Firefly Glen These never-ending worries pulling on my sleeves

Keen, for her part, was utterly smitten. There was something wild about this woman with eyes like the first bloom of spring. She'd never seen that color anywhere but in flowers and dreams. Flowers, I'll bring her flowers when they come back, she thought suddenly, losing all grasp on reason at the feeling of the medic's teeth in her fur, against her skin. The faintest gasp slipped from her. Fighting to still the slight tremble of her limbs, Keen reached out to press a questioning kiss to the side of her neck. And if it was well-received, more would follow, and with more confidence now.
In moments such as these, Keen felt most like herself. It wasn't just the contact, it was the moment, all of it. She rarely allowed herself to be anything but nervous, cynical, hesitant. But right here, right now, she wasn't any of those things. She felt alive.