Party at Vachon's, a NC 17 crossover by Brenda Antrim.

This is a rather strange, purely smutty crossover involving selected fictional characters from Forever Knight, the X-Files, Star Trek Voyager and Star Trek Deep Space Nine. I own none of them, and none of the owners would want to claim them in this particular reality.


from Forever Knight:

Nick Knight, an eight-hundred year old vampire who longs to be mortal and atone for the murders he has committed in the course of his immortality -- for the sake of this story, you need to know that he's a gorgeous pale blonde with beautiful blue eyes, a wonderful mouth and a thing for necks.

Vachon, a, what, three-hundred? Four-hundred? Well, a not- quite-as-old vampire with long, dark hair and huge deep brown eyes ... and a really, really nice ass. He doesn't have anywhere NEAR as many hangups about being a vamp as Nick does.

from the X-Files:

Special Agent Fox Mulder, who, if you've been in exile over the past three years and really don't know, is the tall, lanky, anguished and driven hero of the series... complete with adorable hazel eyes, a sulky mouth to die for, and legs to kill for (sorry, no Scully in this one -- this is for the boys and those who love them).

Alex Krycek, a double agent in the pay of Mulder's enemies (until just recently) and a sexy Canuck with deep, dark eyes, a wicked smile, and a *great* ass.

from Star Trek Voyager:

Lieutenant Tom Paris, the cocky yet sweet pilot of the Voyager, the bad boy with the heart of gold and the looks to match. He has the smile, the baby blues, and the hands (*whimper*) of someone you'd really like to know MUCH better.

from Star Trek Deep Space Nine:

Doctor Julian Bashir, he of the doe eyes, the luscious caramel skin, and the legs that look like they go on and on forever.

Elim Garak, the only non-Human in the bunch (watch out, Mulder may not be able to contain his excitement!), a suave and sophisticated Cardassian spy with deceptively guileless blue eyes and a chest that makes grown women weep (well, *this* grown woman at least).

So. On to the madness. Remember, this has no plot at all, and is purely for the smut. So if you're a minor, don't read this, and if you are actually looking for a story that means something...

... what are you doing reading this?

*deep breath*

Party at Vachon's, by Brenda Antrim, rated NC-17 for sex and S for Silly. The only part of it I own is the fantasy.


Risa the Pleasure Planet, this wasn't. Garak squinted into the darkness of what appeared to be a depressingly featureless and undoubtedly dark building of Human construction, then glanced over at his companion for clarification. The lovely doctor refused to meet his eyes.

"Transporter malfunction, I do believe," Julian Bashir finally offered, rather weakly.

"No doubt," his Cardassian friend replied in an extremely dry tone.

"So, let's look about, shall we?" Ignoring Garak's grimace of distaste, Julian began to explore. After all, he'd ended up in ancient Terran refuges on the edge of revolution and mirror universes with feral women in leather. Who *knew* what this adventure might bring? Garak shrugged and followed, just *knowing* he was going to regret this.


"It's gotten so much stronger since the possession, Vachon." Nick Knight's disembodied voice seemed to float out of the shadows toward the scruffy, but undeniably handsome, younger vampire lounging on the gray velvet sofa. He looked up through his long black hair at the almost translucent face of his older companion, marveling at the conflict he saw reflected in those clear blue eyes.

"And what am I supposed to do about it, Knight? Say, yeah, once in awhile you can munch on a mortal?"

Nick's low growl caused him to stiffen slightly, but he tried very hard not to show it. Mustn't lose the air of insouciance - it was all he had to hang on to when he was so far out of his league.

"Maybe I'll get tired of trying to figure it out and just munch on you!"

Identical looks of distaste crossed both men's faces, chased away almost immediately by nearly identical looks of dawning awareness.

*You know, that just might work* flashed through Nick's mind.

*That might not be half bad* Vachon though with a quirky half smile.

Before either vampire could mention the thoughts chasing themselves around in their respective minds, a rustle of movement intervened, and both tensed, using their heightened senses of hearing and smell to determine who had crashed the party at Vachon's loft.


