A Hikaru no Go Sekkushiaru Roman

By Sailor Mac

It was Sunday morning, and Hikaru Shindou was *not* playing Go.

He'd just had what could only be described as a week from hell. Every profession has its periods where the people who practice it feel like they're going to be driven mad from overwork. Retail store owners have Christmas, florists have Valentine's Day. And for Go professionals who teach, it's the weeks leading up to the Insei test and the last rounds of the pro exam.

His daily schedule had gone something like this: wake up, head out to the Go Institute for a 10 a.m. game, followed by a tutoring session, followed by a study group, followed by another tutoring session, followed by another study group . . .

So today, he thought he'd be excused for wanting to hold something other than a Go stone in his hand for awhile.

And what he was holding now was the controls of his Playstation. On the screen in front of him, an animated race car roared along a palm-tree lined speedway as jackhammer guitar and drums pounded on the sidewalk.

Small wonder, then, that he didn't hear the knock on the door.

On the front step of the Shindou house, Akira Touya heaved a deep sigh. This was just *so* typical of his rival. *He's probably still asleep*, he thought. *At this hour* . . .

The pounding came again, louder and more insistent, and this time, Hikaru heard it. *Mom will get it,* he thought . . . until he remembered that his parents were at his great-aunt's for the day. With a deep sigh, he put the game on pause and yelled, "Coming!" as he rushed down the stairs.

Just as well they're *not* here today, he thought. He could use a day off from his mother's questions about what he was doing that day, and where he was going, and why did he have to spend so much time at the Go salon playing Akira when he'd been playing Go with other people all day?

She didn't have to know (it was none of her business anyway) that not all that time with Akira was spent in the salon, and not all of it was spent playing Go.

Several months ago, their two-sided relationship . . . rivals and friends . . . had revealed that it had a third side, one that was sweet and tender . . . not to mention steamy.

And when they realized they were in love . . . it didn't come as an enormous shock to either of them. Hikaru had theorized that it was something both of them had known in the back of their heads all along.

So now, they were still spending considerable time on the Goban, either in the salon or in one of their houses. But whenever there was a house available with no parents present . . . and, in most cases, it was Akira's, since his father and mother still did considerable traveling . . . they were exploring this side of their relationship to its utmost.

Hikaru, who had always slept in a bed, was getting very used to the sensation of lying on Akira's futon.

He opened the door to find his rival, immaculately dressed in jacket and tie. "Touya?"

"Hello, Shindou," Akira said, one hand fiddling with his cuffs (an incessant habit of his -- Hikaru couldn't decide if it annoyed him or turned him on. Sometimes, it did both). "May I come in?"

"Sure," Hikaru said. "What are you dressed up for?"

"Shidou-go this morning."

"On a Sunday?" Hikaru led his lover to the stairs. He frowned to himself. It was just like Akira to do this . . . and he'd had just as rough a week as Hikaru had, if not rougher. Being on a track to become the youngest 9-dan in history meant that he was almost as in demand for lessons and personal appearances as a champion Olympic athlete.

"It's the time the clients requested." Akira followed Hikaru up to his room, and frowned in the direction of the television, which displayed a frozen image of a car threatening to speed out of control. "What's this?"

"Game I was playing. Sit down." Hikaru switched the Playstation off . . . and suddenly felt a twinge of bittersweet memory. Like just about everything else in his life, the Playstation had a connection to Sai.

* * *

One of his ghostly mentor's lessons had been the importance of stepping away from the game for brief periods of time every once in awhile and doing something else.

"The mind of a Go player should be a finely honed blade," Sai had said. "But even the finest blades become dull rapidly when used constantly."

Hikaru had asked him how he'd relaxed, and Sai had replied he'd learned music. Later, the boy would have the opportunity on many occasions to hear Sai play his flute and koto.

Hikaru never knew where they came from, whether Sai kept them in some ghostly corner of the universe he could reach into and pull things out of -- whenever Sai wanted them, they were just *there*.

One of his favorite memories of the early days of his Go career was of sitting in a tree on a spring day as the sun went down, just relaxing, thinking over the games he'd played that day, and listening to Sai play his flute.

