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Itori cupped his face, thumbs rubbing gently on Will's cheeks. “You have already given me so much. This is just a small token of my affection. Do you like it?”

Will’s heart tripped over affection. “I do. It’s beautiful. I didn’t know you could make jewelry.”

“It is a skill we learn in childhood. Water does not allow us to keep many things for long, so we do not build like humans do, but the transience of beauty is its own gift. You wear it until you lose it, then your lover makes you another.”

His heart ached. “Thank you,” Will said again. No one had ever–but Itori had. He’d wanted to. He’d spent time and energy making this, when he had none to spare.

Will leaned forward to kiss Itori. The pearl hit just under the collar of his shirt, cold against his skin. Will liked how aware of it he was. Liked that when he went home tonight, he would carry it with him, this physical token of Itori's affection.

It was hard not to read into that. Not to want more.

Sweet kisses tilted into more. Will’s mouth opened, and then Itori’s hands were wandering down his back into the band of the pants he was still wearing.

“Please,” Will said when those hands paused in questioning.

They made quick work of his clothing. Itori tucked all of it over a tree branch, and then pressed Will up against the trunk.

Will panted and moaned his way through the first orgasm. The pearl stayed cold against his skin, drawing Itori’s hands more than a few times as he worked them through it.

In the sweaty aftermath, Itori eased Will down to sit in his lap beneath the tree. On a whim, Will turned around to lean his back against Itori’s broad chest, letting those strong arms curl around him.

“How are you feeling?” Will asked.

“Better now,” Itori confessed. “It was hard today. You cannot see it from here, but some humans started digging farther down.”

“There were new machines in the lot today,” Will said.

Itori took a deep breath, his chest expanding and pressing against Will’s back. “They will not stop.”

Will had told him about the town hall. “Maybe someone will figure out a way to stop them. The DEP is still coming to test the water.”

“Will that help?”

Will shrugged. “If they can prove pollution, maybe the government would stop construction. I don’t know. But no one who lives here wants this.”

“Humans have complicated ways of doing things,” Itori said. “Testing and meetings and rules that must be decided among chains of humans before action. You lose so much time.”

Time they didn’t have.

“I wish I knew what to do,” Will said.

“Is there truly nothing to be done? No elders who can help?”

Elders? Will thought about the idea of asking his father for help. It was almost laughable. “If you mean like parents… I mean, I’ve mentioned my father. But he’d not the type to help.”

Itori’s hand slid down to his knee, and Will laid his own on top, his fingers lacing between Itori’s. Itori had webbing between his fingers, and Will liked the soft, flexible texture of it. “He would hurt you for asking for help?”

Will sighed. “Not… physically. But in other ways, yeah. He thinks anyone asking for help deserves punishment.” Will huffed a bitter laugh. “I mean, he was one of the few people not at the Town Hall.”

“I still do not understand this. You are his kin.”

“It’s not just me. He doesn’t like anyone, really. He doesn’t want to be a part of anything. He is–”

Will was struck with a sudden thought. His father had always been alone, always rejected the idea of needing anyone, being included in anything. Will had told Itori there was nothing more he could do… but was that actually true? Or was that his father’s way of thinking that had festered inside him. A helplessness born of passive isolationism.

“He is–?” Itori prompted when Will failed to continue.

It took Will a moment to backtrack the conversation. “He’s an unhappy man. A lonely man. It’s where I get it from.”