Chapter 16

I cannot get enough of my roommate. Brandon seems to want me as much as I want him. Once we are in the shower, I use his body wash to repeat what we did in the locker room, only this time I do not avoid his most sensitive areas.

I start soaping up his gorgeous cock, which responds to my touch by getting thicker and thicker. I want to lick it. I want him to seduce me. Or maybe I will seduce him. I want to know every part of him.

I am watchful of the bruises on his torso from the resuscitation earlier. But he seems okay.

When he is fully hard, I drop to my knees and slide my soapy fingers over his taint. He groans. I take one of his balls in hand, then the other.

"Please," he whispers. "Please touch me."

The water is washing away the suds, leaving me with a very clean Brandon.

I give him a grin. "Okay." I open my mouth and suck his hardening cock down.

"Oh, shit," Brandon says in that quiet voice. "Oh, god, that feels so good."

I hum around him, wanting to get him off again. Wanting to give him pleasure. I do not know what I am doing, but this feels right.

But he tugs on my chin, urging me back. "What?" I ask. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm going to come."

"That is good."

"I want you to come, too."

I smile at him. "I will." I stand up and kiss him, my erection bouncing against my abs.

I cup his face and kiss him, then reach behind him, gripping his ass as I rut against him.

Brandon reaches out and squeezes some soap into one of his big hands, then uses it to jack both of us.

"I'm not going to last long," I say.

"Me neither." He grins. "I like this."

Brandon's rhythmic strokes get faster and faster until my body releases and I let go, spurting over his fist. Then I watch as he comes, his head thrown back and his lips parted. Ropes of his come land on my stomach and get washed away.

We keep kissing until his skin starts to get waterlogged—which is the way my true form is. It is the best I have felt in a long time.

Once we get dressed, I have Brandon drive me to a craft mall in Creelin. It's a large warehouse with booths staffed by many different makers selling pottery, visual art, wood products, textiles, glassware, foodstuffs, and more.

While I had been worried about aftereffects from Brandon's brush with drowning, he does not seem to have many. He is moving slower than usual, but that is it.

So maybe he is going to be all right. Regardless, that needs to not happen again.

Holding hands—which still sends a thrill through me—we walk up to a jewelry maker I had noticed before. On a display table is a curb chain necklace with links that are thick and chunky and have been flattened and twisted so they interlock tightly. The necklace clasps in a large O the size of an American quarter.

But the important part is that it is made of steel.

I gesture to it. "I want to get that for you."

"Um. Thanks, but you don't need to buy me—"

I look around. No one is paying attention to us. Nevertheless, I lower my voice. "It is steel. If you throw steel into the water where you are swimming, a nokk's scream cannot drown you."

Brandon stares at me. "What the hell kind of lore is that?"

I shrug. "It is not lore. It is a fact. I want you to be safe around me. Will you wear this?"

He fingers the necklace, and I can tell he likes it. It's a modern design, edgy but subtle. "How does that work?"

"I do not know. With the nokks like my uncle, who turn into boats, maybe the steel came from anchors? Or maybe it absorbs the vibrations from our scream?"

Bran smiles at me. Dimples . "I like learning about your culture. And yes, I can wear this around, and I'll love it." He gives me a quick kiss, and a thrill rushes through me. Then he bites his lip. "But I can't wear it in the pool. No jewelry during games."

"Then keep it nearby. Simply throwing it into the water will do the trick," I say. "And you will protect everyone else as well."

"So I can toss it in before the game and let it sit on the bottom?"

I nod. "Yes, that is a plan. I am sorry I did not think of it earlier. Please keep it on you as much as you can when you are around me. It will protect you from drowning—at least from me causing it."

"Thank you." Bran's voice sounds scratchy, but I do not believe it is from any of today's activities. "This necklace is kind of punk, actually, and it feels very emo. Like you."

"So you like it? You will wear it?" I ask.

"Yes to both."

I pay for the necklace but do not touch it. I do not think touching it would harm me or diminish its protective properties, but I do not want to be careless. Brandon puts it on, and I admire it around his neck.