Now, when he looked back at that day, he realized that Sai's music was a lot like Sai himself . . . strong, sweet, energetic, yet tinged with melancholy, as if longing for a past that would never return. He felt it was a shame that nobody but him would ever hear this music.

Then, Sai had started insisting *he* learn to play the flute. Hikaru had balked at that . . . and Sai had kept insisting. And insisting. Until finally, Hikaru agreed to try it (just so Sai would stop *whining!*) -- and the result was a screeching so hideous it made nails on a blackboard sound pleasant.

After he'd removed his hands from his ears, Sai had said, "Hikaru, maybe you should find something *else* to do when you're not playing."

And so, Hikaru had gotten the Playstation (or, rather, asked his parents for it. His mother, baffled by her son's addiction to Go and relieved to see him wanting something *normal* for a boy his age for once, was all too happy to comply). The first time he'd played a game on it, Sai had been scared to death ("HIKARUUUUUU!! There's *monsters* in that box!") but eventually, he'd become fascinated. In fact, once or twice he'd wanted Hikaru to play "the box game" when Hikaru had wanted to study Go!

He wondered what Sai would have thought of the auto-racing simulator. *He'd probably hate the loud noises,* Hikaru thought, *but he'd love all the scenery whizzing by real fast . . .*

* * *

"Shindou? Shindou?"

Akira's voice snapped Hikaru out of his reverie. His rival was kneeling at the Goban and picking up one of the baskets of stones. "Shindou . . . we didn't get a chance to talk about our game last night."

They'd played at his father's salon, as they often did. Hikaru remembered being very tired at the end . . . almost to the point of nodding off.

"We talked about it," Hikaru said, not leaving his seat by the television.

"We only discussed it briefly," Akira said, opening the boxes and beginning to lay out the stones in the patterns they were the night before. "We need to go over this in-depth. You played a couple of hands that I think need to be analyzed . . . the game could have gone in a different direction if . . ."

Hikaru frowned. *Touya could have used some of Sai's lessons,* he thought. *Even when he doesn't have to, he keeps going full throttle*. That worried Hikaru. He knew full well what a heavy schedule of nearly nonstop Go had done to Akira's father, the former Meijin. He'd already had a heart attack and, although Akira tried to downplay it, his doctors were concerned he might have another if he didn't stop his regular trips to China to play.

*That kind of stuff runs in families*, Hikaru thought. *And if he doesn't learn to relax . . . that we sometimes have to step away from the game for a little while . . .* He didn't want to think about it.

Hikaru stretched out so he was lying on his stomach on the floor, his chin resting on his hands. "Touya . . . can't we do this another time? Like, next time we play?"

Akira's head snapped up, a look akin to shock clouding the aqua eyes. "Shindou! It's important that we do this! If we don't analyze a game, how are you going to learn from it? You're never going to catch up to me if . . ."

Hikaru drew himself back up into a sitting position. *Look at how he's holding himself,* he thought. *He's ramrod straight, even more than usual. It's obvious he's tense.*

"You need to relax sometime, Touya," Hikaru said.

"I'm plenty relaxed!" Akira replied, laying out more stones.

"Oh, suuuure you are. That's why you're sitting there stiff as a board," Hikaru said. "Look, I love Go as much as you do, but . . . once in a while, we just have to give it a rest, you know? Just for a little while . . ."

"Are you saying I don't know how to relax, Shindou?" Akira said, looking up from the board. "This *is* how I relax."

Hikaru sighed. *If only I could get his mind off Go for just a few hours, teach him to turn it off when he needs to, like Sai taught me,* he thought. *But the only other thing we do besides Go is . . .*

And then, a wicked idea crossed his mind. *Fine,* he thought. *If that's what it takes to get him to relax, then that's what I'll do.* He crawled across the floor to the Goban, where Akira was laying out stones again, and leaned across it, giving Akira what he hoped was his most seductive look, fluttering his eyelashes.

Akira looked up from the stones to see his lover . . . blinking? "Is there something wrong with your eyes, Shindou?"

*Well, that didn't work,* Hikaru thought. "Nothing. Just . . . can we do this later?"

This worried Akira. Why didn't Hikaru want to talk Go today? He wasn't . . . thinking of quitting again, was he? Akira remembered all too well those weeks when Hikaru stopped playing, and how empty he'd felt knowing his rival wasn't out there anymore, giving him incentive to stay several steps ahead so Shindou couldn't catch up.

