How Deep the Bonds Pt 3

Darius & Yasmine become closer.

Part 3: Yasmine & Darius

Early Winter 2012

Darius woke with a pounding headache, a roiling stomach, and totally nude. He was in Yasmine’s bed. He squeezed his eyes closed once more and took a deep breath. Turning carefully so he wouldn’t jostle his stomach too much he looked at Yasmine, assessing whether she was awake or not.

She lay on her side with her back to him. Yasmine was, indeed, awake. Her head was not pounding, but she was naked and chewing on her thumbnail silently. She felt the moment Darius woke up, heard his slight groan, the shift of his body under the blankets. She wondered if today was the day he would regret it.

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest wondering if karma would kick her ass. She thought of Cyrus and the time they had hooked up and how she had so quickly run out on him spouting off excuses. She dreaded the day Darius came to his senses and put an end to whatever they were doing.

Darius hiccupped and groaned again, he was trying to be quiet, since he didn’t have any idea if Yasmine was awake or not. He breathed deeply as nausea rolled continuously in his stomach.

“Please don’t puke in my bed,” Yasmine said quietly, rolling over.

“I won’t,” Darius promised.

He pushed himself to a seated position slowly.

“You know it’s quite insulting,” Yasmine said, a note of sarcasm lacing her words.

“What is?” Darius asked, holding a hand to his head and one to his stomach as he settled back.

“Vomiting as soon as you see who you’re sharing a bed with,” Yasmine said with a smile.

Darius smiled, he would have chuckled if his head hadn’t been pounding so much. He wasn’t sure why he’d let himself get so drunk.

“God, why the fuck did I drink so much last night?”

“Patrick egged you on,” Yasmine said, examining her nails.

“I hate that fucking guy,” Darius said tiredly, blowing out a sour breath.

“He treats Cyrus like shit,” Yasmine said pushing herself to a seat as well.

Darius swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

“Are you OK Darius?” Yasmine asked.

“I’ll be alright,” Darius said again. “Just give me a minute.”

He stood up, bare hairy ass on display as he made his way across the room. He disappeared from the bedroom, closing the door behind him, which muffled the sound of the bathroom door latching.

Yasmine sighed and opened the window of her room. It was too stuffy. The smell of stale whiskey and sex permeated the air. She flicked the fan on as well then climbed back into bed.

Darius was a cuddler. It had surprised her in the weeks they had been sleeping together. He didn’t seem to be the type, but when they were alone, he would curl around her, burying his face in her hair, holding her close.

How the two had started sleeping together was a bit of a muddled mystery. She had been diligently working on art pieces for her show. Cyrus had originally been her go-to guy for reviewing her pieces, but then he met Patrick.

Cyrus was around less and less, nearly unreachable by cell. His time was eaten up by work and Patrick. Apparently, he was still seeing Sheryl as well, which Darius and Yasmine knew was a point of contention for Patrick, who demanded all of Cyrus’ time, energy, and cock. His monogamous intensity bordered on a territory dispute.

Yasmine had started asking Darius for feedback on her art. She was surprised by his insights and knowledge. It probably helped that the show’s focus was him and Cyrus.

The bedroom door opened again, and Darius returned to bed with a heavy sigh. Wrapping his arms around Yasmine, he pulled her down with him, curling his body against hers. She could feel his flaccid dick, rubbing against her ass and she wiggled against it playfully. Darius huffed out a little laugh and squeezed her. His breath smelled fresh and minty.

She reached up a hand and ran it through his dark hair.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Mmm, I’m fine,” Darius said. “Feel a little better, but my head is still killing.”

His hands moved over her small breasts, holding each in turn, thumbs running over her nipples, gradually bringing them to points that he rolled between thumb and forefinger. Yasmine put a hand to Darius’ hip and stroked up and down his skin slowly.

He kissed her shoulder, planting a row of them along her neck until his nose was nuzzled into her hair. He breathed deeply and his hips rolled forward. What once was flaccid gradually stiffened as he stroked her soft skin.

“Yasmine,” he grumbled into her hair.

“Darius,” she whispered.

