Title: The Touch – Chapter Ten – Music and Moonlight
Author: Linda/Brynna/Brynnamorgan
Rating: M for Sexual Situations, Graphic Language
Categories: Romance/Supernatural/AU
Characters: H/OC
Spoilers: None

A/N: The Del McCoury Band is real, a big name among indie bluegrass circuits. I don't own 'em and don't attribute anything to them other than some verbal exchange and music in this fic. They really are headlining the Delaware Valley Bluegrass Festival this coming Labor Day Weekend, with Mountain Heart, another indie favorite, opening for them on Saturday night. Goddess, how I love Google!

Summary: "I don't believe in these things I've seen you do, and yet I've seen them. I don't believe in 'soulmates' and yet here you are. I don't know what to believe anymore."

Lyrics Credit:

"If I Give My Heart" as sung by Alison Krauss, 1987

"Take me in your arms
Let the love you seek
Wash away your sorrow,
Let the morning be ours to keep."
Chapter Ten – Music and Moonlight

Sabrina leaned forward as each band member came out and the music rose, all banjo and fiddle and guitar and bass fiddle and ukele, much like Whistle Stop. Del McCoury had been in the business since before she was born, with his two sons joining him in recent years. His form of bluegrass was more roots-based than hers and had a cult following. Of course, she loved it.

At one point he looked down, caught sight of her and Mike and grinned ear-to-ear, winking at her. She laughed and waved back while Mike raised his fist in recognition. When the audience began to rise and dance she joined them, giving Greg a squeeze that indicated he didn't have to try, and getting a reassuring one that told her he didn't intend to.

Mike swept her to the space in front of the stage and began two-stepping with her. Thank God her ex had been good for something, and that was teaching the boy how to dance. More laughter came from her; it had been so long. Saucily she broke free and began to jig alongside him, her gaze landing on Greg. To her delight he was leaning back in the lawnchair and grinning at her, nodding in encouragement at the girlish silliness that had overcome her.

When the song ended she staggered over to him and bent over to press her lips against his, feeling his smile beneath her mouth. "Enjoyed watching a silly old lady cut loose, huh?" A little squeak came from her when he pulled her down to his lap, making sure she was sitting on his good thigh. "Okay, I guess you did," she added breathlessly, noting he was semi-hard beneath his jeans.

"Uh, huh." His stubble raked over the side of her neck when he kissed her there.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have us a bon-a-fide celebrity who thought she could just get away with sneaking in here and not being recognized." Sabrina swung her head up just as Del added, "Sabrina Wallace, grab that fiddle of yours and get on up here. Bring that boy of yours along."

The applause and cheers were deafening, imploring. Mike extended his hand to her, a big saucy grin on his face. Helplessly she turned to Greg, suddenly nervous. "I don't want to abandon you," she said in his ear.

His grip tightened on her as he replied, "Go on up and have fun. Besides, we took my car. You can't abandon me." The nudge he gave her indicated he was messing with her and she giggled, giving him a thorough kiss before she grabbed her fiddle case and let Mike assist her up onto the stage.

Del gave her a hug, then Mike. "I've known this young lady so long that I've forgotten how long I've known her," he said into the mike, getting titters from the audience. Flashbulbs were going off everywhere; the more savvy fans were turning off the flash and worming their way closer to the stage for better pictures.

"Old age has a way of doing that to you," she snarked, getting a shake of the finger from him while the titters turned into laughter.

"Just for that, you get to pick the song. Somebody hand that boy a guitar."

The crowd and band waited patiently while she tuned her fiddle and Mike tuned the Fender acoustic pressed into his hands. Once satisfied they nodded at each other then looked expectently at Del.

"One song and only one," Sabrina said sweetly to the older man, getting a grin from him. "Let's give 'em some foot-stomping hillbilly music. Y'all know 'Rocky Top,' right?"

They broke into the bluegrass classic, each member taking their turn between verses. Sabrina fiddled to the crowd, letting the waves of adoration wash through her soul into the energy she'd long gotten used to by then. Something was different that time; instead of a sharp need to reach back out it settled into a warm glow. Realization hit her as her eyes landed on Greg and she gasped aloud at the way his eyes were penetrating hers, wide as though he'd been struck with the same knowledge she had.

Arms extended, playing forgotten, she danced along, fiddle in one hand, bow in the other. The music lifted her along, clapping and cheering all around her, pulsing its way deep down inside of her. They'll be fine. They'll all be fine. Time to move on and embrace what lies ahead. The man before you is waiting, Sabrina. Take hold and never let go.

