Title: The Touch – Chapter Twelve – The Eyes Of Love
Author: Linda/Brynna/Brynnamorgan
Rating: M for Implied Explicit Sex and Language
Categories: Romance/Supernatural/AU
Characters: H/OC
Spoilers: None
A/N: Another transitional chapter, but fun stuff. :-)
Summary:"Oh, Christ, you go and pick something mushy. Now I have to pull by the side of the road and cry."
Lyrics Credit:
"Looking In The Eyes Of Love" as sung by Alison Krauss and Union Station, 1997
"I swear by all of heaven's stars above
Now that I've found you
I'm looking in the eyes of love"
Chapter Twelve – The Eyes Of Love
Uhmm. Sabrina nuzzled the sweat-soaked chest hair beneath her cheek, then sighed with contentment. Every joint in her body would probably hurt in the morning. She didn't care. She felt his amusement, then an image of the two of them in the Jacuzzi, his hands playing over her…
"This," Greg finally rasped in the darkness; he cleared his throat and tried again, "this is going to take getting used to. In a good way."
"Yeah."
He chuckled and stretched lazily like a long, lean cat. "So, what do we call this 'bond' we have going on?"
"I haven't the foggiest," she admitted. "Reminds me of something in an old Star Trek show about Vulcans choosing their mates," she continued, giving him the Vulcan salute with a grin.
"It was," he pondered for a moment, "'Never and always touching and touched.' Something like that."
"I like that. Can you live with this, Greg?"
"I don't think I can live without it. Or," he voice suddenly went soft and serious, "without you. I," he hesitated for a moment, "want to know something."
"What?"
"That was the last of what you had, wasn't it." Not a question, but a statement.
"Yeah, it was."
"Why did you… why did you do that?"
"I didn't. It just happened."
"God's will, huh?" No snark, she noted, just puzzlement. Idly she toyed with his chest hair, enjoying the soft, downy feel. He wasn't overly hairy, just had a lovely little patch of dark brown hair sprinkled with gray that spread from nipple-to-nipple, furrowing down to more pleasurable locations. If she wasn't so thoroughly exhausted she'd crawl down that body of his for more thorough exploration.
"Lech."
She snorted, then pressed her mouth to the center of his chest before snagging the sheet and pulling it over them. "I'm going to cover up that sexy bod of yours before my lustful thoughts take over my common sense."
"Now who's the party pooper?" was his amused reply as they settled down to sleep.
"Uhm, knee surgery."
"Wrong."
"Come on, Greg, I'm not a doctor." Sigh. "Okay, I give."
"Cyst removed from my knee when I was on the high school football team."
"You said it wasn't knee surgery."
"It wasn't. Just a cyst removal."
Snort. "You cheated."
"I play to win. My turn."
"Mmmm…"
"Biopsy and lumpectomy." Silence, then, "Benign, I would assume."
"You assume correct. Okay, add fifteen minutes to your massage." Pause, then, "I honestly have no idea other than it looks like you're missing some muscle."
Long silence.
"Geez, touchy about a scar and a lumpy thigh, aren't we?"
"It's more than that."
"Duh. Cough it up, House. This contest was your idea."
"Okay, Wallace."
"I love it when you pout."
Sigh. "I had an aneurysm in my thigh that went undiagnosed for four days, which lead to infarction. They… removed the dead muscle tissue and now you see this lovely specimen of man before you."
Betrayal.
"Uhmmm… add fifteen more minutes. Your turn still."
"Uh… damn, I can't concentrate when you do that. Gall bladder surgery."
"Keep concentrating. You're right, by the way."
"I'll show you concentration."
"Uhmmm Mmmm… you're getting sidetracked."
"Nope. The hysterectomy you told me about, plus that little horizontal scar below it has c-section written all over it. Don't stop what you're doing."
"Greg…"
"That's my name, all right. Let's see, my specialty didn't include reproduction, but I know arousal when I … taste it… did I say you could stop sucking me? Didn't think so."
"Please…"
A chuckle. "Niiiice. Me definitely likey." Another pause, then, "I'll collect on the massage later, after we finish doing… oh, Christ, that's good…"
After which remained the sounds of moans and whispers of love as they brought each other to fulfillment.
Sunday they skipped the rest of the festival. There would be other festivals, more concerts, and always music for them. However, for that moment they chose to be alone together. They made love and sloshed around in the Jacuzzi until Greg swore she'd drown him. Ordered up room service so he could watch a baseball game without missing an inning. In turn he suffered through her favorite law drama that night, made sarcastic remarks about the detective's twitches ("Ooo, your TV boyfriend has a tic, now THAT'S hot stuff") and the way the man sniffed dead bodies ("What, doesn't he get any LIVE bodies to sniff?") that almost, but not quite, got him kicked out to the sofa for his pains.
They loved each other.
Sabrina was contemplating all of that during the ride back to Princeton Monday morning. One week ago she'd been alone in the world, and now she was with Greg. He was even lonelier than she, bitter, cut off from the world, with exactly two friends to call his own -Wilson and Cameron.
There he was, one arm draped around her shoulders between shifting gears, wearing sunglasses and his favorite Led Zeppelin tee shirt over faded jeans, hair blowing back due to the top of the 'Vette being down. They'd started with The Who, then Johnny Cash; then The Beatles and finally he insisted on hearing her music. Much to her embarrassment, he indicated a CD holder in the back seat where she found her entire catalog neatly tucked away.
"Sing!" he commanded and so she loaded his CD changer and obeyed him. One last idyllic moment before arriving home, she thought, pressing her lips against his bristly cheek. Her fingers played over the changer remote until she found what she was looking for. He wanted her to sing, fine. She would sing a song she was feeling that moment.
"I wonder should I tell you
bout all the crazy things I've ever done
I've been searching all my life
And when I should have stayed
I tried to run"
"I was searching for an answer
In a world full of strangers
But what I found was never real enough
Now that I've found you
I'm looking in the eyes of love"
"Oh, Christ, you go and pick something mushy," he snarked once she'd finished, getting a grin from her. "Now I have to pull by the side of the road and cry."
"Yeah, cranky doctor. Only I saw you swallow hard at least once."
"Got something stuck in my throat."
"What, a bug?"
"Moth."
"Wrong time of day."
"Pubic hair."
"Something happen between the room and the car that I don't know about? I saw that bellhop eyeing your ass."
"Jealous?"
"Of you or the bellhop?"
Greg's chuckle was low, predatory. "Don't think I won't get you for that when we get home, bluegrass lady."
"Just try it, cranky doctor, just try it." She dropped another kiss on his cheek and relaxed against his shoulder as they rolled into Princeton.