Hold Me Closer | Stisaac (Serendipity, Book 1)

Chapter 16 (Revised April 2024)

Do you believe there is a life,
where it's just you and me and I?
We don't need to wait, we don't need a sign
It's only you and me and I
- Benson Boone, 'Intro'

Note: This chapter contains explicit sexual material.

Sleep almost claimed Stiles countless times.
Every time his eyes closed and his head grew fuzzy to the lullaby of Isaac's heartbeat in his ear and the faint drone of the television, something would snap his mind like a rubber-band. Suddenly, he would be wide awake, or at least a cognizant zombie of sleep deprivation. The thing that his awakened mind would cling to the most was Isaac. Remembering where he was, that he was with him, seemed to invigorate the blood in his veins.
Jolted by another wave, Stiles groaned and rolled off the bed and to his feet. He glanced at the crooked clock on the wall by the television as he struggled into his jeans.
The bed creaked as Isaac turned onto his side to watch him. "What are you doing?"
"I," Stiles said, hoisting the jeans up his waist, "am going for a walk."
"It's three in the morning."
"And we're obviously not sleeping, so what else are we gonna do?"
Isaac shrugged. "Can't argue with that. Where do you want to go?"
Stiles snatched up his cartoon strawberry socks from the floor and perched on the edge of the bed to slide them on. "No clue. Isn't that the point of a walk, though? Find something to do, somewhere to go?"
"In the middle of nowhere, somewhere we've never been? Sounds like a fantastic idea."
"Your sarcasm stings."
Isaac laughed. "Look who's talking."
Fully socked up, Stiles stomped into his shoes. "Well, are you coming?"
Isaac pursed his lips contemplatively, clucked his tongue, and launched himself out of the bed. On his way to the pile of his clothing by the dresser, he kissed Stiles on the forehead. Stiles grabbed him by the elbow, halting him, and kissed him on the mouth instead, nibbling Isaac's bottom lip as he pulled away.
Mouth agape, Isaac's narrowed eyes followed him as he strode to the door. "That's so rude. You can't just do something like that and walk away."
"What are you going to do about it?" Stiles smirked.
Isaac raised an eyebrow and slowly ran his hand down his naked chest and stomach, slipped his hand inside his boxers and pulled them down just enough to make Stiles swallow hard and pause with his hand on the door handle.
      Stiles shook his head, eyes fixed on the bulge underneath the black fabric. "Hurry up and get dressed, you fucking tease."
Isaac chuckled.
The fresh, lukewarm air of early summer greeted them as they stepped out into the night. The quaint Fireside Grove motel, rather isolated but for the truck stop several miles away, was nearly lost in the shadows of the dense forest surrounding it. The inky blue sky, though full of glittering stars, didn't do much to help. Crossing through the parking lot to the main road, Stiles half expected to be mauled by a bear or a masked, knife-wielding maniac (he wasn't sure which option was worse, to be honest).
    "It smells like rain," Isaac said, inhaling deeply.
    "Don't say that out loud. Are you nuts? Why would you jinx us like that?"
    Isaac smirked, raised a hand, and knocked gently on the top of Stiles's head. "Knock on wood."
    Stiles batted his hand away with a shake of his head. "Asshole."
    The main road disappeared into darkness in either direction, having been abandoned by the streetlights haphazardly scattered throughout the motel parking lot. About halfway across the lot, the lights grew dimmer and dimmer until they just ceased to work at all. Stiles assumed that either no one had cared enough about the old thing to bother fixing them, or no one had cared enough to complain — the half-empty parking lot didn't suggest a steady flow of customers.
"Maybe we should've brought a flashlight," Isaac said.
    "That's what our phones are for." Stiles whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and switched on the flashlight, unsurprised that it did absolutely nothing to battle the countryside shadows. "It's early morning anyway. The sun will be up soon-ish."
    "Soon-ish? How soon, exactly, is soon-ish? Plenty of time for us to get eaten alive, or kidnapped, I assume."
    "Aw, Isaac. Is someone scared of the dark?" Stiles mocked him with an impression of a toddler's whine.
