"Welcome to the Finnster's swingin' new bachelor pad, baby!" Finn gloated, speaking in a horrible Austin Powers-esque accent, and giving Kurt an exaggerated wink as he drew him inside the freshly painted and decorated room. "Take a look around. Everything you see in here is yours to enjoy!"

Kurt laughed at the suggestive slide of Finn's hands down his own body. "Yeeah," he said slowly, drawing the word out. "Call yourself 'The Finnster' around me one more time, bachelor-boy, and you're gonna be swingin' all by yourself."

Finn just grinned and grabbed him by the hand, pulling his boyfriend closer for a kiss. "C'mon, Kurt. Have a little fun with me," he coaxed, nibbling his way down Kurt's neck and drawing a happy noise from his throat. "There's nobody home but us. We have the perfect opportunity to christen my new bed. Or maybe the dresser. Or, ooh! How about that cool new walk-in closet?"

"Not the closet," Kurt teased back, licking the hollow of Finn's throat and sliding both hands up under the hem of his t-shirt. "I don't want you anywhere near a closet when you're thinking about having sex with me."

He laughed. "Deal. So, what about that foot-locker you got me? The one you called a hope chest. Don't you think we should set a good precedent for all my hopes and ass-pirations?" he teased, squeezing Kurt's cheeks as he sat down on the trunk in question and pulled Kurt down to straddle his lap.

"Precedent?" Kurt repeated in an over-awed tone. "Aspirations? My, my, such impressive language skills, Finn Hudson! You know how much a large . . . vocabulary turns me on. Are you trying to get into my pants or something?"

He ground against Finn a little more with each sentence, kissing him heatedly. It had been two weeks since they had told their parents about their new-found attraction and they had managed to keep their promise not to do more than kiss and fondle. Nothing even close to what they had done at the hotel.

The denial was drawing them closer as friends, given that conversations and activities of a non-sexual nature – often supervised by one or more parents - were the only way they could manage to keep their hands off each other; but it was also driving them crazy with need.

"Pretty sure your pants wouldn't fit me," Finn groaned, frantically digging Kurt's shirt tail out of his waistband, desperate for the touch of warm, soft skin. One hand slid forward to cup the firm bulge held in captivity by a pair of painfully tight-looking gray skinny jeans, the touch making Kurt whimper and thrust forcefully against his palm. "Maybe we should just get rid of 'em."

Kurt bit down on a newly exposed shoulder as he pushed Finn's t-shirt over his head, sighing with pleasure at having his boyfriend's torso bared to his exploring hands. He gasped when Finn finally got all of the buttons on his light summer shirt unfastened and latched his mouth onto a nipple. Kurt moaned, grinding harder against the strong hand still massaging him through his jeans. "I never liked these pants anyway."

Then, like a dash of ice-water, a cheerful voice suddenly floated up the stairs. "Boys, I'm home! Could you help me with the groceries, please?"

"Shit! It's Mom!" Finn hissed, standing up so quickly that he dumped Kurt right on the floor. Scrambling to pull his t-shirt back on, he held out a hand to the distinctly irritated boy glaring up at him and shouted, "We'll be right there, Mom!"

Grumbling something under his breath about cock-blocking parents with over-sensitive gaydar, Kurt rapidly refastened his buttons, leaving the shirttail out to cover the still visible bulge in his jeans and headed for the stairs. Somehow he managed to keep his voice perfectly modulated as he called down, "Did you remember the Pringles?"

"Plain, Pizza and Sour-Cream-and-Onion," she replied with a laugh. "Just in case. I bought you three different kinds of fruit and a bunch of those 100-calorie ice cream bars you love so much, too."

Kurt grinned, his disappointment at being interrupted melting away; a different kind of teenage appetite stirred to life by the immediate prospect of yummy, diet-conscious snack food. "You're the best, Carole!"

As his boyfriend disappeared down the stairs, Finn looked regretfully around his still-pristine and virginal bedroom.

Resisting temptation was getting harder all the time for both of them, and it was going to be even tougher now that he had a proper bedroom with a closable, lockable door again. Kurt had been adamant about not fooling around in his basement, but his 17th birthday was in three more weeks and they had promised each other an escalation to the level of intimacy they had shared after Regionals on that night, though actual intercourse was going to have to wait until Finn's 17th came along six weeks later.

Kurt was determined to be worthy of their parents' trust and the smaller boy could be almighty stubborn when he wanted to be. It was a point of pride with him to keep the promise he had made to his father and Finn was trying his best to share that level of commitment, but it wasn't easy. He was a dude, and dudes had needs! Kurt was a dude too, of course, but he was a dude with a majorly hot body, a mouth that did evil things to Finn's imagination every time he watched him talk, and super tight pants that showed off an ass that would put most girls to shame. Being around him without making a move was becoming almost impossible.

"Finn," his mom's voice called again, a hint of irritation in it this time. "You are not leaving Kurt and me to bring in and put away all of this food by ourselves!"

Kurt chimed in, "Especially since you're probably going to eat most of it all by yourself!"

"Coming!" he yelled back.

Finn sighed deeply. Coming. He wished!

It was only for three more weeks. He could last that long . . . right?