TITLE: Sand and Blood.

BY: Starkiller

RATING: NC17

PAIRING: Vachon/Ardeth Bey.

CATEGORY: Crossover slash. Vachon and that hunky Arab guy from "The Mummy" (Ardeth Bey), in the desert.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. James D. Parriot and Stephen Sommers own them; I own the story. Don't sue.

NOTES: If there was an eclipse in 1914, fabulous. If not, pretend there was.

by Starkiller

It was so hot.

Egypt in the summer, in the year 1914. World War One was raging in Europe and spreading like a virus. Like so many of his kind, Vachon had decided to try the life in another place far, far away. Europe was getting to be all war and no fun. While war provided endless opportunities for uninterrupted feeding, and indeed was in the nature of a vampire's buffet, it also meant that one's place of rest was more at risk of exposure to the sun through pesky bombs and such. That risk had outweighed the benefits. Vachon had stowed away in a cargo ship bound for Egypt.

He had never been to the land on the Nile and was entranced by it. Cairo was a city of vast and unimaginable pleasures. The literary and historical lived side by side with the squalid and the erotic and exotic. He now understood the fondness some of his kind had for the desert lands, peopled with such exotic tastes and smells and sensations.

He had stayed in Cairo for several months, delighting in the lifestyle there. He had spent his days in Berber's cellars or underneath the fabled Cairo Museum, where he had indulged himself and read as many of the books there that he could find. He read of Gods and heroes and monsters and magnificent structures built to honour all these and more.

He had gone to Giza Plateau to see the pyramids, the Sphinx, its face eroded by time and sand and he had stood and gazed into its timeless eyes and wondered what stories it could tell. He had spent days hidden in caves in the Valley of the Kings, and at night he had mingled with the tourists come to escape the war and soak up culture of a long lost civilisation. Mummies and gods. It was charmingly entertaining and Vachon had amused himself with daydreams about the days of Pharonic rulership, when the rituals of the Gods had to be performed or else the kingdom withered and died.

Nights like these, experiences like these were to be savoured and enjoyed.He relished in them, dressing in the dark coloured, light weight clothing of the Bedouin as he roamed at will around Cairo and the Giza Plateau. He stowed away on a small pleasure boat owned by wealthy Americans and cruised down the Nile, seeing the sites of Aswan, Saqqara, Alexandria, the cities in Lower Egypt. It was a wonderful experience.

Except that his early mornings, just before the sun came up, were full of a growing sense of loneliness. He had not felt any others of his kind here in this sun blasted country since he had arrived. He needed some companionship, some company.

Six weeks after arriving in Cairo, there was an eclipse of the sun. The day was rendered as dark as night, and for 36 glorious hours, Vachon roamed at will. He obtained a horse from the Bedouin, supplies, and went out into the desert. He made rather exotic precautions in case the sun should appear again that should he be caught without shelter, he could survive. Burning up in the desert was not on his list of things to achieve.

****

The desert was big and it was hot. Hills that were miles away had finally been reached. It had been three days since he had left Cairo. His horse, tired, picked its way through the sand and up into the foothills that would provide relative safety. His sharp vampire eyes picked out a cave and he urged his mount towards it. Dismounting, he led the animal into the cave, made it comfortable and then settled himself. This would make a good base for him to spend his time while he pondered what he should do next. The three days of the eclipse were over now. He had to come up with a plan to return to the safety of Cairo. But that could be done later.

The darkness of the desert night fell swiftly, and leaving his dozing horse in the cave, Vachon left the confines of it to stand underneath the desert moon. The stars twinkled down at him, and he stood, looking up at the night sky. The slight breeze of the foothills wove its fingers through his hair, and he sighed in contentment. Yes, this land held many beauties.

"Who are you?"

Vachon jumped. His senses should have alerted him to a mortal's approach, instead, he had been taken completely by surprise. He turned slowly, to find himself gazing into the darkest brown eyes he had ever seen. He swallowed, suddenly embarrassingly aware that those eyes had had a rather obvious effect on his groin.