    Stiles heard Isaac roll his eyes more than he saw it. He didn't need the milky moonlight to know it happened. "You're the one who hid your face behind a popcorn bucket last time we saw a horror movie."
    "Hey, you said we'd never mention that again."
    "Oh, did we? I could've swore that we said you'd never mention it again."
    "Semantics are not sexy. Don't be semantic."
    After a moment of silence, Isaac crept his fingertips up the nape of Stiles's neck, just gently enough to tickle the fine hairs and freak him out.
    Stiles half-snorted, half-screeched, lurching forward with a flail of arms and blinding Isaac with his flashlight in the process. "Gah! Don't do that! What's wrong with you? Are you crazy? I could've punched your face off!"
    "Now who's afraid of the dark?" Isaac laughed. "Also, how do you punch a face off?"
    "Do you wanna find out?" Stiles stopped walking and squared his shoulders, puffing his chest out in what looked more like the final moments of a dying blowfish than an intimidating muscle-bro. He swaggered over to Isaac and lightly bumped him in the shoulder with his chest.
     "You're ridiculous."
    Stiles barely caught the glimpse of Isaac's teeth in the moonlight as he smiled.
    "You know you love it."
    A beat. "Shut up."
    Stiles bumped Isaac again, and reared back to do it a third time, but Isaac shot his arm out first, his palm colliding with Stiles's chest, interrupting his motion.
    "Are you trying to fight, bro?" Stiles drawled in his best worst New Jersey accent. "Let's go."
    Isaac stood there, regarding him with an expression of exaggerated annoyance. He stared at Stiles for a moment and then flew forward, taking advantage of the element of surprise.
    Stiles felt the ground disappear from under his feet as Isaac slid his arms underneath his armpits and hoisted him into the air to twirl him into a circle before dropping him back down and wrapping an arm lightly around his neck.
    "You don't wanna mess with me, boy, do ya?" Isaac exclaimed in his own Jersey accent that sounded more like a British gorilla with the ability to speak.
    Stiles tried to slide down and away, but Isaac cradled his waist with his other arm. Still, he stepped forward in an attempt to escape, nearly stepping on his own foot in the process. Isaac was much stronger than he looked, which was, quite frankly, wonderful for Stiles's sex drive.
    His lips grazed Stiles's ear as he whispered into it. "I think I won."
    Stiles, defeated, sank back against Isaac. "Jesus. Were you a wrestler in a past life or something?"
    Chuckling, Isaac released him, but not before planting a kiss on his earlobe. Stiles wanted to kiss him now, because one kiss from Isaac, no matter where it was or how long it lasted, was enough to have him hungry for more. Instead, he decided to poke Isaac in the chest, and then the neck, and then the ribs, and every other part of him that he could reach until Isaac became clearly annoyed.
     Isaac started batting at his hands, but Stiles was not one to give up easily, and delightedly ignored the two times Isaac said his name warningly. The third time, he delivered one final poke and immediately turned to bounce away in victory, but Isaac was too quick.
    Isaac crashed into him from behind, arms wrapped around his middle. "You want me to—" Cut off with an exclamation of surprise, his grip on Stiles tightened and yanked him backward. Suddenly, they were on the ground and sliding down a steep embankment, a tangle of arms and legs. A few seconds later, they crashed to a stop, and somehow, Stiles ended up wedged against a tree and underneath Isaac, one of his legs uncomfortably twisted between Isaac's.
    Miraculously still holding tight to his cell phone, Stiles flipped it over to illuminate their surroundings.
    Isaac grinned down at him. "Well, now we're in a ditch. How's that for adventure?"
    Stiles plucked a pine needle off of his cheek and kissed him there. "You're on top of me, so I have no reason to complain."
    "I guess gravity works in mysterious ways."
    "Mysterious, or methodical?" Stiles punctuated his question by reaching around Isaac to grab his lower back and pull his hips down into his.
    "I..."
    "What?"
    "Nothing."
