Covet Thy Neighbor

something. Then, “Condoms. I don’t . . .” His gaze drifted over the stacks of boxes, most of which weren’t even open yet.
    “I have some. Lube too. I can . . . I can go get them.”
    Darren nodded. “Please do. We’re going to need them.”
    “Don’t have to tell me twice.” I kissed him quickly, and then pried myself away from him. “Back in a minute.”
    “I’ll be here.”
    “You’d better be,” I growled, and kissed him again. Of course that didn’t make it any easier to leave. The light kiss turned into a deeper one. Hands on each other’s shoulders, we weren’t quite pushing away, weren’t quite pulling closer.
    Finally, he shoved me back. “Go. Please.”
    “I’ll be right back.”
    Darren nodded, and I hurried out of his apartment and across the hall, leaving his door open just a crack so it wouldn’t lock behind me. Then I moved quickly across the landing and unlocked my own door.
    I could’ve sworn my apartment was tiny, about the size of a postage stamp, but it may as well have been as big as a city block right now. I could not get into my bedroom and back fast enough, damn it. The three strides across my cramped living room felt like they took hours, my cat glaring at me from the back of the couch the whole way.
    Darren’s a minister. You know that, right?
    In the bedroom, I jerked open the nightstand drawer so hard I almost toppled the whole thing.
    Not someone you should be getting involved with, Seth.
    I quickly righted the lamp and . . . eh, fuck it, the alarm clock could stay between the table and mattress. There were more important things to worry about, like that box of condoms and bottle of lube.
    Ministers don’t do one-night stands.
    I pulled out the box and the bottle, didn’t bother shutting the drawer, and hurried back across the hall to Darren’s apartment. Funny, his place seemed huge too, the living room getting wider with every step I took.
    You really think this is a good idea? He’s a—
    When I stepped into his bedroom, Darren had already stripped off the rest of his clothes and was waiting for me on the bed. Gloriously naked. One hand behind his head, the other stroking his very erect and very impressive cock. And he grinned at me like Well, aren’t you going to do something about this?
    Yeah. Don’t care what he is. Sex. Now.
    I set the condoms and lube on his nightstand, and as I joined him on the bed, he grabbed my belt and pulled me down on top of him.
    “Thought you said you weren’t usually this aggressive,” I murmured against his lips.
    “I can be. Sometimes. When I want something.” His hand drifted down my side, his light touch making me shiver. “Don’t like it?”
    “I didn’t say that. Please, carry on.”
    “Don’t mind if I do.”
    He nudged my hip, so I lifted up a little. His hand slid between us, and when it pressed against the crotch of my jeans, I let my head fall beside his. He laughed and pressed a little harder. “Like that?”
    “Uh-huh. God . . .”
    He moved his other hand, and I raised my hips to give him more room as his fingers found their way to my belt. Resting my weight on one arm, I pulled down my zipper while he unbuckled my belt, and once all of those contraptions were out of the way, Darren slid my jeans and boxers over my hips.
    Between the two of us, getting my clothes off should have been easier—faster, anyway—but I couldn’t concentrate on even the simplest task while he was kissing me like that. Or stroking my cock when my boxers were just far enough out of the way. Or guiding my hand to his own cock so neither of us had any hands free for disrobing.
    Darren pushed my jeans further down, and then dipped his head and kissed my neck, brushing my collarbone with his beard.
    “Should we . . . are you . . .” I’d nearly found the ability to speak again, but promptly lost it when Darren nipped my neck. “Fuck . . .”
    He squeezed my cock and stroked a little faster. “Should we, what?”
    “Isn’t there something . . . rules about you doing stuff like . . . stuff like . . . oh God . . .” I thrust into his tight fist even as I tried to speak. “Ministers . . . aren’t you guys supposed . . .”
    “Seth.”
    “Hmm?”
    “Shut up.”
    I blinked. “What?”
    “You’re killing the mood.” And then his mouth was over mine, and his hand was moving fucking perfectly, and to hell with whatever I thought I gave a damn about, because fuck .
    I slid my hand between us and stroked him too,