Chapter 5 #2
I can picture it too easily—the moment it clicks. The way his expression probably shifts, the way he has to process it for a few seconds. I exhale quietly, something close to amusement slipping through despite myself.
Atlas: you really just said that to me at 10am
I type back without hesitation.
Me: You asked
Atlas: i asked if you were okay
Me: I am. Thank you for checking.
Atlas: ofc
Atlas: id be a pretty shit boyfriend if i didn’t check on you when our sex tape got released.
Me: You think that was a sex tape?
The bubbles appear and disappear for a while, like he’s trying to decide what to say.
Then…
Atlas: do you want to show me a better one?
Fuck…is he flirting? Am I flirting? I must be hornier than I thought.
I shift slightly against the headboard, staring at the screen. I don’t usually flirt like this. I walk up to a guy at the bar and ask if he wants to go home with me. I don’t tease or push people to see how they react. And I definitely don’t enjoy it.
But with him…
Me: it’s too early to be talking like this, Atlas
My phone buzzes again.
Atlas: you started it :)
The locker room smells like sweat, damp gear, and something faintly metallic when I walk in.
It’s familiar in a way that doesn’t require thought. The low hum of conversation, the sound of lockers opening and closing, and the scrape of benches against the floor settle into place around me. It’s the kind of environment where everything is predictable, structured, and easy to control.
That’s exactly what I need after this morning.
I move through the space without engaging, dropping my bag into my usual spot and pulling my shirt over my head. My body still feels slightly off, the hangover lingering just enough to slow me down, but I push through it by focusing on the process.
Undress. Gear up. Ignore everything else. It works for a few minutes. Then Atlas shows up.
He’s late, like he usually is, stepping into the room with the ease of someone who hasn’t kept anyone waiting. For a few days, he got to practice at the same time as me, which I’d noticed but didn’t comment on. Now he’s back to his old pattern, I guess.
He crosses the room without hesitation and stops beside me. “Hey, baby,” he says loud enough for our teammates to hear.
Before I can react, his lips brush against my bare shoulder. The contact is brief, warm, and casual in a way that feels deliberate.
I clutch my shirt for dear life between my hands.
“How’d you sleep?” He gives me an easy smile that makes my heart stutter.
I stare straight ahead for a moment, caught off guard despite myself. The familiarity in his tone doesn’t match the fact that this is the first time we’ve been in the same room since last night.
“Fine,” The word comes out flat, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
He smiles, satisfied with my answer, and steps back as if nothing about that interaction was unusual. “Good.”
Then he turns away and starts pulling off his clothes, moving through his routine with the same ease he applies to everything else. I should ignore him. That was the plan, but now my eyes keep trying to get a glimpse of his tanned skin.
Atlas has always been in shape, which is expected given the job, but seeing him like this, without the distraction of movement or conversation, makes it harder to dismiss.
His shoulders are broad, his build defined without being exaggerated, and everything about him looks functional rather than performative.
He has a few scars on his arms from bad blows on the ice.
Then my mind starts to drift to me taking his huge dick in my mouth. His hands tangled in my hair.
I look away immediately and reach for my gear, forcing myself to move faster. The sooner I’m dressed, the sooner I can stop noticing things that don’t matter.
“Alright,” Coach calls from the doorway a few minutes later.
The room settles. He looks around at all of us, arms crossed and expression neutral in a way that signals he’s about to make a point.
“I don’t care who’s dating who,” he says.
“That’s your business, and it stays your business as long as you keep it professional.
” A few guys shift, already amused. Coach’s gaze sharpens slightly.
“But after seeing that video from last night, I’m not turning this locker room into a show,” he continues.
“Whatever you’re doing, you do it somewhere else. No fraternizing in here.”
A few quiet laughs move through the room.
The message is clear, even if the tone is controlled. It’s not a real warning—he knows our relationship is fake, after all—just enough to maintain boundaries without escalating the situation.
“On the ice in five,” he adds.
Practice gives me something to focus on. The movement, the repetition, and the physical strain push the noise in my head into the background. For a while, it’s enough. Until Atlas starts circling me.
Every time he gets close, every time our paths cross, every time his voice cuts through the rest of the noise, I notice him in a way I didn’t before. It’s subtle, but it’s there. By the time practice ends, I’m steadier physically, but my head is still too full.
I head back into the locker room and start pulling off my gear, focusing on the routine again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Joanna step into the doorway. She calls Atlas over, and he goes without hesitation.
