The Aviators

“What’d you get dressed for?”

Huh? I look at Matt who’s standing with a plate of tacos in one hand.

He rolls his eyes at me. “Why are you dressed?”

I blink at him. What kind of question is that? I answer it anyway, “I’m not eating naked...Master.”

His eyes narrow as he presses his lips together.

“Why not?” his voice drops to a low growl.

A shiver courses down my spine. I really don’t know what he wants me to say to that. He sets the plate down and approaches me across the kitchen floor. I notice then that he’s only wearing his towel wrapped around his waist. And his bare chest isn’t quite dry. Tiny beads of fluid cling precariously to the trail of hair disappearing into the towel. Dampness causes his tattoos to stand out against his otherwise pale skin.

“Why not?”

Remember I told you he hates having to repeat himself? Yeah, he’s definitely not happy about it. I mean it’s not like he suddenly snaps or anything; just this whole sense of disapproval emanates from his aura, or whatever you call it. His eyes...obviously he’s not wearing his aviators, because I can see the sharp question in his eyes.

I clear my throat and come up with a pretty lame answer, because I can’t think of anything more appropriate, “Don’t want to get cold, Master.”

Matt stares at me, no expression in his eyes now. I lower my own to the floor. He rumbles in his throat.

“Cold? Damn you’re too cute. It’s not even cold out,” he smirks as he motions to the plate of tacos. “And these are pretty hot...”

I peek over to the bench. Then back to his face. There’s a hint of a smile on his firm lips, and I realise that he’s teasing me. I flush a deep pink. I know this because my cheeks always go pink when I’m embarrassed.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Never mind. I’ll just have to tear them off you later. Let’s eat.”

The statement sets me to wondering. It almost sounds throwaway like he doesn’t realise what he’s saying. So casual and blasé. But of course, I know extremely well that Matt never says anything he doesn’t mean. Still, I guess I’ll have to wait until after dinner to find out what he’s planning for later.

He grabs the plate and heads for the small kitchen table. No point in eating in the dining room. Too big. Not intimate enough. He sits and glances up at me.

“C’mon. Food’ll get cold.”

I walk over and take the seat opposite him. He smiles at me before grabbing a taco and sinking his teeth into it. No finesse whatsoever, but hey he’s a man...not a mouse.

We eat. I’m not going to tell you any more than that. I mean how interesting is listening to me yammer about eating? Suffice to say we both got kind of flushed by the heat of the sauce...damn straight they were hot. I swear Matt was trying to make me sweat. Must think it’s attractive for a chick to ooze sweat from all her pores and then some.

Anyway, I’m now standing at the kitchen sink washing the dishes. Matt’s leaning against the bench watching me. Not saying anything just standing there with his arms folded a thoughtful look on his face. I see this because I look over at him for a moment before turning back to the soapy water in front of me, my hands immersed in the wet warmth.

“Valary.”

I glance over at him again, gripping the sponge in my hand.

“Yes, Master?”

He sucks at his bottom lip, at the spot where his lip ring used to be. I tilt my head at him.

“What is it, Master?”

He seems hesitant about something, which is a little unusual. It’s also passing odd that even though he’s only wearing a towel, I’m not particularly aroused by the sight. Perhaps it’s because of the serious expression on his face. Or maybe it’s because I’m standing with my arms up to the elbows in suds.

Matt blinks at me then pushes away from the bench and moves toward the door. He glances at me considering something then he smiles faintly.

“When you’re done, come to the bedroom.”

The expression in his eyes tells me it’s not a request. I nod slightly in response then turn my attention back to the dishes. I’m almost done at any rate, but for some reason I am extremely apprehensive. The only time he ever orders me to the bedroom is if he wants, no needs, something from me.

If it’s just time to go to sleep, we just go to bed. No asking, no telling, just get ready, brush our teeth, whatever. But, if he needs something he always instructs me to the bedroom. I guess it’s his way of showing me that he respects my space, my right to just be like any other human, and not just a receptacle for his sexual desires.

Of course, he is entirely within his rights just to make me do whatever the hell he wants. He doesn’t have to even be considerate towards my feelings. But, he is, and that makes him very different to any other man who has had me. Still, I am nervous.

Stacking the last dish into the drainer and drying my hands, I pause for a moment staring out the window above the sink out into the front garden. Then I turn and head for the bedroom. Hesitating at the door, I squeeze my eyes shut then peer around the doorframe. The view I receive is that of Matt’s back.

He is bent over the bed, palms leaning against the mattress, his muscles flexed, standing out in stark relief. The long lines of muscle down his back are taut, but then they ripple slightly as he shifts and turns his body toward me.

“Valary,” his voice is low, husky.

He lifts a hand to beckon to me. I step into the room, not sure of what he wants. He smiles slightly, a strange glint in his eyes. I notice that he’s still just wearing the towel. It has slipped a little, the ‘v’ line that frames his groin has become visible. I swallow hard; a lump has formed in my throat. At the same time, something stirs deep within my body, and I feel moistness between my legs.

