Noah woke to Atlas's hand moving across his chest.
Slow circles—down, then up again. Deliberate.
His breath quickened before he was fully awake.
Atlas looked at him with a half-asleep smile. Leaned down, brushed their lips together—brief, soft.
"Morning, love." Voice rough with sleep.
Noah smiled. "Morning, love."
Atlas shifted closer—molded himself against Noah's side, head on his shoulder. His palm settled on Noah's stomach, traced lazy patterns there.
Noah pressed his mouth to Atlas's hair. The scent of yesterday's shampoo still clung there—cedar and something clean. Flirtatious tone: "You've been sleeping next to me for two weeks straight."
"Storing energy for these moments." Atlas laughed.
Noah laughed with him. "Think you opened the gates of Troy last night."
Atlas tried not to laugh—failed. They both cracked up.
When the laughter faded, their eyes locked.
Atlas captured his mouth—passionate, consuming. They stayed like that for a while. His fingers threaded through Noah's hair, tugged gently at the roots.
"I love your hair."
Noah's mouth curved. "Just my hair?"
Atlas looked at him. Winked. "Have to think about it."
"Let me leave you alone to think." Noah started to sit up.
Atlas's hand shot out, gripped his shoulder, hauled him back. Their lips barely touching, he held Noah's stare.
"I love everything that's yours."
Noah's smile widened. His palms cupped Atlas's face. "I love everything that's yours too."
They collided—hard this time. Demanding. Noah's tongue swept into Atlas's mouth, tasted sleep and want and that uniquely Atlas taste he'd missed for three months.
When they broke apart, both breathing heavily, Noah's hands roamed over Atlas's chest. He ducked his head, mouth hot against skin.
Atlas grinned. "You're trouble."
Noah lifted his head, eyes dancing. "You complaining?"
Atlas's thumb traced Noah's dimple. Their gazes locked. "Do I look like I'm complaining?" Flirtatious. Then his teeth caught the dimple, nipped gently.
Noah laughed—the sound turning breathless when Atlas's mouth traveled lower.
"Let's shower."
"I'll make breakfast."
Atlas's lips sealed over Noah's pulse point—intense, concentrated. Sucked until Noah gasped. "Together."
Noah bit his lower lip. "Have to think about it."
Atlas rolled out of bed. Grabbed Noah's wrist, tugged him up. "We'll think about it in the shower."
Noah laughed.
---
Water hit them—hot, immediate. Steam rose fast, fogged the glass. Steam thickened the air, made it hard to breathe
Atlas crowded Noah against the tile. Cold at his back, Atlas's body furnace-hot against his front.
They came together—slower now but no less intense. Atlas's tongue traced Noah's lower lip before sweeping inside. Noah's fingers twisted in Atlas's wet hair, tugged hard enough to make Atlas groan.
The sound vibrated between them.
Atlas's mouth traveled—jaw, neck, that spot just below Noah's ear that made his breath hitch and catch.
"Atlas—" Noah's voice came out thin.
"Yeah?"
"Nothing. Don't stop."
Atlas smiled against his skin. Continued lower—across his collarbone, down his chest. Water drummed against tile, streamed between them, made everything slick, hypersensitive.
Noah's nails dug into Atlas's shoulders. "Come back up here."
Atlas dragged his mouth back up. Slowly. Deliberately. When he reached Noah's lips, Noah's hands framed his face, dragged him into a bruising kiss—teeth sinking into Atlas's lower lip, tongue demanding entrance.
The wet sound of their mouths meeting echoed off the walls.
Atlas pressed closer. Caged him in completely. Their hips slotted together—friction and heat and water cascading over them both.
Noah's leg hooked around Atlas's thigh. Hauled him impossibly closer. The shift in angle made them both gasp.
"Fuck—" Atlas's forehead dropped to Noah's shoulder. His breathing ragged, hot against Noah's wet skin.
Noah's palms skimmed down Atlas's back—lower, fingers digging into firm muscle, pulling. "We have time."
