SATURDAY EVENING
Noah rinsed the arugula under cold water. The stream ran over his fingers, numbing them. He watched the leaves spin in the colander, not really seeing them.
Behind him, Atlas worked the salmon—fingers pressing dill and lemon zest into pink flesh. The scent of citrus cut through the kitchen. Outside the windows, the city lights blinked on one by one, turning the skyline into a constellation.
Their shoulders brushed. Noah didn't step away.
"You're drowning it."
Noah blinked. Looked down. Water still running, the arugula floating. "Shit." He twisted the faucet off.
"Where'd you go just now?"
"Nowhere."
Atlas's hand landed on his hip. Warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. His thumb pressed once, firm. "Try again."
Noah's hands went still on the colander. He could feel his pulse jumping in his wrist.
Atlas pulled back. Went back to seasoning the fish like nothing happened.
Noah shook the arugula. Too hard. Leaves scattered across the counter, onto the floor.
"Graceful." But Atlas was smiling when he said it.
They moved around each other. Noah sliced tomatoes—managed not to mangle them this time. Atlas peeled shrimp with quick, efficient movements. Their bodies kept finding excuses to be close. A hand on a hip to steady. A chest brushing against a back to reach for something. Small touches that lingered.
The salmon went into the oven. Atlas set the timer, turned around.
Noah stood right there. Closer than he'd been a moment before.
Noah's tongue swept across his bottom lip. Quick. Nervous.
Atlas's jaw tightened. He stepped back, grabbed the bowl of shrimp. "These still need to be deveined."
"I can help."
"You don't know how."
"So teach me."
Atlas's hands stopped moving. He looked up. Really looked.
Noah's face had color high on his cheeks. His pupils were blown wide, almost swallowing the green. He wasn't talking about shrimp anymore.
"Come here." Atlas's voice came out lower than he meant.
Noah moved behind him. Atlas took his hand, guided it to the shrimp.
"See this dark line?" He pressed Noah's fingers down, traced the vein. "You cut shallow along here. Then pull it out."
Noah nodded. Didn't trust his voice. Atlas's chest was solid against his back, radiating heat through both their shirts.
Atlas's other hand settled on Noah's hip. Steadied him. "Try it."
Noah picked up the knife. His hand trembled.
"Relax." Atlas's breath ghosted across his ear. "You're shaking."
"Can't help it."
"Why not?"
Noah didn't answer. Just made the cut. Pulled the vein free. Set the shrimp aside with more force than necessary.
"There. See?" Atlas's fingers squeezed his hip. "Not so hard."
They worked through the rest. Atlas stayed pressed against Noah's back the entire time. His breathing audible. Warm on Noah's neck.
The timer went off.
Atlas pulled away. Cold air rushed in where his body had been. Noah's shoulders sagged—he hadn't realized how tense he'd been holding himself.
They ate on the couch. Salmon with lemon, garlic shrimp, arugula salad scattered with tomatoes and pine nuts.
Noah's thigh pressed against Atlas's. Neither acknowledged it.
The TV played something. Noah couldn't have said what if his life depended on it. His fork scraped against the plate too loud. Atlas's knee bounced once, stopped abruptly.
"This is good," Noah said.
"You helped."
"I drowned lettuce and massacred shrimp."
"You learned." Atlas's hand settled on Noah's knee. Just rested there. Heavy. Grounding. "That counts."
Noah's next breath came shallow.
They finished eating. Set their plates on the coffee table with deliberate care. Didn't move apart.
Atlas's thumb traced slow circles on Noah's knee. Deliberate. Purposeful.
Noah's hand covered his. Stopped the motion. "Atlas."
"Yeah?"
"Are we actually watching this?"
Atlas's mouth curved. "Were we supposed to be?"
"I don't know what we're doing."
"What do you want to be doing?"
Noah's fingers tightened over Atlas's hand. "I don't know."
"Bullshit."