Her hand stroked over his hip, then dipped between the two of them where she found his thickening member. She closed her hand around the shaft and stroked from base to tip slowly. Darius grumbled out a moan and rolled his hips forward again, driving his cock through her ass crack.

Yasmine turned her head, and her lips met Darius’. She sighed contentedly as his fingers continued to twist her nipples, his tongue tracing her lips and plunging between them. She shifted to her back, and he drove his tongue deeply into her mouth. She matched his enthusiasm, tongue swiping along his, into his mouth. The head of his cock rubbed on her thigh smearing moisture that dribbled from his slit.

“Yasmine,” he moaned again, nearly whimpering.

He shifted slowly, kissing her breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth in turn, then he planted a long row of kisses down her stomach, pushing her thighs apart. He kissed down one thigh then up the other, letting his breath waft over her sex as he teased her.

“Darius,” she whined. “You fucking tease.”

He smiled at her, then brought his tongue to her opening. She gasped roughly, knees falling wider. His tongue swiped up between her moist labia. The taste of her burst in his mouth and he groaned at the flavor of her arousal. Her fingernails raked over his scalp slowly, sending goosebumps erupting down his neck and back. His cock twitched and he thrust it slowly against the mattress.

Yasmine groaned as Darius’ mouth closed around her clit. The tip of his tongue flicked over it, and he sucked lightly. She gasped again, warm moisture gathering in her pussy. He slid his tongue back down through her labia again and circled her opening, lapping at the moisture there, leaving his own. He pushed his tongue in briefly, then licked back up to flick her clit again. Her hips rolled and she pushed his head hard against her body. He brought two fingers up and slid them slowly through her slit before he pushed them into her entrance.

“Ugh, Darius,” Yasmine whined. “Yes, ah!”

The soft warmth of her vagina enveloped his fingers, and he groaned again as he flicked her clit. His fingers moved slowly, stroking up and down her walls as he pumped them in and out. He closed his mouth around her clit again, flicking and sucking. Her hips began to roll more quickly, and her hands were clamped to the back of his head.

“Oohhh, Darius, don’t stop,” Yasmine panted. “Yes, yeah, yeahhhAH!”

Yasmine’s back arched, she pressed Darius’ head firmly to her, thighs shaking madly, breath coming in sharp fast pants, as his fingers moved in her quickly. The warms walls suddenly constricted around them, squeezing hard over and over until she lowered again, her panting slowing.

Darius pulled his fingers out of her and sucked them clean with a mischievous grin. He hovered over her his dripping cock poised at her hot wet entrance. He kissed her mouth and thrust his cock into her. He moaned as he slid into her, and she pushed her hips up to meet him.

“Ugh, Yasmine,” Darius groaned.

He began to pump into her quickly, his breath rapid and uneven. She wrapped her legs around him urging him on. After all these weeks she knew what drove him crazy.

“Oh fuck!” he grunted.

He pulled his cock from her quickly, thrusting onto her stomach once before it erupted sending hot streaks up her skin. He panted hard and pumped through his leavings a little. His face was pale, and he pushed off her quickly.

“Sorry,” he grunted quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

He left quickly and slammed the bathroom door.

“You OK?” she shouted after him but heard no reply only the sink and fan running in the bathroom.

She lay there panting holding a hand to her forehead, her eyes closed. She wasn’t sure how long she laid that way when the warm swipe of a washcloth startled her. Darius stood over her naked, with a small smile on his face. He was cleaning up his mess with a damp washcloth.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey honey,” she stroked over his hairy arm. “Are you sure you’re OK?”

His cheeks flushed, but he let out a little chuckle.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just a fucking idiot.”

“You know,” she said with a playful glint in her eye. “It’s pretty insulting to vomit right after eating a woman out.”

Darius chuckled again and shook his head. He took the washcloth back to the bathroom and returned to bed where he burrowed next to Yasmine again. He lay his head on her chest, petting a hand over the soft skin of her stomach.

“We’re going to have to tell him,” Yasmine said.

Darius’ petting paused and he replied, “Yeah, I know.”

“I don’t know how to tell him,” she admitted.

“Neither do I,” Darius said.

“We should tell him before the show,” Yasmine said.

“Probably a good idea,” Darius confirmed.