Tom Paris, late of the Federation Starship Voyager lost somewhere in the Delta quadrant, wasn't *quite* sure where the hell he was. It looked like ... a warehouse. With black walls. And an air conditioner, which from the layer of sweltering heat he could just barely feel washing over his skin, might turn out to be a good idea. That had been one HELL of a kick from that spacial anomaly... who knew what it was, that was up to the Captain and B'Elanna Torres. The women always could figure that kind of shit out. He was just happy to

survive... wherever the hell he had landed. And he hoped like hell he hadn't lost another shuttlecraft. They didn't have any to spare with the way they were losing them right and left. Shrugging and taking a deep breath, he headed further into the dark building, determined to poke around and see what popped up.


Special Agent Fox Mulder tried desperately to catch his breath and quiet his breathing as he rounded the corner of the old warehouse, trying to mask himself from his pursuer. The rat bastard was too damned hard to shake out in the open... he'd have to try his luck in the confines of the dark warehouse. With one swift measuring glance from keen hazel eyes, he ducked into the side entrance of the block building.

Dark eyes watched from the shadows half a block away. Finally. The obstinate, hardheaded sonovabitch had finally stopped. Pushing his unruly bangs back from his face, Alex Krycek took a firmer grip on his gun and slipped across the street, following his target into the cool, dark building. Maybe now that he'd stopped running, Mulder would be willing to listen to him, willing to trade information. But he had to pin him down, first.


The beautiful blond stumbled into the room first. His strange black and red jumpsuit was torn across the broad chest, as was the heathery gray pullover beneath it. He was starting to sweat profusely in the August heat, and both vampires appreciated the healthy glow of his skin from the shadowed corners where they watched. He had barely caught his breath when a pair of adventurers tumbled through the narrow opening opposite of the actual door, the first slender figure in an apparently complimentary jumpsuit, blue instead of red across the shoulders, the second in a fascinating suit that seemed to shimmer in burnished copper, teal, mauve and amber. He also ... had ridges. In fact, he looked a lot like a very handsome male lizard. Nick and Vachon drew a little nearer, eyes wide at the strange sight. The blond didn't seem to be surprised at the Lizardman's odd appearance.

"Star fleet! And I don't know you! Does this mean I made it back to the Alpha quadrant?" None of this made any sense to the onlooking vampires, but the dark man in the blue seemed to understand him.

"Well, I think so," he replied in a soft British accent, gesturing to the Lizardman. "This is my friend Garak, and I'm Doctor Julian Bashir."

"I remember you," the blond grinned, moving forward confidently. Nick

found himself drawn to the unconsciously sexy way his hips moved when

he walked toward the other two. Blood lust rose thick and fierce through his body as the three continued their nonsensical conversation. He tuned the words out and concentrated on the blond. Classical good looks, fine bone structure, build like a dream ... hot, hot blood pumping through that strong, healthy body... he felt his fangs begin to tingle and lifted a hand to rub his aching gums.

Vachon was utterly taken with the Lizardman, Garak, or whatever the hell the dusky lad had called him. He had *ridges* along his neck, and twinkling eyes, and a chest... that ... had his fangs itching. Before either vampire could make a move, yet another unexpected arrival darted into the room, freezing in the door frame for a moment before being pushed from behind by a moving object. Before any of the stunned occupants of the room could react, the first man, a tall, lanky specimen with dramatic bone structure and a full sensual lower lip that got the whole room's attention, turned and swung a fist at the slightly shorter figure who had barreled into him from behind. The second man, a more compact figure but no less physically imposing, blocked the blow and swung back, clipping the first man along the jaw and sending him reeling. Before any further swings were taken, the blond ran to the fallen man and pulled him away, holding his arms down to his sides to keep him subdued. The dark beauty ran to stand between the two fighters, and the second man stopped his advance.

"Whatthefuck-" sputtered the sprawled figure, starting to struggle against the blue-eyed Adonis holding him down. Those crystal eyes met wide, startled hazel, and both momentarily forgot what they were doing. *Hm, <nice>* was the common impression. In the meantime, the British doctor had moved closer to the darkly handsome attacker, who didn't seem to be much in the attacking mood now.