Damn him and his ability to turn me on just by his appearance. It’s really not fair at all. He smirks obviously sensing my arousal. He hooks a thumb into the towel then tugs lightly allowing it to fall to the floor.

I tense at the sight. That ‘v’ and the trail of hair that snakes down from his navel meet at his groin where his erection rests, thick and ready. He waits. I stare for a moment then lift my eyes to meet his.

“Does Master want something?” The question seems a little odd, because I know he wants something, otherwise he wouldn’t be standing like that by the bed.

He looks at me as if I just asked the stupidest question ever. Yeah, I know, like I said...odd question. I bite my lip; he cocks an eyebrow at me. I walk over then hesitate. He frowns.

“Valary. Take your clothes off.”

I automatically wind my arms around my torso, protecting myself I guess. Matt’s eyes narrow. He hates when I do that; he once said he can’t get why I’m so anxious about revealing my body to him. He says that I’m ‘fucking beautiful’. His words. And that I should go around naked all day because he thinks I’m one woman who could pull it off.

“Val,” his tone sounds almost cajoling now, like he doesn’t want to bully me into stripping, even though it is within his rights just to demand it.

He won’t say please though. That is one thing he won’t do, and I don’t expect it either. I’m the slave. He’s the master. No pleases from him, thanks very much.

Looking down at the floor I unwind my arms and slowly, hesitantly lift my top off. I hear Matt’s low murmur of approval, and I flush slightly. I dare a look toward him. He’s still standing in the same spot. I drop my eyes and concentrate on the buttons on my little shorts; one seems to be stuck. I grumble to myself.

Matt’s voice... “C’mere...”

I shuffle toward him; he moves forward to meet me and gently nudges my hands aside with his and deftly slips the button out of its hole. He finishes the process, sliding my shorts down my legs.

“Step...” his voice is raspier than ever.

I obey, stepping out; he kicks my shorts aside then lets out a low whistle.

“Damn, Val...look at you...” he places a hand on my shoulder and turns me toward the mirror.

He steps up behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder, like he did that very first time...you remember me telling you about that?

I blush but stare into the mirror at myself. I’m way too thin...not unhealthy...but I just think I’m too fragile looking. I see Matt’s lips quirk into a slow smile, and then he leans his head down and presses them to my collarbone. A tingle shoots up my spine, and scrambles my mind. I moan leaning back slightly into his solid frame.

He chuckles low and kisses lightly along the curve of my shoulder to my neck, pushing my hair aside, his own hair brushing at my skin. I shiver as he trails his lips up to the spot just behind my ear and nuzzles into it. I whimper and reach back to clutch at his arm.

He growls, “Let go.”

I drop my hand and brace my body as he returns to nuzzling against my neck. I can see everything he’s doing in the reflection of the glass before us and it is extremely erotic. Yeah, he isn’t even really doing anything too explicit...but damn...anything he does...any time he touches me...it’s just so...

“Stop thinking...” Matt whispers against my neck and then he sinks his teeth into the fleshy lobe of my ear.

I squeal in shock and twist slightly to get away from him. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in tight to his chest. I tremble, breathing fast. I can feel his erection pressing against the small of my back, insistent with a mind of its own.

Yet, he doesn’t move to relieve junior of its tension. Instead, he releases my ear and licks tenderly at the spot that he bit. I quiver in his grasp. He nuzzles gently against the back of my neck then turns me around so I’m facing him.

“Look at me, Valary.”

I raise my eyes to his; there is a hint of amusement and arousal in his gaze. He clearly wants me. It’s all there in his eyes, in the straining tension of his cock, which is nudging at my belly. But, we keep our eyes together. Sometimes I wonder at his control over his body. I’m sure other men would just let their cocks do all the thinking, but it’s like he’s trying to prove that he has the power.

I wait for him to say something else. Matt just smirks, sliding one hand up to cup my chin tilting it slightly before sealing his lips over mine in a firm kiss. I tremble and clutch at his arms. This time he makes no sound to correct me and just concentrates on parting my lips with his tongue and exploring what I have to offer.

After several moments he lifts his head for a breath and just stares at me with an indecipherable expression. I tilt my head at him. He smiles and takes my hand leading me over to the bed. I tremble in anticipation as he sits me down and kneels in front of me. I blink at him. He gives a lazy smile and then he grips my knees, spreading my legs apart.

I shiver and involuntarily attempt to pull away. He lets me go and just sits back on his heels watching me. That’s something else I don’t get. He never gets angry if I resist, or pull away, or whatever. He’s just so damned patient with me. I glance down at his groin, he’s still hard, and then into his eyes. He smiles and shifts so he’s sitting on the floor.

“Master?” I look at him curiously.

Matt rubs his cheek and says quietly, “No rush. I can wait. But, we will sleep together tonight.”

I nod slightly grateful to him. We sit there in silence, I calming my nerves and steeling my resolve, Matt waiting for me, waiting for what we both know will come.

Notes