Surprise Angle

by OKayVal

Title: Surprise Angle
Author: OKayVal
Author Email:
Website: Rating: NC-17
Category: Story, Romance, PWP!
Archive: Honored; just tell me where.
Pairings: Mulder/Scully
Spoilers: None
Summary: "Escape is at hand for the travelin' man (and woman)!" Third story in the "Ramp" series.

Disclaimer: Not mine (except for two original characters), just borrowing them for a while to let them have some fun. There's an item in the story which is also not mine, but it does exist; it's trademarked and I have no intention of profiting from it nor duplicating it.

Perpetual thanks to Haven for the thread that helped inspire this series of smut, and to everyone who's encouraged me to write more of it. Also, baskets of chocolate and gratitude to Tali for poking this one into shape.

"When this world treats you hard and cold I'll stand beside you, we're two for the road When you're alone my love'll shine the light Through the dark and starless night
I'll hold you close and never let you go..."

--Bruce Springsteen, "Two for the Road"--

I'm trying to remember what inspired me to join the FBI. Right now, I can't think of a good reason. Maybe it's because I'm trapped on this crowded, stuffy airplane to Kansas City, and I have the headache from hell which just won't go away. I can't blame Mulder's incessant chatter, either, because we're not even sitting together. Due to a problem with our reservation, he's two rows behind me, across the aisle. Mulder was unable to persuade anyone into switching seats so that we could sit together, so I'm stuck here next to a snoring businessman. I didn't even bring anything to read; I assumed it would take Mulder the entire flight to share the details of the case with me. I flip aimlessly through the airline magazine and try to ignore the pounding in my head.

When the plane begins to descend, I reach for Mulder's arm out of habit, but there is nothing but the armrest under my fingers. I turn around to look for him across the aisle, but I'm not tall enough to see over the seatback. I close my eyes and wait for the plane to land, wishing for Mulder's arm beneath my grip instead of the armrest.

As soon as we are on the ground and the seatbelt sign is off, Mulder appears in the aisle next to my row. He reaches around the now-awake businessman and grabs my arm.

"Excuse me, sir, Federal Agent. Government business," he says, squeezing me past my grumbling seatmate and into the aisle.

"Don't give me that look, Scully. The agents from the field office are meeting us at the gate," Mulder says, responding to my silent question. He navigates us through the crowded aisle and off the plane, flashing his badge and a steely glare to anyone foolish enough to block our path.

We find Agents Kazinsky and Weston waiting for us, as promised. Agent Kazinsky is the younger of the two, with sandy brown hair and an engaging smile. Agent Weston has the forced, tired look of a seasoned agent who's seen too many murders.

"Our car is downstairs. Is that all the luggage you have?" asks Agent Kazinsky, nodding at the garment bag slung over Mulder's shoulder.

"No. This is Agent Scully's. I checked my bag," Mulder replies.

The Kansas City agents shrug their shoulders and lead the way to baggage claim. For some strange reason, Mulder has brought a suitcase on this trip and it was too large to carry onboard the plane. When I questioned him about it, he grinned and said nothing. I know he's got something up his sleeve, but I haven't had a chance to quiz him further.

This explains why we are now at baggage claim, watching luggage tumble down the steel chute onto the carousel. I finally spot Mulder's suitcase as it careens down the chute and crash-lands on the carousel. The bag pops open and circles away from us. Mulder curses loudly and chases after it. As the lid flaps open, I glimpse the blue and white of Mulder's shirts inside.

Mulder finally catches up with his bag and rescues it, diving through a cluster of people to hoist it off the carousel and onto the floor. As he rearranges his shirts, I spy something dark green underneath the blue and white. Is that what I think it is? Mulder does not own any green shirts. Oh god.

"What's that?" says Agent Weston, who's also noticed the green item.

"It's for my back," Mulder says, not missing a beat as he closes the suitcase. He slowly turns his head to look at me. His face remains calm but I catch the glint in his eyes and my own face grows hot. I can't believe that Mulder brought our mini-ramp with him. Our mini-sex ramp. On a case.

"Chronic?" asks Agent Weston.