Noah looked at him. His face felt hot. His breathing had gone uneven. "PlayStation?"
"Yeah." Atlas stood, held out his hand. "Sure. PlayStation."
Gran Turismo loaded on the screen. They picked cars. Started the race.
Noah's car swerved. He overcorrected. Slammed into a barrier.
"Fuck."
Atlas laughed—low and genuine, filling up the space between them. "You're shit at this."
"Shut the fuck up."
Second race. Noah won by half a second.
He threw both hands up. "Yes!"
His controller clattered to the hardwood. He didn't care. His whole face opened up—eyes lit, dimples cutting deep, that grin that made Atlas's chest do something complicated.
Atlas set his controller down. Slow. Careful.
"What?" Noah turned to him.
"Nothing."
"You're staring."
"Am I."
Not a question.
Atlas shifted closer. His hand found Noah's jaw. Thumb traced along his cheekbone.
Noah went very, very still. His pulse hammered visibly in his throat.
"You know what you looked like earlier?" Atlas's voice dropped. "When Damien had his hands on me."
Noah's jaw tightened under Atlas's palm.
"You were furious." Atlas's thumb brushed Noah's bottom lip. "Eyes sharp. Hands in fists. Like you wanted to deck him."
"I didn't—"
"You did." Atlas's other hand landed on Noah's hip, pulled him closer. "When his hand was on my chest. You looked like you wanted to kill him."
Noah's breathing picked up. His hands curled tight against his own thighs. "He had no fucking right."
"No. He didn't." Atlas's eyes had gone dark. "And you wanted to do something about it."
"So what if I did?"
Atlas's mouth curved. Dangerous. "So I fucking loved it."
Noah's hand shot out. Grabbed Atlas's shirt. Twisted the fabric in his fist.
"You were jealous," Atlas said, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. "And Christ, I loved watching you look at me like I was yours."
Noah's cheeks flushed. "Maybe you are," he said, aiming for confident but it came out too soft. Too honest.
Atlas smiled—not teasing, just warm—and leaned in. Kissed him quick. A promise more than anything else.
Noah blinked. His breath caught.
"I was terrified," Noah said. The words came out tight. Strangled. "When you crashed. I couldn't—" He stopped. Swallowed. "I thought you were gonna hit that wall and I couldn't fucking breathe."
Atlas's expression shifted. His hand slid to the back of Noah's neck, thumb stroking.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't do it again."
"I'll try."
"Not good enough."
"Noah—"
Noah pulled him in. Kissed him.
Not gentle. Not careful. His mouth crashed against Atlas's—desperate, demanding, all the fear and want he'd been holding back pouring through.
Atlas made a low sound. His hands tightened—one fisting in Noah's hair, one gripping his hip hard enough to leave marks.
Noah's fingers twisted in Atlas's shirt like he was drowning. His other hand found Atlas's jaw. Stubble rough under his palm.
They broke apart. Both breathing hard.
Noah pressed his forehead to Atlas's. His eyes stayed closed. "I want—"
He stopped. His throat closed.
Atlas waited. His thumb kept stroking Noah's jaw. Patient.
"I want you," Noah finished. Barely audible.
Atlas went completely still. "Noah—"
"I'm sure." Noah's eyes opened. Clear green. Steady. "I trust you."
"We don't have to—"
Noah's hand slid up into Atlas's hair. "I want to."
Atlas searched his face. Looking for any sign of doubt. Hesitation. Fear.
Found none.
"Okay," he said. "Okay."
He stood. Held out his hand.
Noah took it.
Atlas closed the bedroom door. The click echoed.
Noah stood by the bed. His hands went to his shirt hem. Stopped. Started again. Froze.
"Hey." Atlas crossed to him. Covered Noah's hands with his own. "We can stop. Any time. You just say."
"I don't want to stop."
"Then why are you shaking?"
Noah looked down. His fingers trembled against the fabric. "I don't know what I'm doing."
