Hold Me Closer | Stisaac (Serendipity, Book 1)

Chapter 10 (Revised April 2024)

I'm so into you I can barely breathe
And all I wanna do is to fall in deep
But close ain't close enough 'til we cross the line
So name a game to play and I'll role the dice
- Ariana Grande, 'Into You'

Note: This chapter contains VERY explicit sexual material.

Although Isaac loved going to movie theaters, he didn't like the idea of being so close to people he didn't know and always made a beeline for the very back. Thankfully, it seemed, Stiles felt the same.
    Isaac slid off his leather jacket and slung it over
the back of his seat—he always got so damn hot in movie theaters, too. His nerves had settled considerably until the lights faded off and the movie began. Now the butterflies and the toiling heat of nervousness crept back into his stomach. It was all real now, it was happening. He was here, in the dark, smushed against Stiles in tiny, uncomfortable seats that were somehow worth it to be so close to him.
     They didn't speak, but it somehow felt as if they were having a deep, soul-baring conversation. It felt grand and awkward but comfortable. Isaac tried to focus on the movie, but he found his eyes insistently wandering to Stiles, taking in the way his wide eyes glowed with light from the giant screen, and how he would chew one piece of popcorn at a time and only
on the right side of his mouth. How his mouth hung open slightly as if in constant wonder at what unfolded before him. The small piece of popcorn that had burrowed its way into the middle of Stiles's quiff on his journey to the hallway floor.
    Isaac became increasingly aware of their closeness and the heat radiating from Stiles. Both broad, their shoulders grazed with the slightest of movements, even though Isaac kept his left arm positioned in a self-hug, leaving the armrest open for Stiles if he wanted it. After a bit, Isaac's arm began to burn and cramp. He stretched it out and curled it a few times before finally placing it on the armrest.
     He glanced at Stiles out of the corner of his eye. Stiles had paused his assault on the popcorn, but held it still, titled slightly toward Isaac as an open-ended offering. His face, however, had lost all of the bouncy, child-like elation. His eyes, heavily lidded in concentration, were hugged by furrowed brows, and his lips were working and worrying themselves, rolling and then biting repeatedly. Surely he wasn't annoyed that Isaac had taken the armrest?
    Another movement caught Isaac's eye. He looked down. Stiles raised his right arm slowly, just enough to reach out with his pinky finger. He hovered there for a moment, hands shaking, before he slid his pinky over Isaac's thumb, incinerating Isaac's nerve endings to dust. Isaac jerked his fingers ever so slightly, granting permission.
     Stiles, misunderstanding, pulled his hand away as if he'd been burned. Isaac knew he should just tell Stiles that it was okay, but he couldn't speak over the lump in his throat. He sucked in a deep breath and instead wiggled his fingers, spreading them a little wider, lifting them off the armrest. Closing his eyes, he held his breath.
    It took a few seconds, but Stiles's shaky, slender fingers slid between his as his hand found rest atop Isaac's.
    Isaac released his breath, relieved, and closed his fingers, squeezing Stiles's hand. From his fingertips to his shoulder to his chest, Isaac tingled pleasantly. His focus now severely pulled from the screen, Isaac vaguely registered that a teen girl was struggling to acclimate to the small town that she and her dysfunctional family had just moved to. He was too busy trying to calm his heart down—it was beating and racing hard and fast enough that he almost feared a heart attack.
    You're being ridiculous, he told himself. You've touched his naked body, and you're melting down at the touch of a hand? What's wrong with you?
    Stiles's thumb began to slowly stroke Isaac's. The chair creaked as Stiles leaned over and whispered in Isaac's ear.
     "I have no idea what movie that teller chose, but it sucks. It's been thirty minutes and nothing has happened. If I see one more shot of this girl staring into the distance with angst-face, I'm going to cry."
     Isaac chuckled. "I was starting to think the same thing."
     Stiles shifted again. He released Isaac's hand. Something hot and wet pressed to the top of Isaac's wrist. Isaac jumped, surprised, before he realized what had happened. Stiles, bent over his arm, trailed kisses over his hand and forearm, flicking his tongue out with every other press of his lips.
     Isaac swallowed. "What are you doing?"
