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[self_named]

The considerable downside to Duo and Moist now being on the same page, re: their torrid affair was of course that Duo wanted to indulge in the torrid bit as often as possible. After the tense afternoon at the UU and once the Post was as quiet as it got, they had robustly tested whether or not the night before had been a drunken fluke, in any regard

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[forged_hero]

Moist drifted through the morning on a pink cloud. The post, even cleaned up and streamlined, was still a strange old slice of city beuracracy, full of misfits and magic and burgeoning crises. But that sort of chaos he could now manage with barely one half of his brain these days, which left the other half of his brain at loose ends.

By 11 am, Moist had already given three rousing speeches and promoted miss Macalariat to head Dame of Pens and Envelopes, which as far as he knew didn't exist, but he'd assured her it came with a new lapel pin and permission to eject as many people from the building a day as she pleased.

"-and the Quirmian Arts and Culture series will be printing on the first Tuesday of each month," Stanley was saying sourly, doggedly trailing Moist as he bounced down the corridors of the post. He put on the gold suit today, but he was down to his shirt and trousers, the blazer and cap tossed theatrically somewhere a few hours ago. "despite me telling them that New Runs must be printed on the first Monday of the

[self_named]

"I wouldn't think you're the type to kiss and tell," Duo said, angling an eyebrow and a smirk over his shoulder at the Postmaster.

"Who's hands are doing what now?"

It wasn't necessarily wise to veer them directly into innuendo territory but Duo could hardly be held responsible, in the given circumstances.

[forged_hero]

Vest, Moist thought, firmly kicking the door closed behind him. He got across the room in three strides and was dipping to bite a kiss into the side of Duo's neck a moment later, nose pressing into the crease behind his ear.

He hadn't even felt like this when he was a teenager.* His thoughts had been in the same loop since that morning and none of those ideas were in soft focus - he wanted to lick Duo's teeth and get him so sweaty he was slick with it.

But he was a grown man and not at whims of his hormones. Mostly. It helped there wasn't a bed in the conference room, or a door that reliably locked

[self_named]

Duo had just barely bitten back the first low, wanting noise Moist pulled out of him when the pressure on his shoulder sparked immensely vivid remembrances of the previous evening and he couldn't quit stop a gasp. Pressing back against the solidity of Moist's body was so easy; it felt so good, and not even just in the admittedly very compelling sexual way.

Being close to Moist just felt good.

"Don't start shit we don't have time to finish," he warned, "if we have to barricade that door it's gonna fuck up your catering."