Contort me against your body and mind - Chapter 2 (Early Access) (Patreon)

Bonnie POV

Commander Slate had missed his monthly mental health check-up for the third time - without even the good grace to contact her and apologise for his absence. That was three for three since departing from Earth. Bonnie was in his office within minutes of his allotted appointment time ending.

“I do not require any psychiatric care,” he repeated stubbornly. He continued to flick the tip of his index finger over a tablet balanced on the edge of his desk. Always intent on ensuring Dr Bonnie was fully aware that he always had better things to be doing than speaking with her.

Bonnie fought against a sigh that felt well-deserved. Perhaps it was time to finally lay her ace card down between them.

“I understand and I will respect your choice.” She lifted her backside from her seat opposite him in mock retreat. “Would you lend me some of your expertise, though? It is very important to me that I can offer the same level of care and understanding to my Ailu't patients as the humans.”

“Make your request quickly.”

She slid back into the chair and his eye twitched irritably. “I was hoping you could advise me on soul stretching.” His form jolted a little straighter, sitting up a millimetre taller. “With it being so closely linked to mental and spiritual well-being, I really think I should understand it better.”

His tone lost its pointed edge. “What do you wish to know?”

“Everything,” Bonnie said with an enthusiastic grin.

“It can be difficult to explain to humans; you don’t have the same innate drive within you for soul stretching. Humans do stretches for exercise or to treat their muscles. Soul stretching to Ailu't is a reflex built into us…”

Bonnie nodded slowly and sincerely as he spoke, monologuing for the best part of twenty minutes on the importance of soul stretching and how it came to be a familial and communal activity. When he finally finished speaking, he had a strange look on his face, as though he were confused as to where all of the words that had left him had come from.

Bonnie allowed him a few moments of silence to either collect himself or continue before asking, “Would you show me?”

“Show you?”

“Soul stretching. I would like to try.” She added carefully, “if that is not offensive to suggest.” She knew it wasn’t, at least not as far as anyone else she had attempted soul stretching with had advised her, but it felt best to remain naive in front of the commander. Her system was only fool-proof when she allowed the Ailu't she was treating to take the lead and direct the session. A sense of control was key for subdued and stubborn patients.

“No, it is not offensive.” He paused, appearing suddenly uncomfortable in his chair. He stood stiffly. “Yes. Yes, I can show you.”

Bonnie stood as well with a grateful smile. She watched him retrieve a familiar circular mat from under his desk. The material of soul stretching mats was unique to the Ailu't’s originating planet, but it reminded her of a combination of sponge and rubber putty. He tossed it to the ground between them and balanced his behind on the edge of his oversized metal desk. Stabilised by the desk, he lifted one foot at a time to yank off his tightly-laced boots and socks. He arranged them beside his desk neatly. Bonnie kicked off her trainers and left them by the chair behind her.

She had never shared a mat when shown soul stretching before, but Slate only had the one and he beckoned her onto it with an impatient hand gesture after she had chucked aside her socks. She tip-toed forward until her feet were an inch over the mat’s seam.

He twirled a finger in a downwards motion. “Turn. We move in the same way, at the same time.”

Bonnie spun slowly on the spot and couldn’t stop herself from challenging him, albeit in a gentle tone. “If I am not facing you, how will I follow your movements?”

He huffed incredibly quietly, as though it was taking all of his will not to conk her over the head with one of his enormous boots. “I will lead you.” His oversized hands grabbed her hips and yanked her back a step, her lower back bumped his crotch and her muscles tensed instantly. On a slow out-breath she relaxed. He said nothing, but she was certain he felt her twitch of tension.

He remained deadly silent, holding her pressed to him. She wasn’t entirely sure he was still breathing. A flush of heat prickled over her skin, squeezing just below her stomach.

They were professionals and this was exercise, or therapy, or a combination of both mixed with colleague team-building. It was not inherently sexual for bodies to touch, especially fully-clothed. His hot breath brushed the baby hairs on her neck. It did nothing to help her clear the sensual fog that had coated her mind. Having a man’s hands on her hips was a sensation she hadn’t had the pleasure of in months. But this was not pleasure, this was work. She cleared her throat, piercing the silence of the room.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked gruffly.

“P-pardon?”

“Are you ready to begin?”

“Oh, yes.”

“It is important to take a moment to relax before you begin.”

“Ah, that was what the silence was for?”

“Yes, but there will be more silence.”

“Got it. Is talking not allowed on the mat?” She whispered as though they were sharing a secret. She knew, of course, there were no rules about speaking while stretching and it was a personal choice whether to stretch alone or with others, and in silence or in conversation.

He gave the softest hum, a noise she had never heard from him. A noise that held a positive note. She wondered if he was considering lying to her in order to keep her quiet during their impromptu bending lesson.

“It is allowed. But do not let it ruin your breathing rhythm.”

She glanced over her shoulder and said, “Understood.” with a mini-salute and the brightest smile in her arsenal.

He almost unfurrowed his grumpy expression. Bonnie would bet her professional reputation that if he hadn’t caught himself, his facial muscles would have relaxed completely. She turned her own face back to the room, standing straight in a mimicry of his own posture pressed against her.

Slate drew in a deep breath and his chest pushed into her back in a silent command to follow his tempo. Bonnie sucked in as much air as she could and puffed her chest out too. She could have sworn she heard him muffle a chuckle.

Slow out-breath. She followed obediently.

His palms dragged from her hips up her ticklish torso sides, round her shoulders and down her arms, never disconnecting from her. Sparks followed him along her skin, despite the barrier of her clothing between his touch. When he reached her elbows, he pressed two fingers under each to encourage her to lift them. In tiny increments she raised her arms, awaiting his halting order. When they were level with her shoulders, he tapped her hands to straighten the rest of her arms to match.

