Happy Birthday: Bj Jones

And to celebrate my birthday – y’all get a gift!! Or I’m just being evil – depends on which way you want to look at it.

Snippet: Advent Fic – Moulin Rouge!

***

He climbed up the elephant and looked inside the once famed Red Room.   Instead of the lavish interior, oversized bed, cushions, and all the comforts one would want.  It was now painted in bright colors, rich in texture, very true to the Bohemian way of life.  On the walls hung Toulouse’s Art.  There were bright cushions on the floor so patrons could sit and admire the paintings.

But what caught his attention was the man who stood in the middle.

He was not much taller than Christian’s own height, somewhere around 5’10”.  His brown hair was cropped short, but still looked wildly out of control.  He wore simple cargo pants, a button down shirt, and a scarf was around his neck.

When he turned around, it was his eyes that caught all of Christian’s attention.

Startling blue.

Just like hers.

She had come home.

Really and truly come home to the Moulin Rouge.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh sorry.” Christian held out his hands hoping to look non-threatening.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean…I saw your light on, and I…I climbed up the…”  This was starting to feel all too familiar.

“You climbed up the elephant!”  He stared at him in shock.  “What the hell is with people climbing the damn thing.  It’s an historical building, not a jungle gym!”

Christian didn’t want to know who else was climbing on the 136 year old elephant.

“I really didn’t mean to…”  He glanced around seeing more of the gallery.   The transformation was amazing.  The artwork was glorious, and the way they were presented almost felt like he was back in the Red Room.  Minus the bed and kinky toys he knew had been stashed away.  “It looks amazing.  Nothing like I remember.”

“Thanks.”  He glanced around, his hands rested on his hips.  “Who are you?”

He held out his hand, a bright smile on his face.  “Christian.”

“Seriously?”  He snorted, but took the man’s hand.  He frowned at the touch, something very familiar, yet elusive.  “Jake Stone.”