    Isaac's eyes, brilliantly lit by the white glow of Stiles's flashlight, inspected him hungrily. The black pupils took over the blue of his irises as they dilated, his gaze flickering wildly all over Stiles. His eyebrows creased slightly, and his jaw tensed, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
    "What are you thinking?" Stiles asked.
    "Ask me again later."
    Stiles cocked his head. "What the hell does that even mean?"
    "Just...remember this moment. And ask me again. You'll know when. You'll know why."
    Stiles tapped a fingertip to Isaac's temple and frowned up at him curiously. "What's swirling around in that beautiful head of yours, Isaac Lahey?"
    Isaac kissed him on his temple. "You are." Before Stiles could respond, he kissed him again, this time on the eyebrow, and then the tip of his nose, the hollow of his throat, and finally his lips, where he lingered for a moment. Once he broke away, he rested his forehead against Stiles's.
Stiles ran his hands up underneath the fabric of Isaac's shirt, skating his fingernails along the heated flesh of his back, dancing over the grooves of his spine, the broad expanse of his shoulders. Isaac shuddered from his touch, his stuttering breaths causing his chest and stomach to tremor deliciously against Stiles's body. They were pressed so tightly together that every breath Isaac took, Stiles felt - almost as if it was his breath too, almost as if they were one.
"Fuck," Isaac exhaled. "How do you exist? How are you here? You take my fucking breath away. Every time I see you, every time I touch you or you touch me. Every time I—fuck—every time I hear your voice. How do you do this to me? I can't handle it."
Stiles stilled his fingers. He never could resist the opportunity to tease. "Fine. I'll stop touching you."
"Don't you dare. Don't ever stop touching me."
The vehemence, the thickness of Isaac's tone startled Stiles. He could hear the sensations and emotions that flowed through Isaac, just as they did through him. They mirrored each other. Stiles couldn't help but wonder if he sounded, looked, felt, the same to Isaac as Isaac did to him. When Isaac's hands were on his skin, when he was arching his back while Isaac's name bloomed from his lips like a summertime flower, did he sound as raw and hungry as he felt? Did it take Isaac by surprise every time, like it did to Stiles?
He couldn't comprehend that he was responsible for these reactions. That he was the one drawing these things out of someone like Isaac, so stunning and perfect.
Stiles used his hands to divide and conquer Isaac's body, digging his nails into the nape of Isaac's neck and into his hip. Isaac writhed, pushing himself impossibly harder down onto Stiles. Somehow, Stiles was still not satiated—he was still not close enough, could never be close enough.
As Isaac's mouth opened in a choked-off cry of pleasure, Stiles licked into it, running the top of his tongue over Isaac's bottom row of teeth, flickering to his lips and then to his tongue. Isaac released a sound unlike anything Stiles had ever heard before, a deep, primal whine that hollowed out his stomach with a white-hot surge of ecstasy. The sound elicited a shiver so intense that Stiles's brain short-circuited for a moment; he forgot where he was, forgot what he was doing, forgot how to breathe, speak, exist.
The wet warmth of Isaac's tongue sliding against his brought him back. Stiles involuntarily thrust up, his growing hardness uncomfortably smushed by the tight fabric of his jeans, but very comfortably wedged against Isaac's bulge. Isaac met his thrust with one of his own.
Stiles couldn't take it anymore. He needed to taste Isaac, needed to devour him. With a dirty lick of his lips, Stiles playfully grazed Isaac's neck with his teeth and a flicker of tongue before he bit down, just hard enough to hear him keen. As Stiles sucked and licked at the flesh, Isaac's body began to tremble against him and he unleashed a steady string of whispered curses and shaky grunts, moans, and hisses.
"Stiles," Isaac gasped. "I need t-to feel you. All of you." He shifted to slide a hand between their bodies so he could unbutton and unzip Stiles's pants and shove his underwear down to wrap his hand around Stiles.
With a loud "Fuck!" Stiles threw his head back, barely noticing as he slammed his head into the forest floor. He pushed up into Isaac's soft, warm fist, unable to control himself, unable to hold himself back from Isaac's touch. Isaac looked down at him with an expression on his face so chaotically ethereal that it didn't seem human. If this were happening fifteen years ago to pathetic virgin Stiles, he would've orgasmed from that look alone, and seen stars for weeks afterward.