I swallow hard. "That looks good."

"Thanks. Can I kiss you while wearing it?"

"Yes. It just keeps you from drowning. It does not mean you cannot touch me."

"So. Interesting," Bran murmurs.

"It would go well with a see-through shirt," I say. "Or one of those mesh ones. Maybe in black. Just saying."

Brandon laughs, and it loosens everything inside me. "You're getting your perv on. I like it, Steve."

"Just wait until our date."

Tonight, I am putting on my best shirt, a black button-down, and my nicest black pants. I could likely just wear jeans, but I wanted to show an effort for Brandon. I line my eyes with kohl a bit more carefully than usual.

He comes out of the bathroom wearing a soft sweater and dark jeans, and I know I chose well.

"I want to kiss you," I whisper.

"Then what's stopping you?"

I step into his arms, and he holds me tight. At first, the kiss is very soft, but then our lips part, and we're making out.

If we don't stop soon, we'll end up staying here and forget about dinner. And while I have no problem with that, Brandon seemed to want to take me out somewhere. I don't want to ruin his fun. I am dating an overaffectionate puppy.

I wish I could bring myself to hate it, but … I can't. I like how Brandon throws his arms around me, smacking a kiss on my cheek. I love how he ruffles my hair and messes it up. I love how he is always touching me.

He did that even before we kissed, but today he can't seem to stop.

I don't want him to.

Brandon drives me to a restaurant in town that is owned by a coven of witches. The place is welcoming and friendly, and Kellie and Elaine had mentioned it, saying it has the best soups.

When we pick up the menus, the letters are enchanted so that they arrange themselves to show the dishes they think we will enjoy. So my menu looks different from Brandon's, and we compare notes. The witches rightly assume that I want fish and Bran wants spicier food, and we order accordingly.

We fall into easy chatter, and all I can think is how much I like being with him. How good it feels to be with someone it is so simple to talk with. Nothing is difficult with Brandon.

"If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?" Brandon asks.

Without hesitation, I say, "Creelin, Pennsylvania."

"That's convenient. Why?"

"Because you're here."

Bran's eyes melt. But it's the truth. I want to be near him.

"Where would you go?" I ask.

"Well, now I feel like I need to say something sweet and romantic. But the truth is, I want to see where you're from in Norway."

It's my turn to melt. He wants to learn more about me? That is as sweet as it gets.

"Maybe I can take you to the underground world sometime," I say slowly. "By your choice, and only for a visit. Not me forcing you to stay there forever."

"I'm in," Bran says. "Tell me more."

"In Scandinavia, there is an entire world where the spirits reside. It is … under the ground."

"That doesn't make sense. The earth is solid."

"I suppose it exists in the space between worlds. I can access it from anywhere, but it is strongest there."

"That's so cool."

"If we went, I would need to protect you from having your soul stolen."

"How exactly does that work? I don't see how someone could steal something incorporeal."

"Fancy word." I raise an eyebrow.

"I know, right?" Bran looks pleased with himself.

"I don't actually know how it works," I admit, "since I've never done it. What I know is that nokks are born without a soul, and the only way they can get one is through this process."

Brandon looks at me, and he's more serious than I've ever seen him. "I think you're doing just fine without a soul."

I raise an eyebrow skeptically.

"You don't have to agree with me. Do you want to talk about something else?"

I nod.

"What does the underground world look like?"

"Similar to this one—there are living spaces and so forth. But I have more powers there. Here, I am limited to controlling my shape. Oh, and water, of course. I can stop waterfalls and the like."

Bran holds up his fork. "Hold on. Stop waterfalls?" He pauses, then nods. "Yeah, I maybe remember something about that from Witchipedia, but at the time, I was mostly focused on how to get you to like me. But it's real? Like, big waterfalls?"

"Yes—"

"I've got to see this."

"I can show you after dinner. We can go to Lin Falls."

Brandon shakes his head incredulously. "Okay. Yes, let's do that." He takes another bite of his entrée. "So the underground world is a lot like this one?"

