The Lima Community Park was bursting with life. Children dashed about the playground, dogs chased one another, adults ambled along the garden path, preteens on bikes zoomed in and out of view. A group of older teenagers, some legally adults now, had gathered on the empty baseball diamond, and before long, a game of shirts versus skins broke out, and the girls (both actual and honorary) abandoned the boys in favor of eating a picnic lunch in the shade of a wide oak a few yards away. Soon, both groups were absorbed in their respective activities, each, for the most part, ignoring the other.

Until one girl looked up from her wrap and sighed. "Damn those boys are fine."

The others followed Mercedes' lustful stare to the boys playing baseball. "Ooh, I second that," Tina laughed, clearly ogling her boyfriend's ridiculously toned abs.

"At least Andre the Giant is on shirts."

"Shut up, Santana!"

"Whatever, hobbit."

Kurt tuned his friends out, trying not to react physically to the sight of his sweaty, shirtless boyfriend's muscles straining with the exertion of the game. His shoulders undulated beneath his sun-darkened skin as he twisted back to pitch, a few stray beads of perspiration trailing down the dusting of hair on his stomach. The gel gluing his locks down had all but evaporated, and soaked curls clung to his forehead.

Yes, Kurt was trying very hard to keep calm.

Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. "Damn, Hummel, you're going to poke someone's eye out with that thing."

Kurt whipped the corner of the picnic blanket onto his lap. Glaring at his Latina friend, he snapped, "Thank you, Santana."

Mercedes smirked. "I don't blame you, boy. Your man is...mmm."

"Yeah."

Kurt looked scandalized when all the girls sighed in unison. "Um, ladies? He's gay, and he's mine, so check out your own boyfriends, okay?"

Sugar shrugged. "I don't know what you all are getting so worked up about. His brother was way hotter." Kurt threw a grape at her face, which she caught and ate with a wink.

Quinn returned her gaze to the baseball diamond. "Oh, looks like they're taking a break." The others' heads swiveled around to see a herd of sweaty teenage boys charging toward the food.

"Anyone got a beer?"

"NOAH!"

"Dude, are those Lays? Gimme some!"

"Mike, you have to share the turkey."

"No!"

"Boys, get away!"

"Hey, babe!" Blaine flopped onto the grass beside Kurt, letting his friends kill each other over the lunch in hopes that there would be enough left for him at the end. "You watch any of the game?"

Carefully avoiding the way Blaine's stomach rippled in the sunlight as he stretched back, Kurt swallowed thickly. "Um..." Intelligent, Hummel. But how do you say, "Yes, if by 'watch the game' you mean 'had so many sexual fantasies about you and locker rooms that I actually got a boner in public.'"?

Blaine didn't seem to need an answer, though, because he leaned across Kurt's lap to snatch an apple from Sam's hand with a laugh.

Across Kurt's tented lap.

Kurt held his breath until Blaine had settled back beside him, and then let it out in a sharp gust. Blaine finally picked up on his boyfriend's tension. "You okay, love? Is the sun getting to you? I told you to pack more sunscreen."

"No, I'm—" Kurt succumbed to his desire and twisted his head to look at Blaine. Jesus Christ. "I'm fine. It's just..." After checking to make sure the rest of the New Directions were otherwise occupied, Kurt leaned down—why does he have to smell so good?—and whispered, "You just look really, really attractive right now."

Blaine's head jerked back, surprise coloring his face. He glanced down at himself quickly and then back up at Kurt, whose face had turned bright red. It was then that Blaine noticed Kurt's situation. His eyes quickly darkened. "I see. Was it a problem to watch me play baseball?"

"Don't you even start, Blaine Anderson," Kurt warned, "or I swear you won't get anything for a week."

"From the looks of things, you won't last that long."

Kurt groaned because it was true. He desperately wished for his friends to vanish and for his boyfriend's mouth to be wrapped around something other than a bottle of Pepsi. Wait a minute...Kurt watched the way Blaine held the bottle: firm grasp, fingers tight around the thickest part, lips spread over the opening, tongue occasionally tracing the rim.

This jerk is giving the bottle a blow job right in front of me.

"Blaine Anderson!" Kurt hissed. "Stop it!"

"Fine." Blaine set the bottle on the ground as Kurt turned his head, biting his lip in frustration. Then, without any warning, he reached up and grazed his teeth down Kurt's earlobe, eliciting a shriek from the older boy that their friends definitely noticed.

"What're you two doing over there?"

"Get some, Hummel."

"Dude, that's my brother."

"Come on guys, think of the children!"

"Shut up!" Kurt snapped. He turned to glare at his boyfriend, who smiled back sheepishly. "And you!" He leaned down once more to snarl in Blaine's ear, "You are going to be punished for that later."

When Kurt returned to the meal, it was Blaine who had a situation to deal with.