Noah woke first.
Atlas was still asleep beside him—face relaxed, one arm draped across Noah's waist. Luna dozed at their feet, her breathing steady. The room smelled like them: Atlas's cologne fading into Noah's shampoo.
He watched Atlas sleep. Let his mind stay empty for just this moment. Just them.
Then Thomas's face came into focus. The weight of years pressing down—bowing, complying, becoming what they demanded. Not again. Noah wouldn't do it again.
He shifted closer. Wrapped his arm around Atlas and held on.
Last night's words echoed through him. I'm not losing you. I'm not pretending.
"Fuck all of it," Noah whispered.
Luna lifted her head, padded over to his chest. He ran his hand through her fur.
Atlas's voice came out gravelly. "You're very energetic for someone pretending to sleep."
Noah looked at him. His eyes were still closed but his mouth curved upward. Noah pressed his head to Atlas's chest, kissed softly there. Tried not to move.
Atlas pulled him closer—completely flush against him—and kissed his neck slowly.
Noah tilted his head back. "Good morning, love."
Atlas's eyes opened halfway. That small smile that made Noah's chest tight. "Love."
They stayed like that. Quiet. The world outside the window didn't exist.
"What are you doing today?" Atlas's thumb traced circles on Noah's hip, patient and deliberate.
"Work from home for a bit. Then meeting Clara and Elias." Noah's fingers traced Atlas's collarbone, memorizing the shape. "What about you?"
"Some things to handle." Atlas kissed his forehead. "But I'll be back for dinner."
Noah kissed him—gentle, brief.
Atlas pulled back just enough to see his face. "Too soft."
"You like it rough?" Noah's eyebrow raised, teasing.
Atlas laughed—full and warm, the kind that came from his chest. "Let's shower. I'll show you what I like." His voice dropped lower, carrying a promise.
Noah's grin widened. "Hands-on demonstration?"
" Practical exam." Atlas got out of bed, grabbed Noah's hand, pulled him up. Still laughing.
---
After the shower, both dressed with damp hair, they made breakfast together.
Sunny raced around the kitchen, tail whipping everything in reach. The coffee machine hissed. Toast popped. Normal domestic chaos.
Noah watched Atlas move through the space—confident, steady, like he belonged everywhere he stood. The weight of last night's ultimatum pressed behind Noah's ribs. What can we do against Thomas and Richard?
Alice and Sienna walked in, their voices overlapping. "Morning."
"Morning," Noah and Atlas echoed simultaneously.
They sat. Ate. The table filled with the sounds of forks, coffee sips, plates shifting.
Alice looked at Atlas over her cup. "We haven't talked in a few days. How are you both?"
Atlas met her eyes directly. "We'll be better."
Under the table, Atlas's hand rested on Noah's thigh. Steady pressure. A reminder.
Sienna turned to Noah. "You left early yesterday. Everything okay?"
Noah hesitated before answering. "Yeah. It's okay."
Atlas glanced at Alice. "If you're done, can we talk?"
Alice nodded without question. Took her coffee and stood.
They left together, and Noah felt the shift in the room—like a door closing.
---
Sienna and Noah looked at each other across the remains of breakfast.
Noah's shoulders sagged.
"What's going on?" Sienna asked quietly.
He stared at his coffee like the answer lived in the cooling liquid. "Want to drink these outside?"
"Sure."
They walked through the garden. Sienna let the silence sit between them for a moment before she stopped, turning to face him fully.
"Something big is happening," she said. Not a question.
Noah nodded. Took a breath. Then told her—everything. His father and Richard's proposal to Atlas. The ultimatum. The choice that wasn't really a choice.
Sienna listened without interrupting. Calm. Focused. When Noah finished, she watched the garden for a long moment before speaking.
"What are you thinking of doing?"
"I'm scared. For Atlas," Noah admitted. "I'm thinking no. But—" His voice cracked at the edges. "They could cut him off. From everything."
"Yes."
"I don't want him to go through that." Noah put his hands to his head, turned to her. "I don't want him to lose his position, his career, his family because of me."
Sienna's hand moved to his shoulder. "You have to choose. And be ready to pay for that choice."