“Do you think he’ll be mad?” Yasmine asked. Darius was quiet for a very long time. “Hon?”

“I’m gonna puke,” Darius said, getting out of bed again quickly.

Once more, Yasmine was alone in bed. She pondered how to tell one of her lifelong friends what had been going on right under his nose and the guilt was crippling.

Winter 2012: Four Weeks Later

The evening air was chilly but not biting as Darius and Cyrus walked from their dinner spot to the art gallery. The two men hadn’t seen Yasmine all day, but both had spoken to her multiple times on the phone as she ironed out details and had small panic attacks about her show that night.

It was her first solo show, and she was nervous. Of course she wanted her art to make an impact, be included in the narrative of the art culture of LA, but she also wanted it to be authentic and real.

Yasmine’s show was titled How Deep the Bonds and was a series of portraits of Darius and Cyrus. The two men had seen one or two of the larger pieces. Yasmine had sought out their approval for the ones she had rendered in oil on canvas, the pieces that took the most time and dedication to complete. Cyrus’ favorite had been a recreation of a photo his mother had taken shortly after Darius’ family immigrated from Iran.

The two families had come together for a picnic where little Cyrus had been drawn to Darius. Although 4-year-old Darius spoke only one or two words of English and Cyrus only spoke very basic Persian the two played together all day.

The photo was of the two boys standing side by side, faces smudged with dirt from the playground. Sweaty and smiling, although somewhat shyly in Darius’ case, Cyrus had his little arm flung over Darius’ shoulder hugging him close. Darius’ eyes were not focused on the camera but on Cyrus’ face, showcasing as much appreciation as a four-year-old could muster.

“I’m excited to see the finished product of that picture from when we were kids,” Cyrus said.

“Which one? There’s that water park picture,” Darius said with a laugh.

“Ah yes, when we were fighting over Rebecca,” Cyrus said. “I think she really liked you.”

“I think she really liked Yasmine,” Darius countered.

Cyrus laughed then shrugged.

“Maybe. She did spend much more time with Yasmine anyway,” Cyrus said.

“What do you think the sketches will be like?” Darius asked.

“I’m not sure. Yasmine didn’t show me any of those. Did you see any?” Cyrus asked.

“Nah,” Darius said quickly.

This was the part Darius was most nervous about. Yasmine had been so secretive with the sketches. They were smaller, while still framed and hung they would be less eye catching. Yasmine had seemed conflicted about one of the sketches. She had talked to Darius about it without giving him too much detail.

She felt it needed to be an oil on canvas, but worried about the content of it. Darius’ face had reddened when she asked him about it, wondering if it had anything to do with him and Cyrus hooking up for a time two years ago. But she had waved a hand at him when he asked her outright and said if she did make it a canvas, she would run it by them.

Yasmine stood at the door of the gallery, looking radiant in a fitted top, long skirt and sensible flats. She shifted from foot to foot nervously. The men were surprised to see her there. They were about thirty minutes late for the gallery opening and there was already a crowd milling around inside.

“Yasmine, what are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be inside mingling?” Cyrus asked as he approached her.

She smiled nervously as he planted a kiss on each of her cheeks. Darius followed suit, their gazes snagging for a moment as she began to reply.

“Oh, yeah. I was waiting for you guys,” she stammered.

“Are there critics here? You should be in there talking to them,” Darius said a slight scolding to his voice.

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s just…” she looked down at her feet. “I did something you guys. I…I… well.” She took a deep shuddering breath.

“Jesus, Yasmine. What’s going on?” Cyrus asked, putting his hand on her shoulder and squeezing.

“I made an oil on canvas you two haven’t seen and I… well, it’s very popular. I wasn’t expecting the sort of reception it’s receiving and…now I think I should have asked you guys or kept it a sketch…” Yasmine said.

Darius’ face paled as she sputtered on while Cyrus’ flushed hotly.

“What picture is it, Yasmine?” Darius asked quietly, although he was pretty sure he already knew.

“Just…just come see,” Yasmine said.

She twisted her hands together, wringing them hard enough to make her knuckles white. The men walked in, barely registering the gorgeous art around them that tracked their long friendship over the years.