"Why don't you want to do this?" Akira said.

Hikaru leaned over, resting his chin on his hands, which were crossed on the polished wood of the game board. He looked up at Akira with what he hoped was his most smoldering gaze. "Aren't there other things we can be doing?"

Now Akira had stopped laying out the stones. *This is *not* like him*, he thought. *Maybe he *is* thinking about quitting again. I can't let that happen. Our relationship is different than it was then, much closer . . . I should get him to talk to me about it.*

"Shindou," he said, quietly, "is there something on your mind?"

Hikaru groaned inwardly. *I'm getting absolutely nowhere*, he thought. *I guess I'm going to have to take a more direct approach.* He leaned over the board and said, softly, "Yes . . . there is."

Akira, almost instinctively, leaned a bit toward Hikaru. "Then . . . what is it?"

Hikaru suddenly reached over and wrapped an arm around his lover, pulling him across the Goban to close the last remaining inches and planted his lips on the other boy's, kissing him hard.

Akira was taken aback . . . but he melted into the kiss quickly, his lips softening against Hikaru's, one hand coming up behind the boy's head to tangle with the dark hair at the back. Hikaru answered that by opening his lips, pushing his tongue into Akira's mouth, his own hand tangling in Akira's longish, silken tresses as he heard his lover make a small noise of pleasure in his throat.

*And now*, Hikaru thought, *it's time to put my plan into action.*

He broke the kiss and released his rival, both of them panting. Akira's aqua eyes were heavy-lidded, almost sleepy-looking, almost the polar opposite of the predatory glare he turned on opponents.

It was an expression Hikaru was getting to know quite well, and it meant his lover was well on his way to being fully turned on. *Good,* he thought. *First step of the mission accomplished.*

He jerked his head toward the bed. "Come over here with me . . . just for a moment . . ."

Akira frowned a bit, an expression that said, "Oh, I *really* believe you mean just for a *moment*" -- but he followed Hikaru and sat down at the edge of the mattress. Hikaru leaned over again, capturing Akira's lips with his, a gentle caress of a kiss which quickly grew fierce.

Akira clung to Hikaru's shoulders as he felt the moist, hot probing of his lover's tongue, and he answered it with his own, pushing against Hikaru, rubbing against it, wanting to devour this boy whole . . . gods, it was amazing the effect he had, how he could get Akira's blood heated up like nobody else, whether at a Goban or on a bed, or . . .

He gasped a bit as he felt Hikaru unfasten and strip off his tie, then the boy's deft fingers began a slow tickling up his sides, tantalizing, delicious little tingling sensations running all over his body. Akira raised his arms over his head to give Hikaru greater access . . .

. . . and just as if they were playing a game, Hikaru saw his opening and made his move. The next thing Akira felt was something tightening around his wrists.

His eyes snapped open, and he pulled his mouth away. "Shindou! What the hell are you . . ." A turn of his head confirmed that his hands were tied together and lashed to the bedpost . . . with his own tie.

"I told you that you needed to relax," Hikaru said. "And I'm going to help you do it if it's the last thing I ever do."

Akira struggled against his bonds, but it was fruitless. He knew this tie was silk, and very expensive. It was pretty to look at, miserable to try to escape from. He wouldn't be able to get free unless he tore it . . . which he did *not* want to do.

"Get me OUT of this, Shindou!" he shouted. "Get me out of this, or . . ."

Hikaru, totally nonplussed, hopped off the bed, with a cheerful smile. "Be right back!" he said.

Akira went back to his useless struggling, hoping that Shindou made some kind of mistake, that there was some kind of loop he could put his finger through and wriggle out . . . *I can't believe him*, he thought. *Even for him, this is ridiculous. When I finally get out of this, I'm going to make him sorry, so help me, I'll . . .*

And then Hikaru appeared in the doorway, holding something in his hand, with a teasing smile on his face. It was a look that held the promise of something to come, something deliciously wicked . . .

Akira tried to hold onto his anger, but another emotion was warring with it. When Hikaru had that expression on his face . . . it was usually followed, moments later, by Akira moaning in pleasure.

