20-06-2025, 01:51 AM
For a moment, Abhi wasn’t thinking.
He was only feeling.
The shape of her.
The warmth of her.
The rhythm they now shared.
Meghana’s voice broke the silence.
“Feel the breath go down into your belly,” she said softly, like a chant meant only for him. “And let it rise through your chest… all the way up to your collarbone.”
He followed. Eyes closed. Her back moved against his like a tide, each inhale lifting her ribcage slightly into him.
His mind flashed—not to this pose—but to earlier days on the terrace.
Her body in Warrior poses, her sweat shimmering in morning light.
The way her hand lingered on his when correcting posture.
The smile that lingered afterward.
But today was different.
There was no distance.
No wind.
No city noise.
Just them.
And the way her breath shook ever so slightly as he leaned in a touch more than needed.
She felt it too. She didn’t move away.
Instead, she let her head rest gently back, so the back of her head touched his shoulder. It was barely anything—but it sent a shiver through his arms.
His hands remained on his knees.
Respectful.
Still.
But his skin? Every inch of him was now tuned to her.
They stayed like that for what felt like minutes. Breathing. Pressed. Bound by silence, and a kind of storm that didn’t need wind.
Finally, she spoke, her voice low, teasing, but soaked in something more:
“You’re breathing faster now…”
Abhi let out a soft laugh, half breath, half confession.
“Maybe the room’s warmer than usual.”
Meghana didn’t reply. But she didn’t move either. She remained—back pressed to his, shoulders slightly touching, breath a shared language.
And in that moment, the session had only just begun.
But so had something else.
He was only feeling.
The shape of her.
The warmth of her.
The rhythm they now shared.
Meghana’s voice broke the silence.
“Feel the breath go down into your belly,” she said softly, like a chant meant only for him. “And let it rise through your chest… all the way up to your collarbone.”
He followed. Eyes closed. Her back moved against his like a tide, each inhale lifting her ribcage slightly into him.
His mind flashed—not to this pose—but to earlier days on the terrace.
Her body in Warrior poses, her sweat shimmering in morning light.
The way her hand lingered on his when correcting posture.
The smile that lingered afterward.
But today was different.
There was no distance.
No wind.
No city noise.
Just them.
And the way her breath shook ever so slightly as he leaned in a touch more than needed.
She felt it too. She didn’t move away.
Instead, she let her head rest gently back, so the back of her head touched his shoulder. It was barely anything—but it sent a shiver through his arms.
His hands remained on his knees.
Respectful.
Still.
But his skin? Every inch of him was now tuned to her.
They stayed like that for what felt like minutes. Breathing. Pressed. Bound by silence, and a kind of storm that didn’t need wind.
Finally, she spoke, her voice low, teasing, but soaked in something more:
“You’re breathing faster now…”
Abhi let out a soft laugh, half breath, half confession.
“Maybe the room’s warmer than usual.”
Meghana didn’t reply. But she didn’t move either. She remained—back pressed to his, shoulders slightly touching, breath a shared language.
And in that moment, the session had only just begun.
But so had something else.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)