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Martin’s in the tunnels with Jon, swinging around his torch and wondering if now might be a good time to suggest getting the hell out of there, when he hears Jon hiss in alarm. A second later, hands are at Martin’s back. “H-hey!”
“Shhh, someone else is down here,” Jon harshly whispers into Martin’s shoulder. There’s no chance to turn around to look for himself, but over his own shocked breathing, he does hear something: an odd sound, like stone grinding against stone. It’s eerie enough that Martin doesn’t fight when Jon pushes him to the nearest marked door, opens it, and shoves them both inside.
Well, he shoves Martin in first. It’s one of the small, apparently useless closets they’ve kept stumbling upon since they started exploring the tunnels. Just big enough to hold them both comfortably. Jon backs into the room and closes the door, clutching the knob, glaring at the door with fierce concentration.
“What did you see?” Martin whispers, but Jon shushes him again. It’s annoying and he’d like to point that out, but the sound is back again, and — oh, god, it’s louder than before.
They hear a deep snap, almost like a tree trunk breaking, and suddenly both their torches flicker. The room fades to dusky dark. Martin squeaks in surprise; Jon curses; the rest of the room… sighs.
And then Martin is feeling something at his back, and he shouts, moving forward and bumping into Jon’s back. Jon, startled, falls against the door. “Martin!”
“S-s-sorry, b-but something- touched me-”
He tries to move back only to find there’s nowhere to back up to. Martin reaches back but feels only stone. “What? Jon, th-the room got smaller.”
“What?”
“Open the door?”
There’s a desperate rattling. Jon curses again. More rattling. Then, “...It’s, um. Stuck.”
“Stuck!?”
“The door won’t open,” Jon growls. Martin hears him kick it with his foot. “It- It feels like there’s something blocking it. The tiniest bit of give— if I could just get some leverage! Are you sure you can’t move back?”
Martin takes a moment to really assess his surroundings. He discovers two things: the room got very, very small, with hardly enough space for him to move his arms. The second thing is that he’s pressed very, very close to Jon now. Like, so close that he can feel the way Jon’s body is trembling from stress, or fear, or anger— probably anger, with how much he’s grumbling, trying to jiggle the knob and push against the door, which refuses to give, only pushing back so that Jon’s squirming and wiggling right up against Martin’s— um, his. Entire business.
“J-Jon, maybe we should, um—”
“Martin, help me try to push the door open,” Jon grits out. He huffs, then pushes himself back into Martin’s front. Martin tries his best to let him, back flush with the cold stone wall, legs slightly spread to give Jon a bit more room. Which is probably a huge mistake, because now Jon’s body feels quite snug between Martin’s thighs, and, and oh god he’s getting a boner.
Desperate to escape, Martin listens to Jon, putting his arms out and against the door. This effectively leaves Jon bracketed by his entire body and Martin’s not going to think about that right now! No, he thinks about pushing against the door instead, and Jon follows his lead. For a few minutes that’s all they do: push and kick, and all the way Martin feels like the room is getting even smaller. Jon keeps rubbing up on him, breathing heavy with his efforts, gasping, his voice and breath echoing in the room…
Then Jon does something, Martin’s not sure what, that presses his ass right against Martin’s boner, and there’s hardly any time for mortification to overtake Martin before Jon makes a new sound. A different sort of gasp. One that coasts right into a whine at the very end.
For a moment there’s only heavy breathing in the silence. Jon’s still pressed up against Martin’s dick and Martin’s seriously worried he’s going to pass out. From lack of oxygen or lack of blood in his brain, he’s not sure which.
Probably both, since Martin is clearly out of his goddamn mind, considering his next move is to gently press his hips forward. Pinning Jon against the door. Jon, who doesn’t protest or even say anything.
Huh? What’s happening right now?
“What’s happening right now?” Martin asks aloud, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
“S-sorry,” Jon whispers back. “I just- it, um. It’s just… very close…”
“...Yeah…” Martin tilts his head back and licks his lips, then asks, “...Is this a problem?”
“What? Being trapped in a damn closet in the middle of an endless, confusing tunnel system?”
Martin can’t believe he’s finding it in himself to roll his eyes, but Jon has always been one to impress. Oddly enough, it gives Martin a bit of confidence — enough that he presses against Jon again, even rocking his hips to make his point. Jon makes a tiny, “Oh!” sound. “No, I meant this,” Martin explains. “Is this a problem?”
