“We’ll start with our sun salutations. Inhale arms up. And exhale forward fold. Fingertips on the floor or hands on the shins and inhale, lift your head, lift your gaze. Exhale release your head. Take your weight in your hands and step or jump back to plank on the inhale. Exhale push back to downward facing dog.”
Poor Titus. It was so mean of me to tempt him into coming. I walk around to where he’s struggling to fold his hips toward the sky. “That’s it,” I murmur, although my voice is amplified so everyone hears it. I place the heel of my hand on his sacrum and apply gentle pressure, encouraging his pelvis to tilt so his sit bones roll up.
He gives a sharp exhale.
“Tread through your feet, bending one knee and the other to stretch your calves.”
I slip my hands around the front of his pelvis, thumbs on his back to show him a little more.
I swear I hear a low growl come from his throat. It’s not threatening, but my body responds automatically. I pull my hands away and step back.
Okay, buddy. You’re on your own.
Titus
THIS WOMAN IS FUCKING KILLING me.
I mean, seriously. I might die. Not just the stretching part, although that sucks. I’m a wolf, though. Indestructible. It may hurt now, but I’ll recover in twenty minutes. No, it’s the fucking cock tease.
I have little Miss Yogi wrapping those heaven-scented hands around my hips-so close to my dick-and there’s only one thing running through my mind.
Pound. Her. Hard.
I have an urgent need to get the woman on her knees and show her the best use for that stretchy lithe body.
And the worst thing is every time she walks anywhere near me, guiding us with that sing-song voice of hers, I get a half-boner, which is really fucking hard to hide in these gym shorts.
This is pure agony. It was absolute idiocy that spurred me into coming. Except that dickless prick from the gorge is front and center, trying to show off his prowess. So yeah. I’m not leaving. And I’m a fucking wolf. My body should do anything, even if I am over fifty. I may never have moved this way in my entire life, but I’m damn well going to. Because I’m not going to be out-stretched by pretty-boy over there.
“It’s not necessary to push,” Sunny intones in that musical voice of hers. Of course, she’s talking to me. “Yoga is not about efforting. It’s about acceptance. Know your limits. Know where your body is today, not where you want it to be. Honor your body. Follow your own knowing.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. I want to shut the female up. With my cock stuffed down her throat.
Okay, that’s crude and disrespectful. My wolf is getting far too rowdy. Down boy. You don’t get to fuck her. We’re not going down that path again. Females are a distraction which I clearly can’t handle, considering I’m up here pushing my ass to the sky instead of following the trail I was ordered to follow.
And she’s not even a wolf.
I’m so pathetic it’s scary.
She directs the group into some crazy arm balance-peacock pose. This I can do. I have ab and arm strength in spades. I press my elbows under my ribs, flatten my palms to the mat and extend my legs behind me, hovering parallel to the mat.
The people around me notice and murmur approvingly.
Eat that shit, pretty-boy.
“Yoga is a personal practice. There’s no need to compare yourself with others. There’s no competition.”
She’d look pretty with a gag. A bright pink one to match all the colors she likes to wear. She’d look lovely tied up, too. Naked, of course. Wrists in another bright color, bound to my headboard. I’d leave her feet free, though, so she can show me just how wide those legs spread. Just how bendy she can get with my hands on her.
Oh thank fuck. The class is finally over. At least I think it is. We’re lying on our backs with our eyes closed doing nothing. Corpse pose, I think she called it.
Oh, now the crazy female is walking around rubbing oil on each person’s neck and pulling their head away from their shoulders.
My wolf starts growling. He does not like her touching every fucker in this class.
When she gets to me, the exotic scent of the oil both calms and excites me. Intoxicates. Or is it her scent? No, it has to be the oil. It’s not like a human could tempt a shifter.
Except I know that’s a lie.
In my day, it was forbidden to even mix with humans. Definitely forbidden to mate with them. But it seems things are changing. My alpha’s son took a human for a mate, and several of his pack members have followed suit.
But I still don’t see how that works. A wolf wouldn’t get the instinct to mark a human for a mate. It’s biologically off. Their offspring may not even be capable of shifting. Why would an animal pick a permanent mate so clearly inferior?
Her small, but deft fingers stroke along the taut muscles of my neck and a low rumble comes out of my chest before I can check it. Almost like a purr, as if I’m a goddamn cat shifter.
She touches between my brows, and I instantly drop into a meditative state. My mind goes quiet. Deep.
I want to ruminate on how that’s possible, but thoughts seem unimportant. The slow beat of the music rocks through my body and my heartbeat syncs to it. I feel tingly. Alive. Connected.
It’s not a familiar feeling and yet it’s like coming home. I know this space.
I don’t know how long it goes on. There is no time. Five minutes? An hour?
From a huge distance away, Sunny’s voice filters into my head with the gentle suggestion that I roll to my side.
Push up to sit.