Noah stopped walking. Looked around the garden—at the careful landscaping, the fountain Alice maintained, the life they'd built. "Atlas being cut off. Losing everything. How would he survive that? How would we survive that?" His voice came out raw. "I don't want him to regret me."
"You'll have to live through it," Sienna said. Not unkindly. "See what happens. See who he is when everything else is taken away." She paused. "But you need to talk about this. Together."
Noah nodded slightly, though the knot in his chest didn't loosen.
---
Atlas
Atlas closed the study door behind them. Through the walls, he could hear Sienna and Noah's voices fading into the garden.
Alice sat on the leather sofa, coffee in hand. "What happened at the meeting?"
"Richard and Thomas want us to hide the relationship." Atlas remained standing, pacing as he spoke. "Have public relationships with people they choose. Then marriage. All according to their timeline."
Alice took a sip. Met his eyes. "Will you accept?"
"No."
She leaned back, studying him. "What are you thinking?"
Atlas walked to the desk, turned to face her. "I'm going to fight them. With their own methods."
Alice's expression shifted—surprise, then recognition. She leaned forward. "What can I do?"
"I need specialists. People I can trust absolutely." Atlas moved closer to the desk, his jaw tight. "Forensic accountant. Open source intelligence specialist. Digital forensics. Corporate investigator. Retired federal analyst." He paused. "For now."
Alice's smile grew wider. She stood and crossed to the desk, leaning against it beside him. "You're going to hit them with their own weapons."
"You didn't think I'd just do what they want, did you?"
"No." Her expression was almost pleased. "I didn't. I'll reach out to contacts today."
"Noah can't know about this."
Alice nodded, already planning. "Are you meeting with Charles?"
"Today."
"How long did Richard give you?"
"He'll want an answer as soon as possible. Same as always." Atlas's voice was flat, but his hands were clenched.
"When Richard doesn't get the answer he wants, the first thing he'll do is remove you from the company. From the family."
Atlas met her eyes. "That's why I need the team assembled now. Before he moves."
"I'll make the calls today." Alice paused thoughtfully. "I know a reliable firm for phone monitoring. Thomas's line, your father's—both."
"Set it up."
"When are you leaving?"
"Soon. I'll call you later."
"Be careful."
---
Atlas left the study and headed to the bedroom to finish getting ready.
Through the window, he saw Noah and Sienna in the garden. Noah's shoulders were hunched. Sienna's hand on his arm. Even from a distance, he could read Noah's distress—the way his head hung, the tension in his spine.
Atlas's jaw tightened. He grabbed his jacket.
By the time he reached the driveway, Noah and Sienna were walking toward the house. Noah stopped when he saw Atlas, studying him—the set of his shoulders, the way he moved. Reading him like always.
Sienna slipped inside without a word.
Noah walked over slowly. "See you tonight."
Small smile. Uncertain.
Atlas closed the distance. His hand cupped Noah's ass, pulling him close. "Not going to kiss me?"
Noah's face warmed. "There are—people could see—"
Atlas kissed him hard. Hot. Deliberate. His hand pressed against Noah's hip, pulling him impossibly closer. A statement. A promise. A fuck you to anyone watching.
Noah kissed back, sinking into it, forgetting about everything else for a second. When they broke apart, he was breathless.
Atlas smirked. "Got what I wanted."
He winked and got in his car without looking back.
Noah watched the Bentley disappear around the corner, then stood alone on the driveway—uncertain, caught between worlds.
---
Noah
Inside, Noah entered his room and changed.
His phone buzzed.
Clara: 1 PM at Elias's place?
Noah: Sounds good.
He sat on the edge of the bed and called his mom. Told her everything—his father, Richard, the ultimatum. His voice stayed steady until the end.
"I'll handle it," she said. Her voice carried the kind of certainty that had moved corporations.
"Mom—"
"Let me handle it, Noah."
He exhaled, and some of the weight lifted. "Okay."
After they hung up, he sat by the window with his laptop, answering emails mechanically. Sunny rested his head on Noah's knee, sensing the tension.
Noah closed the laptop. Pulled Sunny close. "Is everything going to be okay?"
Sunny's tail wagged.
