father's the same. Sterlins Holdings is everything. I'm just the next name on the deed."
"Do you want it?"
"Does it matter?" Atlas's thumb traced patterns on Noah's ribs. "It's mine whether I want it or not."
"That's not an answer."
"No," Atlas said finally. "It's not."
Noah leaned back against him. "We're kind of fucked up, aren't we?"
Atlas pressed a kiss to Noah's shoulder. "Rich kid problems."
"The worst kind."
"Tragic." His hand slid down Noah's chest. Over his stomach. Stopped at his hip. "We should probably get out before we turn into prunes."
"Yeah."
Neither of them moved.
Atlas's hand slid back up. Into Noah's hair. Gentle strokes. His fingers combed through the damp waves, and Noah's eyes fluttered closed.
"You know what's funny?" Noah said.
"What?"
"Yesterday morning I woke up thinking about work. Tonight I'm in your bathtub. Naked."
Atlas's arms tightened around him. "So stay."
"I have work tomorrow."
"I'll drive you in the morning. "
"People will see."
"Let them."
"Atlas—"
"What are you afraid of?" His voice was soft. Curious.
Noah was quiet for a long moment. Then, "That this is too good. That I'm going to wake up and it'll be gone."
"It's not going anywhere." Atlas turned Noah's face. Made him look at him. "I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"
Noah's teeth caught his bottom lip. "Okay."
"Good. Now come on. Let's get out before my fingers fall off."
They climbed out slowly. Atlas grabbed towels from a heated rack—fluffy, white, expensive. Wrapped one around Noah's waist before doing his own.
Led him out of the bathroom. Across the bedroom.
To a door Noah hadn't noticed before.
"Close your eyes," Atlas said.
"What? Why?"
"Just trust me."
Noah closed his eyes. Heard the door open. Felt Atlas's hand on his back, guiding him forward.
"Okay. Open."
Noah opened his eyes.
The room was huge. Walk-in closet didn't cover it. Dressing room. That's what this was.
Glass cabinets lined every wall. Everything visible. Everything organized perfectly.
Suits on the left. Arranged by color. Darkest to lightest.
Casual clothes on the right. Same system. Everything designer. Everything pristine.
Shelves of shoes. Polished. Perfect.
A display case of watches. Rolex. Patek. Audemars Piguet.
Another of sunglasses. Tom Ford. Oliver Peoples. Cartier.
Noah turned slowly, taking it in. His hand went to his hair, pushed the damp waves back. "Atlas, this is—"
"Not that part." Atlas walked to the right side. Opened a cabinet Noah hadn't focused on yet.
Inside: hoodies. Sweatpants. T-shirts in grays and blacks and deep blues.
All folded. All new. All his size. Tags still on.
Noah's throat closed up.
"For you," Atlas said. His voice was careful. Watching Noah's reaction. " So you don't have to rush home in the morning"
He opened another cabinet.
Button-downs. Brooks Brothers. Dress pants. Theory. Two blazers. Ties on a rack.
"For work. If you stay over on weeknights."
Another drawer.
Creed. Dior Sauvage. Le Labo. Deodorant. Hair product. A toothbrush still in the package. Skincare products—Kiehl's, the same brands Noah used.
"Everything you need," Atlas finished. Quieter now.
Noah couldn't move. Couldn't speak. His hands shook. He bit his bottom lip hard.
The last time someone bought him clothes—
He was seventeen. His mom had taken him shopping before college. New shirts. Jeans that actually fit. Socks and underwear and a jacket for winter.
She'd been so excited. Kept pulling things off racks, holding them up to him, asking his opinion. He'd been embarrassed. Seventeen and too cool to let his mom buy him clothes.
She'd ignored him. Bought everything anyway. Folded it all carefully and packed it in his dorm boxes.
He hadn't thought about that in years.
"Noah?" Atlas's voice cut through. "Is this too much? Tell me if—"
"No." Noah's voice cracked. He pushed his hair back with both hands this time. The gesture made him look younger. Vulnerable. "It's—thank you."
Atlas stepped closer. His hand came up to cup Noah's jaw. "You shouldn't have to rush around in the morning." His thumb brushed across Noah's cheekbone. "This is your space too. If you want it."
Noah's eyes burned. He took one step closer, then another, until there was no space left between them.
He kissed Atlas — not out of desire, but something deeper.
A promise.
"Thank you," Noah murmured, breathless against his mouth.
Atlas made a sound low in his throat. His hands slid down Noah's back, gripped his hips through the towel.
Noah felt it then—how hard Atlas was trying to control himself. The tremor in his hands. The tension in his body.
"Atlas?"
"I need you to go get dressed." His voice came out rough. Strained. "Right now."
"Why—"
"Because I'm about thirty seconds away from pushing you against that wall and forgetting every promise I made." Atlas's grip tightened. "And I don't want to do that. You're not ready." His voice cracked slightly. "Go get dressed before I do something we'll both regret."
Noah's breath caught. He could feel it now—Atlas pressed against him. Hard. Wanting.
"Oh," he breathed.
"Yeah. Oh." Atlas let go. Stepped back fast. Put three feet of space between them.
He turned away. Ran both hands through his hair. His shoulders rose and fell with harsh breaths.
Noah stood frozen, towel wrapped around his waist, watching Atlas struggle.
"I'm sorry," Noah said quietly. "I didn't mean to—"
"Don't apologize." Atlas's voice was tight. "Just—get dressed."
Atlas went.
Behind him, he heard Atlas curse under his breath. Heard footsteps. The bathroom door closing.