The rest of the team filters out quickly after that, conversations picking back up as they leave, plans forming, their energy shifting away from the structured intensity of practice.
I feel dead. My muscles are exhausted and a migraine is tapping at the edges of my brain. This hangover might kill me.
I head for the showers, hoping to undo the knots in my back. The water is hot this time, and I let it run over my shoulders as I stand there longer than necessary. The heat helps in a way the cold didn’t earlier, loosening the tension that’s been sitting under my skin since last night.
I hear the locker room door open again, followed by footsteps. I don’t turn around. People come in and out of here all the time. I roll my shoulders under the steaming water.
“Hey.” Atlas’s voice sounds lower than usual.
“What’s up?” I let the water flow over my hair, pushing it back to glance at him over the stall wall, making sure my back is to him.
“I just talked to Joanna...” He trails off, a blush creeping up his neck. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of compression shorts. There’s dark hair on his chest that trails down in a thin line on his stomach.
“And?”
“She wants a locker room shot,” he says. “Something blurry. Suggestive, but not obvious.”
Of course she does.
“Fine,” I answer. And because I must be a psycho, I ask another question. “What do you think that’ll look like?” I glance at him from the corner of my eye.
He’s watching me steadily, his eyes dragging down my bare back and over my ass. I hear him move closer, and then he steps into the stall behind me. I don’t turn around. My heart is hammering with expectation.
The space feels smaller immediately, filled by his presence in a way that’s difficult to ignore. His hands slide around my waist, slow and deliberate, giving me enough time to pull away if I wanted to.
I don’t.
“I’ve got a few ideas,” he murmurs in my ear.
My muscles tighten at his touch, my heartbeat loud in my ears. “Show me.”
The words come out quieter than I intended.
His mouth brushes against my neck, the contact light at first, then more certain as he repeats the motion. I tilt my head, offering him more skin. He nips at my collarbone, his tongue immediately soothing the hurt. A moan escapes my lips, causing Atlas to pull me tighter against him.
It sends a sharp awareness through me, immediate and difficult to dismiss. I brace my hands lightly against the wall, grounding myself as I process it.
His response is immediate.
His hand shifts slightly at my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth moves from my neck to my lips. The contact is slower than last night, more controlled, like he’s paying attention to where the line is instead of crossing it without thinking.
The heat from the shower wraps around us, the steam thick enough to blur the edges of everything else.
His hand slides down over my hipbone, his fingers brushing through the hair at the base of my cock. My head falls back against his chest.
“Atlas…”
He hums a satisfied sound, licking up my neck to my ear as his hand takes hold of my shaft.
He pumps once, twice. The warm water and his restrictive grasp harden me in his hand.
He presses his large erection against the small of my back, and I grind against him.
Fuck, I wish he was naked. Maybe that could be arranged.
“I need to step up my game if I’m gonna make this convincing.” Atlas begins stroking me faster. “I’ve never…I haven’t done this before.”
I gasp, arching my back against him.
“Do you like that?” He slows down and spits in his hand, returning it to my aching dick.
I don’t respond, but my hand grips his wrist, afraid of what sounds he’ll elicit from me. Atlas nips at my earlobe, his hand speeding up.
“Yes.” My breath is coming out in gasps. “Yes. Don’t stop.”
His mouth is back on my neck, sucking and licking until I’m sure it looks like an octopus has strangled the shit out of me.
My hand travels blindly behind me, pulling Atlas’s shorts down. He immediately shoves his cock against my bare skin, his free hand coming up to squeeze my nipple.
“Oh, fuck.” My voice cracks.
“I saw how you were looking at me earlier. Like you were remembering something.” Atlas readjusts his hips to shove the shaft of his cock between my ass cheeks. “Have you been thinking about me?” Another sloppy kiss on my neck. “Please say yes.”
His hips begin to hump me in a way that seems subconscious. His dick presses against my hole.
“Come on my hand so I can use it to fuck you,” Atlas whines in my ear, like he needs this as much as I do.
Then the locker room door opens again.
Voices carry in, close enough to make the situation real again.
Atlas pulls back immediately. “Shit,” he mutters.
He steps out of the stall quickly, grabs a towel, and moves into the stall next to mine as if nothing happened.
I stay where I am, my cock twitching from unfinished business. The water runs over me as the voices outside settle into normal background noise again.
I glance at Atlas, my eyes dragging down. His dick is long and hard under the water. My eyes flick up to his, and he smiles like we just shared a secret.