Penthouse
The elevator doors slid open.
Atlas reached for Noah's hand. Their fingers threaded together, and Noah felt the tremor there—Atlas was still shaking.
So am I.
Their eyes met. Both red-rimmed. Both smiling.
The hallway stretched ahead. Noah's heart hammered against his ribs with each step.
Atlas fumbled with his keys. The metal scraped against the lock once, twice.
Noah's free hand covered his. Steadied it.
The door opened.
---
They stepped inside.
The door closed.
Noah turned—
Atlas was already there, pulling him close, their mouths crashing together. Hard. Desperate. Every wall from the gala dissolved in that kiss.
Noah's hands fisted in Atlas's jacket, yanking him closer. Closer. His mouth opened and Atlas made a sound—low, broken—that went straight through him.
Oh God.
Atlas backed him against the door. The impact shuddered through Noah's spine. Atlas's hands gripped his waist, thumbs pressing in hard enough to leave marks.
"God," Noah breathed against his mouth. Between kisses that kept breaking and reforming, each one deeper than the last.
Atlas's hands slid up under his shirt. Finding skin. Noah gasped, arched into the touch.
Yes. Yes.
Their foreheads pressed together. Both panting.
"I—" Atlas started.
Noah kissed him again. Swallowed the words. He didn't want words right now. Didn't want thinking.
His fingers went to Atlas's bow tie, working it loose. It took three tries—his hands wouldn't cooperate.
The silk finally gave way.
Atlas's hands were already on Noah's tie, fingers more practiced but just as unsteady.
Jackets hit the floor—first Noah's, then Atlas's a second later.
Noah's fingers found buttons. Started working down. Each one exposed more skin, and his knuckles brushed Atlas's chest. Warm. Real.
Atlas shuddered.
"Noah—"
"Don't." Noah's voice came rough. His eyes lifted. Met Atlas's. "Don't think."
I don't want to think either. Not anymore.
Noah pushed the shirt off Atlas's shoulders. Let it fall.
Atlas did the same, but slower. His fingers traced down each button like he was memorizing the path. Watching Noah's face the whole time.
The shirt slipped away.
They stood there. Bare chests rising and falling. The city lights painted them in gold and blue through the windows.
Atlas reached up, cupped Noah's jaw. His thumb brushed Noah's bottom lip.
Noah's breath caught in his throat.
He's looking at me like—
Then Atlas leaned in. Kissed the corner of his mouth. His jaw. Down his neck.
Noah's head fell back. His hands gripped Atlas's shoulders, nails digging in. "Atlas—"
Atlas's teeth grazed his pulse point. Gentle. Testing.
Noah made a sound he'd never made before. His hands slid down, found Atlas's belt, started working it open with a confidence that surprised him.
I know what I want. I know.
Atlas pulled back. Eyes blown wide, pupils huge.
"Bedroom." Voice wrecked.
Noah nodded.
They moved—stumbling, kissing, hands everywhere. The hallway stretched endlessly.
Noah's back hit a wall. Atlas pressed against him, and their mouths found each other again.
"We're not—" Noah laughed breathlessly. "We're not making it anywhere."
Atlas pulled back just enough to see his face. Smiled. "Don't care."
Noah's chest did something complicated.
He's not rushing. He doesn't care that we're falling apart in the hallway.
Atlas's hand found his again. Squeezed. Led him forward slowly.
---
BEDROOM
Moonlight spilled through the windows. Manhattan glittered beyond, but Noah barely saw it.
They stopped at the edge of the bed.
Facing each other. Chests heaving.
Noah reached for him first.
His hands explored—up Atlas's arms, across his shoulders, down his chest. Learning the landscape of him. Every muscle. Every place that made Atlas's breath hitch.
Atlas stood still. Letting him explore. But his jaw was tight, control fraying with each touch.
Noah's fingers traced lower. Following the lines of muscle that disappeared into his waistband.
"Noah—" Atlas's voice broke on his name.
Noah looked up. His eyes were clear. Sure.
"I know what I want," he said quietly.
I've never been more sure of anything.
Atlas's breath caught. "Are you—" He swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"
Noah looked at him. Really looked. Atlas's eyes were dark but steady. Waiting. Not pushing.
"I'm sure." His voice came quiet. Firm. "I've never been more sure."