Hikaru held up what was in his hand . . . something covered in white paper, which he tore, reached in, slid something out . . .

It was brown, and bullet-shaped, and had a tan stick protruding from its bottom. A chocolate-covered vanilla ice cream pop.

*He tied me up,* Akira thought, *so he could *eat ice cream*? What the HELL is with him? That's it, we are not playing together tomorrow. If he thinks that I'll do anything with a total loon . . .*

But his train of thought came to a sudden, grinding halt when he saw what Hikaru was doing with the ice cream.

The half-blond boy was licking the pop.


Starting at the base of it, he swept his tongue up it inch by inch, eyes closed, a blissful expression on his face. When he reached the summit, he began to make swirls, around and around, flicking back and forth . . .

Akira felt his breath start to come heavily. Oh, he'd seen Shindou doing something like this before, all right. Usually when Hikaru was on his knees, or lying beside him . . .

Hikaru opened his eyes, half-lidded, a smoky, heated glance greeting Akira's. His lips parted, and he began to slide the pop in, letting out a small moan of pleasure. He paused, and gave a few hard sucks, closing his eyes as if swooning in ecstasy.

The hand not holding the pop crept down, down to the hem of his usual sports jersey, pushing it up, sliding underneath, giving Akira just enough of a flash of bare belly to tantalize, to start his imagination working.

He remembered once when they were in a hotel, and there was a big easy chair near a mirror, and he was sitting in the chair and Hikaru was kneeling in front of him and he could watch Hikaru as he worked on him with his mouth.

It was the sexiest thing Akira had ever seen in his life. But this was running neck and neck with it.

The boy's lips moved down on the pop little by little before he sucked rapidly, again, pulled it all the way out just long enough to utter a single word, in a husky, lustful whisper . . . "Akira. . ."

The sign that their relationship was sliding into intimate mode, that they had shifted gears from rivals to lovers, was the use of their first names. Hearing his given name whispered by Hikaru was something that never failed to get Akira's blood heated. And with the show he was giving him, the effect was tripled now.

The frozen confection slid back into the soft lips, deeper than before, Hikaru letting out a contented sigh as he sucked hard again, opening his eyes to make contact with his very captive audience. Akira's eyes were absolutely burning, fixed on Hikaru with a gaze that left nothing to the imagination about what was on his mind.

It was fueling Hikaru's imagination as well. He began pretending that what was in his mouth wasn't cold and sweet, but hot and salty, that he was feeling a slight throbbing under his lips and tongue as he slid it in, deep, as deep as he could take it, then out, then started a series of rapid little thrusts. His other hand slid along his chest, finding and caressing one of his own nipples, making him give another small moan.

The chocolate coating was gone now, and there was only the white ice cream, which got smaller and smaller each time it slid in and out of the boy's eager mouth . . . He pulled it out, grazed the surface of the soft, white substance with his teeth, flicked his tongue along it, put it back in. . .

Akira could only watch in rapt fascination.

His body, in fact, felt like it was absolutely on fire . . . and when Hikaru came closer to the bed, taking the pop out his mouth and slowly licking along it again, Akira struggled against his bonds anew, because he wanted to grab Hikaru, grab him and pull him down on the bed and yank off that silly number 55 jersey and those over-washed blue jeans and cover him head to toe with kisses and licks and nibbles and . . .

Hikaru put the stick all the way in one last time and drew it out, empty. He leaned over to his captive lover, kissed him hard and thrust his tongue into his mouth . . . along with the last of the ice cream. A shudder of desire ran through Akira as he swallowed it. It was sweet, all right, and rich, and it also had the unmistakable flavor of *him*, that salty-spiciness he'd experienced in innumerable deep kisses.

Their tongues and lips lingered on each other for a long moment longer, hot on cold, Akira warming Hikaru, Hikaru cooling off Akira's fire.

When Hikaru drew away, it was only to move his mouth to Akira's neck and begin laying a series of kisses, soft and wet, as his hands worked on the buttons of Akira's shirt.

*Damn,* he thought, *I can't take it off, not without untying him. This will have to do . . .*

He pushed the cloth aside, uncovering his lover's chest, and pulled back long enough to strip off his own jersey. He lowered his head, his tongue, still a bit cold from the ice cream, lapping out at a nipple. Akira cried out as he felt a strange combination of hot and cold and wet slide over his sensitive flesh, a long stroke up, a quicker one back, then over and over.

