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Two Days Later
Thursday
Second-Last Camp Day
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"Alright, boys, listen up," Carl grabbed everyone's attention in the cabin on a late Thursday afternoon, "Tomorrow is the last day, and the Great Camp Race. We'll be splitting into twos, and we'll team with one of the girls' cabins. We'll race against the three other teams. There'll be two swimmers, two runners, two canoers, two scavengers, one log-roller, one archer, and two fire-starters. We'll continue on that this evening. Also, tonight we'll be sleeping in tents out in the forest. That's all."
Everyone immediately began talking excitedly about the Race, and Sherlock and John laughed about sleeping in a tent. A tent! The two of them, alone, in a tent!
This won't end well.
***
"Okay, now that the girls are here, let's begin. I need two swimmers, a girl and a boy," Carl asked as the girls filed into our cabin.
"I'll swim," John raised his hand.
"I'll join John," Mary smiled. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Typical.
"Two runners?"
"I'll run," Irene announced.
"Okay, and a boy?"
"C'mon, Sherlock," John urged him, "You're an awesome runner, I've seen you. You've got long legs. Go for it."
"But what if I fail?"
"Then you fail. It's no big deal."
"Okay, John, for you," Sherlock raised his hand, "I'll run."
Eventually, it was decided: Molly will log-roll, Sally and Phillip will canoe, Sarah will be the archer, Mycroft and Greg will scavenge, and Seb and Jim will start the fire.
Simple, right?
***
The cabin group all packed up and walked to the tents. Unsure what to do, they stood around until Carl assigned them tents.
"Jim, Seb, Greg, and Mycroft, please take this tent here. Phillip, Billy, and Raz, this middle tent, and John and Sherlock, the far tent. Got it?"
Everyone nodded and headed into their proper tents. John and Sherlock set up their sleeping bags, the last light of day fading until it was near impossible to see.
"Got a flashlight, by chance?" John grumbled.
Sherlock sighed sadly, "Unfortunately, no."
"What's wrong?" John rested a hand on Sherlock's shoulder lightly.
"I'm scared to run, John."
"Why?"
"Because what if I fail?" Sherlock looked John in the eyes, their shadowy outlines just barely visible in the gloom.
"You probably won't, you're real fast. Even if you do, it's just a friendly competition, not the Olympics. It'll be fine!" John assured him.
"What would I do without you?" Sherlock murmured, wondering again if John is even real.
"Probably die," John chuckled proudly, leaning forward to lightly peck Sherlock's lips, a kiss that quickly turned hungry.
John pulled away a moment, "God, we can't just casually kiss without getting it on, can we?"
"Nope," Sherlock chuckled, "We lust for each other too much."
"Stop making your blowjobs so good then," John ventured.
"Oh, this'll be more than a blowjob tonight. Look in my satchel."
John had been wondering what he hid in there. John reached in the bag and pulled out a bottle of some kind.
He studied it a moment before it dawned on him and he put two and two together, "Lube? Really?"
Sherlock laughed, and even in the dark, John caught him do a ridiculous move with his eyebrows, which made them both laugh like girls.
"Yes, really," Sherlock mimicked his friend, "Only if you want."
"Well, it's a step, but do not let me change my mind about this..." John took a deep breath, "Screw me. Hard."
Sherlock laughed again, "If you insist, Johnny."
"Don't call me that," John growled, "'Johnny' is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's John."
"Shh," Sherlock shut him up by locking their lips together again. John dropped the bottle and wrapped his arms firmly around Sherlock's neck, dragging him down on top of him.
Sherlock hummed, amused, "Hmm, you want this, don't you?"
"Have for a while," John admitted, "Now please, don't be a tease. Okay?"
"Mm, no promises."
John rolled his eyes while Sherlock worked on finding John's sweet spot. John dragged Sherlock's shirt over his head, then moving to work on his pants. In the dark, he found it difficult to undo the belt and zipper, but eventually he managed.
John slipped a hand down the open fly, realizing quickly why Sherlock liked top so much: It was a great feeling, watching Sherlock convulse and groan deeply with pleasure, all at the touch of John's hand.
"Jo...John...Jesus..." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him, "Why are you always bottom again?"
"Cause you're a control freak," John mused.
"Shut up."
"What? You are--"
"No, really," Sherlock put a hand over John's mouth, "Remember, the tent beside ours is only a few steps away. If we're doing this, we cannot moan too loud or cry out, or else...We're dead."
"I know," John assured him, "Now go. I'll be quiet."
Sherlock lifted John's shirt to kiss down his stomach while he worked on his belt, all the while still being eased up by John.
"Well well well," Sherlock murmured when he eased John's jeans off, "Already up. You're so easy to please, John."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Sherlock chuckled while he palmed his small friend through the fabric of his boxers. He moved up to kiss him, the two of their hands moving against each other as they continued to palm.
"Johhhnn, stop," Sherlock complained, "I'm going to...Gah, don't make me do it early!"
John stopped, "Get on with it then. Where's the bottle?"
**HALLOW. Did I say Johnlock fluff? I meant smut. Sorry :) I enjoy writing smut, call it a guilty pleasure. It's like Wincest...
ANYWAY. Do you enjoy my smut scenes? Let me know ;) Sorry for the short and lazy-written chapter...It's 2 AM and I'm tired. Give me a break!
So, countdown to the final chapter! Only THREE LEFT until we reach the finale! WAT.
Anyway, y'all just keep being y'all!
~Garnent**