“...N-no… Not, uh, not exactly…”
“Do you…” He’s grateful there’s no way for Jon to see it, but Martin wonders if he can feel how hot Martin’s face is — how hot his entire body feels. Probably, considering they’re nearly plastered together. “D-do you, um, want a distraction from being trapped in a closet in the middle of an endless, confusing tunnel, then?”
“...Yes,” Jon replies, and then he deliberately grinds back against Martin. It feels like he’s arching his back a little, and holy shit, is this actually happening right now? Martin can feel him through their clothes, but he can only think of how much more he’d be able to feel if he could unzip his jeans right now.
On the upside, Jon wore a skirt today. It’s much easier reaching down to gather up the fabric and shimmy it past the gentle swell of Jon’s ass despite having hardly any room between their bodies. With the heavier material out of the way, Martin can feel the softness and heat of Jon’s thighs pressing against him even more clearly. Without thinking, he grabs Jon’s hips and just… starts rutting. There’s not a lot of room to do anything beyond that, but Martin can’t find the time to care. Jon’s making noises and squirming against Martin, even trying to spread his legs apart a little to give the bulge in Martin’s pants a little more access, and that all by itself would probably be enough to make Martin lose it. But then there are Jon’s little noises, his surprised gasps and whimpers, his deep voice ringing loudly in the tiny room.
“M- Mmm— Martin…” Jon eventually gasps. “Martin, please, can you…?”
Martin makes a questioning noise, but Jon doesn’t speak again. Martin feels one of Jon’s hands find his at Jon’s waist. Gently tugging, he guides Martin’s hand forward and down, slipping beneath the front of his skirt to rest atop his underwear, between his legs.
“Oh! Y-yeah, sure, let me—”
Martin shuffles as much as he can, adjusting his position so he can more easily offer his hand to Jon. His fingers move further down, and he can feel the damp spot Jon has left. Jon seems more interested in his wrist, though, and the way his thumb is perfectly positioned for him to rut against. With an increased enthusiasm, Jon rolls his hips, chasing something Martin can’t see — but he’s got a pretty good idea of what it is. He feels about five seconds away from it himself. Everything is just too much: the heat of their bodies, the echo of their voices, and the sensual way Jon is moving. Martin might not be able to see it, but he can feel everything, having Jon caught in his arms, against his chest. Jon starts making broken, keening noises, using his hand to hold Martin’s right where he needs it, and the idea of Jon using him like this and getting off on it is more than enough for Martin. He frantically humps Jon’s ass until he can feel himself spilling.
Through the haze of his orgasm and the ringing of his ears, Martin thinks he hears Jon lose himself, too. He keeps rocking his hips for a minute afterwards, chasing it; Martin’s mostly useless, but he curls around Jon as much as he can to help him out, kissing the back of his neck until Jon finally winds down.
Then, of course, because it’s just their luck: their abandoned torches flicker back on, and the door they’re leaning against suddenly opens.
Both men yelp and stumble out. Dual instincts cause Martin to secure one arm around Jon’s waist while the other flies forward, hoping to soften whatever fall they’re about to suffer. As both men soon learn, however, the hallway outside the room has also gotten smaller. Instead of the concrete floor, Martin’s hand meets the solid wall after a moment of panicked stumbling. It’s just enough that Jon doesn’t face-plant, though Martin does bump his nose solidly against the back of Jon’s head. “Ow!”
“Martin!” Jon’s voice is still a little breathy. “What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m— mostly fine,” Martin sighs, rubbing his nose with his now free hand. The hallway is more than half a size smaller, now too narrow for them both to stand side-by-side. Martin remains in the doorway of the tiny room to give Jon a bit of space. “Just a hurt nose and, uh…” Martin blushes. “Need a chance of clothes.”
To his surprise, Jon laughs. “I— yes, I think me, too. Let’s see if we can find our way back out of here… The hallway has obviously been changed somehow, but the chalk markers are still visible, see?”
Martin does see. Relief that hits him is like a solid object, and he’s quick to fetch their torches from the floor.
“Lead the way,” Martin says, handing off a torch to Jon. Jon takes it, but he also takes Martin’s hand in his free one.
“Wouldn’t want to get separated,” is all Jon says about it, offering Martin one last, shy glance before speed-walking down the dark hallway. Martin lets himself get tugged along, happy to fall into step.