"Just a traveller. Passing through."

The suspicious dark brown eyes regarded him steadily. The gun pointed at his chest was held in strong, steady hands. The moon shone down on the man holding the gun, the man who's eyes were like pools of night. It illuminated suntanned and weathered skin, thick, wavy black hair, blowing off of a handsome face. Tattoos in Arabic adorned each cheek, and hieroglyphs adorned the forehead. Rather than causing the man to look unattractive, they instead enhanced his beauty, making him appear almost an otherworldly being. They stared at each other, taking each other's measure.

"No-one travels here. What do you want?"

Vachon swallowed cautiously. He suspected his next words would be extremely important. The glisten of silver at the man's hip showed a long, sharp-pointed scimitar. If the man chose to take his head off with that, that would be it for Vachon, conquistador and vampire.

"I escape the war in Europe. I want nothing here, except to continue to look upon the beauties of this land, and to live in peace here, for a time."

The man's lip curled in a slight sneer. The gun was still held pointed towards Vachon. Not good.

"You are a vampire. How can one of your kind live in peace?"

Vachon blinked in astonishment. How could the man tell?

"The peace of the dead, I suppose. Look, I'm not here for trouble. I just rode out during the eclipse. I've got cows blood from a butcher back in Cairo. I'm not looking to eat anyone or anything else, I'm fine with my supplies. Like I said, I'm just passing through. Experiencing the landscape."

He shrugged. If this wasn't good enough, well, hey life, it was fun, but this man would most certainly kill him. He relaxed his stance, but his eyes never left the face of the man in front of him. Seconds ticked by. Then the gun was lowered, and the man gestured in the Bedouin fashion for greeting and peace with Allah.

"Well then, traveller, I bid you welcome. Peace be with you."

"Peace be with you."

Vachon's mind was moving very fast now. What was going on here? The man had gone from hostile to....slightly less hostile relatively quickly.

"Not to be rude, but who are you? How did you know what I am? You're not a vampire."

"I am of the Med-jai. We know. I know. We protect the royal house of Egypt from evil. While the house itself may be dead, the evil still lurks. Vampires are not the evil we deal with. Your business as such is not my concern."

Vachon exhaled loudly. He was growing annoyed. While he loved listening to the Egyptians and the Bedouin talk, he was still curious and his questions were being rather neatly evaded.

"That tells me WHAT you are, but not WHO you are."

The man smiled, even white teeth showing in the golden skin. The soft black hairs of his beard providing a stark contrast in colours. Vachon felt his legs turn to jelly.

"Forgive me. I am Ardeth Bey. You are?"

"Vachon. Javier Vachon."

"Well, Javier Vachon. It seems we are both alone in these hills on this night. Would you care to share my fire?"

Hospitality rituals in the desert lands were long, intricate and involved. By offering his fire, Vachon knew that he was now completely safe with Bey. He inclined his head slightly, and followed the figure up the hilly trail towards the muted light of a small fire well concealed by rocks and sand. There was a small camp set up, a beautiful black desert horse, who cropped at the pale hillside grass. Vachon sat at the fire, watching as Ardeth Bey seated himself beside him, making the simple act a work of art.

"Where abouts are we exactly?"

"You did not know where you were headed?"

Vachon shrugged.

"I got on my horse and headed for the closest foothills. When I got here, I found a cave, left my horse to rest and came outside to look at the moon and the stars. I know Cairo is back that way."

He waved vaguely behind him. Ardeth chuckled low in his throat. /I'm glad I'm sitting/ thought Vachon. The dark hooded eyes gazed into the fire, illuminating those pools of night into pools of fire.

"Are you familiar with the city of Hamunaptra?"

"City of the Dead? I've heard of it, yes."

"We are not five miles from it."

Vachon sat back. Hamunaptra. That would definitely be something to see. As if reading his thoughts, the handsome, black clad man next to him spoke again.