Something in Atlas's expression cracked open. "Noah—"
Noah kissed him. "I'm sure."
His hands went to his own belt. Undid it with deliberate slowness.
Atlas watched. Transfixed. His chest rising and falling faster.
The belt slipped free.
Noah's fingers found his zipper.
Atlas's hand covered his. "Wait."
Noah's heart stuttered.
Does he not want—
But Atlas's other hand came up, touched his face. "I need—" His thumb brushed Noah's cheekbone. "I need to see you. Really see you."
Noah's throat tightened. He nodded.
Then his hands resumed their work. This time Atlas didn't stop him.
Fabric fell away. Piece by piece. Until nothing remained between them.
They stood there. Looking. Really looking.
He's beautiful. How did I never let myself see—
Atlas's hand shook as it reached out. Touched Noah's hip. His thumb traced the bone there with something like reverence.
Noah shivered. Stepped closer.
Their bodies aligned. Skin to skin. Heat to heat. And it was so much—too much—
Noah's arms went around Atlas's neck. Pulled him down.
They kissed slower now. Deeper. Like they had all the time in the world.
Atlas's hands mapped his back. Every curve. Every muscle. Committing Noah to memory.
They moved to the bed together. Still kissing. Still touching.
The sheets were cool against Noah's back. Smooth.
Atlas hovered over him. Breathing hard. Eyes searching his face.
"Tell me—" he started.
Noah pulled him down. "I'll tell you," he whispered against Atlas's mouth. "I'll tell you everything."
And he did.
With his hands guiding Atlas's. With his mouth on Atlas's skin. With his body saying yes and here and more.
I didn't know. I didn't know it could feel like this.
Every touch was a revelation. Every kiss an answer to questions Noah hadn't known he was asking.
Atlas responded—learning Noah's language, speaking it back, teaching him new words with his hands and mouth and body.
Outside, the city blazed on. Indifferent.
Inside, they built something new from the wreckage of the night.
No walls. No masks. No hiding.
Just this. Just us.
Real. Raw. Finally free.
---
Later—after their breathing had slowed, after the sweat had cooled, after Noah had stopped trembling—they lay tangled together.
Sheets twisted around them. Hearts still racing.
Noah's head rested on Atlas's chest. His fingers traced idle patterns on damp skin.
Atlas's hand moved through his hair. Gentle. Rhythmic.
Then Atlas made a sound. Soft. Almost disbelieving.
Noah lifted his head. "What?"
"Oh my God." Atlas's voice came rough, amazed. His eyes were bright. Overwhelmed.
Noah watched something in his expression shift—a release, like tension Atlas had been carrying for years finally letting go. His body was loose beneath Noah's. Relaxed in a way Noah had never seen.
He looks... content. Satisfied. Like he just found something he'd been searching for his whole life.
"Yeah?" Noah asked, smiling.
"Yeah." Atlas's hand came up, cupped his face. "You—" He stopped. Started again. "I didn't know it could be like this."
Noah's chest tightened. He leaned down, kissed Atlas's shoulder. Settled back against him.
"Me neither," he whispered.
Atlas's arms tightened around him. His fingers traced idle patterns on Noah's back.
Then, quiet. Almost reverent: "I love you."
Noah's breath caught. He lifted his head. Met Atlas's eyes.
"I know," Noah said softly. Then smiled. "I love you too."
"Say it again."
Noah's smile widened. "I love you."
"Again."
"I love you." Noah kissed him. Soft. "I love you." Another kiss. "I love you."
Atlas made a sound—something between a laugh and a sigh. Pulled Noah closer. Buried his face in his hair.
"I didn't know," Atlas whispered against his temple. "I didn't know loving someone could feel like this."
Noah's throat tightened. His fingers found Atlas's hand. Threaded through. Held tight.
"Like what?"
"Like coming home."
Noah closed his eyes. Pressed his face against Atlas's neck.
*Like coming home.*
"Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah."
Atlas's breathing was already evening out. Slow. Deep.
He's falling asleep. He never falls asleep first.
Noah felt it too—exhaustion pulling at him. The emotional weight of the night, the physical release. Everything.
The city kept glowing beyond the windows.
But neither of them looked.
They had everything they needed right here.
Noah's eyes drifted closed. Atlas's heartbeat steady beneath his ear.
We're okay. We're going to be okay.
And for the first time in his life, Noah believed it completely.