"It's going to be hard, isn't it?"
Sunny barked softly, and Noah kissed the top of his head. Stood. "Come on, girl."
---
In the car, Noah's mind drifted to Atlas.
Then to Thomas. To how Thomas always got what he wanted, no matter the cost.
Noah's chest tightened. He couldn't breathe.
He rolled down the window. Cold air hit his face.
He pulled over. Leaned back. Stared at the road ahead.
I have to protect Atlas from Thomas.
"How?" he said out loud.
No answer came. Just the sound of traffic, of his own heartbeat.
They'll take everything from him.
He gripped the steering wheel. Started driving again. Too fast.
---
Elias's building was downtown. Modern. Glass and steel piercing the sky.
In the elevator, Noah checked his reflection. Forced a smile. "Smile," he told himself.
Knocked on the door. Elias opened it immediately.
"Noah." They hugged—real, warm.
"How are you?" Elias asked.
Noah smiled. "Good."
Elias raised an eyebrow. "You're a terrible liar."
Noah's smile turned genuine for just a second.
They moved to the kitchen. Clara and Mark were cooking—organized chaos, music playing quietly in the background.
Noah hugged them both. Kissed Clara's cheek.
"Need help?" he asked.
"Almost done," Mark said. "Everything's ready."
Clara handed him wine and smiled like she could see through him but wouldn't push.
They talked—work, life, general things. Noah told them about the company, the prototype, the press mentions, the team. He let them fill the space with their own stories, grateful.
They carried everything to the living room. Set the table with care.
During dinner, Elias and Clara talked about their company—the one Noah used to work for. The one his father still controlled.
"Everything okay there?" Noah asked carefully.
Elias set down his fork. "Since you left, something's been happening. We can't figure out what. Changes in some departments. New oversight on projects. It's like—"
"Like he's tightening his grip," Noah finished quietly.
Clara leaned forward. "What does Thomas want?"
"Control. To manage me." Noah's voice was steady but his hands weren't. He set down his wine. "He came to my office this week. Threatened me. Indirectly."
Mark looked at Elias. His hand moved to Elias's thigh—a gesture of solidarity, of we're in this together. Then he looked at Noah.
"Some things are worth fighting for," Mark said. "Even when it costs."
"I don't know what to do," Noah admitted. The words felt like defeat.
"Does he want you back at the company?" Clara asked.
Noah took a breath. Let it out slowly. "He wants Atlas and me to hide our relationship. Have public relationships with people they choose."
Silence fell over the table like a weight.
Elias spoke first. "A lot of people make that choice. Fear of being cut off."
"Like humanity doesn't have bigger problems," Noah said, frustrated. "They waste time on this bullshit."
Clara smiled slightly. "Maybe they don't have the capacity to solve real problems—so they create problems for others."
Noah looked at the table. At the wine bottle label. At Clara's bracelet. Anywhere but their eyes.
His hand moved to his wine glass. Fingers tight around the stem.
Elias and Clara shared a glance. Mark's hand stayed on Elias's thigh—squeezed once.
After a long moment, Noah exhaled. "Can we talk about literally anything else?"
He tried to smile. Almost managed it.
"I have something," Clara said immediately. Sat up straighter. "Moving in with my boyfriend. Officially. Next month."
Elias grinned—half relief, half genuine excitement. "What are we supposed to do with this information?"
"Congratulate me. Buy me a housewarming gift."
Mark raised his glass. "Are we picking the gift too?"
"I'll send you a list. You can choose."
"Wait—you're not getting married? Just moving in?" Elias asked.
"You're cheap," Clara shot back.
Noah watched them banter, watched the ease between them. The knot in his chest loosened. He laughed. Real this time. They talked about nothing important for the rest of the evening. Laughed. Ate. Existed in a space where the world's weight didn't press quite so hard.
When Noah left, he hugged all of them, holding on maybe a second too long.
In the car, he texted Atlas.
Noah: I miss you.
He waited. No response came. He started the car. Drove.
Halfway home, Atlas called. Noah answered immediately.
"I miss you too," Atlas said. His voice was softer than it had been this morning.
Noah laughed—relief flooding through him like water. "I was worried."