Yasmine led them to a large wall blocked from street view, where a moderately sized oil on canvas painting hung. It depicted the two men on the couch in their shared living room, faces close, nearly kissing, mouths open in yearning. Cyrus’ hand gripped an obvious bulge at Darius’ crotch while Darius grinned holding Cyrus’ neck lightly.

It was a scene she had nearly walked in on when they were being less careful. Clearly, they had been so enamored with each other they hadn’t heard her bedroom door open. When she caught sight of her two friends locked in a clearly intimate situation she stopped, held her breath and slowly backed up down the hallway, trying to be silent. She had closed her door as quietly as she could and then roughly sketched the scene into her notebook.

“What the fuck Yasmine?” Cyrus said his eyes widening at the small crowd gathered around the painting.

Yasmine felt her face flush hotly. Cyrus was usually chill, so his more aggressive reaction set her on edge.

“Cy, come on,” Darius replied.

“No, really what the fuck? That’s…that’s so…” Cyrus sputtered turning to Yasmine, eyes shining with tears.

“That’s really beautiful,” Darius said.

“Thanks Darius,” Yasmine said worriedly.

She twisted her long hair around her fingers watching Cyrus’ face. He was glancing around the room like a nervous rabbit.

“My parents are coming to this show Yasmine,” Cyrus spat at her.

“I…I know Cyrus what –” Cyrus cut her off savagely.

“They don’t fucking know,” he hissed at her. “I haven’t told them I’m bi and you put this on the fucking wall??”

“What do you mean? I thought.” Yasmine swallowed hard. “I thought you told everyone years ago. You came out Cy!”

Yasmine thought she was going to cry. She wracked her brain trying to remember Cyrus telling her that he had come out to his parents. He had been out to his coworkers, all of their friends, for years now. She spoke of it casually with her own parents and Cyrus never said anything about that.

“I haven’t told my parents,” Cyrus groaned out. Now he looked like he might cry. “How could you include this without even asking us Yasmine?”

“It’s…It’s… the whole show is the evolution of your friendship. It was… it was…pivotal,” Yasmine said.

“It was also fucking private!” Cyrus shouted.

Several people turned as his voice echoed through the glass and concrete gallery, carrying over the quiet music that played in the background.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know that…”

“I have to fucking go,” Cyrus said. “Before my parents get here and rip into me. This is embarrassing enough.”

Cyrus nearly ran out of the gallery, pushing the door open roughly. Darius looked between Yasmine and the door Cyrus had just left through.

“Yasmine,” Darius said cupping her face. “Why didn’t you just ask us?”

“I…don’t know. I’m sorry,” Yasmine said, shaking her head.

Darius sighed and stared at the painting again.

“It is really beautiful,” he said. “I should go after him. I don’t think he should be on his own right now.”

“Yeah, of course,” Yasmine said. “Tell him I’m sorry. Did… did you know he hadn’t come out to his parents yet?”

“Well, not technically. He never said if he had either way,” Darius said. “Anyway, you could take that down before they get here?”

Yasmine’s face fell, shoulders sagging and Darius knew what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.

“They stopped by already,” she whispered.

“I can’t believe they were on time,” Darius replied.

“They were here before the doors even opened. God, I feel like such a shit,” Yasmine said.

“I’ll go after Cy,” Darius said.

Darius left, glancing briefly at the rest of the paintings on his way out.

Yasmine excused herself to the bathroom and allowed only a few seconds of tears before she wiped up her running makeup and reapplied her lipstick. Then she left the bathroom and began mingling again. She waited for the two men to return, looking hopefully towards the door each time it opened.

But she knew she didn’t deserve their forgiveness. She knew why she hadn’t asked them, deep down she knew. She was afraid they would say no, and the piece added so much to the collection as a whole. It was a huge piece of their story, and she didn’t want to leave it out. She just hoped that Cyrus could forgive her.

“Cy, wait up! Slow down man.” Darius jogged after Cyrus.

Luckily, he hadn’t called a car yet and was just stalking angrily straight down the street. He had been easy to find. Cyrus stopped abruptly and turned to face Darius.