"You don't have to." Atlas's hands slid up. Framed Noah's face. Made him look up. "Just—let me. Okay?"
Noah's exhale shuddered out. He nodded.
Atlas kissed him. Soft. Taking his time. Learning the shape of his mouth all over again.
His hands dropped. Found the hem of Noah's shirt. Waited.
Noah nodded.
Atlas pulled the shirt up. Slow. Giving Noah every chance to stop him.
He didn't.
The shirt hit the floor.
Noah stood there. Bare chest rising and falling fast. His hands clenched at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them.
Atlas's gaze tracked down. Over sharp collarbones. The visible outline of ribs. Flat stomach tensing under scrutiny.
"Fuck." The word came out reverent.
Noah's face went scarlet. His arms started to come up.
Atlas caught his wrists. Gentle but firm. "Don't."
"I'm not—"
"Don't." Atlas's thumbs stroked the inside of his wrists. Felt his racing pulse. "Don't hide from me."
Noah bit his lip. Looked away.
Atlas stepped closer. His hands went to Noah's belt. "Can I?"
"Yeah."
Button. Zipper. The jeans slid down Noah's legs.
Noah stepped out of them. Stood there in just black boxer briefs, visibly fighting the urge to cover himself.
Atlas pulled off his own shirt. Noah's eyes went wide. His gaze traced the muscles. The dark hair trailing down Atlas's stomach. Lower.
"You're staring."
"Sorry."
"Don't be." Atlas's hands went to his own jeans. "Fair is fair."
He stripped down to his boxers. Stood there. Let Noah look his fill.
Noah's tongue darted out. Wet his lips. His breathing had gone ragged.
Atlas moved closer. Slow steps. Giving Noah space to back away if he wanted.
He didn't.
Their chests touched. Skin on skin. Noah gasped—a sharp intake of breath.
Atlas's arms came around him. Pulled him in close. Just held him.
Noah's face pressed into the curve of Atlas's neck. His hands found Atlas's back. Gripped tight.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Muffled against skin. "Just—a lot."
"We can slow down."
"No." Noah pulled back. Looked up. His pupils were blown, almost black. "I want this. I'm just nervous."
"I know." Atlas's hand cupped his face. "Me too."
Noah blinked. "You are?"
"Yeah." Atlas's thumb traced his cheekbone. "I want—" He stopped. "I don't want to fuck this up."
Something in Noah's expression softened. "You won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because it's you."
Atlas kissed him. Deep. Thorough. Trying to show him everything words couldn't.
When they broke apart, Atlas guided him to the bed. "Lie down."
Noah did. On his back. Stared at the ceiling. His chest rose and fell too fast.
Atlas settled beside him. On his side. His hand landed on Noah's stomach. Just rested there, feeling each rapid breath.
"Breathe."
Noah tried. It came out shaky.
Atlas's hand moved. Traced his ribs. His hip bone. Back up. Slow exploration, learning the geography of him.
Noah's eyes fell closed. His body started to relax incrementally under the touch.
Atlas leaned down. Kissed Noah's collarbone. His chest. The center of his sternum. His stomach, just above his navel.
Noah's breath hitched with each kiss. His hands twisted in the sheets.
Atlas's fingers hooked in the waistband of Noah's boxer briefs. Paused. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Atlas pulled them down. Off.
Noah's whole body went rigid. His eyes squeezed shut. Face burning.
Atlas didn't move for a long moment.
"Noah." His voice had gone low. Wrecked. "Open your eyes."
Noah did. Slow. Terrified.
Atlas's expression—want, yes, but something else. Something that made Noah's chest ache.
Atlas didn't say anything. Didn't need to. He just leaned down and kissed him while his hand moved lower.
Noah gasped against his mouth. His hips jerked involuntarily.
"Easy." Atlas murmured it against his lips. "I've got you."
He worked Noah slow. Patient. Learning what made him gasp. What made him moan. What made his back arch off the bed.
