A/N: Myka's turn! BTW, I don't own anything remotely having to do with Warehouse 13. I've never even been to South Dakota. Then again, who has?
Myka tried so hard not to. She really, really did.
She had no interest, zero really, in anything other than finding Pete-wearing-Myka, finding the responsible artifact and changing back into her old self. God, it had been humiliating enough to be sitting one minute at her reunion in Colorado, then head-spinningly dumped into Pete's post-coital naked situation the next. She felt Pete's cheeks turn red even as she thought about it, feeling Kelly's hands creeping up his/her startlingly strong chest, looking up at him like he'd won gold in the Olympics for fucking. Her instincts revolted at a female touch, grabbing her hands from him and gasping as his grip squeezed harder than she meant it to. She slackened it and gave some fumbling, half-ass excuse for not being able to go another round. Kelly, being sweet, accepted it. Myka grinned tightly, trying to mimic Pete while at the same time trying not to throw up at the horror of him being with her, and quickly got dressed.
She hadn't once let herself look down while she did.
And she was damn proud.
She did her best to keep her eyes forward and operate his body without looking like a freak. She called him in Colorado and agreed to meet up with him as soon as she could get there. Meanwhile, a nagging little voice was grumbling in her mind. At first, she ignored it, waiting impatiently for the small jet to be prepped behind the warehouse for her trip. But as she threw a few things into a bag, including a Tessla and artifact info, the voice grew louder and louder and eventually Myka realized she was going to have to take care of it.
Pete's body needed to pee. Like crazy.
Sighing at the inevitable, Myka walked into the warehouse bathroom (the men's, she remembered that much) and went into one of the stalls. No way in hell was she peeing in a urinal. Locking the flimsy door, she fumbled with his button fly, her head craned up, determined not to look. She succeeded in opening his pants and searched tentatively for the opening in his boxers. When she found skin, she gasped softly, hearing Pete. She ignored how good he sounded when surprised and gently pulled his penis from its confines, not wanting to pull too hard and hurt him. She chuckled at her worry. If Pete's body was in pain, she'd be the first to know, but her overly-respectful ways made her overly-cautious as well. She didn't want to go messing around with Pete's junk and accidentally break something. She'd feel terrible, never mind embarrassed as all hell when he got his body back and discovered some bizarre injury she'd managed to sustain while wearing him.
But now she was faced with a problem.
She had him in her grasp, but she'd never peed standing up and she needed to aim. Exhaling sharply, she looked down.
Another little moan escaped Pete's lips as she looked at him cradled in her hand. Even flaccid, Pete was - for lack of a better word - hung. Myka bit her borrowed lips, letting her tongue slide out and trace Pete's stubble that started just beyond his mouth. Oh god, Pete tasted sexy, even to his own taste buds.
Myka shivered, finally allowing herself to feel Pete's body around her. To smell him. To breathe as him. To touch him.
She pressed the slightly different floor muscles of his lower region, letting him void his bladder into the toilet. She couldn't help but watch in fascination as he/she did so. Relief flooded her, a relief she was familiar with. Apparently going to the bathroom felt good no matter what your gender. Once finished, she dabbed him carefully and flushed the toilet, tucking him back into his clothes. She went to the sink to wash his hands. Turning on the water, she looked up into the mirror above the spigot and finally let herself look at him.
Pete looked back at her, only it was an expression she'd never seen on him before. His eyes were soft and searching. They were looking at her like he'd never seen her before. His cocky grin was missing, as was the confident bearing in his shoulders. Instead, he was hunched in, all of his impressive muscles trying to fit into a smaller space. She cocked his head and watched his chin jut. The angular facet of his jaw caught the light and made her smile. Pete's reflection smiled back at her. Unused to such a sweet, soft smile from him, Myka blushed. Pete blushed with her. She snorted at this merry-go-round ridiculousness and stood straighter, determined to take a more clinical approach to this phenomenon.
She rationalized that if she was going to pass as a man, however briefly before she changed back, then she damned well better act the part.
Gazing hard at his face, she pulled her shoulders back and stood straight. Her feminine mind registered how much more space she now inhabited. She would have to remember that as she walked and try not to bang into things. She looked down at Pete's hands as she raised them, palms up. His broader, thicker hands flexed as she told them to. She couldn't help but notice that his forearms and biceps flexed with them, the muscles and tendons rippling easily with her movements. Yes, she allowed, she was definitely stronger. Part of her envied him this. If he ever bothered to take up martial arts and other defense classes like she always bugged him about, he could do some serious damage with this body of his.
Dropping his arms, she looked back at the mirror and looked at his t-shirt-clad chest. Biting his lips again, she pulled it up away from his belly, intent on seeing just for a second what he looked like underneath. The fabric pulled away and the density of his abdominal muscles greeted her underneath.
Myka gasped softly, once again hearing Pete. One hand gently traced the definition around his navel. She noted with satisfaction that, despite his overt masculinity, he was relatively hairless. Only a fine line of down started low on his belly, disappearing under the waist of his jeans. Her mouth had fallen slack as she watched his hand explore him. She felt pleasure as she did so, her light touch sending shivers through him. She had a sudden desire to kiss him there, just to register what it felt like to a) feel him under her lips and b) feel his reaction to her lips on him. But she couldn't kiss his tummy anymore than she could kiss her own. Nor did she have her own lips to feel him if she did. She only had Pete's lips. Pete's firm, surprisingly soft lips. She bit them again, taking pleasure in how the felt when bitten. Pete's body liked it too, apparently. The tingling sensation gathering in his groin was a dead giveaway.
Helpless, Myka pressed harder into his abs, tracing the line of his waistband, angrily smug when she felt the beginnings of an erection. She groaned slightly, and damn was it thrilling to hear Pete make that noise. She wondered savagely if Kelly could get him this hot, just by barely touching him. Did she know that Pete liked being teased like this? Was she aware that just above Pete's hipbone was a sweet spot that almost caught fire when tickled? Myka felt her eyes close as she zeroed in on that spot. Pete's nervous system was practically buzzing as she brushed it over and over, feeling its electricity shoot straight to his groin, making him harder.
Oh god, it felt so good. His chest tightened and she felt all of his muscles go rigid with restraint. Being temporarily male, she was suddenly clued in to how violently this form was reacting to her gentle, feminine ways. His erection was pulling at her will power like a powerful magnet. Pete's body wanted to fuck. Badly. Being helplessly tied to him, that meant that Myka also wanted to fuck. Very, very badly. Except she wanted to fuck the man she was wearing. She wanted to fuck him, not as him. His flesh was responding to her thoughts about him, becoming more ready with each moment she indulged her little peep show. Pete was turned on by what Myka was doing to him, and that was oh-so-gratifying. But she was starting to realize that it was also empty. Pete wasn't really here. He wasn't smiling at her. He wasn't responding to her. There was no one in the men's room except Myka.
Suddenly angry at herself, Myka pulled Pete's hands away from his body and yanked his shirt back down. She berated her achingly pleasant hard-on until she felt it soften under her ire. She looked back at Pete in the mirror and spoke with his voice.