Stiles rucked Isaac's shirt up so that he could lick a stripe from his nipple to his neck and back again. Isaac tightened his grip on his cock in response, swirling his palm around the head. Stiles sucked on Isaac's nipple and then nibbled it, knowing perfectly well that it would get Isaac right where he wanted him.
Isaac jerked as if he'd been shocked, rearing back onto his knees. He planted a hand on the tree beside them to steady himself. Stiles took the opportunity to quickly undo Isaac's pants and shove them down as far as he could. Catching the hint, Isaac pulled the clothing down to his ankles and yanked them off. Stiles grabbed his hips and gently pulled him closer. Isaac moved with him seamlessly, sliding over Stiles's body until he was hovering on his chest, knees planted on either side of his shoulders.
Ignoring his hunger to get right down to business, Stiles bypassed Isaac's rock hard cock as it bounced with his movements, dangling in front of his face like a delicious treat. Instead, he mouthed at the flesh and hair of Isaac's inner thigh, his cheeks grazed by his testicles as he kissed and licked every available inch of skin.
Still gripping Isaac's hips for dear life, Stiles let Isaac's cock rub against his face as he peppered kisses everywhere but there.
Finally, it was time. Stiles kissed Isaac's cock, slow, wet kisses from the base to the tip before he finally rolled his tongue around the leaking head and sucked it into his mouth.
Isaac's hands flew to his head with a sharp moan, his slender fingers sliding through Stiles's hair and tickling his skull in the best of ways. The sweet, salty taste of Isaac's cock overwhelmed his tongue, but he couldn't get enough. Stiles took him down to the root, letting his throat open and close around the head as he sucked. He buried his nose in the patch of dark hair at the base of Isaac's cock, the heat and slightly sweaty scent making his head swim.
Stiles bobbed his head, slowly at first, and then faster, alternating the speed in ways that he knew would drive Isaac insane. Judging by the sensation of his fingernails digging into his skull, it was working. But it wasn't good enough for him. He needed more of Isaac. He looked up, catching Isaac's wide, almost dizzied gaze, and pulled him even closer, guiding him with a squeeze of his hips.
Isaac, once again in sync with Stiles's mind, allowed Stiles to position him until he was planked over Stiles's face, forearms to the ground and legs extended and spread to keep him supported. Satisfied, Stiles tapped him once on the hips.
Go.
Isaac began to thrust into Stiles's throat, reaching depths he hadn't been able to before. Now Isaac was all that Stiles could taste and feel and smell. All of his senses were covered in him, and it was delicious. The flesh of his stomach and the tickling hairs of his happy trail against his forehead, his hairy testicles gently slapping against his chin. Although Isaac needed no more guidance, Stiles loved feeling his body in his hands as he maintained his rhythm, in and out of Stiles's throat.
He moved his hands from Isaac's hips to his ass, trying to pull him impossibly deeper into his mouth and throat. He wasn't satiated until he was choking around Isaac's cock as his thrusts grew harder, rougher, deeper, longer with every little moan that emanated from Stiles's full throat.
Stiles's cock was so hard that it almost hurt. He wrapped a hand around himself, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sensitivity. Being with Isaac practically ensured that he was constantly leaking, always ready to burst. Tasting Isaac, in this moment, so intensely and so fully, nearly made him finish right then and there. He stroked himself slowly, alternating the amount of pressure he used. If he wasn't careful, just the thought of Isaac would be enough to send him over the edge.
Isaac couldn't seem to stop the sounds that fell from his lips. Like music to Stiles's ears, each one made his cock jump in his fist. He could hear the pleasure and exertion in every one, growing more and more labored from the strength it took to hold his position. Stiles felt his body shaking in his hands; Isaac wasn't going to last much longer, and neither was Stiles, if the tornado of heat swirling in his stomach and balls was any indication.