Atlas lifted his head. His stare pinned Noah—pupils blown, water streaming down his face, lips swollen. "You sure?"
"Very sure." Noah dragged him into another kiss—demanding, desperate. "Want you."
Atlas made a sound—half groan, half surrender. His mouth crashed back into Noah's with everything he had.
His hand slid between them. Wrapped around Noah. Noah's head fell back against the tile, eyelids fluttering shut, a choked sound escaping.
"Look at me." Atlas's voice scraped out rough.
Noah's eyes opened. Met Atlas's gaze—dark, intense, full of want.
Atlas claimed his mouth while his hand moved. Swallowed Noah's sounds—gasps and whimpers and broken syllables. Felt him trembling, muscles going taut.
"Atlas—" Noah's voice cracked. "I'm—"
"I know. I've got you."
Noah shattered with Atlas's name breaking from his lips, nails scoring Atlas's shoulders hard enough to leave crescents. His whole body went rigid, then melted.
Atlas held him through it. Mouth gentle now—temple, cheek, lips.
Noah's hand sought out Atlas—returned the favor. Watched his face as he moved, memorized every hitch in his breath, every sound he couldn't quite suppress, the way his jaw went slack.
When Atlas finished, he buried his face in Noah's neck. They stood there under the spray—chests heaving, holding each other upright. The water beat down on them, relentless and warm.
Noah laughed—breathless, happy. "Now we really need to shower."
"Yeah." Atlas's lips brushed his temple. "We really do."
They actually washed then—but even that turned intimate. Noah grabbed the shampoo. The scent hit him—mint and eucalyptus. "Turn around."
Atlas turned. Noah worked product through his hair—fingers massaging his scalp, working in circles. Atlas's head tilted back, a low rumble of contentment escaping his throat.
"Feel good?"
"Mm."
Noah rinsed the suds out, watched the foam disappear down the drain. His mouth traced the space between Atlas's shoulder blades. Then higher. Up his spine, one vertebra at a time.
Atlas spun around. Drew Noah close. Their mouths came together—softer now, but no less meaningful.
His fingers threaded through Noah's hair, working in shampoo while somehow still managing to keep their mouths connected. The mint-eucalyptus scent grew stronger, filled the steamy air.
Noah laughed against his lips. "Multitasking."
"Learning from the best."
They rinsed together. Hands roaming—not sexual anymore, just... tender. Relearning. The curve of a hip. The hollow of a throat. The way water carved paths down skin. The small scars they'd mapped a hundred times before.
Atlas traced Noah's jawline with his fingertips. Noah's palms mapped the planes of Atlas's chest, felt his heartbeat slowing, steadying.
"We should get out," Noah said. "Before Alice wonders if we drowned."
"In a minute." Atlas tugged him close again. Just held him under the spray. Noah's head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around each other. Water continued its steady rhythm against tile.
No words. Just breathing together. Just existing in this moment.
Finally they stepped out. Grabbed towels.
Noah caught Atlas's reflection in the mirror. Both of them flushed, hair dripping, grinning like idiots. Atlas smelled like mint now, mixed with that underlying scent that was just him—warm skin and something Noah couldn't name but would recognize anywhere.
"Breakfast?"
"Yeah." Atlas reeled him in for one more kiss. Quick but thorough. "Breakfast."
They dressed—similar colors again, unconscious coordination.
Downstairs, Noah started coffee. The rich aroma filled the kitchen—dark roast, bitter and perfect. Atlas materialized behind him, arms circling his waist. He smelled like mint shampoo and sleep and home.
"I could get used to this."
Noah leaned back against him. "Me too."
Morning light streamed through the windows—golden, warm. The coffee maker hissed and dripped, a familiar rhythm. Somewhere outside, birds called to each other.
The morning stretched ahead—simple, domestic, perfect.
Outside, the world kept turning. But here, in Alice's kitchen, with Atlas's chin on his shoulder and coffee brewing and sunlight painting everything soft—
This was enough.
This was everything.