The silence, then resulting applause made her realize that the song had ended and she was standing, head bowed. Mike's hand came to rest on her shoulder and she nodded up at him. "It's over, Mike," she whispered.

"Yeah." He gave his mom a kiss on the cheek.

"And this is a good thing," she added just as Del approached her from the other side and gave her a hug. She couldn't keep her eyes off Greg, her man who was looking at her with pride and longing all rolled into one. Waving as she went Sabrina dismounted the stage, pausing to sign the occasional autograph before coming to stand in front of Greg again.

In one move he had her sitting on his good thigh, tucking her head against his. She could feel the beat of his heart against the palm of her hand, his breath across her temple. Around them the music rose into a steady rhythm of joyful noise, the ground vibrating beneath their feet as people danced and sang. Nothing mattered except being in each other's arms.

Moonlight radiated across the field as they strolled, light twinkling from nearby campfires. Mike and Bud had already carried her tote bag and purchases back to the Corvette for them, Mike returning with a "someday I wanna drive that bitch" look on his face as he handed Greg back the keys along with Greg's leather jacket and her windbreaker. Then they were on their way into the campground, leaving the couple alone.

It seemed to Sabrina that the stars were dancing in rhythm to the sound of the people jamming in the night. Greg's left arm was warm around her shoulders, his right using the cane she'd bought him as he limped leisurely along. Amazing how she'd fallen into his odd gait, as though she was already a part of him. The warm energy had not abated; if anything it had strengthened, building with every step she took with him.

"You were beautiful up there tonight," he finally said, nuzzling her hair. "The way you played to the audience, the smile on your face. You're a natural."

"Thank you, Greg. I don't usually... get quite that carried away. I haven't danced on stage in a long time."

"Urge just overcame you, huh?" She could tell he was trying to remain nonchalant. More than an "urge" and they both knew it.

"Something like that."

"Right."

Suddenly he stopped and turned her in his arms. "And if you think I'm buying that you've got some swampland in Louisiana to sell me while you're at it." His mouth slammed down on hers, containing her gasp, then a moan as his tongue flicked over her lips, seeking entry. She allowed it and he groaned, steering her back under a tree and backing her up against it. His hands slid up and down her spine; hers found his tee shirt front, palms flattened across his pectorals, moving in slow, circular motions. The familiar tingling went through her, not in a rush, but in a lazy swirl of emotions that caused her to let out a soft sigh, her hands tangling in his curls as he began leaving soft biting kisses across her neck and throat.

"I want you, dammit," he growled against her ear, his hand pulling her hip squarely up against his pelvis. His erection pressed into her belly and she moaned, undulating against him. "All of you. Your heart, mind, soul. I want to feel your bare skin against mine, your hands and mouth on me, taste you and feel you everywhere. I want to feel your legs around my waist while I get into you so damned deep I'll never find my way out. And when you scream out my name, I want to know that I'm the reason."

"Greg..."

His mouth claimed hers again, his tongue probing the inside of her mouth, taking what was his. Those long fingers moved along her side, then up across her breasts and she let out a long moan of relief, one hand sliding down to below his belt, tracing his hard outline. The groan reverberating in her mouth encouraged her to stroke lightly, enjoying the feel of him thrusting back.

"You feel so goddamned alive," he muttered against her lips. "Like you're becoming a part of me... " He shut his eyes for a moment, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm a doctor, Sabrina." His voice came out in a strained whisper. "I don't believe in these... things I've seen you do, and yet I've seen them. I don't believe in 'soulmates' and yet here you are. I... don't know what to believe anymore."

"Believe in what you see and what you know in your heart."

They were off again, tongues intertwining, hands touching, caressing, fabric moved aside for the brush of fingers. He wedged his good thigh between hers, his need hard, evident against the crest of her thighs. The faint "thud" of his cane hitting the ground reached their ears and they ignored it. Instead, Greg turned to lean back against the tree for support, not missing one expert caress.

Finally he lifted his head and tipped it back, drawing in one shuddering breath after another as he held her head against his shoulder. "We... can't... here," he choked out. "Might get caught."

"Murphy's Law being what it is, it would be my son that would catch us."

His shoulders started to shake with silent laughter. "Yeah, and he's bigger than I am."

"Chicken."

"Bawk bawk."

He gently set her back and bent for his cane, groaning when she ran her fingers along his behind. "Quit that," he chided. "At least until we get some privacy, then you can feel my ass all you want."

"Promises, promises," was her reply as she accepted his left elbow for the stroll back to the car.