Finding Bottom

Getting Out [M]

Yoongi POV

By the time we reached the middle of the next week, I was fed up with myself. I felt lazy, unproductive, and I was about to turn downright mean. I couldn't understand how Angel could have so much patience, and his patience was starting to get on my nerves.

"Oof." I stepped out to the hallway to head into the living room and ran right into Angel, who was passing my door.

"Oh geez. Sorry." I said at the same time Angel was saying, "Yoongi! Are you OK?"

We both reached out to steady each other, and I felt an immediate jolt when touching him. I couldn't stop myself from looking him up and down, and DAMN. Why would he decide to wear those clothes? Today of all days I had to look at him in ripped, faded jeans that were so tight, I could see the outline of his muscular quads. I could only imagine what his ass looked like in them. He was wearing a loose, white, v-neck tee, exposing parts of him that made me imagine licking down his neck to the dip between his collar bones, then moving to...

I had to get myself under control. Because if I was honest with myself, I wasn't only annoyed with him for his patience. I was annoyed with him for being so goddamn hot. He was a constant temptation, especially after hearing his sweet moans that day I fell out of the shower. Yes, it was him who distracted me. How could he not? Picturing him naked, stroking himself... "STOP!" I screamed internally. This was not helping my mood.

With no preamble, I suddenly stated, "I have to get out of the house."

Angel looked into my eyes. "OK. Sorry for running into you, but it's not the house's fault." He smiled and I felt myself melting, just a little. "Do you need anything before we leave?" he asked kindly.

"We? I don't remember inviting you." I HAD to get away from him before I did something I was going to regret. I was feeling too strained, too emotionally tender, and I didn't like the feeling. "I'm getting out of the house and away from you." I could see a wounded expression beginning to take form on his face, and I was slightly satisfied that I had this effect on him. I knew I was lashing out with the intent to be hurtful, all because I didn't know how to deal with my emotions. But I also felt like crap for hurting an angel.

"Look, no offense..." I paused, because I was nothing if not honest, "actually, probably offense meant. You see, I need to get away from you. You're driving me nuts. I can't take being in the same building as you for another minute." I couldn't tell him why I had to be away from him. I was being as kind as I possibly could at that moment.

"Well, um, I'm sure that I can be annoying at times," he let out a little fake chuckle, "but, ahhh, Hoseok said that a condition of you keeping your contract with the Company was that I am with you 24/7." He continued haltingly, his voice barely audible, "I'm afraid you are not allowed to go somewhere without me."

"Fuck a duck." I spat out. "Not allowed? What the..." I paused to think, suddenly coming up with what I thought was a great solution. "How about I just tell you where I am once I get there?"

Angel looked a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Yoongi. It's a condition of your contract and of my continued employment that you do not leave my sight."

I sighed, resigned. I had gotten myself into this situation; it was no one's fault but my own that I was being treated like a child. "Fine. Whatever. I'm going to my studio. But first I'm going to the bathroom...or will that be too far out of your line of sight? Do you need to follow me in there as well?"

Angel looked annoyed, but right now I didn't consider that my problem. I didn't wait for him to answer, instead continuing, "Is it possible for you to make yourself scarce once we get to my studio? I don't want to know you exist while we're going to, or once we are at, my studio." Damn. Why was I being so mean?

"Y-yeah. Of course." Angel answered softly. And the look on his face almost made me backtrack. Almost. But I couldn't let down my guard with him.

I turned on my heel and went to my bathroom, stopping short of slamming the door. But once inside with the door closed, I did slam my fist on the counter, looking at my face in the mirror. I started talking to myself, "Prancing around in tight jeans, showing off his goddamn legs. How dare he? And that shirt? What the hell? Making me think thoughts about you. You're not even gay. But if you were. If you were, I would do so many things to that body." As my thoughts continued to spin out of control, I couldn't help but notice that my cock was growing harder. I massaged it a bit over my clothes, feeling it harden further under my grip. Suddenly grateful that I wore joggers and not jeans today, I easily reached inside my waistband, contacting my naked cock with my trembling hand.

"Look, just relieve the tension," I told myself. "You're angry and not being nice. Maybe if you make yourself come, kindness will return." I started laughing at how ridiculous my rationalization was, but also knew that I was right, that this would help my mood. I hadn't fucked anyone in weeks, and it was starting to mess with my mind.

I pulled my joggers down to mid-thigh, noticing the light bruise still on my hip from when I fell out of the shower. I closed my eyes, cradling my hard cock in my right hand while I got my head-space clear. Images started to flash through my mind, beginning with my ex and the look on his face when I entered him. My cock started to leak pre-cum, and I dipped my thumb into the liquid, smearing it around the head, making it easier for me to glide my hand up and down. I didn't necessarily want to beat-off to my ex, but I was grateful to my brain that it wasn't Angel who immediately entered my mind.

However, once I started to move my hand quicker, my ex's face shifted to Angel's face. "Dammit!" I muttered, squeezing my eyes tighter in hopes that he would clear out of my mind, trying to force myself to imagine something else. But the more I tried, the more my brain forced Angel on me.

Unexpectedly I could see his body in my mind's eye. I imagined him naked, under me, wrapping his muscular legs around my waist as I pounded into him. My breathing escalated, I could hear myself groan, and I moved my left hand up to cover my mouth, muffling any sounds. In my head, I heard Angel's moan from the other day when I fell out of the shower, and before I knew it was going to happen, I embarrassingly came with a jolt. Knowing I was going to get louder as my orgasm peaked, I tightened my hand over my mouth and I looked down to watch myself ejaculate round after round, coating the bathroom cabinet in front of me, making my knees weaken and start to fold.

I dropped my hand onto the counter, holding myself up so I didn't fall over again, until my spasms began to subside.

"Damn. I have never come that hard, that quickly. Never. Not even when I was a teenager," I said to myself. I giggled, giddy from the endorphins released.

I felt better. A little lighter, a little happier, but also slightly embarrassed at the effect Angel had on me, and how quickly I came just imagining him. What if I saw him naked? I had to stop that train of thought. He was my nurse; he was there to help me; he was not an object for me to use.

I cleaned up my liquids, and myself, and opened the door, ready to get to my studio, and back to work. "He is my nurse. He is here to help me. He is not an object for me to use." I had to say it in my mind, make it a mantra so that I didn't forget when I stepped out of the bathroom.

I walked into the living room and saw him, bent over to tie his shoe, gorgeous ass facing me. I took a moment, head spinning, not remembering how to walk, swallow, or even breathe for a few seconds. He straightened up, patting down his hair after standing, and I jerked back to reality, reminding myself of my mantra that I started to repeat in my head. "He is my nurse. He is here to help me. He..."

"Ready to go?" Angel asked as he turned to me, interrupting my recitation of the mantra.

I took a large gulp of the saliva that had built up in my mouth, nearly choking from not remembering how to swallow. Coughing through my words, "Sure, let's go."

"Are you OK? Do you need some water?" he asked, slightly concerned.

I cleared my throat. "No, no. I'm fine now. Let's go."

We both put jackets on. I grabbed my wallet, phone, and keys, and ushered us out, locking the door behind us as I headed to my studio, filled with excitement to see it again after so long.