12-06-2025, 04:52 PM
Bhujangasana—Cobra Pose
They moved into Bhujangasana—Cobra Pose. He lay flat on his stomach, then lifted his chest, pressing into the mat.
“Lift from your back, not your arms,” she instructed, coming behind him.
She placed both hands lightly on his lower back—fingertips spreading just slightly, warm through his shirt. “There’s a rhythm to this,” she said softly. “Like... undulating. Snake-like.”
He felt her breath near his ear as she leaned in, watching him closely.
“Don’t resist the stretch. Let it move through you.”
“I’m trying,” he murmured.
“I can tell.” Her voice dropped a note. “But your body’s... fighting itself. Happens when you’re used to control.”
She guided his spine upward with a slow sweep of her palm, her nails barely grazing the fabric.
It sent a ripple down his chest. God, her touch... It wasn’t overt. Nothing obscene. But the intimacy of it—her hands reading his body like a language—was far more charged than anything he’d expected at 6:30 in the morning.
The Breath Between Them
After the last pose, they sat cross-legged, facing each other. Meghana wiped her brow with a towel and looked at him—not just at his body, but into the tension behind his eyes.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” she said, voice low.
“Comes with the job.”
“And the life?”
“Yeah,” he admitted.
Meghana leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees. “That’s why I do this. Yoga isn’t just about moving. It’s about feeling. Not thinking. Not hiding.”
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was charged—soft, crackling.
Finally, he said, “You’re dangerous in yoga clothes.”
She smirked. “Then you’re in real trouble. Because we’ve only done day one. Tomorrow, we try balance poses. Lots of hands-on correction.”
“Lucky me,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.
Meghana leaned forward, her hand lightly brushing his knee as she stood. “We’ll see how lucky you are once I have you on one leg and nowhere to run.”
With that, she walked away—hips swaying, hair bouncing—and Abhi, still cross-legged on the mat, suddenly felt every part of his body very awake.
And tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
They moved into Bhujangasana—Cobra Pose. He lay flat on his stomach, then lifted his chest, pressing into the mat.
“Lift from your back, not your arms,” she instructed, coming behind him.
She placed both hands lightly on his lower back—fingertips spreading just slightly, warm through his shirt. “There’s a rhythm to this,” she said softly. “Like... undulating. Snake-like.”
He felt her breath near his ear as she leaned in, watching him closely.
“Don’t resist the stretch. Let it move through you.”
“I’m trying,” he murmured.
“I can tell.” Her voice dropped a note. “But your body’s... fighting itself. Happens when you’re used to control.”
She guided his spine upward with a slow sweep of her palm, her nails barely grazing the fabric.
It sent a ripple down his chest. God, her touch... It wasn’t overt. Nothing obscene. But the intimacy of it—her hands reading his body like a language—was far more charged than anything he’d expected at 6:30 in the morning.
The Breath Between Them
After the last pose, they sat cross-legged, facing each other. Meghana wiped her brow with a towel and looked at him—not just at his body, but into the tension behind his eyes.
“You’re too hard on yourself,” she said, voice low.
“Comes with the job.”
“And the life?”
“Yeah,” he admitted.
Meghana leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees. “That’s why I do this. Yoga isn’t just about moving. It’s about feeling. Not thinking. Not hiding.”
Their eyes locked.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was charged—soft, crackling.
Finally, he said, “You’re dangerous in yoga clothes.”
She smirked. “Then you’re in real trouble. Because we’ve only done day one. Tomorrow, we try balance poses. Lots of hands-on correction.”
“Lucky me,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.
Meghana leaned forward, her hand lightly brushing his knee as she stood. “We’ll see how lucky you are once I have you on one leg and nowhere to run.”
With that, she walked away—hips swaying, hair bouncing—and Abhi, still cross-legged on the mat, suddenly felt every part of his body very awake.
And tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
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