“I can’t believe this! Can you believe this?” Cyrus demanded as tears streaked down his cheeks, which he wiped away angrily.

“I’m surprised yes,” Darius said.

“Why the fuck are you so calm? You’re in that picture too,” Cyrus said.

Darius shrugged, but he knew why. He had been sleeping with Yasmine for weeks now and she had hinted at it. When he saw her standing outside the gallery, he had already known what he would see.

What’s more is the painting was beautiful, the composition of it, even the memory of it. He’d had a good time with Cyrus. He still felt bad that Cyrus had been so hurt in that situation. For Darius it truly was just good sex. But it had been more for Cyrus and that memory probably still stung.

“She said she was sorry. I don’t think she meant to hurt us Cy,” Darius said.

Cyrus crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

“Will she take it down before my parents see it?” Cyrus asked.

“Oh, uh,” Darius winced. “They were there already. Got there on time.”

“Fuck, FUCK!” Cyrus shouted. “The one fucking time they actually show up early…” Cyrus trailed off.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he knew who it would be. When he pulled it from his pocket he saw his mother’s name. He ignored the call and turned his phone off.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think she knew she was outing you,” Darius said. “Honestly, I assumed your parents knew too.”

Cyrus gaped at Darius for a second then shook his head.

“Why would you think that? I never said that. I never told either of you that I had come out to them,” Cyrus said.

“Well, you also never explicitly said you didn’t either,” Darius said.

“Oh, my god,” Cyrus said throwing his hands in the air with an irritated laugh. “Darius, take a fucking second and think about who my parents are. My mom thinks gay people are made up, just a sexual fetish of perverts and my dad is a near constant womanizer who takes advantage of my mother’s naiveté. What about that situation makes you think they would be safe people to share my sexuality with? I mean back before I came out, I never even took girlfriends to meet them.”

When Cyrus put it that way it seemed obvious that he wouldn’t have told them. But from Darius’ perspective, Cyrus’ parents had seemed pretty normal. Admittedly, he wasn’t their child and was not a queer man, so his perspective was a tad skewed.

“I’m…yeah, you’re right. I guess Yasmine and I just have a different view of your parents,” Darius said numbly.

“Duh, Darius,” Cyrus said meanly. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, and now Yasmine has fucking outed me. It’s so wild that it’s her, my parents say the most vile shit about her when she’s dating a woman,” Cyrus said off handedly.

“Come on man, don’t be a dick just cause you’re mad. Cut her some slack,” Darius said.

Cyrus stared at him for a second, the anger working behind his eyes was a little alarming.

“Why are you defending her so much?” Cyrus said. “She fucked up.”

“I know she fucked up,” Darius said holding his hands up in surrender.

“So why are you defending her so much?” Cyrus shouted again.

Darius held out his hands and tried to think of something to say. His cheeks flushed as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I…I… I just think her intention wasn’t to…” Darius sputtered. “I mean when we’ve talked about things…”

“Did you know about this?” Cyrus demanded.

“I mean, not really! She never said it directly. Cy, I would have told you,” Darius said, acutely aware of the fact that his statement rested on a technicality.

“Would you have told me though? You guys have been awfully close lately. You’re jumping to each other’s defenses so fast. I can barely joke around with you two anymore without one of you biting my head off.” Cyrus squinted at Darius. Then his eyes widened suddenly. “Oh my god…you’re sleeping together!”

Darius’ eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He chest tightened and he wished that he and Yasmine had had the courage to tell him before that night. Cyrus didn’t deserve to find out like this when he was already boiling in anger.

Cyrus scoffed roughly and dropped his crossed arms. He pulled his phone from his pocket again switching it back on. It immediately started ringing, his father’s name flashing across the screen this time. He ignored the call and pulled up his text messages.

“I’m going to stay at Patrick’s tonight,” Cyrus said, swiping at his eyes quickly.

“Come on Cy, Patrick’s a dick,” Darius said.

“You think every guy I sleep with is a dick,” Cyrus said with a glare. “Patrick is shallow, but he’s nice to me.”

“Only because he thinks you’re hot,” Darius muttered.

“I am fucking hot Darius!” Cyrus shouted. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Go back to the fucking show. I won’t be home tonight.”