Noah's hand flew to Atlas's wrist. Gripped hard. "Atlas—I'm gonna—"
"Let go."
"But we haven't even—"
"Doesn't matter." Atlas's hand didn't stop. Kept that steady rhythm. "Just let go."
Noah's eyes rolled back. His whole body went taut as a wire. A broken sound tore from his throat—raw and uncontrolled.
Atlas watched every second. Committed it to memory.
When Noah came back down, trembling and oversensitive, Atlas kissed him. Soft. Let him catch his breath.
"Okay?"
Noah nodded. Couldn't form words yet.
Atlas lay beside him. Pulled him close. Stroked his hair while Noah's breathing slowly evened out. His hand traced idle patterns down Noah's spine. Soothing.
Minutes passed. Maybe longer.
Noah shifted. His hand found Atlas's chest. Traced the lines of muscle there. Lower.
"I want—" He stopped. Started again. "I want all of it."
Atlas's hand stilled. "Noah—"
"I'm sure." Noah looked up at him. His eyes were clear despite the flush still staining his cheeks. "I want you. All of you."
Atlas searched his face. "It's gonna hurt."
"I know."
"I'm serious. It's not—it's not like—"
"I know." Noah's voice was steady. "I still want to."
Atlas exhaled slowly. His hand cupped Noah's face. "Tell me if you need me to stop. Any time. I mean it."
"Okay."
"Say it back."
"I'll tell you." Noah's fingers curled against Atlas's chest. "I promise."
Atlas kissed him. Long and slow. Trying to pour everything into it—reassurance, want, something bigger he didn't have words for.
When he pulled back, he reached for the nightstand. Came back with what he needed.
"Come here." Atlas pulled him closer.
What followed was slow. Atlas's hands patient and careful. Noah's breathing shallow and uneven. The first touch made Noah tense.
"Breathe," Atlas murmured against his temple. "Just breathe."
Noah tried. His fingers dug into Atlas's shoulders.
"That's it. You're okay."
It took time. Atlas murmuring quiet reassurances. Noah's body slowly relaxing into it. Small sounds escaping him—not quite pain, not quite pleasure. Something between.
"Okay?" Atlas kept asking. Over and over.
"Yeah. Keep—keep going."
When Atlas finally shifted over him, Noah's eyes were wide. Dark. His chest rising and falling fast.
"Look at me," Atlas said quietly.
Noah did.
"You tell me to stop, I stop. Understood?"
"Yeah."
Atlas kissed him. Gentle. Then he moved.
Noah's inhale was sharp. His whole body went rigid. His fingers dug into Atlas's back hard enough to leave marks.
Atlas stopped. Didn't move. "Breathe."
"I am—" Noah's voice came out strangled. "I am breathing."
"You're holding it. Let it out."
Noah exhaled. Shaky. His body trembling beneath Atlas.
"That's it." Atlas's lips brushed his temple. His jaw. "Just like that."
He moved again. Slow. Incremental. Noah's breathing went ragged. His nails bit into Atlas's skin.
"Fuck—" The word tore out of Noah. "It—"
"I know. I know." Atlas's hand found his face. Made him focus. "You want me to stop?"
"No." Fast. Desperate. "No, don't—don't stop."
Atlas moved again. Noah made a sound—half gasp, half whimper. His legs came up, wrapped around Atlas's hips instinctively.
"Good," Atlas murmured. "That's good. You're doing so good."
It hurt. Noah could tell by the way his face twisted. The way his breathing came in short, sharp bursts. But he didn't ask him to stop.
Atlas kept the rhythm slow. Careful. His hand stroking Noah's face, his hair, murmuring quiet praise against his skin.
Gradually—so gradually—the tension in Noah's body started to ease. His breathing evened out. The pinch between his brows smoothed.
"Okay?" Atlas asked again.
"Yeah." Noah's voice was rough. Wrecked. "Yeah, I'm—" He stopped. His eyes fell closed. "Oh."