*I love how he tastes,* Hikaru thought. *He's just . . . delicious.* Smiling to himself, he added, *He's even better than ice cream.*

He drew the hardened bud in his lips and started to suck, just hard enough so he'd be right at the border of pleasure and pain, just how he knew his lover liked it. His hand found the other nipple, the first two fingers enclosing it as one would hold a Go stone, gently squeezing . . .

Akira arched up against Hikaru, wanting to push more of himself into the boys' mouth, his hand, his heart pounding as one delicious wave after another flooded through him . . . and only rushed to the part of him that was swollen and straining against his pants and aching for his lover's touch.

He felt the gentle scraping of Hikaru's teeth, the wet lashing of his tongue, the hard suction of his lips . . . a soft sweep of his fingers followed by a fast, almost painful squeeze, and he thought his head would explode . . . or some other part of himself. . .

"More!" he cried aloud. "More . . . Hikaru . . ."

Hikaru raised his head, the hand that was on his nipple moving downward, finding and stroking his erection through the cloth of his suit pants. "Mmmm," Hikaru purred. "You're so hard . . ."

"That's what you did to me!" Akira gasped. "You and that ice cream . . ."

"Did you like watching me eat it?" Hikaru said in a husky whisper, stroking the hardness through a barrier that felt like a brick wall to Akira.

"Yes!" Akira cried. "Now . . . please . . ."

"You want me to eat something else?" Hikaru said, playing with Akira's belt . . . undoing it, doing it back up again, then undoing it and unbuttoning his pants.

"Oh, gods, Hikaru, just take my pants off and do it!" Akira cried, arching his hips upward to emphasize his point.

"Hmm . . ." Hikaru said, still toying with the belt. "I don't know . . . I may have eaten enough for today . . ."

That made Akira give his hands another hard jerk. He didn't care if he shredded that damn tie now. He was going to get out of this and grab that boy and put *him* in this position and take him . . .

"But I could always eat a little more," Hikaru said. And with swift, deft motions, he rid Akira of his remaining clothing, then stood back from the bed so Akira could have a full view of him as he unsnapped and unzipped his own pants . . . turning around and bending over as he pulled them down, raising his bottom so he could be sure his lover got a good eyeful. The moan that came from Akira assured him he had been successful.

Hikaru leaned over, his tongue sliding out of his mouth and contacting the head of Akira's swollen manhood, licking it with a long, slow stroke. Oh, he wanted to savor this, as well as drive his lover mad.

He genuinely enjoyed doing this to Akira, he didn't just do this so his lover would reciprocate, like a lot of men and women. He loved the heat, the texture, the way Akira felt in his mouth . . . and especially the way his lover reacted.

Over and over his tongue moved in small swirls, working all over the tip, and Akira let out a long, low, throaty sound of pure need, his breath coming hot and heavy. "Hikaru . . ." his whispered huskily, his eyes tightly closed, his head starting to roll back and forth on the pillow as the boy started to take him in his lips, encasing him in moist heat. . . yes, his mouth was all hot now, the coldness of the ice cream fully gone.

Oh, he needed to feel heat. He wanted the fire in Hikaru's mouth to match his own boiling blood. And now the boy was sucking, and moving his mouth up and down, the tingling sensations ebbing and flowing through every inch of Akira like a stormy tide.

His body arched up toward Hikaru, his head thrown back, his mouth open and gasping, the silken strands framing his face in a soft disarray. He whispered his lover's name huskily, then could do nothing but moan, the long, low sounds seeming to come from the bottom of his soul.

Hikaru devoured his lover, hands reaching under his body to grasp and stroke the firm cheeks of his bottom as he took Akira in as deep as he comfortably could, sucking in a series of rapid, hard draws before sliding him almost all the way out, repeating the little sucks just on the head, then pulling him out just long enough to lick along the tip. . . then rapidly up and down the shaft . . . then up to the head again . . .

One hand reached over and began fumbling for the nighttable drawer handle as he slid his mouth back down on Akira's hardness. He found what he was looking for, and pulled back .. .

Akira gasped. "Hikaru! Why . . . why did you . . ."

