Hushed Willows [m] I only got one thing in the back of my mind

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Rejection.

It was not what she'd expected. And Reverie was hurt then, perhaps more than she should have been. Her eyes filled with tears, and though she did not pull away from his embrace, she scarcely returned it. He didn't want her. Not while she was like this.

Alright, She said quietly, hating herself for the way her voice trembled on the word. He didn't want her. More than anything Reverie wanted to disappear; to break from his embrace and seek the safety of their den, but even there she would not be able to hide from this rejection. He didn't want her. She couldn't bring herself to say anything else at all.

Boone was swift with his reassurance — and then there was guilt, his and her own, and apologies falling into the space between them. Reverie didn't understand at first, when he explained, though it didn't really matter if she understood or not. It was his desire that she wanted, not only his touch; his pleasure, not only hers. And it did make sense after a little while, after all the explanations had been laid out and it felt as if they'd reached a place of understanding. She'd made him feel unsafe. He wanted her to be soft with him always, or at least that was her comprehension of it.

So she was, this time in chaste kisses and gentle warmth. She led him to their den, where they would spend what remained of the day soothing one another. In the end Reverie was grateful that Boone had not responded to her rattled affections, that he'd found another way to make her feel safe and loved. And she would remember this; she would remember that he needed tenderness from her. She'd never wanted to make him feel unsafe.

Later in the evening, when they'd both settled, the story of all that had transpired earlier in the day finally spilled from her; haltingly, hesitantly, but that fear too was unfounded. Boone was proud of her — and that was a strange and addictive feeling. That night she went to sleep tucked in his arms, murmuring sweetly to him, telling him that she loved him. Boone was more fragile to her touch than she'd realized, and in a way Reverie was glad for the knowledge; it meant that she could try to be what he needed. It meant that she could avoid ever hurting him this way again.