     "Just occupying myself," Stiles replied. He paused. "Do you want me to stop?"
     "N-no."
     Isaac felt Stiles smile against his arm before he continued, slowly making his way up to the crook of Isaac's elbow, where he gently nibbled at the skin. He slid his fingers over the tips of Isaac's and played with them, rubbing them gently and making detours to burn paths up to and around his wrist.
    Stiles rotated in his seat and twined his right arm around Isaac's shoulders and kissed him. The popcorn, forgotten, tipped over and tumbled off Stiles's lap and to the floor. Neither of them noticed. He cradled Isaac's face with his left hand, letting his long, slender fingers gently explore his face, his eyebrows, his cheek, the corner of his lips, his earlobe. Eventually they twirled up into Isaac's curls, fingernails just barely scratching his skull. Isaac rested his free hand over the one gripping his face as he returned the kiss and deepened it.
     Stiles, not willing to relinquish his power this time, took back the upper hand by sucking Isaac's bottom lip between his teeth and biting down with just enough pressure to make Isaac take in a harsh breath. Stiles ran his tongue along the inside of Isaac's bottom lip before meshing their tongues together in a hot, hungry exchange of gasps.
They remained like that for long enough that the world fell away and Isaac could feel and hear nothing but Stiles—Stiles's tongue, his hands and fingers, his warmth, his silky hair that smelled of lavender. His soft groans and gasps that only Isaac could hear, each one eliciting a raise of Isaac's arm hair and a chill down his spine. Isaac had no idea how much time had passed before Stiles broke away, his lips shining with saliva in the light of the movie screen.
Stiles held his gaze for a moment before he brought his attention to Isaac's neck with feathery kisses. One hand curled around the nape of Isaac's neck, the other gently trailed a path from his Adam's apple to his lower stomach and rested there, his arm pressing comfortably against Isaac's crotch. Stiles bit and sucked on the soft flesh of Isaac's neck. Isaac felt his veins pump harder, his heart beat faster.
     Stiles removed his arm from Isaac's crotch and pressed his lips to it instead, mouthing at the excitement growing beneath the rough material of Isaac's tight jeans.
    Isaac shifted in his seat. "S-Stiles!" he hissed quietly. "What are you—"
     "No one is looking. Everyone's watching the movie," Stiles said into Isaac's crotch. "But I can stop...if you want." Stiles made sure to muffle every word against Isaac's crotch, letting him feel every movement of his lips.
    Isaac glanced around the theatre. The few audience members were, in fact, focused on the wretched movie dragging on before them. One had even fallen asleep—a faint snore drifted up from the middle of the theatre. And it was rather dark...
    Stiles craned his head up to look at Isaac with hungry, tantalizing eyes and parted lips. His tongue just barely broke the barrier between his plump lips and sat there, glimmering in the dim light. Isaac's anxiety—his fear of being heard, seen, caught—was instantaneously overtaken by the beguiling sight. Isaac tried to speak, but a stuttered, forceful exhale tore out of his mouth instead. He settled for a nod.
     In one surprisingly fluid motion, Stiles slid to his knees and dropped down in front of Isaac, never once breaking eye contact. Popcorn crunched underneath his knees. Stiles brought his mouth back to the bulge straining against Isaac's jeans while one hand fumbled with the button and zipper and the other tapped Isaac's knee. Taking the hint, Isaac spread his legs and Stiles slipped between them, running the hand up Isaac's leg to aid with the damned zipper.
    Isaac's breath hitched. Was this really happening? Was he really doing this? Was Stiles really doing this? He barely had the ability to wonder why someone like Stiles, someone so beautiful and delicate and strong and funny, would be wasting their time on him, would be on their knees for him, Isaac, in the middle of a movie theatre—because fingers slipped beneath the waistband of Isaac's boxer-briefs, finally conquering the snagged zipper.
Stiles wrapped his long fingers around Isaac's hardness and pulled it out. Isaac bit his lip as the cool breeze greeted his burning flesh. Stiles tugged Isaac's jeans down to the middle of his thighs and repeated the motion with his underwear. He glanced back up at Isaac, held his gaze while he licked his lips and then slowly, excruciatingly slowly, brought his lips and tongue to every bit of exposed flesh that wasn't Isaac's cock.