"It's all right, there's no one here who's going to hurt you-" the words flowed calmly, soothingly over Krycek, the faint British accent catching his ear. The man in front of him was mesmerizing, with huge olive eyes, a compassionate expression on his exotically beautiful face. Julian, in turn, was fascinated by the wide shoulders, narrow waist, and firm legs encased in some sort of faded blue material that outlined the muscles in loving detail. As the stare-off continued, Bashir felt himself grow unexpectedly hard and Krycek responded in kind. Behind them, Paris softened his grip on the man laying supine before him, still detaining him, but now his elegant hands were unconsciously testing the long muscles in the agent's arms and shoulders, their eyes locked together. Mulder felt his breathing quicken, and his body as well, as the caresses grew gradually bolder.

Garak studied the tableau with some fascination before deciding that he wanted to be part of the action. As he came forward between Krycek and the door, the light fell directly on him. Mulder noticed the movement and tore his eyes from Tom's long enough to notice the distinctly unusual appearance of the new man.

"Damn!" he nearly screamed, bolting upright and knocking Tom off balance. The pilot tried to grab onto anything to keep his balance, and failed miserably, tipping over to slide face first into Mulder's crotch. The dual exhilaration of the blond babe seemingly going after his jewels and the undoubted alien watching the proceedings had a not unexpected effect, and Paris was so delighted with the size and heft of the erection his chin landed against that he gave up the effort at righting himself and fell to exploring *this* uncharted territory. Mulder dropped his gaze to his lap in time to see the younger man carefully digging at his zipper, and the alien, at least for the moment, took a back seat to more pressing concerns.

Mulder's exclamation caused Krycek to whirl in readiness to be attacked, only to find himself faced with a vision from his nightmares. No way was this sucker even remotely human. "AAAAAH! He's GRAY!" The scream surprised everyone except Tom, who already knew Cardassians were gray, and Mulder, who at that particular moment was concentrating on the feeling of Paris enclosing him in a firm, strong grip and couldn't care less if they were purple with pink stripes. It had been a very, very long time, and Scully was showing no signs of softening. Garak nearly jumped out of his skin, looking around wildly for this "gray" threat, and Krycek turned away from the apparition and tried to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Unfortunately, Julian was *also* looking around for the source of the threat and didn't see Alex barreling toward him until the collision.

In the ensuing crash, Bashir managed to twist so that he didn't injure himself in the fall. Krycek wasn't quite so lucky. When the healer saw the sweet velvet eyes grow fuzzy, he knew Krycek had suffered (at the least) a concussion. As he lay there entangled with the weight of the other man pressing deliciously into his own, he justified, or perhaps rationalized, his next moves. Had to keep the poor dear awake, now, didn't he? His duty as a doctor. And he went to it with gusto, startling and distracting Alex with the heat of his mouth over the other man's parted lips.

Vachon couldn't stand it any longer. The Lizard -- make that Garak, he obviously was not from around there, but there was no need to be rude --was standing in something like shock watching his lithe young companion wind himself around Krycek like a tree snake trying to blend into the jungle. Using this distraction to his best advantage, he stalked silently up to his prey and pounced, sending his thirsty fangs deep into the corded neck ridge that had been making him crazy since all these strangers first appeared in his lair. The texture was utterly unexpected, as was the incredible buzz that came with the first rush of warm hot blood over his tongue. This was unlike any blood he had ever tasted, he thought incredulously, before the more cynical part of his mind replied, <no shit, stupid, he's a meal unlike any you've ever had!> It was ... so thick ... so rich ... so incredibly hot. As he pulled more deeply at the source, the level of arousal from his victim spiked off the chart, and Vachon found himself on the verge of a surprise climax. Never, EVER had he had a victim respond like this! It was so full of sensation, so startlingly close to the edge, that he had to withdraw his fangs completely and stop sucking. He felt high, giddy, aroused and half scared out of his mind. He'd never felt so drunk in his life.