"Basically. We live in houses or caves. It's more magical than this world, and I can kind of make things how I want them to be. Although this world has plenty of magic if you just look for it."

"That's so cool. I want to learn more about your world. I want to know everything about you."

"No, you do not," I say.

Bran looks offended. "Why would you say that? I wish you'd believe that I accept you as you really are. I don't judge people by their looks. The surface is not what matters."

I gesture at Brandon's beautiful body. "It's easy for you. Everyone wants you when you look like that."

Brandon's expression goes harsh—harsher than I've ever seen on him. "I didn't always look this way. And it's kind of insulting that you think no one could have liked me before."

I scrunch my nose. "I am sorry?"

"You should be." He still looks angry, but I cling to the affection in his tone. "You're right that some people are focused on the outside, but not all of them. Bottom line, I had to love my body as is—and you need to do the same thing."

The scoff that comes out of me is way too cynical. "What do you know about it?"

"Where do you think my stretch marks came from? I lost half my body size. But that happened because I fell in love with polo, not because I hated how I looked. I discovered the pool, and now you can't get me out of the water. But I couldn't put off accepting myself until I met some external standard. I had to be happy first. At any size, in any shape or condition. I look like this now because I exercise so much, and I like it. But in some ways, it doesn't matter to me. What matters is inside."

I swallow down a lump. "I never feel like anyone is going to accept me."

"That's because you don't accept yourself. I think you're wrong about how people see you—I like you a lot, and I bet a lot of other people do, too. But you'll never believe that until you get over this self-image issue. Gotta do that first, bruh."

While I want to roll my eyes, I am listening to what Brandon is saying. "It is hard for me to believe that you weren't always so beautiful and popular and athletic," I say.

"Every single person had to start somewhere. Sure, some people have natural talent, but even then, that doesn't tell the whole story. They still have to work to improve. For me, that meant extra weight room practices to build muscle. I took up running, even though I hated it, because it helped with my endurance in the pool. I changed my diet and started eating corn tortillas instead of flour, because it made me feel better. I stopped judging myself and started loving my own body. And little by little, my body changed. That became a virtuous cycle, because every time I felt better—felt stronger, felt like I could move faster in the water—I wanted to do more and more of what had made that possible." Brandon swallows hard. "It took a few years, but by the time I was a senior, I was one of the best on the team, because I worked harder than everyone else did. I put my reps in, as they say. At any rate, I very much sympathize with not feeling comfortable in your own body. I think a lot of people are in the same situation. Look at Phil, worrying about how hairy he is. We can be so hard on ourselves, and the thing is, so few people are happy with their bodies. Somewhere along the way, I decided I was going to buck the trend. My stretch marks are part of me, and I love them. So, when I tell you that I won't judge you for your true form, I mean it." He winks. "I think I'll find it cute."

I gape at him. "Only you could think that something as repulsive as a nokk's true form is cute."

"Pretty sure I'm not the only one." Brandon digs out his mobile phone and starts scrolling, then finds a photo and holds it so I can see it. "Here. This is my ‘before' picture." He shows me a photo of a much chubbier Brandon. Shorter hair. Braces.

Adorable.

"You are very handsome."

"Darn right." Brandon grins. "There was a time when I hated pictures of myself from back then. But now I can look at that kid and see someone I like. Someone I understand and care about." He looks me in the eye. "I'm not saying it's always easy. I hear all the same societal messages you do about how I can't possibly be happy if my teeth aren't straighter or I don't have the right shoes or whatever. But, even if I have to remind myself of it sometimes, I know deep down that it's the inside that counts."

I sigh. "But I have problems there, too," I say. "If I don't have a soul, then what do I have inside?"

"You have everything inside. You're a good guy—you're kind, you care about people. You are worthy, even if you don't have the same things inside that others do. Who cares if the way you're constructed is different?"

"Everyone does," I mutter.

"I'm not everyone," Brandon says.

"No," I admit. "You aren't."