"Definitely," Mulder replies, still watching me closely. I should kick him; instead, a small thrill sweeps through me.

"Does it work better than a heating pad?" Agent Weston is far too interested in this supposed back remedy. He's the one I should kick.

"You have no idea," says Mulder, giving me a wicked look. Oh, Mulder, you'll pay for this later.

As Agent Kazinsky drives us to the crime scene, Agent Weston fills us in on two grisly murders, with very little evidence save for some bite marks found on both victims. The thought of hunting an unknown creature fascinates Mulder and makes my headache worse. I watch Mulder question the agents intently and find myself paying more attention to the full curve of his lips than the words coming out of them. I know how those lips feel against my mouth, against my skin. . .

"Scully?" I stop staring at Mulder's lips when I realize they are now forming my name.

"Sorry, Mulder, what did you say?"

"We're here. You want to check out the crime scene, don't you?" His voice stays light but he regards me carefully. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Flustered, I open the car door quickly and stride towards the house, leaving Mulder and the other agents in my wake.

The house is dark and the stench of death permeates every room. I take a few minutes to confer with one of the local police detectives while Mulder wanders around. As usual, he notices details that most people never see. He kneels and picks up a small sliver of plastic, and I watch him closely to see if he thinks this trinket is significant. He turns the sliver over carefully in his hands. He has beautiful hands. Slender wrists and long, graceful fingers. Fingers that touch me everywhere. Fingers that set me on fire. . .

"Agent SCULLY?"

I tear my eyes away from Mulder's hands and find Agent Weston looking at me expectantly. Everyone in the room is looking at me. What is wrong with me today? Am I blushing? Even Mulder seems concerned, until I meet his gaze. Whatever he sees in my eyes causes his to gleam. Yes, Mulder. It's you. Damn you for bringing that little ramp along. How am I supposed to concentrate when I can't stop thinking about that ramp, and your lips, and your hands?

"Agent Scully?" Agent Weston tries again. "I hope I'm not interrupting your train of thought, but can you come here and look at this blood stain?"

I try to forget about the mini-ramp and the look in Mulder's eyes and turn my full attention to this room and what happened in it. We have a case to solve.

We conclude our search at the scene and the KC agents take us to the morgue so I can perform the autopsy. The medical examiner is a no-nonsense sort who seems a bit taken aback that the FBI pathologist he was told to expect is, in fact, a woman. He leads me into the autopsy bay and shows me where the scrubs are. There's no locker room, only a small area hidden behind a partition screen. He leaves to bring the body up and give me some privacy while I change into a pair of scrubs. I've just finished unbuttoning my blouse when I hear the door open. I peek around the partition; what is Mulder doing in here?

"Mulder? What is it?"

"Scully, are you okay? You looked like you had something else on your mind back there." The low rumble in his voice makes my pulse quicken. Mulder walks around the screen and immediately notices my unbuttoned blouse. His glance triggers a flash of heat down my spine.

"Were you thinking about me?" He grips my shoulders with those incredible hands and pulls me close, up against his erection. His lips trail along the side of my neck. His breath is warm and his hands are everywhere. Oh god.

"Were you thinking about what's in my suitcase?" He thrusts one hand inside my open blouse, roughly seizing my breast. There is a war going on between my simmering blood and the alarm bells ringing in my brain.

"Mulder, not here. We can't. . ."

His mouth closes on mine, swallowing my protest with his demanding kiss. His tongue probes, teases; his fingers delve inside my bra, tracing circles around my tight nipple. His erection prods into my abdomen and even as my brain screams for control, my body slowly loses it.

I break the kiss because I need to breathe, and with the air comes rational thought. This is the morgue.

"Mulder, wait." I grab his wrists and move his hands away from me. He growls in protest, his voice ragged with frustration.

"Mulder, we can't do this here. What if the ME walks in? We can't do this here," I repeat. He looks at me steadily for several seconds, then nods his head. I let go of his wrists.

"You're right, Scully. I'm sorry. You know what you do to me."

"Later, I promise. When we are alone and after you've had a chance to unpack your suitcase."

