You were just using each other.
John's drunk, you're slightly tipsy, and that makes the perfect formula for bad decisions. You were both hurting, both longing, for attention, the touch of another, love? There had been pining on your part, and you weren't sure what John might be going through, but it's clear neither one of you could be with who you wanted. Two lonely souls, unable to fess up, unable to pursue the one they really wanted, who decided to indulge in each other instead because it was easier.
John's quick to pull you into his tent, quickly stripping you of your clothes as you do the same to him; the kiss is sloppy, teeth clashing, lip biting, pure desperation. Your hands rake down his chest, enjoying the animalistic growl you get from him as he pushes you down on his cot. It's a little too small for the both of you, and you're almost worried that it'll snap from the combined weight and movement on it, but he begins to pepper kiss along your neck, fingers brushing against your nipples, and you've suddenly got no worries.
"I already know you ain't thinkin' of me." You mumble drunkenly, legs spread as John presses his dick to your entrance. He doesn't seem to miss a beat, sliding in and reveling in the soft moan you let out as he fills you. He slides in slow, as deep as he can, before looking you in the eye.
"I know you ain't thinkin' of me, neither." He leans forward to initiate another needy kiss, hips beginning to move as you wrap your legs around his waist to get a better angle. You have to admit once he gets the rhythm going he's good, filling you up almost perfectly, his kisses leaving you with a fluttery feeling in your chest and your lower body burning for release. You're both quietly moaning, bodies flush against each other, addicted to the warmth of another person.
"It's Abigail, isn't it?" You don't know why you're trying to interrogate your one night stand, even if the two of you were good enough friends. You'd think it'd killed the mood but John doesn't stop, not once, mouth busy leaving marks across your shoulder blade. "Don't know why I ask, I already know."
"And what about you?"
"...Do you actually want to know?"
"Yeah, wanna know who you're imagining while I'm the one fucking you." You roll your eyes, about to reply but letting out a gasp as John hits a sweet spot, back arching. He catches on to this, changing his angle so he can hit the spot easier, the feeling in your belly beginning to build and build, higher and higher, almost to the finishing point.
"Arthur!" You cry out, louder than you want, and John falters for a second, before stopping completely and giving you an incredulous look. You show your unhappiness with his faltering movements by digging your heel into his back, urging him on to continue; he gets the hint and begins to move again, but you can tell he's deep in thought now.
You pretend it's Arthur doing this, Arthur above you, pounding into you without mercy, his hands running up and down your body and admiring it like it's a fine piece of art. You imagine it's him groaning in your ear, whispering about how beautiful you are and how tight you feel around his cock, and how he can't wait to make you cum over and over. Your back arches again and your legs tighten around John as you finally cum, whimpering out and trying not to scream Arthur's name out (again).
John, once you've ridden out your orgasm, pulls out quickly, cumming on your stomach and making a complete mess of you. You're now both drunk AND tired, ready to turn in for the night; you had to mentally prepare for the walk of shame back to your tent. You weren't ashamed of having slept with John, not like he was that bad in the sack, but you were ashamed you'd used his dick while thinking about someone else's. At least he used you for the same reason, and there was no misunderstanding about what this was, regardless of how far gone he was due to the alcohol.
You clean yourself up as John pulls back on his underwear and pants, probably about to go out and rejoin the party despite his tiredness. You can tell something's on his mind as he lights a cigarette, waiting for you to be fully clothed yourself before opening his tent. You both walk out, glancing around the camp, and noting everyone was still relatively far away, gathered around the fire, drinking, and partying.
"You think we'll actually go be with the people we wanna be with after this?" You roll your eyes as John shrugs his shoulders. "You and Abigail are already halfway there, you just gotta stop bein' stupid."
"Seem to be told that a lot lately." He tosses his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his foot. "I think you got more of a chance with Arthur than you think."
That was rather enigmatic of him to say, especially since you didn't think Arthur had shown any type of interest in you before, but you appreciate his words of encouragement. You pat his shoulder, a funny thing to do to a person you had sex with not even ten minutes before, and go towards your own bed while he returns to the party. There was a silent agreement to keep it to yourselves unless asked, because it was nobody's business but yours, but you had a feeling something would end up slipping out.
You take one last glance towards the fire, heart swelling as you see Arthur sitting in front of it, the light of the flickering fire making him look even more handsome than normal. You hope you don't look like you're longing for him too much, especially when his head turns and his eyes meet yours from across the camp. You're quick to turn away, rushing to your own tent and hoping he would be too drunk in the morning to notice you'd been staring at him; how would he even know, right? He just happened to look up at the same moment you looked over at him, nothing deeper than that, right?
Right?