My adopted rabbit beastkin loves physical affection. What should I do?

I scoured the literature and discovered a common rabbit trait—

They exhibit strong possessiveness towards those they trust.

Cuddling is one way they express affection and a sense of belonging.

My past training experience told me to respect a beastkin's nature, not suppress it.

But compared to Caleb's aloof distance, Asher's unreserved closeness was uncharted territory.

It started small.

A hand brushing mine when he passed me tea. His shoulder pressed against mine while we watched TV. His head tilting — just slightly — toward my arm when we sat together.

Then it escalated.

I'd be reading in the living room, and suddenly there'd be a warm weight against my side. Asher, in rabbit form, had simply hopped onto the couch and nestled into the crook of my arm.

His soft fur was impossibly warm. His little nose twitched in his sleep.

I didn't move for three hours. My arm went completely numb. I regretted nothing.

In human form, it was... different.

"Luna, you have a leaf in your hair."

His fingers combed through my hair with a gentleness that made my scalp tingle.

"Got it."

But his hand lingered. Just a moment too long.

"...Your hair is really soft," he murmured, then jerked his hand back, mortified. "Sorry! Rabbit instinct. We groom people we— I mean, it's just a reflex—"

"Asher."

"Yes?"

"It's fine."

His ears did that thing where they turned pink at the tips. I was starting to catalogue all the ways his ears betrayed his emotions. Droopy meant sad. Straight up meant happy. Pink tips meant embarrassed. And flat against his head meant scared.

Right now: pink. Very pink.

The moonflower was growing rapidly. By the night before my birthday, a single bud had formed — silver-white, the size of my fist, pulsing with a soft luminescence.

"It'll bloom at midnight," Asher said, his voice hushed with reverence. "Right on your birthday."

He looked exhausted. Dark circles under those ruby eyes, his usually bright complexion pale from pouring energy into the flower.

"You've done too much," I said. "You're running on fumes."

"It's worth it."

"Asher—"

"Luna." He turned to me, and in the moonlight, with the silver bud glowing behind him, he looked like something out of a fairy tale. "For three years, nobody wanted me. I was too weak, too clingy, too male, too wrong. Every trainer sent me back."

His voice wavered but held.

"Then you came along. And you said 'I don't care.' You said I just had to be me. Do you know what that means to someone who's spent their whole life trying to be someone else?"

I couldn't speak. My throat was too tight.

"So yes, I grew you a moonflower. And yes, I'm tired. But if this flower can make you smile on a day that someone else tried to ruin — then every drop of energy was worth it."

At midnight, the bud opened.

Petals unfurled like liquid silver, releasing a fragrance that was somehow both sweet and clean — like rain on warm earth. The nectar pooled in the flower's center, catching the moonlight and turning it into captured starlight.

It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

"Happy birthday, Luna," Asher whispered.

I turned to him. This gentle boy who had given me everything he had — his honesty, his warmth, his healing, his heart — without asking for a single thing in return.

I reached up and touched his rabbit ears.

He froze, eyes going wide.

Rabbit ears are sacred. Touching them is the highest sign of intimacy and trust.

"Thank you," I said. "For the flower. For the dinners. For the tea. For sitting by my door when I cry. For making me believe that being loved doesn't have to hurt."

His ears were trembling under my fingertips. His eyes glistened.

"Luna, I—"

"You don't have to say it. I already know."

He leaned forward, slowly, giving me every chance to pull away.

His forehead touched mine. Cool skin, warm breath, the faintest tremor.

We stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, the moonflower blooming between us.

Outside, in the distant woods of Northwood, a wolf howled.

But for the first time, I didn't turn toward the sound.