"You're helping me unpack, Scully." As he leans forward to try and kiss me again, I hear the bay doors open and the voice of the medical examiner, asking if I am ready for him to bring the body in. Mulder winks at me and walks around the screen to stall the ME until I finish changing my clothes. This also gives me the extra few minutes I need to calm down and regain my focus before stepping out into the bay.

"Scully, I'm going back to the crime scene. Call me later." Mulder is all business again as he vanishes from the room, but the word "later" echoes in my ears as I approach the autopsy table.

It turns out that the ME really knows his stuff and better yet, respects my abilities. Together we determine that these murders are committed by a man, not by a creature or anything else. Mulder's profile brings him to the same conclusion, and we spend the rest of the day chasing down leads. We break for dinner and Agent Kazinsky drops us off at our motel. Since he's watching us from the car, Mulder and I head for our own rooms. I've barely closed my door when my cell phone rings.

"It's later. Get over here, Scully."

I snap off my phone and am knocking at his door in a flash. "It's open," he calls.

I enter his room and find a very naked Mulder sprawled across the bed like a cheesy centerfold. If he wasn't so damned sexy, it would be almost comical. But he is all golden skin and tight muscles and I have no reason to laugh at him. The mini-ramp rests on the bed beside him and he pats the top of it.

"It's time for a little back therapy, Doc," he says as I approach the bed.

"House calls are extra," I reply, kicking my shoes off and removing my blouse. Mulder watches me with eyes that cause my blood to simmer again. He is aroused and beautiful and I undress with shaking fingers.

We've never used the mini-ramp on its own before. So the question is, how to use it now? There are so many enticing possibilities. My eyes linger on Mulder's erection and I decide how to get this party started.

"Move your legs, Mulder." I push the little ramp toward him.

"I love it when you get all bossy," he says, catching on to my plan. He lifts his legs off the bed and rests his thighs on top of the mini-ramp. He grabs for some pillows to put beneath his head and lies back, his eyes darkening in anticipation of what I'm going to do to him.

I run my hands along his chest, enjoying the contrast of taut muscle and soft hair. My fingertips brush across his nipples and he shivers. I curl my hand around his thick cock and stroke him. He moans and I feel him pulse in my hand. I lean forward and lick around the tip, then slowly take him into my mouth.

"Jesus." His hands run through my hair. I slide his shaft down my throat, just a little, and slowly draw it back out. Mulder moans again at my tease and I take him deeper into my throat. He tastes so warm, so firm, so alive. I rise up and straddle his leg, rubbing my wet heat against his fevered skin. I want him to feel what he is doing to me.

His cell phone rings. I freeze.

"God, don't stop!" Mulder's fingers tangle in my hair, tugging gently. I curl my hand tighter around the base of his cock and continue to lavish him with my mouth. His phone stops ringing.

I move faster and his hips rock against my face. My cell phone rings.

This time I don't even pause. I increase the tempo, feeling him swell under my tongue. He is so close. My phone stops ringing.

Mulder stiffens and comes in my mouth with a loud cry. The bedside phone rings. Shit. Mulder's hands grip my hair and his warm essence runs down my throat. I remain still until his cock stops throbbing and his breathing slows. The phone keeps ringing.

"Shit!" Mulder pulls out of my mouth carefully and rolls over to grab the phone. I suspect he'd rather fling it against the wall, but he answers it while I kneel beside him and listen. He frowns and sits up. I catch enough of the conversation to figure out that my turn on the ramp will have to wait. Mulder hangs up the phone and turns to me.

"The perp went after another victim, but luckily, she got away. Kazinsky's on his way to pick us up." He takes my face between his beautiful hands.

"Looks like we'll have to finish this later," he says, parting my lips with his for a soft, quick kiss. I reluctantly wiggle out of his embrace so I can get dressed before Kazinsky gets here. For the second time today I have to douse my desire and do my job. I struggle back into my pantyhose and wonder again why I joined the FBI.