Hikaru was holding something in his hand, and it wasn't a tube of lubricant. It was something white and fluffy . . .

"I put this here before," Hikaru said. "I always wanted to try this. Now . . relax . . ."

And Akira felt an incredible sensation on his manhood. Soft . . . so soft . . stroking up and down the super-sensitive flesh, sending a series of small tingles running through him. It moved down, along the shaft, tickling the base, before moving lower, stroking along the sac beneath -- something that made Akira jerk and give another hoarse cry.

"Hikaru .. . what . . what is . . ."

"Just cotton," Hikaru replied. "Do you like this?"

"Yes!" The softness was moving in a spiral up his shaft now, pausing at the head, swirling around and around . . . Akira was moaning loudly again, his head tossing from side to side as if to say, no, no, nothing could ever be this good.

He began stretch his body and writhe like a cat, hands pulling gently against the bonds this time. The open shirt brushed against his sides as he moved, and he wished he could be rid of it . . . how he wanted every little bit of him to be open to his lover . . .

"Gods, I wish you could see yourself now, Akira," Hikaru said in a hoarse whisper. "You're so beautiful . . . I don't think I've ever seen you look as sexy as you do right now . . ."

He leaned over and kissed his lover's lips, still stroking the cotton lightly along his shaft, and Akira pushed his tongue against Hikaru's hard, thrusting in and out of the boy's mouth, telling him without words what he wanted next.

Hikaru kissed along Akira's face to his cheek, nibbling on the earlobe, his tongue teasing the little hole. His breath seemed to be scorching Akira as he whispered, huskily, "Yes, Akira . . . I'll take you now . . . I'll make it so good for you .. .

"Hikaru . . ." Akira's voice was a hoarse, trembling whisper as he felt the cotton leave him, and then there was the sound of the nighttable drawer opening again, the squish of something coming out of a tube . . .

He felt Hikaru's finger part him and start to gently probe. He let out a small grunt of pain upon the first entry, but told himself it would get better . . .

And it did, quickly. The pain faded and there was nothing but pleasure, pure pleasure, as Hikaru's finger slid gently inside, then out, then in again.

The finger withdrew, then was joined by a second, and again, Akira cried out at the initial flash of pain. When it faded, and was replaced by pleasure, it was sweeter and hotter than before, and only left him wanting everything, to feel his lover filling him fully.

"I'm ready," he whispered, and when he felt Hikaru's fingers pull away, he tensed for what was coming next.

He felt Hikaru pull his legs up and out, and he raised his hips . . . and the pressure came, small, then intense, and then Hikaru was pushing and pushing and pushing in . . .

Hikaru was trying to be slow and gentle, but . . . oh, he just wanted to thrust hard into Akira. He was so, so tight, and hot, and Hikaru thought he was going to burst with sensation. . . He stopped a moment, taking a deep breath, composing himself . . . then pushed forward again, moaning as more and more of his erection was enclosed by his lover's body.

Akira felt himself filling to the point where he thought he was going to burst, and there was a flash of burning pain.

Hikaru stopped, leaned over and kissed Akira's lips, softly. "Am I hurting you?"

"It . . . it hurts a little, but . . . gods, don't stop now, please, please . . ."

When he was fully in, he stopped, and the boys' mouths met, sweet and hot, lips opening gently, tongues teasing each other.

"Now?" said Hikaru.


Hikaru pulled his hips back, then forward, a slow thrust, and when Akira let out a low, husky sound that he knew could only be pleasure, he began to move a little faster, a little harder. . . Over and over he pushed in, out, in, each thrust bringing about another wave of sensation, his breath coming a little harder as his heart started to pound.

Akira raised his hips against each thrust, burying his head in the juncture of Hikaru's neck and shoulder, his breath scorching the boy's skin as he let out a throaty cry, then gasped his lover's name. He kissed the soft flesh, nibbled it, licked it, his hands straining at his bonds, wanting to be able to wrap his arms around Hikaru and pull them together as the thrusting got faster and deeper.

Together they moved, picking up speed as the air filled with the sounds of two voices panting and moaning and calling each other's names. Hikaru drove forward relentlessly, biting his lip in concentration . . . oh, just a little more, just a little more and they would both be there . . . one hand moved between their bodies to find and grasp and stroke Akira's manhood . . .