Garak couldn't believe it. This scruffy little Human, with long silky hair much like his darling doctor's would be if the stiffnecks at Star Fleet ever allowed them to grow it out and huge dark eyes that also reminded him of his closest friend, had come out of nowhere and BITTEN his neck ridge. THE most erogenous zone on a Cardassian's body, and this delicious boy had BITTEN it. He had to have more. He just had to have more. As he advanced on the wavering vampire, his eyes dropped to the enticing sight of a tight ass caught up in some sort of rough black cotton that certainly left nothing to the imagination. Yes. He would take a little of THAT, too. Vachon felt the heat of another body coming up behind him, but was too dizzy to do much more than swing unsteadily around to face him. When he saw the rampant lust on the corded features, he moaned involuntarily. His last coherent thought as the solid bulk of the alien lowered him to the floor was that it was going to be one hell of a ride.

Nick was in shock. Vachon was groaning and slithering underneath the Lizardman, sucking at his neck then giggling slightly hysterically, while the Lizardman was speedily divesting them both of their clothing and muttering something about "archaic fasteners." When he finally got them both naked, the size of the alien's erection brought a gasp to Nick's lips. Disbelieving blue eyes watched gray scaled skin slide against and into Castillian cream, then he tore his eyes away and searched for a distraction. From the lusty way the alien was controlling the encounter, he didn't think Vachon would get too carried away and kill him. He didn't think, at this point, Vachon was capable of much more than going along for the ride!

His questing gaze fell on two dark haired mortals, in a perfect figure eight, clothes placed in an orderly pile where someone, undoubtedly Bashir, had placed them before diving in for a feast. Long graceful legs the color of cafe au lait moved restlessly under Alex's obviously talented hands, and creamy pale muscled thighs flexed under the equally skilled hands of the doctor. Dark heads moved in near perfect synchronicity, and judging from the sighs and moans issuing from either end, they were perfectly content with the situation.

<I haven't seen an orgy like this since...> As his mind threatened to slip into a particularly alluring flashback having to do with an Emir in the Holy Land, he felt a wave of weakness pass over him and his glance wandered down to the final pair, laying almost at his feet. The sexy blond he had noticed earlier was kissing the brunet with the pouty mouth. suckling at that lower lip as if he'd be at it for eons, pinning Mulder's broad shoulders with his strong hands, kneading the muscles and rubbing his golden-furred chest against the agent's smooth, silky skin. In concert with his thrusting tongue, their groins moved against one another in perfect counterpoint. Nick whimpered. So much for the flashback.

In the space of a thought, he found himself beside them, his own clothing joining the haphazard pile of uniform, suit, shorts, strange yellow and green tie... His aesthetic senses were momentarily outraged by the atrocious neckwear, before a strangled moan from Mulder caught his attention. With his own eyes glowing golden, he leaned toward his chosen two. Moving lightly between one and the other, determined to drink, and enjoy, without killing, he bit lightly into the arched neck he found first, delighting in the raging lust and keening sensuality he found there. Thank whoever watched over these things there were two. He'd need both of them before the night was out.

Mulder watched the vampire bite into Tom's neck, unable to do a thing to stop him. When he saw the unexpected ecstasy on the other man's classic features, he nearly stopped thrusting (something he would have sworn was a physical impossibility only moments before). <Maybe Kristen's friend wouldn't' have been so ba-> the thought died in his head as the fangs gently slipped into his own throat. The sensation was indescribable, and he nearly came from the overload. Before he could lose control, the bite was as gently withdrawn, and he saw Paris submit. Over, and over, and over, the vampire controlling the encounter, until the world dissolved around them.


Lacroix stopped outside the appropriately black block warehouse, his sensitive ears picking out what sounded shockingly like his son's voice in the middle of ... an orgy? Unable to truly believe his ears, he flew to the center of the building, following the trail of sighs and moans, the scent of sexual exertion. When he saw the origination of the trail, he couldn't hold back the delighted smile. In the center of the room was a writhing pile of bodies, blond and brunet and jet black, creamy pale and caramel silk and marble white flesh twisting over and around and under, mouths and hands and sexes thrusting and fondling and clutching everything they could reach. In the middle of the pile he caught sight of his progeny tonguing a brown-haired man with a voluptuous mouth, and the smile turned nastily victorious. He watched for quite awhile, gathering details, before returning to the night outside.

Blackmail material.

For centuries.


That's it, folks. How do they get home? Who cares? Do they get home? Well, in THIS universe they probably all stay as sex slaves for Lacroix. But who am I to tell on anyone?