On Lotus Pond (Slash Fic)

10:22 am - Fri, Apr 6, 2012: 7 notes

On Lotus Pond (Slash Fic)

After much deliberation and coaxing ~~and emotional blackmailing~~, I have decided to publish first the prologue of my Interpol-inspired slash fiction and see how this should go.

For fan fiction virgins, this should explain to you what a Slash fic is. You’ve been warned.

Again, the usual disclaimer: The following literary attempt is purely fictional. The names of the main characters happen to have real life counterparts in the form of very very gorgeous people. Any incident, character or anything that happened in the real life are purely coincidental. While I am somewhat obliged to say that I don’t own these real people, I am just informing anyone not to copy this story and make a buck out of it. Just read and try to enjoy if you please.

PROLOGUE

Circa 1950’s.

Carlos sat in a bar stool in the dark corner of a bar somewhere in the city. After taking his drink, he turned around facing the crowd and started to dig into his pockets as if searching for his cigarettes. A man approached him and flicked open his lighter.

“Got some cigarettes to light on, buddy?” the man spoke.

He looked up casually and smiled. “Perhaps. If it can be lit properly.”

The man licked his lips.

They both understood what each other meant.

A few dilly-dally mindless conversation, they ended up in an apartment not far from the bar.

It was quite a short but good enough rendezvous.

This stranger had a talented hand and mouth. And quite much a giver.

As soon as it’s over, Carlos got out of bed and started to put on his clothes while the other man lay nonchalantly in bed and smoking.

“Come back to bed, darling.” the figure on the bed spoke in between puffing his cigarette.

Carlos didn’t reply. He continued dressing up and is now fixing his necktie.

“What’s wrong? Wasn’t I good?” the other man frowned.

“No, you’re great.” he finally spoke as he stood against the mirror and smoothed his hair.

“Hey, stop acting like a snob.” the other man said, “you’re hurting my feelings.”

Carlos turned to open the door and as he stood by the doorway, turned to the man on the bed and said:

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a single damn.”

and shut the door behind him.

It was the darkened corner of his time.

A time where desiring one’s own kind is a crime.

A few years ago, an influential politician, declared his war against the gays and lesbians, calling them “so-called moral perverts” on the television and within a few years, many lives were altered drastically.

He already learned how two of his close friends lost their jobs for having their sexuality exposed and Carlos knows how that he must cover his tracks well to survive in such hostile time.

In the dark corners of the city, he can find a place to cater for his desires. A place of paid bodies. A place of groping in the dark. But not a place for love.

Love? He scoffed. Lust, yes. Love? Never.

Carlos emerged from the apartment and into the cold, dark street. His coat wrapped snuggly around his body while his hat falls low enough to hide his eyebrow.

He had just turned to a corner when he heard some jeering voices.

He suddenly stopped and felt his blood run cold.

(To be continued)