Of the Earth

11

One of the best aspects of camping was the promise of a restful night.

Harry had learned on his solo trip that there was nothing better than sliding into his bag, passing out, and waking up ten hours later to the sunrise, feeling completely rested and ready to take on the day.

There was something about the ease of nature, mixed with the cooler temperatures and day's ardor, that made it so uncomplicated to fall asleep and stay asleep until morning. Some of Harry's best nights of rest were on trail, in the backcountry. There was just something special about it.

This night fell under the same category of contented, serene slumber.

When he opened his eyes, the tent was glowing with early morning light and he could see the condensation of his breath puffing every time he exhaled.

Usually, as soon as Harry woke up in the morning, he would unzip his bag and get up for the day. Undo the bear bag from the tree branch on which it was suspended. Start the water boiling on the burner to make his coffee and his oatmeal. Find a rock to pee on. Wash his face in the river. Reorganize his pack. Lace his boots. Stare out at the vast expanse of earth unbothered by humanity. Get on trail.

Today, though, Harry had someone clinging to him for warmth, even in his sleep, face buried in his chest. He couldn't justify waking him up and he couldn't justify leaving him, either.

He shifted backwards, just to test it out, and smiled when Louis followed him subconsciously, chasing his warmth. It was by far the coldest morning of their trip, but Harry knew they would warm up as soon as they got on trail and began exerting themselves.

That was how it went on trips like this: common plights seemed so much less severe. The wilderness made it clear what really mattered.

Somehow in the night, they had both completely relaxed around each other in a way that just wasn't possible when they were both conscious. Louis had made himself smaller, curling up, and his thigh was shoved between Harry's.

Harry let him sleep because he figured it wouldn't hurt. They had about five miles to travel today, but after that it was back to civilization. Back to reality.

Harry wasn't ready.

Louis woke up perhaps half an hour later, while Harry was drifting in and out of consciousness. The bag was warm and toasty with both of their bodies jammed inside, and when Louis shuffled even a little bit, Harry felt it. It was then that Harry realized they were both hard.

Obviously this was a common occurrence and they were both adults who should've been able to handle morning wood gracefully, but.

Oh god , he thought absentmindedly.

"Sleep well?" Harry asked, politely ignoring Louis' leg which was jammed up against Harry's crotch. Now that he was aware of it, he couldn't stop thinking of it. The peace and tranquility of the morning disappeared as his heart began to hammer in his chest.

"Very." Louis' voice was soft like a feather in his sleepiness. He carefully extricated his leg from between Harry's thighs. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Harry squeaked, jamming his eyes shut. His voice was an octave higher than normal. God, he was so embarrassing. He tried to wiggle out of the bag, but the zipper was on Louis' side and Harry was stuck.

"Hang on, let me-"

Louis craned his arm behind himself to reach the zipper. He tugged on it, but it wouldn't budge.

"Fuck, it's stuck-"

"What?" Harry gasped, his entire body aflame.

Louis wriggled around, trying to get a better angle to yank the zipper down. "It's stuck on the fabric," he explained, but Harry wasn't listening because the position they were in...