Stiles had all of the control and he knew it. He kissed Isaac's thighs, licked them, sucked on them, like there was all the time in the world. Moved up them with smooth grace to ruck up Isaac's white t-shirt and run his tongue over his hip and circle back around to the trail of light brown hair at his naval and follow it down, down, down to the trimmed bush. He breathed over Isaac's cock—and then sailed right over it, once again. Isaac's cock pulsed at the near contact. Stiles muffled his chuckle with a gentle bite against Isaac's other thigh before he finally brought his tongue to the underside of Isaac's penis.
Isaac's brain short-circuited. Electricity crackled through his veins.
Stiles dragged his tongue up Isaac's length to swirl around the head twice before rolling his tongue into a tube-like shape and enveloping the head with it. Isaac cursed under his breath and gripped the armrests so hard that the muscles of his forearms burned.
"How the fuck do you do that with your tongue?" Isaac gasped.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Stiles teased.
"Stiles—"
Stiles sucked Isaac's cockhead into his mouth, drowning it in the hot, wet heat. He swirled and licked with his tongue ferociously before sinking down, slowly, giving every inch of Isaac's cock his full attention. By the time Stiles had taken him to the root, his face buried in Isaac's bush, his throat convulsing around Isaac's cock, Isaac was seeing stars. They exploded now, lighting him up with ecstasy.
Working his throat and tongue, Stiles remained where he was, Isaac's hard dick shoved into his throat as far as it could go. His hands, however, were busy elsewhere. Stiles ran his slender fingers over Isaac's body as if searching for something he was in no rush to find. His thighs, hips, sides, chest, nipples, arms, shoulders, back down and around again. He emphasized the descent with his fingernails, lightly grazing Isaac's flesh with the perfect amount of pressured tickle.
Goosebumps exploded over Isaac's skin. He inadvertently thrust his hips upward, losing control of his body and senses. Miraculously, Stiles barely seemed to notice. The slightest, quietest of chokes gurgled, vibrating Isaac's cock.
"Fuck, Stiles!" Isaac hissed through clenched teeth. He struggled to keep his voice down to a whisper. "What—oh my—you're a fucking God, Stiles. H-how are you—"
Stiles bobbed his head, hard and fast, several times, taking Isaac from root to tip and back again, curling his lips over his teeth. He settled his hands on Isaac's hips and refocused on the head, sliding his tongue into the slit of Isaac's cock as he took the rest of Isaac's shaft into his fist. Isaac's cock was dripping wet now, and Stiles seemed to be struggling to keep the squelching sounds to a minimum.
As Stiles's fingers curled around his length, Isaac bucked his hips again and bit his lip to retain a gasp that he knew wouldn't have been quiet. Stiles sat back on his heels and rotated his hand around the tip on the upstroke, delivering a delightful tingle to Isaac's cock. His lips glistened filthily, hung open to allow small gasps of his own to pass. Stiles locked eyes with Isaac. Even in the darkness, Isaac saw the black hunger within them, and somehow knew that it mirrored, if not paled in comparison to, his own.
Stiles moved to suck Isaac back into his mouth, but Isaac stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Stiles looked at him askance. Isaac gently pulled him up and forward so he could slide his tongue into his mouth. Stiles accepted this small interception of his power with fervor and brought a hand to the back of Isaac's head, urging him to deepen the kiss.
Isaac did, all restraint and concern gone as he tasted Stiles once more and his cock throbbed in Stiles's fist. He gripped Stiles's face with trembling hands, and it was a messy, open collision of teeth, tongues and gasps more than it was kisses, but Isaac couldn't contain the hunger that had exploded within him. He couldn't get deep enough into the kiss, deep enough into Stiles.
When Stiles pulled away, Isaac actually whined in protest and then quickly glanced back out at the other movie-goers to make sure none of them and heard. Stiles laughed softly and pressed a sloppy kiss to Isaac's cheek before sliding back down to his knees and bringing Isaac's hardness back into his mouth.