The long night spins into an even longer day, but we get lucky. The shaken victim provides us with enough information to narrow our search for the killer. Mulder's instincts are rarely wrong, and we apprehend the suspect before he kills again. We wade through hours of interrogation and paperwork before we can finally close the case, so we're exhausted by the time we return to the motel. I move toward my room but Mulder tugs at my arm.

"Where do you think you're going, Scully?"

"Mulder, I need to get some sleep."

"I know exactly what you need, and it isn't sleep." There's a spark behind his tired eyes.

"Are you sure you have any energy left?" I'm not sure that I do until Mulder answers my question with a hungry kiss which leaves me wet and trembling.

Mulder unlocks his door and we tumble into his room. He slams the door behind me and we yank and pull at our clothing between kisses until all of it is on the floor.

"It's your turn, Scully," he says, maneuvering me toward the bed. The mini-ramp sits on the bedspread and I wonder what housekeeping thought when they found it this morning, resting amid the tangled sheets.

I get on the bed and lie back with the ramp underneath my hips. Mulder climbs on the bed and I part my legs so he can kneel between them. He claims my body with his lips, planting kisses along my collarbone and between my breasts. He sucks on each nipple until they are swollen peaks and I squirm with delight.

Mulder trails more kisses along my stomach until his mouth reaches my aching center. He slips his tongue inside, sending ripples of pleasure through me. But it is not enough.

"Mulder. . ."

He must be reading my mind, because he stops the soft circles he is making with his tongue. I miss his mouth already and I arch my hips toward him.

"Is this what you want, Scully?" Mulder spreads my legs wider and then moves between them, hard and ready. He enters me slowly, moving with steady, smooth strokes. I sense that he wants to make this last, but I can't wait anymore.

I bring my knees up towards my breasts, locking my calves around his biceps. I am wide open, completely his. Mulder's eyes flash at the sensation and he buries himself inside me. I am filled to the brim with Mulder. He feels hard, hot, delicious. But it is still not enough.

"More." I rock my hips, urging him to go even deeper. I need all of him.

"Like this?" He pumps harder, his full weight pushing against me.

"Yes...yes..." I can barely speak, barely breathe. I'm almost bent in two and the ramp fits us together tightly, making my body burn with each furious stroke of his cock. Mulder's eyes glow wild and gold as he watches me burn beneath him.

"For you, Scully. All for you."

He slows his pace and pulls back. For one unbearable instant he is gone and I am frantic. Then he is back, full force; with one huge thrust he is completely inside. And I do finally burst, shaking uncontrollably as my climax tears through me like a live wire.

"Mulder," I say over and over. His eyes turn dark and green as I call his name.

"Love you," he says, as he empties into me. And it is finally enough.

I am startled out of slumber by a shrill, clanging sound. That damned bedside phone. It's on my side of the bed, but this is Mulder's room, so I can't answer it. Awake now, he reaches across me to answer the phone. He smells of sleep and sex. I could stay like this forever.

Forever doesn't last very long, of course. Mulder reports that Weston and Kazinsky will be here soon for breakfast before they drive us to the airport. There's no time to do anything but dress and pack. Why didn't we rent our own car? Mulder packs the mini-ramp in his suitcase with great care and I wonder if I should somehow record this historic moment of neatness for posterity.

After breakfast, the KC agents take us to the airport. Mulder and Weston retrieve our luggage from the trunk of the car and I say goodbye to Kazinsky, who's behind the wheel. When I emerge from the car, I notice Weston pointing at Mulder's suitcase while Mulder nods, looking serious. He shakes hands with Weston, picks up his suitcase and my garment bag, and joins me at the curb. As soon as we are inside the terminal, he laughs.

"Mulder, what's so funny?"

"Weston asked me where he could buy the thing I use for my back." He beams at me.

"What did you tell him?"

"That I got it on the internet, but I couldn't remember the name of the company. I told him I'd email him the link when I got back to DC, which, of course, I won't. Don't worry, Scully. The ramps will remain our little secret." Mulder taps his suitcase and I laugh at his antics.

"Let's go home, Mulder."

He shifts my bag over his shoulder and takes my hand. I knew there was a good reason to join the FBI.


Feedback welcomed. It's all good!

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