Deep breath in together. She was getting better at the timing of it.

He removed his fingers beneath her arms, leaving her to support herself. Within a few seconds it already no longer felt comfortable or relaxing.

Deep breath out. As his chest deflated on the out-breath he took her hips again and pulled her back closer, extinguishing the gap that had been left without his full lungs. His right hand grabbed a handful of her thigh and pulled it upwards gently. Bonnie obeyed, raising her leg until she felt resistance. Both his hand blocking her from above and the muscles of her inner thigh halting her from below.

Deep breath in. Her arms were trembling.

Deep breath out. The scent of ship-issued mint soap and forest-scented deodorant was enveloping her, Slate’s body heat sending it out in waves. She should be bored of that combination, given most soldiers on board did not care to bring their own perfumes/body washes on the mission when it was provided for them by the Earth’s side of the Alliance. But rolling off him, it was tantalizing. Warm despite the cool scents and the well-air-conditioned room.

Deep breath in. The hand on her thigh slithered to her knee, taking the cap between his thumb and index finger to carefully coax her into an attitude derrière-like pose with her foot pointing around the back of him. He was so bulky she was surprised her little leg could curl all the way around him.

Deep breath out. His hands returned to the spongy skin of her forearms, relieving a small amount of the weight from her. The trembles lessened. A mild pressure of his hands pushing her upwards commanded she straighten her spine more. She lifted her head as high as she could until she almost brought up her left heel, but she needed all the stability from that leg she could get, it was the only one she had.

Deep breath in. Every part of her body was pulling on a different part, and she couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or a terrible omen. A small part of her was waiting in dreaded expectation for a pop or a snap from one of her joints or tendons. She certainly didn’t move her body like this on her daily treadmill jog. Once her form was settled in, with no further adjustments from the commander, he lifted his own limbs in a fluid motion. His thigh parked seamlessly beneath her knee and his arms outstretched with slight curves that she hadn’t been twisted into. A small, prideful part of her wondered if he didn’t perceive her as capable of the full stretch.

They held position for what felt like an eternity. She focused on the breaths as best she could. Slate’s chin had slowly drooped down until his stubble scratched the crux of her neck and shoulder ever so lightly. Bonnie squeezed her eyes shut, but it did not help her concentration. If anything, she became even more aware of his presence caging her in. It scared her that she didn’t mind one bit. Rude, brutal and almost intolerable Commander Slate.

Her hip was aching, and her arms weren’t the only part of her shaking now. On the next out-breath, even her release of air tumbled out of her in short jerky puffs.

One more deep breath in, and she was just about ready to beg Slate to call it a day. The cynical side of her wondered if this was his motive, to put her off ever asking again. To wear her down physically after spending three months wearing her down mentally, that he might finally know some peace from her.

“Now, lean back,” he murmured into her throat.

Her body was too strained to argue or even consider any other option. This could be a fake trust fall for all she knew, but she hadn’t the capacity to think about it. Her brain had gone numb. Soul stretching had never felt this intense before. With a sigh-like out-breath she allowed her body to fall back, twisted position still intact.

She landed against a larger version of her own pose, his leg and arms dropped slightly to balance hers upon them. There was no indication he had even felt her land back on him, his limbs unwavering in their silent strength. Dr Bonnie had never been so aware that her body was a soft toy in comparison to his hardened form.

His chin dropped to her shoulder again. “Now, we breathe.” His voice was hushed, and Bonnie only had the energy to let out a soft sigh of relief and bob her head in a half-nod.

They remained magnetised together for what Bonnie guestimated to be fifteen minutes, perhaps longer. An almost immaculate copy-and-paste of each other, with Bonnie resized in miniature, of course. And just as he promised, all they did was breathe. On some breaths he would heave in so much air it would curve her spine. Others would be so small she couldn’t match him, knowing she would pass out if she didn’t get more air into her. He didn’t chastise her if she could not keep perfect tempo, though. Perhaps he was waiting until they were finished and then he would give her a searing evaluation, critiquing her for everything she did wrong. That was far more like the domineering man she knew.

Eventually, she drifted into a haze. Her mind blank, registering nothing but their breathing.

When he lowered his limbs, and in turn hers, it took Bonnie a few moments of blinking and wiggling her toes to come back to reality. She stumbled forward a step or two and he caught her at the elbow. He said nothing, but she turned her head and gave him an awkward nod, signalling that she was fine. He released her but did not move from the mat.

There was an awkward tension in the room, as though they had shared an experience far more intimate than what it was. Well, on paper it was not intimate. In the moment it had certainly felt incredibly so to Bonnie.

Apparently neither of them could think of anything appropriate to say, so Bonnie snatched her shoes and socks from the floor and garbled a mixture of ‘thank you’ and ‘I must be getting back to my appointments’. She heard no reply as she dashed out of his office. Her words had probably sounded like gibberish to Slate, who held English as a second language, or maybe even third or fourth for all Bonnie knew. There was a lot she didn’t, and it was a shame.

She stopped dead in the middle of the hallway outside her own office, bare feet growing cold from the metal floor. What on Earth was she thinking? A shame that she didn’t know Slate better? She did not need to know anything more about him than that he held no respect for her work or her field. He didn’t even respect her as a person! He was a cold, barbaric, megalomaniac who just happened to have a fantastic body and smell very good and also a sexy, gravelly voice. But none of those things were Bonnie’s fault or her business!

She stomped into her office, putting the ‘do not disturb - meeting in progress’ sign out to take a few moments to herself. She dropped into her chair with a groan, perhaps her fool-proof strategy for getting the Ailu’t to relax in her presence was a tad too effective.