Stiles quickly worked up another routine, spending alternating amounts of time on each movement—deepthroat, one-handed stroke, a wet, sloppy suck on the tip, deepthroat again, a two-handed stroke that he somehow managed to pull off and still have his tongue wrapped around the head. It didn't take long before Isaac's fingers found a home curled in Stiles's hair and the ability to keep his head upright dwindled.
In between strokes, Stiles patted one of Isaac's hands. Go ahead.
Isaac glanced down at him for confirmation anyway—Stiles blinked at him and switched up his method. He pulled off until the tip of Isaac's cock rested across his spread lips and made a circle out of his forefinger and thumb, tightening it just right around Isaac's slick erection, just an inch or so below the head. Stiles peered up at him, transferring control.
Isaac took his cock into one hand and rubbed his cockhead over Stiles's wet and swollen lips. In synchronicity, Stiles opened his mouth wide just as Isaac moved to slide the tip over his tongue. Stiles closed his eyes, releasing a small shudder of a gasp. Isaac noticed that his chest was rising and falling almost as fast as Isaac's.
Isaac guided his cock back into Stiles's mouth. As it slid deeper and deeper, Stiles rounded out his mouth and allowed Isaac to gently pull his head down to meet an upward thrust of his hips. Isaac repeated the motion a couple of times, tentatively, before Stiles squeezed his wrist insistently and looked at him pointedly.
Isaac sucked in a breath, swallowed and nodded. He licked his dry lips and thrusted again, harder this time. And again, and again. He found a rhythm of his own, burying his cock in Stiles's throat. Although Stiles kept his two fingers circled, providing just the right pressure, he settled his other hand atop Isaac's as they gripped his head. Stiles forced his fingers under Isaac's a bit. Taking the hint, Isaac loosened that hand and allowed Stiles to intertwine their fingers. Something about that movement, about Stiles holding his hand to the top of his head while his cock was sliding in and out of his throat, churned his stomach in the most magnificent of ways.
Memories of Stiles burst into Isaac's mind. Kissing Stiles, running his tongue over the moles that decorated his ivory skin. Tasting the salty-sweet skin of Stiles. Listening to Stiles moan and groan and gasp and lose control as their hot bodies collided. Remembering how he'd pressed his tongue to the back of Stiles's neck and down his spine. How Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, scrabbled for purchase against the bedsheets with long slender fingers and ran his tongue over his cupid's-bow lips when he finally came, screaming—
Isaac's hips stuttered as the tension and warmth in his stomach exploded. Stiles took over, deepthroating Isaac's cock one last time as Isaac started to cum. One small jet of cum and then Stiles pulled back quickly, just in time catch another, larger spurt of hot white across the side of his face. Isaac stuffed a finger into his mouth to keep from crying out, biting down so hard that he'd half expected to taste blood. Stiles sucked the tip into his mouth. Isaac shot five, seven more ropes of cum into Stiles's mouth.
Stiles pulled back, swallowed filthily and licked his lips before tonguing the slit and then curling his tongue around the tip once more, gently coaxing out the last droplets of cum. Isaac shuddered and gasped, struggling to keep quiet. Watching Stiles, noticing how he seemed to be hungry for more, watching the way his wet lips quivered slightly as he fought to control his own breath, and how his content, half-lidded eyes darted over Isaac's face and body insatiably—he thought he might die.
Isaac leaned forward, but Stiles beat him to it. Stiles all but threw himself at Isaac, and they collided into another kiss, perhaps the filthiest yet. Their tongues slid together like they belonged, like they'd never parted. Stiles panted into Isaac's mouth and Isaac fucking loved it. Loved seeing that he could affect Stiles the way he affected him. Loved the taste of his own hot, bittersweet cum knowing that it was coming from Stiles's mouth.
     Isaac, breathless and exhausted, slowed the pace of their kisses, but retained the depth, and wrapped his arms around Stiles to pull him against his chest. Stiles sank into him, clutching at his back with a sudden sense of desperation. Isaac squeezed him hard.
     "Stiles," he whispered, unable to say anything else.
Stiles.

So baby come light me up
And maybe I'll let you on it
A little bit dangerous
But baby that's how I want it
A little less conversation and a little more touch my body
'Cause I'm so into you
- Ariana Grande, 'Into You'

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