Stiles opened his throat and let Isaac pound it freely, let the saliva build and spill over his lips, let Isaac's hot flesh slide against his tongue over and over and over. He gripped Isaac's ass in his free hand so tightly that he was afraid he'd leave marks, but in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.
Isaac's rhythm faltered as he sat back and lowered himself onto his knees. His cock fell out of Stiles's mouth with a pop. Stiles barely had the chance to whine in disappointment before Isaac immediately grabbed Stiles by the head and pulled it forward gently. Isaac shoved his cock back into his mouth with renewed vigor. Stiles had thought Isaac couldn't get any deeper inside of him; he'd been wrong, and a savage moan gurgled in his throat as Isaac picked up his pace once more. He was grateful to have Isaac's hands gripping his head, supporting the weight of it so that he only had to focus on the thickness filling his throat, and his own cock in his hand.
"Stiles," Isaac hissed. "I'm close."
Excited, Stiles forgot about himself and placed his hands back onto Isaac's hips. Stiles gazed up at the beautiful specimen of a man, his head thrown back in absolute abandon. Studied his throat as he moaned and swallowed, the spit-shine on his lips, the beads of sweat decorating his forehead and cheeks, matting his blonde curls. "Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck, Stiles. Baby, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna—"
Baby. That was all Stiles needed. Before he could stop it, a wave of blinding, hot pleasure crashed over him, and he was shooting ropes of cum, handsfree, coating his stomach and chest. He even felt it splatter onto the back of his hands where he held fast to Isaac's body.
In unison, Stiles and Isaac screamed out. Isaac's white, hot cum gushed into Stiles's mouth, spurting over his tongue, shooting into the back of his throat. The salty warmth just kept pouring into him, delicious and filling. Stiles sucked harder than he ever had, whirling his tongue up, down and around Isaac's cock and head like it was the last thing he'd ever do.
Isaac lost it. His hips staggered, his voice cracked as sob-like moans erupted out of his throat. Stiles continued to suck, remembering how sensitive Isaac got after cumming, and craving to feel him completely unravel. And he did, his entire body shuddering, shaking, trembling as he screamed. His legs gave out and he sat down on Stiles's chest.
Deciding that Isaac would have a heart attack if he kept going, Stiles ruefully pulled his head back, letting Isaac's softening cock slip out of his coated mouth. Isaac slid off of Stiles and into the dirt, a sweaty, gasping, incoherent mess. Still, he was somehow present enough to reach out a hand toward Stiles.
Understanding, Stiles crawled to him and slid his fingers between Isaac's. Isaac wrapped his free hand around Stiles's neck and pulled him down for a filthy, tongue-heavy kiss. Stiles squeezed Isaac's hand hard and buried his face into his neck, closing his eyes to the sound of his racing heart.
"I think I have pine needles stuck to my ass," Isaac muttered after a few moments of silence.
Stiles chuckled. "I can't believe we just did that."
"Me either. Definitely a first."
"But not the last?"
"I guess we'll see."
Stiles pecked him on the cheek. Isaac looked at him hazily. Stiles studied their hands, how their fingers were intertwined, slotted together so perfectly as if they'd never been apart. Like the spaces between their fingers were made for each other. Isaac's thumb stroked his, and he realized then that he'd been doing the same unconsciously.
"You...You're...I—" Stiles knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to say it, let it out, scream it. But he couldn't. He shouldn't.
Isaac stared at him quizzically. "Stiles? What's up?"
Stiles gave his hand another squeeze and smiled faintly. "Ask me again later. You'll know when. You'll know why."
Something in Isaac's eyes changed as Stiles repeated to him what he had said earlier. But Isaac didn't question him, only pulled him back into arms.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Please leave any feedback that you have while reading! Thank you all for reading, commenting and voting :) Visit the story on AO3! My username there is @/burningahighwaytohades.

Find the soundtrack of songs that inspired, or coincide with, this work on Apple Music and YouTube.

Hold Me Closer, a Stisaac fan-fiction by iceandtanqueray: the soundtrack: https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/hold-me-closer-a-stisaac-fan-fiction-by/pl.u-55DPpLVh8kg86BW