"Where are you?"
"Heading home."
"Meet me at the marina."
"Okay."
They stayed on the phone as Noah drove. Talked about work. Made jokes. Laughed. Atlas sounded like himself again, but underneath, Noah could hear focus, determination—the sound of someone preparing for war.
He's acting like everything's fine, Noah thought. But that was okay. For now, it was enough.
---
Atlas was already in the parking lot when Noah pulled up beside him.
They got out. Atlas pulled him into a hug, kissed him like they hadn't been together this morning. Like he needed to remind himself Noah was real.
They walked toward the marina. Atlas's hand rested on Noah's shoulder briefly, then dropped. He took Noah's hand instead, laced their fingers together deliberately.
Noah stared at him.
Atlas just winked.
He's doing this to piss them off, Noah realized. To make a point.
People passed them. Stared. Noah met some of their eyes and kept walking. Let them look.
They reached the yacht and climbed to the deck.
Atlas pulled him close. Kissed him hard—a kiss that said you're mine and I'm not hiding and I'm not pretending.
Noah let himself fall into it. Into Atlas. Into this.
---
They changed into comfortable clothes—sweats, t-shirts.
Atlas's phone rang. "Food's here."
Noah smiled.
They brought everything up and set the table together. Outside, waves lapped against the hull. Seagulls called against the darkening sky.
---
During dinner, they sat pressed together. Atlas's hand traced patterns on Noah's thigh—deliberate, grounding.
Noah talked about his day. Clara. Elias. Mark. The conversation about his father. He left out the weight of it, focused on the laughter instead.
Atlas listened. Made comments. Asked questions. Eyes never leaving Noah's face. Phone face-down on the table.
Noah watched him. How is he so calm?
After dinner, they played PlayStation. Atlas won despite Noah's attempts to distract him by leaning against his shoulder, by kissing his neck, by doing everything short of tackling the controller from his hands.
"You only win when I let you," Atlas said finally. He kissed him hard and pulled him close.
They stayed like that. Holding each other. Not talking.
"Everything okay?" Noah asked quietly.
Atlas kissed his forehead. "Yeah. Everything's okay."
Noah lifted his head. Looked at him. Atlas's eyes were sharper than usual, more focused. But when Atlas smiled, it reached his eyes.
Atlas's phone buzzed. He glanced at it. "I need to check this." He walked downstairs for a few minutes.
Something's happening, Noah thought. But what?
Atlas came back up. "Want to go to bed?"
"Yeah."
---
Atlas took his hand and led him to the bedroom.
He pulled Noah against him. "Did you blow me a kiss earlier?"
Noah smiled. "Don't remember."
"I remember." Atlas looked at his mouth. His hand cupped Noah's ass, squeezed gently. "I'll remind you."
Noah didn't look at him. Blew another kiss—playful, quick.
Atlas's other hand slid into Noah's hair. Tilted his head back. Kissed him deep. Passionate. Like he was mapping Noah's mouth, learning it all over again.
Noah responded immediately. Hands moving to Atlas's chest, fingers curling into his shirt.
Atlas walked him backward. Until Noah's legs hit the bed.
Pushed him down gently. Climbed over him.
"I missed you," Atlas said. His voice was low, carrying weight beyond the words.
"Me too." Atlas kissed him again. Slower now but no less intense. His hand traced up Noah's side—ribs, chest, throat. Tender and possessive at once.
Noah's fingers found the hem of Atlas's shirt. Pulled it up.
Atlas sat back just long enough to yank it over his head. Noah's hands immediately went to his chest, tracing the lines of muscle, the marks still fading from nights before.
"Mine," Noah whispered.
"Yours." Atlas leaned down, kissed his neck. His jaw. Back to his mouth.
Noah arched up into him. "Atlas—"
"I know." Atlas's hands moved lower. "I know."
The yacht rocked with the waves. Or maybe with them.
Hours later, they lay exhausted and peaceful. Noah's head on Atlas's chest. Atlas's arm around him, holding him close.
"I love you," Noah murmured, half-asleep.
Atlas kissed his hair. "Love you too."
For a few hours, nothing else mattered.