Something shifted. Noah's body relaxing fully into it. His breathing changing from pained to something else entirely.
Atlas felt it. The exact moment Noah stopped hurting and started feeling.
"There," Atlas breathed. "There you go."
Noah's hands slid up Atlas's back. Held on. His hips moved—tentative at first, then more sure.
Atlas nearly lost it right there.
He buried his face in Noah's neck. Kept moving. Noah gasping beneath him. Their breathing syncing up. The room filling with the sound of skin and breath and Noah's voice saying his name like a prayer.
When Noah tensed again—different this time, everything different—Atlas knew.
"Atlas—" Noah's voice broke. "I can't—I'm gonna—"
"Let go." Atlas's hand found his, threaded their fingers together. "I've got you."
Noah shattered. His whole body arcing up. A sound tearing from deep in his chest—raw and helpless and Atlas's name all tangled up in it.
Atlas followed. Couldn't help it. Noah's body tight around him, the sound of his voice, the way he was looking at him like Atlas had hung the fucking moon.
He collapsed beside Noah. Both of them breathing hard. Sweat-slick and trembling.
Neither moved for a long moment. Just lay there trying to remember how to breathe.
Then Atlas shifted. Careful. Slow.
Noah winced.
"Sorry." Atlas's hand found his face. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay." Noah's voice was hoarse. "I'm okay."
But his face said otherwise. The wince became a grimace as he tried to shift.
Atlas got up. Noah made a small sound of protest.
"I'll be right back."
He came back with a warm washcloth. Cleaned them both up with gentle hands. Noah's face went red but he didn't protest.
When Atlas lay back down, Noah curled into him immediately. His face pressed into Atlas's chest. His breathing still uneven.
"You okay?" Atlas asked quietly.
"Yeah."
"Noah—"
"I'm okay. Really." Noah tilted his face up. His eyes were bright. Exhausted. "Just—a lot."
"Does it hurt?"
Noah bit his lip. "A little."
Atlas's jaw tightened. "I'm sorry—"
"Don't." Noah's hand pressed against his chest. "Don't apologize. I wanted this. I wanted you." He paused. "It was—" He stopped. Tried again. "It was perfect."
Atlas pulled him closer. Kissed the top of his head. "Liar."
"Okay, maybe not perfect." Noah's lips curved against his skin. "But it was—" He stopped. "It was us. So that's—" He stopped again. "That's enough."
Atlas's chest tightened. His arms locked around Noah. Held him like he might disappear.
They lay tangled together afterward. Sheets twisted. Both breathing hard.
Noah's head rested on Atlas's chest. His fingers traced idle patterns on Atlas's ribs. The silence stretched—not uncomfortable, but weighted with everything unsaid.
Noah's breathing started to even out. His body went heavy.
"Atlas?"
"Yeah?"
Pause. Long enough that Atlas thought he'd fallen asleep.
Then, so quiet he almost missed it: "I love you."
Atlas's hand stilled in Noah's hair.
The words hung there. Heavy. Real.
Noah tensed against him. "I—sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Don't." Atlas's voice came out rougher than he meant. "Don't take it back."
"I just—" Noah's fingers curled against his chest. "It's probably too soon. Or too—"
"Say it again."
Noah went still. "What?"
"Say it again." Atlas shifted, tilted Noah's face up. Made him look. "Please."
Noah's eyes were wide. Vulnerable. "I love you."
Something in Atlas's chest cracked wide open. He pulled Noah up, kissed him—trying to show everything he couldn't find words for.
When they broke apart, he pressed his forehead to Noah's.
"I love you too," he said. Quiet. Certain. "You know that, right?"
Noah's smile came slow. Real. "Yeah. I know."
They settled back down. Noah curled into his side, fingers still tracing patterns on his skin.
"Stay," Atlas said after a moment.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Atlas held him tighter. Outside, the city hummed. Inside, everything had shifted into place.