"It is cursed, even for your kind, Javier Vachon. For you to step there would be death."

He spoke calmly, authoritatively. Vachon shook himself. /Get your mind out of the sewer, Javier. Stop drowning yourself in his voice, his eyes/

"I read something about that back in Cairo. But why are you so concerned with it?"

"It is my calling. It is what I am. Ever since I was a young boy trained to become one of the Med-Jai, I have known this."

They sat in silence, with the sound of the crackling of the fire between them. Vachon found himself wanting to listen to the voice of Ardeth more and more. It had a dark, rich timbre. It excited him. He knew he would probably be spending a delightful day in the cave, with Mrs. Palmer and her five daughters. He smiled slightly to himself.

"And why such a smile, my friend?"

Vachon looked up into the dark eyes.

"I was just thinking what an amazingly beautiful voice you have."

Ardeth laughed softly, a sound without rancor, low in his throat. /Oh yes, Javier. Mrs Palmer definitely./

"Indeed?"

"Oh yes indeed. Very much indeed."

Smiling himself, Ardeth returned his gaze to the fire.

"Is it true that one of your kind cannot....copulate with a mortal?"

Vachon sighed heavily. Fantasies and dreams for this man were all his desires could ever be. He was mortal. Sex with him would kill him, unless he was to turn him, and Vachon did not think he should.

"Yes."

"Ah."

Silence stretched before them again, this time filling Vachon with a slowly building misery. He should leave. He stood up and brushed the desert from his legs. Ardeth looked up at him in surprise.

"I should go. Thank you for your...hospitality. It was....well, it was."

"Why do you leave, my friend?"

"Because if I stay, I'm probably going to act on a primal, sexual impulse that could quite possibly kill one of us if not both, and I'm not really in the mood to die or to kill tonight. Especially not in passion."

Ardeth stood. They were nearly the same height, Vachon noted absently. His companion was slightly taller than he.

"I am Med-Jai."

"I got that."

Laughing, Ardeth placed his hands on his hips, a pose of power, well concealed violence. /Dear gods I need a cold shower/ Vachon felt his undead heart lurch within him.

"Med-Jai CAN mate with vampires."

Vachon's jaw dropped in sudden understanding.

"Ohhhhh......OH. Wait...how do you know?"

Ardeth was laughing at him.

"One of my brethren has a vampire lover. Actually, he has two. A man and a woman. The man's name is LaCroix. The woman's is Janette. They are of your kind. Do you know them?"

Vachon shook his head mutely. The name LaCroix sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn't put his finger on where he had heard it before. Janette was completely unknown to him.

"My brother has had other vampire lovers. He speaks of your kind with great love and trust. Your kind can not kill us; I know this because LaCroix tried...and failed. Yet he remains. I believe he thinks of my brother as an...enigma? Yes."

Vachon was nodding vigorously. This was wonderful news. His hormones took over at that point, leaving his still faintly protesting logic centers far behind him.

"Good enough for me."

With that, he had closed the gap between them, and slid his arms around the neck of Ardeth, pulling their heads close and bringing their lips together in a passionate kiss. Strong hands roamed over bodies as each sought for dominance over the other. Vachon wound his hands in the thick black pelt of Ardeth's hair, marvelling at its softness. He felt hands upon his buttocks, a leg behind his own and the next thing he knew, he was lying on his back, gasping in surprise and blinking up at the man who had just so conveniently tackled him to the ground.

As that hard, muscular body was lowered onto his, all coherent thought vanished from Vachon's mind. As Ardeth's mouth plundered his, he gladly surrendered to the touch of the other, the gentle tugging of clothing off of his body, the cool caress of the night air on flesh heated by lust and touch. As Ardeth's long fingers found Vachon's erection and began to stroke, the only sound Vachon could muster was a strangled moan.