Hard.
The lock clicked.
Water turned on.
Noah stood in the middle of the dressing room, still in his towel, staring at the cabinets Atlas had opened for him.
Noah pulled out the soft gray t-shirt. Black sweatpants. They fit perfectly.
He dried his hair with the towel. Tried not to think about Atlas in the shower. Tried not to think about why he was taking so long.
Failed completely.
His face burned.
He walked to the bedroom. The door was open. The bed was made—sheets pulled tight, pillows arranged perfectly.
Noah sat on the edge. Waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Noah picked up his phone. Put it down. Picked it up again. Checked the time. 11:37 PM.
Silence.
Noah's heart hammered.
More silence.
Then the bathroom door opened.
Atlas walked out, and Noah's breath caught.
His hair was damp but darker now—like he'd washed it twice. His skin was flushed pink from hot water. He wore black sweatpants, nothing else. Water droplets still clung to his chest, his shoulders.
But it was his face that made Noah stare.
Atlas's jaw was loose. Relaxed in a way it hadn't been before. His eyes were half-lidded, almost sleepy. His mouth curved slightly at the corners—not quite a smile, but close. Satisfied.
He moved differently too. Slower. Like his muscles had finally unclenched. Like the tension that had been vibrating through him was just—gone.
He walked to the bed. Didn't look at Noah at first. Just grabbed his phone from the nightstand, checked something, put it down.
Then he looked up.
Their eyes met.
Atlas's gaze was clear. Calm. But there was something else there—something heated and knowing that made Noah's face burn hotter.
"Sorry," Atlas said. His voice was different too. Lower. Rougher. Like he'd been—
Noah looked away fast.
Atlas continued. Casual. Like nothing had happened. He walked around to his side of the bed. "Needed to clear my head."
"Okay," Noah said.
Atlas smiled. Just a little. One corner of his mouth lifting.
He knew that Noah knew.
He climbed into bed. Settled against the pillows. Held out his arm.
"Come here."
Noah hesitated.
"Noah." Atlas's voice went softer. "Come here."
Noah moved. Climbed onto the bed. Let Atlas pull him in until his back pressed against Atlas's chest.
Atlas's arm wrapped around his waist. Held tight.
"Better," he murmured into Noah's hair.
They lay there in silence for a moment. Atlas's breathing was steady now. Even. His body was loose, relaxed.
Not tense anymore.
Not trembling.
Not struggling.
Noah's face felt like it was on fire.
"Stop thinking so loud," Atlas said against his ear. Amused.
"I'm not—"
"You are." Atlas's hand slid up, into Noah's hair. Gentle strokes. "And you don't need to be embarrassed."
His fingers combed through Noah's damp waves. "It's normal, you know."
Noah's whole body went rigid. "What?"
Atlas's voice was so casual it was almost cruel. "Hard not to when you're standing there looking like that."
"Oh my God," Noah breathed. His hands covered his face. "Stop talking."
His chest vibrated against Noah's back. " You did this. "
"I didn't—"
"You did." His hand slid from Noah's hair down to his stomach. Rested there. "Do you have any idea what you look like? Standing there in just a towel? Biting your lip like that?"
Noah made a sound that wasn't quite words.
Atlas pressed a kiss to the back of Noah's neck. "Don't be embarrassed. "
Noah couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Could barely breathe.
" Keep your weekend open," Atlas said. Changed the subject like they'd just been discussing the weather.
"Why?" Noah managed.
"You're mine this weekend." Another kiss. This one to his shoulder. "Now stop overthinking and go to sleep."
"I'm not—"
Atlas's fingers traced lazy patterns on Noah's stomach. "I can feel it. Your heart's racing."
"That's not—it's not because—"
"Sure." Atlas's voice was warm with laughter. "Whatever you say."
His hand moved up. Into Noah's hair again. Gentle strokes. Rhythmic. Soothing.
Noah's breathing started to even out despite himself. His body began to relax.
"When you're ready," Atlas said quietly. "I'll wait."
Noah turned in his arms. Faced him. Atlas's expression was open. Vulnerable. No walls. No masks.
And no tension. No trembling. No barely controlled want.
Just—satisfied. Calm. Content.
"For what?" Noah asked. Even though he knew.
"Everything." Atlas's hand came up to cup his face. His thumb brushed across Noah's cheekbone. "I'm not in a hurry. We do this at your pace."
Noah's chest ached. "Thank you."
Atlas leaned in. Kissed him soft. Sweet. Nothing demanding about it. Just—gentle.
When he pulled back, he smiled. "Sleep."
Noah settled against Atlas's chest. His ear pressed right over Atlas's heart. The steady rhythm anchored him.
Atlas's hand moved through his hair. Slow. Soothing.
Noah's eyes grew heavy. His body melted into the mattress, into Atlas, into this moment.
"Atlas?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad—" Noah stopped. Tried again. "I'm glad it's you."
Atlas's arms tightened around him. He pressed a kiss to the top of Noah's head.
"Me too," he said. So quiet Noah almost missed it.
Sleep pulled at Noah. Dragged him under.
But right before he went, he thought about Atlas in the bathroom. Thought about the locked door. The long shower. The way he'd come out looking loose and satisfied and calm.
His face burned again.
But—maybe it was okay. Maybe it was normal. Maybe it meant that Atlas wanted him just as much as he wanted Atlas.
Maybe that was a good thing.
Tomorrow he'd worry about it.
Tonight, he was safe. And Atlas was here. And that was enough.
And something was waiting there in the dark.
But neither of them knew it yet.