After a long moment, Pete somehow managed to push himself onto his back beside Myka with a groan. He turned his head to look at her as he groped for her hand.
"You okay, there, Myke?"
She lolled her head toward him, staring blankly. "Huh?"
With a supreme effort, he leaned over far enough to kiss her before flopping back. "Ha! I got moves, right?" he boasted. He would have thrown in a little dance, but he was just too wrung out to make the effort.
Myka shook her head a little to clear it. "Pete?"
"I'm too tired to smack you in the ribs. Could you do it for me?"
He chuckled and tugged her over to rest against him, her head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
"Will you let me off the hook if I tell you you've got some pretty awesome moves yourself?"
"Mmmm," she murmured contentedly. "Depends on how good the other half of my full-body rub is."
"Fair enough, but I gotta tell you, it might take an hour or so before you find out. You wore me out, woman!"
"I understand. You're getting older. Plus, maybe you're a little out of practice. It's to be expected," she said mock-sympathetically.
"Ex-cuse me?" Pete protested, aghast. "Did it seem like I was outta practice? 'Cause from where I was at, you sure looked like you were enjoying yourself. Or should I say sounded like it?"
Myka wanted to keep yanking his chain, but she was too content to keep it up. "Actually, I've got to hand it to you, Pete, you've definitely still got it." And if she played her cards right, she was going to get it again before the night was over. She sighed happily.
They lay there quietly, basking in the afterglow, Pete stroking her hair, Myka drawing little circles on his chest. She kept expecting the embarrassment or panic or regret to set in, but so far they hadn't made an appearance. Pete was still Pete. She was still Myka. They were still Pete and Myka. She just couldn't find anything to get upset about at the moment. Or maybe she was still blissed out on sex endorphins. Whatever.
After a few minutes, however, something else came over her – a desperate need to pee. Reluctantly, she got up and grabbed her bathrobe.
"Whereya goin'?" Pete asked.
"Ladies room, be right back," she said. She cracked the door open, peering anxiously down the hall.
"Why are you sneaking around?"
"I don't want anyone to see me," she explained, exasperated.
"See you what, leaving your own room to go to the bathroom?"
Myka paused. "Good point," she admitted. She moved down the hall to the bathroom.
When she got back a few minutes later, Pete was up with his pants back on. "My turn," he announced. He started toward the door and then hesitated. "I can, uh, come back here when I'm done, right?" he asked, uncharacteristically nervous. Maybe she just wanted him to go back to his room.
Myka smiled at him. She was not used to Pete being unsure of himself. Usually he was full steam ahead, right or wrong.
"You'd better come back. You still owe me my backrub, Mister," she said sternly.
Pete grinned, relieved. "Never let it be said I don't pay my debts." He moved confidently toward the door.
"Pete!" Myka hissed loudly.
"Oh, right." He make a big show of opening the door an inch and looking both ways before heading to the bathroom. He didn't have the heart to tell her that given the volume of their recent activities, he was pretty sure everyone in the Inn knew what they'd been up to.
Once he'd finished his business, he peered at himself in the mirror while he washed his hands. He had the dopiest look on his face. He'd slept with Myka. Myka! He'd started having dirty little fantasies about her about two minutes after he met her, but he didn't think he'd ever get the chance to act them out … especially after he got to know her. They'd become friends over the months. Not that they'd had much of a choice, being pretty much joined at the hip most days by their Warehouse duties, but still. He had gotten to know her sweet, quirky, vulnerable side, and after that, it seemed kind of wrong to think about screwing her like she was one of the bimbos he sometimes hooked up with. Myka was worth more than that.
"And what do you think you just did, asshole?" he asked the mirror. Great! Now he was talking to himself.
This wasn't like that, he argued to himself. They were helping each other relieve their frustration. Friends helping each other out. True, he'd never helped any of his friends out that way in the past, but he'd helped them move plenty of times. It was practically the same thing.
One thing though. Beneath that straight-laced exterior, Myka was one hot tamale.
"And now I want tamales," Pete moaned. Maybe he'd hit that Mexican place in Univille tomorrow.
He opened the bathroom door and headed into the hall. Luckily, no one was lurking about. He didn't need a vibe to predict that there was an incredibly awkward conversation with Artie in his near future, but he didn't want to have it tonight, while he was enjoying the newness of being with Myka. Oh man, I really am the girl tonight, he thought.
He returned to Myka's room, detouring on the way to pull on a clean pair of underwear from his emergency supply. The room was dim, lit only by a small bedside lamp, and Myka waited for him in her bed. As he pulled back the covers to crawl in beside her, he couldn't help but notice that she was wearing a silky little camisole-thingy with matching underwear. Looks like he wasn't the only one with a secret underwear stash. He pulled the covers over them as Myka reached over to turn out the lamp. Then he pulled her back against his chest and wrapped an arm around her, as if he did it every night. He expected a protest, or maybe some awkwardness, but she just rested her arms on top of his, murmured goodnight, and drifted off to sleep. As he lay there, Myka in his arms, the flowery scent of her hair in his nose, he fell asleep, too.