Stroking the cold vampire flesh, gently yet firmly brining the other to orgasm, Ardeth began to understand what it was about sexual play with a vampire that his brother so enjoyed. The passion, the stamina....and as Vachon came into his palm, Ardeth hid a smile at the reaction of the other. No yell, no shout, no howl of release. A gurgling whimper accompanied by bucking of hips. Oh yes, that did very well.

Vachon felt hotter than he ever had in his life, and more weak than he had even as a mortal. What was this man doing to him? He felt the warm flesh of the other press against his cold flesh and sighed with mounting desire. So what if he'd just come? More was needed, more was WANTED. He pushed himself into the body of the Arab and finding the mouth he desired, he plunged his tongue in, deep inside.

Nipping gently then more firmly at the soft, full lower lip of his partner, Vachon manoeuvred himself so that he was straddling the body beneath him. He moved down the bare chest, musculature to kill for, breathing growing more aroused and more intense the further down the flesh Vachon moved. He swirled his tongue around hardening nipples, rewarded with a harsh gasp of pleasure. He moved further down, kissing the taut stomach, running his hands lightly over the powerful thighs.

Coming at last to Ardeth's groin, Vachon let out a small sigh of pleasure. Hard, erect, and large, the Arab's aroused cock was an invitation to the lustful Spaniard. He took the flesh in his mouth and began to suck, teasing the eye of the penis with his tongue, massaging balls with his hand, allowing his jaw to grow slack and to deep throat the other.

He could feel Ardeth was close to coming, so he increased the pressure on the balls, and using his tongue, he traced the vein on the underside of the cock faster and faster. When he came, Ardeth moaned in pleasure, muttering half phrases in Egyptian and Arabic.

Coming up for air, Vachon noted that his partner had relaxed completely, muscles no longer tight with suppressed lust. The sight of this golden body bathed in moonlight, dark hair thrown back on the sparse grass, the fire adding its own molten dance of light and shadow to already golden skin.....too much for a mere vampire to handle thought Vachon. He moved himself up slightly, positioning himself over the other man. Grabbing up some of the items from the pile of discarded clothes, he shoved them under Ardeth's hips and the slowly and carefully slid a finger inside the hot, golden body.

The moan that greeted this intrusion was gratifying. Vachon added a second finger and then a third. He felt hands in his hair, heard the pleas for more as he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock. Slowly he slid into the heated hole, and he began to pump away, slowly and rhythmically.

Despite his own internal lust screaming at him to increase speed, Vachon held himself in check, taking it slowly and carefully, each stroke and thrust a slow move in a dance of passion as old as time. Biting down on his lower lip, he took the once again hard cock of Ardeth in his hand and stroked in time to his thrusts. Without realising it, his face had taken on its vampire aspect. Ardeth's eye's were closed, his head thrown back, his mouth open, gasping and moaning softly at each thrust and stroke.

Locked together, alabaster and gold, the two powerful men came simultaneously. Once again, no yells, no howls, no wails or screams. Merely groans of passion and release from Ardeth and deep, throaty growls from Vachon. Vachon realised that he was wearing his vampire face. He quickly changed himself back into his mortal face so as not to alarm the other man, although he could feel his fangs were still protruding from his gums.

Carefully, still shaking from the power of the release, Vachon pulled himself out of the body of his companion. He moved back and sat on his knees, waiting. He did not have long to wait. Ardeth slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows, meeting his dark eyes with his black ones. They exchanged a long, long look that said all that needed to be said. Silently, they dressed and returned to the fire.

****

The slow lightening of the sky alerted Vachon it was time to go. He got up abruptly and turned to leave. Ardeth did not move. Pausing, Vachon looked behind him, at the back of the beautiful man he was leaving behind. He sighed.

"Good bye, Ardeth. Thank you. I'll always remember."

Ardeth turned his head slightly.

"Allah be with you, Javier Vachon."

Nodding once, Vachon disappeared into the night, to his cave and horse and bottle of blood and another three years of wandering the desert lands looking for something. Something he left behind on an unnamed hillside, dressed in black, named Ardeth Bey.

FIN.