The Aviators (A7X)

"It's none of my business."

"Val! I'm home!"

The front door opens then shuts. I hear Matt's heavy footsteps approaching our room. Glancing over at the clock, I register the time. It's late. He obviously decided to go out for a drink with the guys before coming home. I bite my lip and shuffle about on the bed where I've basically been laying ever since he left earlier.

I'd managed to compose myself after I don't know how long I spent crying. But, I no longer feel like tearing up, for now at least.

Matt appears in the doorway and frowns at me.

"What are you doing?"

Lifting my head, I meet his sharp look. Something's got him on edge. I just hope he still isn't stewing over our conversation. Or that he's angry with me for some reason. I don't think I could handle it if that were the case. He's in a mood, though; so, answering him quick would probably be the best decision to make, right now.

"Um, nothing, Master. Just...laying here."

Matt taps the fingers of his left hand against the wooden frame. His lips draw together in a thin lie, before relaxing a little. "You know what time it is?" His voice is toneless.

I nod and swing my legs off the bed, planting my feet on the floor. "Yes, Master. Uh...what do you feel like eating?"

His lips twitch and his gaze narrows. I tremble a little beneath his hard stare. But, I manage to keep composed, awaiting his answer. He gives a shake of his head.

"Don't mind. As long as it's edible."

That could be anything at all. My heart starts racing. In my experience, when a master tells a slave he 'doesn't mind' that, in actual fact, means the slave had better read her master's mind and get him the only thing he really wants to eat and that she'd better not screw up or she'll regret it, big time. That has been my experience in all other cases, with all my previous owners. The number of times I've been beaten because I couldn't read my master's mind...it's almost criminal.

Therefore, hearing that from Matt is unsettling. He has never raised a hand to hit me or anything like that. Usually if he gets angry with me he relies on proximity and voice to acquire my submission and/or contrition. I mean, jeeze, look at the man, he just has to enter a room and scowl, and that's enough to scare me.

Still, even after several months as his slave, he still manages to toss curve-balls into the mix and completely throw me off guard. Hopefully, he is nothing like my former owners in this regard, otherwise I'm in a bind. Because, I can never get it right.

Moving to the door, I hesitate. Matt's standing such that he's blocking my exit. The only way I'll get past is if I push between his big body and the doorframe. That won't be easy. He's as solid as a brick wall. And, this close, I can see how tense he is. But, I also notice the worry lines on his forehead. It's then that I realise he's not angry. No, something is confusing him, and it has nothing to do with me.

Pausing, I lift my gaze to his, daring to meet his eyes. Normally, I would just mutter an 'excuse me, Master' and he would let me pass. But the expression on his face, it bothers me. I want to help ease him, if he'll let me.

"Master?" I decide to take the plunge.

"Hmmm?" Matt lifts an eyebrow. I rub my hands over my arms.

"Is everything okay? You look worried?"

He folds his arms, shifting so the doorjamb is between his shoulder blades. Not that it makes it any easier for me to get past him, or anything. His posture screams 'keep out of it'. I lower my eyes, hunching up my shoulders.