That did it. Akira's eyes snapped open, startled . . . his body stiffened, and the world seemed to freeze in place . . .

And then he let out a loud cry as he was suddenly flooded with sensations as sweet and delicious as ice cream on a hot summer's day, breaking over him in wave after pulsing wave, feeling like he'd never stop . . .

Hikaru felt the tightening around him, the hot pulses as his lover climaxed, and it threw him into his own release. He threw back his head and nearly screamed his lover's name as he was wracked by one spasm after another of hot, hot tingles.

He sagged against Akira, and both boys collapsed to the bed together in one spent heap, panting, letting out small moans and whimpers.

Finally, Hikaru lifted his head and brought his mouth to Akira's, and they shared one last slow, sweet, long kiss.

"And that," Hikaru said, "is how you relax."

Akira purred, kissing Hikaru's neck, softly. *Mmm,* he thought . . . *I could lie here like this all day . . . except . . .*

"Hikaru . . . can you please untie me now?"

"Oooh! I forgot!" Hikaru shot up into a sitting position as if he had been activated by a spring, and began working at the knots in the tie. It was tough going at first . . . Hikaru was beginning to wonder if he'd have to cut it, knowing full well how furious Akira would be then . . .

Fortunately, the knots loosened, and he was able to slide the silk away, then release Akira's hands. Akira sat up, rubbing his wrists . . . he didn't realize until now that they were slightly sore.

"I just wanted you to slow down for a little while," Hikaru said, lying back down. "You wouldn't have if I hadn't done something like that."

"You didn't have to resort to ambushing me like that!" Akira said. "Tying somebody up like . . . like an animal . . ."

Hikaru turned on his side, resting his head on his hand and looking up at Akira with a sly smile. "And you loved it," he said.

"Loved it?" Akira said, rubbing his wrists again. "Loved being tied up, and teased, and . . ."

"It didn't sound like you objected while it was happening . . . did you?"

There was a long pause, then Akira sighed, then leaned over and kissed Hikaru, softly. "Just warn me before you do that next time."

"What fun is it if it's not a surprise?" Hikaru hopped off the bed, went to the bathroom and brought back a couple of damp rags. He tossed one to Akira, kept the other himself and they cleaned up, after which Hikaru grabbed his clothes and started to dress again.

"Want me to show you something else to help you relax?"

Akira snapped to attention. "Right now? But we just . . ."

"Not THAT! Just . . . come down here . . ." Hikaru sat on the floor, by the television.

Akira buttoned his shirt, put his pants back on, joined Hikaru on the floor . . . and found something thrust into his hands. A plastic contraption, with levers, and buttons . . .

"I'm going to teach you to play Ultimate Speedway," Hikaru said.

"What . . . the . . . a VIDEO GAME?"

"Why not?" Hikaru said, pushing the "on" button of the Playstation. "Don't tell me you've never done that before!"

"You're right," Akira said. "I haven't."

"It's time you learned, isn't it?" Hikaru said as the game loaded. "Now, these buttons here control the direction of your steering . . . use this to brake, and this to accelerate . . ."

Thirty minutes later, Akira had his car . . . at least able to drive short distances without careening into walls. *Well,* Hikaru thought, *at least we're getting *somewhere*.

"This isn't relaxing! This is frustrating!"

"You just have to get the hang of it!"

"I can't get the hang of it! How do you keep track of all those little buttons and arrows?"

"Maybe you're just not very coordinated."

"I'll show you how coordinated I am!"

"Later . .. we just did that, remember?"

"I didn't mean THAT! SHINDOU!"

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This was written in response to a fic request on from Nawlins, who wanted to see a lemon/lime with the following elements: 1) Ice cream, 2) bondage, 3) Uke!Akira.

Many, many thanks go to Lady Cosmos, who got me hooked on this series; Aishuu, who made sure I got *good and hooked* and offered invaluable input on this story; Steve Savage, who, as usual, proved to be The Best Editor A Writer Ever Had Bar None; and Sonya, who's always been there for me as always.

Hikaru no Go is property of Yumi Hotta, Takeshi Obata and Shueisha. These characters ain't mine, I'm just borrowing them for a little while.